(siren wailing)
Man: We've got a few hundred protesters at the front of the building. Suggest secondary entry.
Man 2: Roger that.
ETA for Admiral Pack-- under two minutes to the courthouse.
We'll take a look at the crowd, make the call whether or not to divert to the garage.
Man 1: Copy that.
First NCIS security detail?
No, but it's, uh, it's been a while.
Used to do these all the time when I was stationed in the Midwest.
It's like riding a bike... with lots of people screaming profanities.
(chuckles) When did they renovate the Royal House?
You from the area?
Born and bred.
I requested this detail.
Been away from home too long.
(indistinct shouting)
It looks like they have rolled out the red carpet for you, Agent Hackett.
Why are we stopping?
Man 1: The admiral nixed secondary entry.
He insists we go through the front.
Of course he did.
(indistinct shouting)
Admiral Pack, you sure this is such a good idea?
Damn straight. Came here to show that we empathize with their disappointment on having the contract go elsewhere. We go through the front door.
Admiral...
Stared down the enemy in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Hell if I'm gonna run from this.
Possible hostile at three o'clock, in the blue jacket.
Admiral, we got to get you inside right now.
A few more minutes.
Negative on the hosti...
(g*nsh*t)
(crowd screaming)
Come on, sh*ts fired, admiral moving back to the car.
Agent down.
Get across, move it!
(siren wailing)
(tires screeching)
♪ NCIS:New Orleans 1x14 ♪
Careful What You Wish For
Original Air Date on February 10, 2015
♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪
♪ Bang, bang, bang, bang ♪
♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪
♪ How, how, how, how ♪
♪ Hey, hey ♪
♪ You gotta come on. ♪
(siren wails in distance)
Brody: Admiral made the call to walk the line, so we approached the building at high alert. I saw this guy over here behind this barricade reach into his pocket, I'm thinking he's going for a g*n, turns out to be a cell phone.
So I indicated that the thr*at was a negative.
Then, almost instantly...
sh*t was fired?
Yeah.
Security team leader's getting the admiral flown to Gulfport.
Chopper should be setting down in 15 minutes.
Any idea where the sh*t came from?
Sounded like it came from across Royal.
I'm thinking we start with the yellow building and sweep the upper floors.
What's the body tell us, Loretta?
Agent Austin Hackett suffered a fatal g*nsh*t wound in his upper chest cavity.
Caliber of w*apon?
Well, it's tough to tell on preliminary examination. There's no point of exit, so the b*llet's probably still lodged in Agent Hackett's body.
Once I get him on my table, I'll be able to x-ray, locate the slug and identify it.
Seemed like a good guy.
From here, originally.
Nothing you could've done.
Christopher, get on the witnesses. Brody, interface with NOPD and get a sweep going.
First thing we got to do is figure out where the sh*t came from.
Right.
Lasalle: Based on various witness accounts, appears Brody was right-- sh*t came from yellow building across Royal Street.
And the sweep?
Basement to roof. Came up empty. Whoever pulled the trigger covered their tracks well.
We're gonna try and use facial mapping to identify as many of the protesters as possible.
Members Union Local 445.
Worked at the shipyard.
Their contract wasn't renewed when the admiral awarded the Destroyer project to Charleston.
Any threats prior to the protest?
The admiral is currently on the hit list of both Boko Haram and the Aryan Nation.
Patton: If I were still a betting man, which I haven't been since the summer of 2011, I'd stick to the union angle.
Got something?
Went cr*ck-a-hacking various union e-mail accounts.
Came across this doozy sent amongst the ranks.
Came from union distro e-mail account.
As far as I can tell, this was sent from inside headquarters.
445 union leader is... Tommy City. He was waiting inside the hall to meet with the admiral.
Go talk to him.
See what he knows and who has access to the union's accounts?
Please and thank you.
Still need to conduct my after-action interview with Agent Brody.
Happy to do so, but I think I should follow up with this first.
Hold up a sec on that, will you?
Can we speak?
In private?
I'd like Agent Brody to do her after-action interview before going into the field.
She briefed me on what happened.
Followed protocol.
You're not going to find anything there.
Seems to me the paperwork can wait until we're further down the road with the m*rder investigation.
I respectfully disagree, and I'm receiving my orders from Director Vance.
After something like today, you got to question everything and everyone involved in the detail.
Came across a file in Agent Brody's jacket.
Were you aware of the incident on the USS Moultrie when she was an agent afloat?
Fully aware.
Do you know she hesitated when she saw the bomber?
I read the file.
Moultrie investigation showed Agent Brody's slight hesitation had no bearing on the expl*si*n.
Bottom line, this is twice people have d*ed on Agent Brody's watch.
I want to find out what happened this morning.
And I'm equally intent on finding out what Agent Brody did or did not do on the USS Moultrie.
Start again.
What happened just before you veered from the admiral's flank?
I veered because I saw a credible thr*at.
Called it out.
Moved in to assess it further.
Would you have preferred I did nothing?
I would have preferred you keep the admiral safe.
He is safe.
And Agent Hackett?
Look...
I'd like to be out there looking for Agent Hackett's k*ller.
Feel free to play back the tapes of the first three times we went over this.
My story is not changing.
And what about your story about what happened on the USS Moultrie?
I admire the tactic.
Badger me for 40 minutes in the hopes that I'll be distracted when you get to what you really care about.
Of the five men that d*ed on the Moultrie,
I served with two.
They were friends.
So, yes, I do care.
Sit.
September 2, 2007.
You were the agent afloat when disgruntled Petty Officer 3rd class Jerry Hooper strapped an improvised expl*sive to his chest, tried to make his way to the command center.
You encountered Hooper in the mission bay.
Brody: NCIS! Stop!
Had a clear sh*t to take him down, but...
you hesitated.
So tell me this: Why didn't you fire when you had a clean sh*t...
(expl*si*n)
Agent Brody?
(firmly): Agent Brody?
Answer the question.
If you want to officially reopen the investigation, go ahead.
Till then...
I am going back to work.
Lasalle: This photo was sent from your headquarters.
City: Suggesting I sent this?
Insult on top of injury.
You guys take our jobs and then you accuse us of trying to assassinate an admiral?
The thr*at came from inside your union office.
Someone besides me.
I wouldn't know where to begin to put something like this together.
My girl, Angie, she sends all my e-mails, and there's no way I know how to... photo-whatever a target on that ass's face.
But you were aware of it and you didn't notify the authorities.
Thought it was just one of my guys letting off some steam.
There's a lot of anger.
People's lives screwed.
Any screwed more than others?
Look around.
Used to be 200 people working here.
Now I got skeleton crews packing the place up.
People lost their homes.
Families ripped apart.
Desperate times.
Which may have called for desperate measures.
Look, as upset as I am at this Admiral Pack, in no way do I condone what happened.
And I feel like crap for the guy that got sh*t, his family.
“The guy” was Austin Hackett.
We're gonna need access to your servers and a list of people who would've been able to get into the union's office the day the e-mail was sent.
Angie, I need your help with that damn computer again.
I was able to locate the slug in Agent Hackett's T-4 vertebrae.
b*llet's a .30-30 Winchester, most commonly found in various hunting r*fles.
The distance between the building where the sh*t came from and Hackett was over 500 feet.
About 166 yards.
Single k*ll sh*t at that distance, not easy for a .30-30.
You know, when the Chen Lon g*ng in China had John Lennon k*lled, they made sure that Mark David Chapman had point-blank access.
Really? The Chinese?
Yeah. Later, I'll show you the evidence.
So we're looking for someone with significant hunting experience.
And because we haven't pinpointed the exact location in the building where the sh*t came from, I'm working up a simulation.
Oh, look out!
Mr. Lund has himself a grassy knoll.
All right, let's... don't start with me, “Double P”"
Oh, no, it's Triple P now.
The third “P” is for “perfection.”
Sebastian: We've been over this, okay?
You cannot give yourself a nickname.
And here's where we shut the screen off.
Good-bye, Loretta.
Bye, Dwayne.
Son of Sam gave himself...
Patton: Are you ready to love the Triple P?
Follow me.
I went through the login of everyone who signed into the computers at the headquarters the night that e-mail was sent.
Found this.
Password-- HueyLeo81.
Logged in 30 seconds prior.
Logged off 15 seconds after.
That e-mail belongs to Shane Tash.
Born May 26, 1981.
Pet bulldogs-- Huey and Leo.
Okay. Hunting experience?
Damn, do I have to do everything around here?
Let me ask you something.
Now, if I added another “P” to my name, what would you like--
“Passionate” or “playful”?
Shane Tash has had a hunting license for over 20 years.
You want me to get Brody and check out Tash?
Anson really reopen the investigation into Moultrie?
She's been up there an hour.
Could be another couple hours.
Let's go check out this Tash fellow.
Sorry, fellas.
Ain't gonna talk to anyone involved in with Navy after what y'all done to us.
You may not want to talk, but we think whoever signed in as HueyLeo81...
...probably should.
It was a nasty piece of work, that e-mail you sent.
Not as nasty as Admiral Pack.
Whoa!
What about Admiral Pack?
Word around the union, he was getting kickbacks from a company in Charleston for the shipping contracts, too.
We don't care about your conspiracy theories.
We care about your whereabouts at the time of the sh**ting.
I was here.
Anyone to corroborate that?
Place was a ghost town.
Everybody was out picketing the admiral.
That's convenient.
Check my timecard if you want.
Clocked in at 8:00 a.m.
Clocked in at 8:00 a.m., walked out the front door.
20 minutes to the courthouse.
Still leaves you 40 minutes before the sh*t rang out.
You got nothing on me.
Now, if you don't mind, I got to tear down the rest of this equipment and ship it to China.
You threatened a Naval officer by e-mail, and that's a federal offense.
You're going with us back to your house and handing over all your r*fles.
Were you dropped on your head as a child?
Please don't tell me you buy the government's story.
Kennedy was obviously k*lled by the Chicago Mob.
Evidence. Show me some ev-i-dence.
Pride: Patton, what are you doing here?
Man, the second I heard Sebastian was down here trying to recreate an assassination, I came to try to keep him focused.
Doesn't seem to be working.
Well, neither is the theory about Shane Tash.
What?
Ballistics didn't match any of his g*ns.
Patton: Yeah.
But we're making good progress on where the sh*t came from.
Based on the angle of Agent Hackett's entry wound, and, uh, the affect of wind speed and gravity on the b*llet's velocity, I was able to determine that the sh*t was fired from the third story, corner window of the building across Royal Street.
Now, that discovery lead to a cool theory.
Really, really cool.
I just said that it was cool.
Yeah, but I added a couple of reallys, and I said, “cool,” which is so much more cooler than the way you said it.
The theory, please.
Yeah, so, imagine for a moment that this box is the courthouse.
Okay.
All right, these are the protestors.
This is the building across Royal.
And this is the sh**t.
Now, if my lab assistant would hand me Randall the Robot, please.
You know what?
Lab assistant is not cool.
Randall is Admiral Pack.
Myron the Monkey is Agent Hackett.
And Cornelius the Clown is the statue of Supreme Court Judge Edward Douglass White, or more commonly known as Big Green Ed.
This laser pointer represents the sh**t's direction.
Turn it on... tell me what you see.
k*ller's line of sight was obstructed by the statue.
And yet, a full minute before, when the admiral was unobstructed...
k*ller didn't fire.
I'm beginning to wonder if this is really about assassinating Admiral Pack.
Pride: Or maybe...
Agent Hackett was the target all along.
Tell me things.
We figure if Hackett's the target, probably rules out the union.
No ties there, so we started digging into him personally.
Dumped his financials. No red flags.
Nothing in his NCIS jacket.
Guy's clean as whistle.
What's interesting is, Hackett told me he specifically requested to be on this detail.
Yeah, he was supposed to be protecting the Commandant of the Marine Corps in San Diego this week.
Fought to get himself reassigned, sent a series of e-mails requesting to protect Admiral Pack, so he could come home.
He got family?
Lasalle: His parents d*ed ten years ago.
His brother lives in Sarasota.
We dumped his cell.
He made a phone call to a Rebirth Boxing Gym in the Ninth Ward at 6:00 p.m. the night before his death.
Another couple calls to and from State Senator Klain around 10:00 p.m. the same night.
William Klain?
Yup, also, another number we couldn't I.D.--
720 area code.
Out of state?
Colorado.
One incoming the night before he d*ed around 8:45.
Six outgoing the morning of.
Then another call from that same number three weeks ago.
When he lobbied to get the detail.
All right, let's have Patton get to work on the 720 number, see what he can find out.
Brody?
Brody?
Colorado number. Got it.
Chris... check out the boxing gym.
Brody, you're with me.
Let's go, uh, pay a visit to Senator Klain.
How'd it go with Agent Anson?
I answered his questions.
All he seems to care about is the Moultrie and why I hesitated.
It's personal.
I know. And... since they determined that it had nothing to do with the deaths and since nothing like that has ever happened again, then there's really... there's no reason I get it. for us to go get this...
I get it. I do. I...
But... Anson's talking about barring you from the protective detail list.
If you want, I'll call the director.
I'll shut this down.
I'll save you both the trouble, and I'll take myself off the protective detail list.
Or... you could ask for a transfer to, say... the Northwest office.
I never said anything about going to the Northwest.
No.
But... run away from the Midwest, you run away from the Moultrie.
I'm just wondering how long it's gonna be before I find a request for... reassignment on my desk.
(sighs heavily)
“Skim Milk.” It was Hackett's nickname back in high school.
We had a g*ng. Not a real g*ng.
Just a joke. We were the Milk Trucks.
He was Skim 'cause he was 100 pounds, soaking wet.
I was Spilled Milk.
Always wanted to say to the girls, “Don't cry over Spilled Milk”
Bycer here... 2%. I'm a little Native American.
So you guys were close?
We were beyond close.
Best friends.
He and I were trying to figure out a time that we could get together.
Wanted to see if I could convince him to, uh... come aboard my run for the governorship as an advisor.
But, uh, our schedules didn't line up and...
He's just... He's gone.
My wife, Justine, and I, um...
Austin's brother has asked for us to organize the wake.
I'm sorry for your loss, Senator.
I have to ask-- do you know of anyone who might've had a problem with Agent Hackett?
To the point that they'd sh**t him?
Austin was beloved.
By everyone.
Well, how 'bout this?
Several calls to an unknown Colorado phone number.
Mean anything?
Doesn't look familiar.
How about a call from the Rebirth Boxing Gym?
That's Moke's joint, right?
Moke... (sighs)
...might want to k*ll Austin.
Klain: David Mockus.
Knew him since kindergarten.
He was in a real g*ng.
Our, uh... pot guy.
Officially, I didn't inhale either.
When we all graduated, uh, Moke did, too-- to much bigger crimes.
He started running weapons for one of the biggest gunrunners in the city.
When Moke got busted, Austin stepped up as the prosecution's key witness.
It was... his tough love way of trying to get Moke straight.
Did Mr. Mockus see it that way?
Would you?
I spoke with Hackett.
So what?
sh**ting the breeze with the guy that helped put you in prison?
A lot happened since then.
I did my time.
I saw the error of my ways.
What'd you talk about?
Bunnies, unicorns, lollipops.
(chuckles)
Yeah, that's pretty funny for a guy with motive to k*ll.
Is that your office?
Yeah.
So?
Well, I'm guessing that's your safe.
Bet if I pop that sucker open, a lot of g*ns is gonna fall out of there.
How's that gonna sit with the terms of your parole?
Not well.
After the bunnies and unicorns, what else was on the docket?
Wanted a g*n.
Why would an NCIS agent come to you for a g*n?
Not a question I ask.
He said he wanted it light and untraceable.
Say who it was for?
Rey.
Who's Rey?
Brody: Reagan Norris.
Went to the same high school as Hackett and Klain.
Waitress at Pat O's.
Married eight years. Seven-year-old son.
Yearbook pictures showed Reagan and Hackett together in student council, school paper, even Glee Club.
Glee Club?
Only reason a guy does that is to get next to the girl.
Mockus said he met with Hackett around 8:30.
That 720 number came in around 8:45.
All right, if it's Reagan's cell, why has she got a Colorado number?
I'm thinking second phone.
Called both, went to voicemail.
Patton did say they had simultaneous credit card charges between Reagan and Hackett, up here at B.J.'s.
Yeah, they came in a couple nights ago.
Were sittin' in that corner.
Lasalle: They leave together?
Well, I'm not sure.
But my manager punched up the outside security cams for you.
Man, I... I never know how to work this equipment.
Oh, I got this.
Any chance you heard what they were talking about?
Uh, joint can be loud.
But I can tell you this, they looked cozy.
At one point, he leaned over--
I thought he was going in for the kiss-- dropped something in her purse.
Did it look like a g*n?
Mm...
Well, I didn't see it, but... g*n is sexy.
You carry a g*n, right?
I think we have everything we need from you. Thank you.
Oh.
I'll be in the other room.
Got 'em leaving the bar.
Brody: Reagan and Hackett.
Lasalle: Now who's that?
Rewind.
Freeze on his face.
That's not Mockus.
I know that face-- from the research we did on Reagan.
Her husband.
Alec Norris.
Lasalle: What if Hackett and Reagan was having an affair?
They're worried about the husband finding out.
Hackett gets her a g*n for protection, he shows up... (chuckles) something goes down.
The husband uses the threats at the protest to make Hackett pay.
Alec Norris.
The husband.
Is he credible for this kind of a k*lling?
Electrician. Works for a local contractor.
No priors. Had a hunting license since 2001.
Any domestic issues?
NOPD got a 911 call to the house two days ago.
Police showed up, but Reagan refused to press charges.
Open door.
NCIS.
Clear.
Clear.
Brody: Clear.
Find anything?
Lasalle: Nothing.
Someone left in a hurry.
Well, if the husband k*lled Hackett, it makes sense he'd run.
If Reagan feared for her life, might've fled with their son.
If she did, we better start looking at hospitals.
Son's name is Dylan.
Sick.
Really sick, from the looks of this equipment.
Seen this at the children's hospital.
Also found this medication, lactulose.
You know what it's for?
No.
All right, we got a missing woman, potential k*ller, and now a sick kid.
Let's find these people-- fast.
I pulled a favor from a friend over at Children's Hospital.
The son, Dylan Norris, has hepatic angiosarcoma.
It's cancer of the blood vessels in the liver.
Is the condition treatable?
Only if someone donates a part of their liver.
The lactulose is used to try and control high ammonia levels until a donor is found.
So the kid should be in a hospital?
Oh, that won't do any good.
He'll just get sicker and sicker.
It could be a matter of weeks, could be months...
Well, it's hard to say because I don't have full access to his file.
We'll get a warrant. See if the m*rder investigation can get past the HIPAA laws.
Thank you.
You all right, Merri?
Yeah. Fine. Why?
Just notice a... little bit of your light has gone out.
I'm just, um...
I'm... dealing with something.
Merri... how I see this space... it's my temple.
And all who enter here are afforded solace and protection.
That goes for both the dead as well as the living.
I made a mistake once.
NCIS!
Stop!
For six-tenths of a second.
Six-tenths of a second, and I have been obsessing on it for... close to eight years.
Everyone always accuses me of running, but there is a difference between running and trying to put something behind you.
There is.
But if you keep avoiding that “something,” people wonder if you still have your track pants and jogging shoes on.
Patton: Assuming Reagan was having an affair with Hackett,
I've been working the Colorado number to see if we can use it to locate Reagan.
“My Alias” is a service used by philanderers to generate a second number on a phone, without requiring an additional SIM card.
Reagan Norris has one?
Yeah, you toggle between numbers, you turn one number off, set your privacy settings so you don't get caught cheating.
Man, if they would've invented that five years ago, I'd still be married. (chuckles)
Anyway, once I confirmed it was Reagan's phone, I got a hit on a tower in Gretna, near Business 90.
Lasalle: Oasis Motel.
Reagan could be hiding out there.
And have Dylan with her.
All right, forward this info to Brody.
Tell her to meet us... at the Oasis Motel.
Brody: Which room?
Pride: 37.
Desk clerk said that Reagan came in two nights ago.
Paid cash.
Requested to be notified if her husband showed up.
Did she have Dylan with her?
Clerk didn't see him.
Eyes open, everyone.
(knocking on door)
NCIS. Open up.
Anybody here?
Pride: Clear.
Lasalle: Clear.
Brody: Clear.
Lasalle: They got prison cells in Angola that's nicer than this.
Pride: No bags.
Bed's made.
Room's awful neat.
Guys...
Placement of this dresser is off.
Indentation marks in the carpet where it used to sit.
Yeah, let's move it.
Ready?
Yep.
Go... (grunting)
Lasalle: Got something.
(sniffing)
Bleach.
Brody, get your...
Bluestar.
Brody: Blood.
Pride: So assume that the husband tracked her to the hotel the same way he tracked her to the bar.
If the kid was with her...
Could've hurt him, too.
Or taken him.
Lasalle: Thank you, fellas.
K-9 search and rescue's on its way.
If Reagan's nearby, they'll find her.
Who are you calling?
Just... playing a hunch.
(phone ringing in distance)
(phone continues ringing)
(gasps, sighs)
(phone continues ringing)
Damn it.
Wade: She had a g*n in her handbag?
Pride: The one we believe Hackett gave to her for protection.
Wade: Yeah.
Apparently not enough.
Never fired.
All b*ll*ts still in the clip.
Well, based on decomp, Reagan's been dead approximately 48 hours.
Same night as the altercation at the bar.
Cause of death?
Oh, no poisons in her system or s*ab wounds, but... based on the bruising around her ear, I found she suffered from a basilar skull fracture.
Also has a small stress fracture on her upper cheek, uh, most likely from being struck with a fist.
My guess is, uh, she fell, hit her head on something.
Could've been the dresser.
Where you found the blood.
Crime of passion?
Quite. I've got Dylan's medical records.
Both his parents were tested to donate, but there was one little problem.
Dylan's type A, and Reagan and Alec are both type B.
Forgive me, Loretta, long time since I took biology.
How's it possible neither parent matches their son's blood type?
Man: It's not.
I'm not Dylan's father.
Pride: Mr. Norris...
(voice breaking): Is that her?
Please say it isn't.
Mr. Norris... Mr. Norris...
I'm sorry.
No, I just, I heard the re... report on the news and... and I didn't know where I should go.
I was hoping... that maybe it wasn't... wasn't true.
Where's your son?
Where's your boy?
Dad, what's going on?
Dylan, you can't be in here.
Alec: Wait, wait. No.
I got him, Dwayne.
Dylan: Dad! Dad!
No, please, please...
It's okay, it's gonna be okay, Dylan.
I didn't do this!
You'll see, I didn't do this!
Alec: It all started a month ago.
(video game blipping)
Dylan got sick?
Rey and I both went in to donate.
When it came back that neither of us was a match, I...
I don't know, my mind... my mind just started racing, you know?
An affair?
(wry laugh)
Yeah, well, uh, you know, we were pregnant basically the moment that we met.
Now I'm thinking she-she probably already was, she just didn't tell me.
You assumed it was Hackett?
Seemed like a safe bet.
And they stayed close.
You know, she-she'd take these trips to-to visit him.
All of a sudden, Hackett's back in town...
Yeah, I lost it, I lost it.
I att*cked the guy, outside the bar.
I mean, sure, they both, they both denied the affair, but that's what people do, right?
So screw it.
I-I didn't want to, uh, hear any more lies, so I-I... I just took off.
Dylan and I, we got in the car, and we went camping.
Camping?
Yeah.
Dylan, he loves sleeping out underneath the stars.
Takes his mind off what's going on.
That's where I was when Hackett was k*lled.
I just needed to-to cool off. I...
Then I get back to town, and I, uh...
I saw the news.
You know we're gonna call the campground.
If you're lying...
I-I'm not.
I'm not lying.
Look...
I would never hurt Reagan.
As for Hackett, I... hated that guy.
But why am I gonna k*ll the one man who might be able to save my son's life?
So I ran little Dylan's DNA against Hackett's, and in the envelope, I have the results of that test.
Sebastian...
But I can tell by your incredibly tense body language that now is not the time for theatrics, so...
Agent Hackett is not Dylan's father.
Then who is?
I ran Dylan's DNA through our criminal database, came up empty.
Thanks, Sebastian.
(monitor blips off)
What if Reagan told Hackett who the father was?
Then they were both k*lled to keep the secret quiet.
So... Dylan doesn't stand a chance if we can't find who his father is.
That's why you pay me the big bucks.
Or at least you should.
I was able to override the password on Reagan's phone, download the incoming and outgoing calls.
I got her last call, the night she was k*lled.
I got this.
To Skim Milk.
(amused chuckling)
Austin, um...
I would never be where I am today, without you.
You were my friend... my brother.
Sweet Austin...
...we will miss you.
All: Cheers.
Agent Brody.
Can I get you a drink?
Uh, appreciated, but I'm on the job.
Understood.
Senator Klain, I need to ask the whereabouts of your chief of staff.
Edward?
Another one of your high school friends has been m*rder*d.
Reagan Norris.
Reagan?
Really?
And there is an issue of paternity with her child and Edward.
We think Hackett might have gotten caught up in it.
Edward said that he had to get out of town. A family thing.
Do you know where he went?
I can find out.
That'd be great.
DNA.
Confirms you're Dylan's father.
But, of course, we're not telling you anything you don't already know.
Wait...
I thought you were looking into Edward.
You wished.
We just wanted to get into your head, make sure you didn't walk away with that glass.
Okay, look...
I had an affair with Reagan.
But she never told me that she was pregnant.
You know that joke-- how can you tell a politician's lying?
His lips are moving.
Pride: That's it.
Save yourself the embarrassment.
Let's check our math.
Seven years ago, Klain gets Reagan pregnant.
But he's married, star on the rise.
Reagan agrees to keep it secret, which works.
Until Dylan gets sick.
Then a month ago, she calls Klain, asks him to get tested, he says no.
Because if he had agreed to that, it's pretty much bye-bye to his run for governorship.
And so Reagan goes to the one friend she thinks can convince Klain to save his son, Austin Hackett.
And now two people know.
So two people must die.
No, wait, it wasn't...
Reagan, she-she threatened me.
So I-I...
I-I just, I-I snapped.
That's all.
“That's all,” he says.
Yeah, well, she couldn't have threatened you too hard.
'Cause the g*n she had in her pocket for protection was never fired.
And with Reagan dead, Hackett would have known exactly who was behind the m*rder.
And knowing the union issues, the assassination attempt was a perfect way to cover up Hackett's death.
I was gonna be governor.
Do great things for the people of this state.
The only person in the state of Louisiana you can do anything for now is Dylan.
That kid dies, your own flesh and blood, you will never stop thinking about it, trust me.
Best you just face it head on.
Lasalle: Oh, man, you're k*lling me.
Alec: So he said yes.
Senator's been taken to the hospital.
He's, uh, being tested as we speak.
So Hackett wasn't Dylan's father.
No.
But he came here to New Orleans.
He gave his life.
Trying to save Dylan's.
Dylan's kicking my butt over here.
(quiet laugh)
Um...
Hey, uh... you ready to go, champ?
Everything okay?
We'll get there, buddy, yeah.
Come on.
Normally, I'm on the other side of this table.
You chose to continue our conversation here, Agent Brody.
This isn't supposed to be an interrogation.
Yes, it is.
But I'm okay with that.
It's time to put away the track shoes.
Hooper's eyes...
Why I hesitated...
The shape, the color, bright blue, reminded me of someone I loved very much, who I had just lost, days before.
So I will sit here as long as you'd like... answer all of the questions, and I will do this in the memory of the five people that d*ed on the Moultrie.
Agent Austin Hackett... and my twin sister, Emily Anne Brody... who d*ed at the hands of a drunk driver.
I'm sorry for your loss.
As I am for yours.
Let's start at the beginning.
The morning of the incident on the Moultrie.
I woke up at 0600 hours.
We were parked in the Persian Gulf, waiting on orders, when the Intel came in about Petty Officer Hooper.
I immediately grabbed my gear out of the command center.
When I saw hi--
Attagirl.