03x08 - End of Watch

[bunniefuu]

(indistinct police radio chatter)

Holmes: My mind rebels at stagnation.

Give me, uh, give me problems, give me work, give me, uh, the most abstruse cryptogram or the most intricate analysis, and I'm in my very own atmosphere.

I can dispense with old cravings and bad habits, but, uh, I abhor the dull routine of existence.

(quiet chatter)

That was nice, what you said tonight.

Yeah, it was a fact.

It's all new to me, but, uh, it's helping, you know?

Right. Well, um, uh, m-meetings are important, especially in the beginning, so...

I-If you're in need of a sponsor...

No, I'm set, thanks.

Sorry, but I got to ask.

Is BrainAttic yours?

Excuse me?

The blog?

Or Tumblr or whatever they call those things?

A buddy turned me on to it.

There's advice there, thoughts about recovery.

The guy who runs it is anonymous, but the way he writes sort of sounds like you.

"Brain Attic"?

One word.

If it's not you, you should check it out.

Some of the quotes, I think they'd really speak to you.

(phone ringing)

Captain?

Gregson: Victim is Alec Flynn.

NYPD, seven years on the job.

Three weeks ago, he transferred to Highway Patrol.

Before that, he was assigned to the Training Bureau out on Rodman's Neck.

Best we can tell from the dashboard camera footage is he was ambushed.

A masked sh**t came up behind him, fired, and then took off in a car driven by an accomplice.

Flynn didn't even have time to draw his w*apon.

Suspects?

I got a call into his lieutenant, but if it isn't someone he locked horns with...

You think this might have been random?

Wouldn't be the first time a psychopath decided to target a cop.

Needless to say, this one is all hands on deck.

Bell: Captain?

We got a fresh footprint, size 12 work boots.

That's not Flynn's.

Well, if you look closely, there are fibers in some of the grooves.

They could've transferred from the k*ller's boot.

Holmes: Excuse me.

Hello. I'm just...

I'm just gonna draw Officer Flynn's sidearm.

So don't be alarmed.

Gregson: What is it?

Those are air g*n pellets.

You said Officer Flynn didn't have time to draw his w*apon.

If he had, it would've been utterly futile, because he's armed with a toy g*n.

♪ Elementary 3x08 ♪
End of Watch
Original Air Date on December 18, 2014

♪ ♪

Kitty: No plates on the car.

Stolen, I bet.

You can't see the driver at all.

It's time for the final call.

(radio static crackling)

Dispatcher: Central to Officer 73199.

Central to Officer 73199.

Officer Alec Flynn, please respond.

Central to Officer 73199.

Officer 73199, no response.

Officer 73199, Alec Flynn, is End of Watch.

He has gone home for the final time.

(radio static ends)

Front desk has mourning bands, if anyone needs them.

(clears throat)

Ceremonial unit is taking sign ups for Honor Guards at Officer Flynn's coffin and radio cars at his residence.

There will be a full inspector's funeral, date and time to be announced. Any questions?

Until we know that there isn't someone out there hunting cops, we play it safe.

No one works alone, and no cowboy nonsense.

But rest assured, we will get the person who did this.

As you were.

Marcus is gonna go talk to the wife, if any of you want to join him.

She a suspect?

She's the wife.

We have to at least ask questions, but we'll tread lightly.

I'll go with you; you guys can stay and review the video.

Suspect is approximately six-foot-two, 190 pounds, right-handed, and extremely comfortable with firearms.

I know. I watched the video, too.

Kitty: So you noticed that the sh**t never touched Flynn's p*stol.

No one disturbed the body until after the police arrived.

Meaning the firearm must have been replaced sometime before the att*ck.

Someone didn't want Officer Flynn to be able to protect himself.

Unfortunately, the most likely timing for the switch is also the most disturbing.

As we know, many uniformed officers keep their service pistols in their lockers when they're not on duty, suggesting that the people with easiest access to Officer Flynn's p*stol were his fellow police.

Yeah.

I'm ahead of you on that one, too.

Alec was my partner.

Gregson: He was, but then 18 months ago, you blew through a red light and totaled your radio car.

Flynn hurt his neck and back.

We were responding to a call.

The driver of the car that hit you sued the department, and in discovery, Flynn testified against you.

Your own partner.

I didn't swap out his g*n, and I sure as hell didn't k*ll him.

Holmes: You must have been angry with him for failing to stand by you.

You were, after all, brothers in blue.

Perhaps you no longer saw him as a real cop.

Perhaps it was less than fitting that he should carry a real g*n.

I may never have made detective, but I know how this works, okay?

You ask someone in to talk, you're gonna sweat them.

My union rep tore me a new one when I wouldn't let him send a lawyer, but I told him, "Let them sweat me."

Sooner you guys ask your questions, the sooner I'm cleared.

At the time of the sh**ting, you were...

At Abe's, playing darts.

That's a cop bar.

I got two dozen police who'll vouch for me.

You could've switched the p*stol anytime.

Contracted the k*lling.

Flynn was working out of Highway Unit 7 up in Fleetwood, right?

Check your records.

Pull the security tape.

I haven't set foot in that building in years.

You got any more questions or not?

You in a hurry, Officer?

All due respect, Captain, yeah.

I am.

I had my problems with Flynn, but he was a cop, and I don't want anyone thinking what you're thinking right now.

I want to be able to go to his funeral; I want to be able to pay my respects to his wife.

So, please, whatever you want to throw at me, throw it.

I'm not your guy.

Woman: The last couple of years were tough for Alec.

He was active, you know, a gym rat.

He played on the department's football team.

Then, after the accident... he hated physical therapy.

And working at the sh**ting range on Rodman's Neck, he said he didn't feel like a real cop anymore.

Returning to full duty, that was a big deal to him.

He was very proud.

I couldn't help but notice that you changed your locks recently.

I-I lost my keys.

Did you lose your TV, too?

Your engagement ring, your wedding band?

What is this?

Before I worked with the police, I was a sober companion.

I worked with recovering addicts.

I've been in homes like this one.

I have talked to spouses like you.

The photographs on your mantle--

Alec lost a lot of weight since the accident.

A lot of muscle mass.

It could be he couldn't exercise the same way that he used to, or... maybe it was something else.

The doctor gave him Oxy for the pain.

He got hooked.

You kicked him out?

He was stealing things, trading them for more pills.

I-I had to.

Mrs. Flynn, did you have anything to do with what happened last night?

Alec came to me a couple of weeks ago.

He said he was clean.

That it hadn't been easy, but he quit cold turkey.

We started seeing a therapist.

I even gave him the keys to the new locks, said he could use it when he wanted to come home.

(sniffles)

My Alec was back.

Was there anyone he might have been in trouble with?

A dealer, maybe?

I saw a-a text once, before I knew what was going on.

It was weird, just numbers.

"100," then "4," then "1,000."

100 pills for $1,000.

You remember who sent it?

The text I.D. was just another number.

It said "6."

(indistinct police radio chatter)

I don't think she was a part of what happened last night, do you?

The department will poke around a little more, make sure she didn't cut any big checks to potential hit men recently.

But, nah, I don't see it.

I'm more interested in running down this "Six" guy.

That's the same type of pellet g*n that was in Flynn's holster, right?

Yeah. I remember that realistic ones like this were outlawed in New York a long time ago.

Yep. 1998.

But you can still buy them in New Jersey.

You know what? You look into the "Six" guy, I will call around to stores and see if anyone remembers selling this particular brand.

Maybe we'll get lucky, find the guy who planted one on Flynn.

Kitty: Sherlock?

In the study.

I think I found something.

I was mucking about with some of your software.

I was trying to enhance the video.

Thought if I could zoom in on the sh**t's eyes, I might be able to determine the color.

But it was too dark, and the resolution was too low.

Except...

Do you see it? The left eye?

See how it reflects the light?

It's glass.

The man who k*lled Flynn is six-foot-two, 14 stone, and has a glass eye.

Should help narrow down the candidates, no?

I thought you'd be happy.

I am. Disappointed I didn't see the glass myself.

I can't make my own discoveries every now and again?

Of course you can.

Then what's the problem?

"You see, but you do not observe.

The distinction is clear""

"It is stupidity rather than courage to refuse to recognize danger when it is close upon you."

What is all this?

It, Kitty, is me.

Didn't know you were that into birds.

The blog is not mine, but the quotes are.

I might not be cited, but they're taken from things that I've said in meetings.

Someone's been writing down what you say and posting it here?

Mm.

That's against the rules, isn't it?

It would appear that the thief's intention is to help other addicts.

They think that the things that I've said can be applied to others' quests for sobriety.

I support the premise, but not the practice.

Anonymity is a cornerstone of the program.

You are very quotable, you know.

A facility for quotation covers an absence of original thought.

You just did it again.

I'll settle it.

I'll find the person who's doing it, and I'll tell them to stop.

No, you won't.

A policeman's been k*lled.

You can't be distracted.

I am just the protégé. I'll settle it.

(phone ringing)

Watson?

Watson: I found something you need to see.

Can I come over?

I called a bunch of shops in New Jersey that sell airsoft g*ns.

Now, no one remembers any specific sales of that kind of g*n that wound up in Flynn's holster, but they all gave me their security footage from the last couple of months.

There must be hundreds of hours.

Thousands. I got lucky.

I found what I was looking for on the very first try.

Holmes: That's the man you think bought the g*n?

Yes. And that's the problem.

That's Officer Flynn.

The k*ller didn't replace the g*n.

He did it himself.

Doesn't make any sense.

Why would Flynn replace his own g*n with a toy?

As you know, it's not uncommon for opioid addicts to spend thousands of dollars a week on pills.

Or, roughly, the entire weekly salary of an NYPD patrolman.

Flynn sold everything he had to fuel his addiction.

His wife's jewelry, his TV, his computer...

We believe that, finally, he reached the point where his only possession of any value was his service p*stol.

So he sells his Glock, then he gets clean.

He's called back to full duty, but he doesn't have a sidearm anymore, or the money to buy one.

So he buys a replica to make it look like he's armed and prays he's not gonna have to use it?

As appalling as that scenario sounds, we believe the actual chain of events is worse.

When I spotted Flynn buying a fake g*n on the very first tape I checked, I thought it was luck.

Only, I don't believe in luck.

A more thorough search revealed that he'd purchased more than two dozen replicas at different stores over a span of several weeks.

It didn't make any sense, until we remembered where he was working while he was on light duty.

Rodman's Neck.

The armory.

He would've had access to hundreds of weapons.

No cop wants to die, but they know if it happens in the line of duty, the department will do right by them.

An inspector's funeral, full honors, thousands of cops lining the streets.

I'll call for an inventory at the range.

If you're right, Flynn was a traitor.

He put our g*ns in the hands of criminals.

And it was probably one of his associates who k*lled him.

Funeral will be canceled.

Whatever the case may be, Officer Flynn is no less a homicide victim.

We'll keep you apprised of our search for the one-eyed man.

Let's hope he's not a cop, too.

I don't get it.

What does birding have to do with staying off dr*gs?

Not a clue. That's why I contacted you.

I want to find out who manages this page.

I know that you lead bird-watching tours here.

From what I can tell, this is where most of the pictures were taken.

Ooh, this is nice.

Kentucky Warbler.

You don't see many of these.

Any guesses as to who took it?

Most of these are common species.

When the rare birds show up, everyone flocks here for pictures.

So nothing to nail down a specific place or date?

No.

Wait.

This one.

Quiscalus quiscula.

A plague of grackle.

These are grackles.

They only congregate in large groups like this when they migrate.

A plague only stays in one place for a day or two.

This would have been taken just north of the boathouse on either September 17 or 18.

Um, do you remember seeing anyone taking pictures?

Every birder in New York stopped by at some point.

They all took pictures.

I took quite a few myself.

Sorry I couldn't be more help.

Any chance I could look at your pictures?

Where were you?

Errand.

You and Watson went to talk to the captain.

Not like there was anything left to glean from the dashboard video.

Watson proposed a division of labor while we were at the station.

She and Detective Bell will attempt to identify the man with the glass eye; you and I will look for a dealer with the street name "6."

Flynn's dealer.

He and the sh**t may be one and the same.

We were right about the armory at Rodman's Neck, by the way.

Captain Gregson confirmed no fewer than 30 weapons had been replaced with fakes.

I was sort of hoping we'd be wrong.

As was I.

But I know from experience when one is desperate for a fix, ethics and logic provide little impediment to need.

Yes, well... speaking of your experience...

I'm pretty sure that these were taken on the same day as one of the pictures from the BrainAttic Web site.

This is your idea of not distracting me?

I'm a member of a group, too, now, remember?

Decided I don't like what this BrainAttic person is doing, especially if it's bothering you.

Thought you could take a look, see if you recognize anyone.

So?

So what?

Does anyone look familiar?

Supposing someone does.

He or she may have not protected my anonymity, but I will not do him or her the same discourtesy.

If there are corrective measures to be taken, I shall take them myself.

But I've...

I shall take them myself.

(phone chimes)

Detective Bell invites us to a briefing by the A*F.

He thinks they may have identified the one-eyed man.

Hernan: Niko Buros. He's a gunrunner.

Operates out of greater New York.

He lost his left eye in a sh**t-out with a rival a few years ago.

The height and weight are both right.

Given everything you've uncovered about the officer that was k*lled, I got to think he's your guy.

Buros acquires g*ns in the States, then sells them to the Zeta cartel in Mexico.

Specifically, a cell operating out of Veracruz.

Buros supplies them with g*ns and, in exchange, they provide him with dr*gs, which he then sells in the U.S.

So he exports v*olence and imports misery.

Guy's got serious street cred.

He maintains it by doing his own dirty work.

A*F and DEA have been after him for years.

Last month, we thought we had him.

We got a tip that he was operating out of a warehouse in Queens.

We raided the place, captured almost a thousand weapons, arrested some of his crew.

Unfortunately, none of them are talking.

And there's no evidence connecting Buros to that scene.

Holmes: You think Flynn was selling his pilfered g*ns to Buros.

This man is a bulk seller.

Why would 30-odd pistols be worth his time?

The m*rder*d cop, Flynn, he was a drug addict, right?

Buros would have gotten those for a song.

All I know is your investigation may be our best chance to tie him to something that actually sticks, so... whatever you need, A*F is at your disposal.

So Flynn needs money to keep himself in pills.

After he sells all his own stuff, he starts dipping into the armory at Rodman's Neck, sells what he takes to Buros.

Only, then he gets clean.

And then he tells Buros the deal is off.

Buros kills him out of anger.

Or to tie up loose ends.

It all makes sense, it just doesn't help us locate Buros.

"6." Flynn's dealer.

He's the most likely connection between an international gunrunner and a druggie policeman, is he not?

Kitty: Too bad Six is a name no one seems to recognize.

We'll keep running it down.

There's a BOLO out on Buros and patrols in the areas he's been known to frequent.

Who knows? Maybe we'll get lucky.

Half-caff, okay?

Last time, I was up all night.

(computer beeps)

Man: Excuse me. Officer?

(silenced g*nshots)

We're sure it was Buros.

Preliminary ballistics says it was the same g*n.

We also got a partial print off one of the shell casings.

And just for good measure, CSU found a few more white threads, just like the ones from that boot print at the scene of Flynn's m*rder.

Lab says it's a blown polyester fiber, the kind you'd find in hypoallergenic pillows, stuffed animals, winter coat lining.

We know it's him. We just don't know why he's doing this.

Well, maybe it's like you said last night.

He's declaring w*r on the department.

No, I think the A*F agent was right.

Buros was buying Flynn's g*ns, and something went south between them.

So you're wondering if Officer Hatem had something to do with it.

After everything that happened last couple of days, we got to at least consider it.

If he was involved, the department is busy prepping another inspector's funeral for another dirty cop.

Obviously we got to find Buros.

But the funeral prep isn't helping.

I mean, everyone's partnering up again, the vigils are back on. We're stretched thin.

At least the family's pushing for a quick burial.

If you want, I can stay and help you find a connection between Hatem and Flynn.

Assuming there is one.

For the sake of Hatem's family, I hope there isn't.

Daren?

Yeah, hi. I was hoping we might, um, just have a chat?

It's Sherlock, right?

You, uh, you usually come to the late meeting.

Yeah, well, when the mood takes me, I come to this one as well.

Remember seeing you here a few times.

Yeah, well, we should... we should probably head in before all the donuts are gone.

"Brain Attic".

Something I once shared with the group.

My personal theory on how the brain is like an attic.

It should not be cluttered with useless facts.

If memory serves, I was sharing how it pertained to my sobriety and how my fears and failures were things to be put to one side.

I'd like you to take it down.

Take down what?

The page that you maintain.

The one you've plastered with my thoughts.

You're different.

You get that, right?

The things you say here...

You have this way of looking at things...

I'm a drug addict, Daren.

My thoughts on sobriety are no more remarkable than your own.

A few months ago, I came this close to using.

My mom had just passed away, and I-I kept telling myself I just need this now.

This one time I deserve this.

But then, out of nowhere, I remembered something you said about staying clean.

"I must never make exceptions.

An exception disproves the rule."

And then I started remembering other things you said, and... I don't know, I... I didn't need the dr*gs anymore.

I could see clearly, and it was all thanks to you.

Well, I appreciate that.

But nevertheless...

It's not just me. People go to BrainAttic every day.

They-they leave comments. It's helping them.

I'd still like you to take it down, Daren.

Why?

These meetings were very difficult for me in the beginning.

I'm not a man prone to sharing my secrets.

I was very, very skeptical that what was shared here would stay here.

But over time, I saw how useful it could be.

I grew comfortable.

And I got better.

I need it, Daren.

The anonymity.

I need to know that these rooms are a vault.

Without it, well, I fear I would no longer be able to attend the meetings.

Without the meetings...

BrainAttic can help people.

I... I'm keeping it.

(door closes)

Your wife, does she know about the affair?

What?

The affair.

I know about it. Does she?

You might recall from my shares that I'm quite observant.

In actual fact, when I'm in these hallowed environs, I deliberately tamp down my abilities so as not to violate my fellows' privacy.

It just doesn't seem fair to me, you see.

Knowing more about them than they've chosen to volunteer.

I'm not having an affair.

Judging by the flush on your face and the tang on your breath, you took the anti-impotence drug Sildenafil sometime in the last two hours.

The fresh chafing on your ring finger indicates that you removed and then replaced your wedding ring in the same time frame.

I can also detect the scent of two perfumes on your skin.

So, tell me, Daren, if I was to make an appearance at your home or at your workplace, how many more skeletons do you suppose would come tumbling out of your closet?

I don't care about your affair.

I care about your sobriety.

And I depend on every member in this group, including you, to care about mine.

(g*nshots)

Watson: We are so sorry to hear about your nephew.

It makes me sick.

Casey was a very good boy.

He made us all very proud.

Unlike that piece of garbage who got sh*t.

Flynn.

Did you know him?

He was desked at the main building for a few months.

I didn't see him very much, but... he obviously spent some time here.

I was the one doing the inventory the other day.

I found all the fakes he'd left.

Actually, the g*ns are the reason we're here.

The press doesn't know, but we're investigating the possibility Flynn was k*lled by the man he sold them to.

I don't understand.

Why would that guy come after...?

You think Casey was in on this, too?

Look, Flynn worked here.

You're the second victim's uncle.

Sons of b*tches.

My nephew is dead.

My sister's world has just ended.

And you come in here and you throw accusations?

Maybe I'm dirty, too.

I helped Flynn rip this place off, and then, for no good reason, pulled Casey in.

No one is accusing you of anything, but you're the only connection we could find between the two victims.

We just wanted to know if they knew each other.

They didn't.

There's no connection.

We're just trying to find the man who k*lled two cops.

You're trying to find the man who k*lled one cop.

Casey.

Now, if you'll excuse me, please.

I have a lot of work to do.

I have a funeral to go to tomorrow.

What are you doing?

I've had no more success at discerning a meaningful connection between Officers Hatem and Flynn than you.

I've looked at familial relationships, social networks.

I've even set some of my best Irregulars to the problem, all to no avail.

So now I'm practicing my own variation of Kyudo.

The martial art commonly known as Zen archery.

The objective is to achieve mushin-- a state of mindless mindfulness, in which the target and the archer become one.

Now, I have neither arrow nor bow, so I'm using my blowpipe to establish a mental breach between myself and the puzzle.

As far as I can tell, everything Hatem's uncle said was true.

Comes from a family of cops, no enemies, no criminal background.

But his k*ller Buros could not have picked him at random.

It's pretty hard to imagine.

Well, at least the department can go ahead with the inspector's funeral this time.

Would've been pretty scandalous if they had to cancel two in a week.

Two is not the number that consumes me.

I still believe the mysterious Six is the bridge between Flynn and Buros.

Unfortunately, not a single drug dealer in the New York area seems to use the name Six.

Frustrating.

How is your mindfulness right now?

Can I go in there and get my glasses without being sh*t?

Did you go to a meeting this morning?

Holmes: I did.

Kitty: Was our friend there?

Anonymity, Kitty-- you really must look it up.

Watson, if you please.

Alec played football all his life.

High school, college.

Your point?

Players sometimes call their teammates by their numbers.

What if "Six" isn't a street name at all?

Mr. Riggs.

Apologies for keeping you waiting.

We were out readying for a funeral when we heard that you'd been located.

Well, it says here you got pulled over with almost 500 oxy pills in your vehicle.

It's not good, Charlie.

Like I told the first guy, I...

You were holding them for a friend. We heard.

Bell: Here's the thing.

We need information.

You help us, maybe we can help you.

I'm listening.

You went to high school with Alec Flynn?

Did you not play football together?

You were the punter, number six?

So?

So, I don't know if you heard, but your buddy Alec got gunned down this week.

We think the sh**t's a guy by the name of Buros.

Holmes: You dealt dr*gs at high school.

You were expelled for that in 2002, so you graduated from selling to teenagers to selling to adults.

Alec was one of them, eventually.

Now, he needed pills to fuel his addiction.

But he was a cop, so he couldn't go to any random dealer on the street.

So, he went to the first one he ever knew-- you.

We want to know how he got tied up with Buros.

Alec was out of control, okay?

His habit was up to 2,000 a week.

And those were friend prices.

One day, he offered me his police g*n.

Said it had a street value of a thousand bucks, so I took it.

I reached out to a friend of a friend who knew Niko.

He told me he'd buy all the g*ns I could get my hands on.

I told Alec.

And he took it from there.

Why did he execute Alec?

A few weeks ago, Niko had asked for a meet with him.

He said the A*F had seized one of his stashes.

He wanted more g*ns.

But Alec told him he was through.

He'd cleaned up.

Armory was closed for business.

Niko was ticked.

And not just at Alec.

I spent the next few days trying to figure out other ways to get him the g*ns.

Then the next time I saw him, he said it was all good.

Just like that?

He said he figured out some way to make a huge score.

What kind of score?

I don't know.

But he said something weird, something like... uh, there was more than one way to use a guy like Alec.

That's the last time I saw him.

You need to send all available resources to Rodman's Neck.

What?

I know why Buros k*lled Flynn and Hatem.

Each m*rder was meant to facilitate a heist.

Of what?

g*ns.

He must have found out through his dealings with Flynn that there were millions of dollars worth of weapons at Rodman's Neck, and he decided to rob it.

Only one problem: the facility is at all times heavily populated by the NYPD.

He needed a way to draw them off.

An inspector's funeral.

Buros did not k*ll Flynn for revenge, he k*lled him for his funeral.

He knew that there would be thousands of police in attendance.

More specifically, the armory would be undermanned and vulnerable.

Only, Flynn's crimes came to light after his death.

He was disgraced, and his ceremony canceled.

So Buros k*lled another cop with a connection to Rodman's Neck.

His funeral is about to begin.

The robbery may already be underway.

Get ESU on the line.

Tell them someone's raiding their damn armory.

Sources say that thieves got away with over a million dollars in m*llitary-grade weaponry, including sn*per r*fles, as*ault r*fles and even a grenade launcher.

The g*ng of g*n thieves are reportedly led by a man named...

This is the same news report as before.

You're wallowing.

I'm giving myself a much-needed dose of self-recrimination.

Should have been quicker with my deductions.

And I might have prevented this.

Right. Because it's all on you.

If the BrainAttic stuff's still distracting you, it shouldn't.

Tried pulling it up earlier; there's nothing there now but two words in big bold letters: "I'm sorry".

Thought you might want some of the pizza that Watson brought.

It's strange, you know?

To be found unique in the setting of a meeting.

To stand out.

It's the one area of my life I feel part of the crowd.

We're going over the board again, if you're interested.

I think I might have found something.

Remember those white poly fibers at both crime scenes?

They helped confirm that Buros was there, but the lab never identified their source.

It could have been anything though.

A car seat, a pillow.

His favorite stuffed teddy bear.

Okay, this is a stockpile the A*F seized from Buros's warehouse a month ago.

Tell me if anything jumps out at you.

Those knives are odd.

They're single-edged, there's no point at the tips.

Those are upholstery knives.

Used to cut foam for furniture cushions.

I think that's where the fibers came from.

You think he's cutting up furniture to smuggle the g*ns.

Well, you could hide two dozen pistols in one couch, a few bigger ones, wrap the whole thing in plastic, and send it all south.

Well done, Watson.

You have found something that the A*F did not.

Question is: where is Buros now?

Well, he's smart. He knows that all the policemen in the state are looking for him.

If I were him, I'd lie low.

I'd stash the g*ns and wait for the heat to die down.

You're assuming that he can wait at all.

A newswoman was reviewing the timeline of Buros's crimes earlier.

She reeled at the alacrity with which he gunned down two police officers.

Casey Hatem was k*lled just 48 hours after Alec Flynn.

But perhaps that's not the timeline that matters.

Perhaps what matters is that Hatem was k*lled a mere 90 minutes after the cancelation of Flynn's funeral was announced.

What's that got to do with anything?

As you pointed out, Buros was the most wanted of wanted men.

k*lling two patrolmen in such rapid succession was dangerous.

Foolhardy.

So, why take the risk?

So, what are you saying?

You think that he was working off of some sort of deadline?

We know a very large stash of his weapons was seized less than a month ago.

What if he'd already made arrangements to transport them?

Furthermore, what if his customers were not the kind of people to be kept waiting?

A drug cartel in Veracruz, for example.

He's left fibers at two separate crime scenes.

He's practically shedding them.

I submit he's been working furiously to create hidey-holes for the NYPD's g*ns.

He's been carving up cushions before he even committed the robbery.

Maybe that's because the w*apon's mode of transportation has a very strict departure time.

Well, he can't be sending them in small planes, obviously.

Not if he's hiding them in sofas.

And a truck could leave any time it wanted.

So that leaves cargo ships.

Could it be that finding Mr. Buros is as simple as identifying one which is departing for Veracruz with a manifest that includes a shipment of furniture?

(phone vibrating)

Don't move! Don't move!

Bell: There's a g*n! Watch his hands! Hands!

Niko Buros, you're under arrest.

Hope you didn't mind the wake-up call.

Your buddy, DeMarco, the one who brought the g*ns to the port this morning, he gave us your number after we scooped him up.

We pinged it to get your location.

Cuffs are too tight, man.

You noticed. Good.

They belonged to Casey Hatem, the cop you m*rder*d in Queens the other night.

Get used to them; you're gonna be wearing them a lot.

Every time you get transported, every time you go to court, he's gonna be with you.

That supposed to scare me?

It's supposed to remind you, Niko, about what you did.

Who you hurt.

But don't worry, if the cuffs don't work, we'll find other ways.

♪

Woman: It's hard...

...feeling alone.

Even when I'm around my family, my friends.

Some of them know what I went through.

What I'm still going through.

But they don't get it, not really.

That's why I'm so glad for the meetings.

For all of you.

You may not be family, but to me you're just as important.

Thank you.

I-I've got nothing I want to share tonight. Thank you.

Let's open it up to a show of hands.

My name is George.

And I'm an addict.

Others: Hello, George.