03x21 - Maximum Security

[bunniefuu]

[playful music]

♪ ♪

Jake: Ka-blamo, scrubs.

I nailed it.

I solved Captain Holt's brain teaser and found the location of our secret meeting.

The answer? The broom closet.

In your face.

Terry:,In whose face now?

Jake: Yours.

Terry: Gina and I have been here 20 minutes.

Gina: Though my presence is not puzzle-related.

I just followed Terry into a dark closet.

Rosa: Hey.

You solved the puzzle before me.

Nerds.

Jake: [scoffs] They solved it first.

They're the nerds. I'm cool like you.

Rosa: Wait. Where's Captain Holt? Where's Amy?

Gina: Yeah, she should be the first one here.

Doesn't she go to, like, an adult puzzle camp every summer?

Jake:,Yes, but please don't bring that up.

I've been throwing out her mailers.

Terry: Guys, if those two aren't here, I'm thinking we must be in the wrong place.

Jake: No, trust me, we're definitely in the right place.

I'm 100% sure about this.

Scully: Well, guess who solved the puzzle?

Hitchcock: Who?

Scully; We did.

Hitchcock: Oh, we did?

Jake: Yeah, we're in the wrong place.

[upbeat music]

♪ ♪

Holt: Thank you for all finally showing up.

Let's recap. As you know, Jimmy "The Butcher" Figgis put out a hit on Adrian Pimento, which the mob believes succeeded.

For his safety Pimento has gone off the grid.

Jake: Remember, the only people we can trust with this information are in this room.

Boyle: And Genevieve. We can trust Genevieve.

We share a life. I tell her everything.

Jake: Fine, the people in this room, and Genevieve.

Boyle: Genevieve's mom also knows, but she's in a coma, dead any second, we're good.

Jake: Okay.

Holt: Unfortunately, we can't just arrest Figgis, because he has a man inside the FBI.

Jake; The good news is, we have a lead that's gonna break this case wide open: Maura Figgis, Jimmy's sister.

She's currently serving in a maximum security prison in Texas.

Terry; A white woman in prison, in Texas?

[scoffs] She must be bad.

Holt: She m*rder*d three people, and she knows Figgis's operation, so we're sending a detective in undercover as an inmate to get close to her.

Jake: Yeah, and guys, this isn't one of those women's prisons that we've all seen being all sexy on late-night cable.

You know, with the ladies touching each other's bits, and there's kind of some lame jazz playing.

When these chicks fight, it's for real.

So be mature.

Holt: Peralta is gross, but correct.

Jake: Mm.

Holt: This facility is a violent place filled with hardened criminals We need to send someone who can blend in.

Amy: Sir, I would be honored to take on this challenging assignment.

[laughter]

Why is everyone laughing?

I can be a badass.

Gina: You're raising your hand right now.

Amy: We're in a meeting.

Holt: I just assumed Diaz would be the prisoner.

Nothing personal, it's just, you know... she's terrifying.

Rosa: Thank you, Sir.

Mm-hmm.

Holt: Dismissed.

Amy: Hey, that was crazy, right? I mean, I can be scary.

Jake: Oh, yeah. I watch "Jeopardy" with you and you're a straight-up psycho.

Amy: Aww. Thanks, babe.

Jake:,I'll take "Awesome Girlfriends" for 500, Alex.

Amy: I know you're being sweet, but don't disparage "Jeopardy."

Jake: Okay.

[classical music playing]

Holt; All right, listen up.

[groans]

Gina: You're not gonna try to convince us Mahler was the original punk rocker again, are you?

Holt: No, the music is a classic counter-espionage maneuver.

I don't want to be overheard.

But, since you mention it, Mahler was one in-your-face bad boy.

Terry: Right, um, so, what's going on, sir?

Holt: Oh, I have a plan to draw out Figgis's man in the FBI: Throw a funeral for Pimento.

Now, before we, quote, unquote, bury Pimento, we need to, quote, unquote, open an investigation, find a, quote, unquote, corpse, and obtain a, quote, unquote, death certificate.

Gina: Kind of feel like you could have just used "air quotes."

Holt: I can also wear short pants and drink for a jug that says "XXX."

Terry: Fake funeral's a good idea, sir, but where are we gonna find a corpse?

Holt: We don't need one.

We just need pictures for the case file.

Gina: If I may, imagine Pimento's dirty, pale body being pulled out of a manhole after a couple days' sewer bloat.

Mm.

Now squint your eyes... and look at Hitchcock.

Holt: Oh, yes.

I believe we've found our corpse.

Boyle: You positively glow.

Jake: How do you feel?

Rosa: Great.

I could smother somebody in their sleep with this thing.

Pregnancy's dope.

Boyle: Whoa, bup, bup, bup.

That big old womb is not a w*apon, okay?

Jake: It's just an excuse to talk to your doctors, AKA, Charles and me, in private.

If you need to chat, just schedule an appointment with Brent Kennedy, ob-gyn.

Boyle: And I'm Glen Kennedy, ob-gyn.

We're twins, like "Property Brothers," but for gynecology.

Jake: No, I said no to that idea.

[sighs]

You are Isaac Schwartz, my older Jewish mentor, and you are Isabel Cortez.

You're in for stabbing a man on the subway 46 times in the trachea.

Rosa: Tight.

Boyle: The pregnancy stuff is my area of expertise.

Since Genevieve started fertility treatments, it's all we talk about.

Now... show me your waddle.

Boyle; Mm-hmm.

Jake: Mm-hmm, okay.

Boyle: Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Jake: Okay, okay, okay.

[with Cockney accent] Nice.

Holt: Good work.

You really look like a corpse.

Hitchcock: And I'm not even wearing makeup.

[camera clicks]

Gina: Time of death: 8:26 p.m.

Now all I have to do is sign as the coroner.

Terry; You are disturbingly good at this.

Gina: I grew up forging report cards.

If people knew how smart I was, it would have been harder to control them.

Now all we need is the death certificate officially notarized.

Amy: You want me to break the sacred oath I took to become a notary?

It's not a problem. 'Cause... I'm a badass.

Just like Rosa.

So...

I am going to stamp this, and... violate my oath...

Gina: You can keep talking, but we're done here.

[thuds]

Terry: Adrian Pimento is officially deceased.

Holt: Excellent.

All this sneaking around is exhilarating.

I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my body.

Coursing.

_

[gate slams]

Isabel Cortez, welcome to your new home.

Rosa: This is gonna be fun.

Jake: Really?

What are your weekends like, Diaz?

All right. It's time, Detective.

Boyle: Don't forget, you're seven months pregnant.

Your cervix is ripening as we speak.

Rosa: Mention my cervix again and I will rip your throat out.

Jake:I don't understand. You don't like it when he talks about your cervix ripening?

Okay, have fun.

Boyle: They grow up so fast.

[buzzer sounds]

Okay, fresh meat.

You're being transferred here because you made trouble in your last prison.

That won't fly here. Stay in your lane.

Maura: Hey. You're that cop who arrested me three years ago in Brooklyn.

Rosa: Uh...

Jake: Amy Santiago, you're going to prison.

Amy: I don't know. Is anyone gonna buy it?

I mean, do I look pregnant?

Jake: I mean...

I guess I can see it.

Boyle: I think it's amazing.

Oh, Jake and Amy and baby makes three.

I don't know if I believe in God, but I have prayed for this.

Jake: That is psychotic.

[chuckles]

All right, Ames, let's go over your cover story again.

[sighs]
Amy: Okay.

My name is Isabel Cortez, I'm in for m*rder, 'cause some perv on the subway tried to touch me and I was like, "Did someone order a tracheotomy?"

Jake: Okay, I think that's a little too technical.

We need to work on your tough talk.

So, what are you in for, Cortez?

Amy: None of your damn business.

Jake: Nice. Keep going with that.

Amy: I'm gonna split you like a sundae with Grandpa... bitch.

Jake: Okay. Okay.

The "bitch" part was great. Yeah.

Although, mean threats generally don't involve having desserts with your grandparents.

So, just try again.

Amy: Keep telling me what to do and I'll s*ab your face off.

Jake: Hell yes!

Damn!

Like that.

Okay, now, here's the plan.

Instead of you approaching Maura, we're gonna get her to come to you.

Yeah, try and spread the word that you've got a connect on the outside that gives you access to contrabands: cigarettes, burner phones...

Amy; p*rn.

Jake: Amy, women don't watch...

Boyle: They do.

Amy: Mm.

Oh, yeah.

Jake: Oh, wow.

Mm-hmm.

Jake: Huh.

Well, that's an exciting revelation for me.

Mm-hmm.

Huh.

Terry: Sorry prison didn't work out.

Rosa: Eh, I'll find another use for that shiv.

Terry: Also, I'm sorry about Pimento.

I mean, I know how hard it is to have a fiancé disappear because the mob and the FBI want 'em dead.

I mean...

Actually, I can't relate at all.

It's the saddest story I ever heard.

Look, you wanna talk, I'm a good listener.

Rosa: There's nothing to be sad about.

Pimento's gonna come back, we're gonna get married and we're gonna have sex on Figgis's grave just like we planned.

Terry: Cool honeymoon.

Rosa: Mm-hmm.

Terry: Well, since you're not in prison, you can help us.

We're gonna throw a fake funeral to draw out our FBI guy.

Rosa; Good plan.

I always thought it would be funny to k*ll somebody at a funeral. [laughs]

Terry: Also, you're gonna have to play the grieving fiancé.

Rosa: What?

So you may not be sad, but you're gonna need to look it.

Rosa: Fine.

Boo hoo.

Terry: Maybe we'll get you a real thick veil or something.

_

[alarm sounds]

Cellmates!

[upbeat music]

Jake: All right, our camera is up.

We have picture and sound.

Amy should be meeting her new cellmate any second now.

♪ ♪

Martie: Sup.

Amy: Sup.

Jake: Good, she's abbreviating, just like we practiced, even though she hates it.

Boyle: She's gonna do just fine.

Jake: Oh, yeah.

I drilled her for hours. Ew.

I'm sorry, I just realized what that sounded like.

Boyle: It's okay, Jake. I wish we'd talk like that more.

Jake: No.

Martie: Where you from?

Amy: Passed around the system.

Never stayed anywhere long enough to call it home.[/i]

Boyle: Ooh, that's a good answer.

Jake: Yeah, that one was mine.

I speak the language of the streets.

It was actually from "Girl, Interrupted."

Yeah.

Boyle: Oh, it's happening. She dropped the contraband.

Martie: Hey, where you get that crap?

Amy: I got a hookup on the outside, so I can get anything for a price.

This is yours... if you can get the word out about my store.

Martie: Okay, I can do that.

Amy: Cellie for my cellie.

Jake: Oh, no... wordplay? Abort.

Martie: Cellie? I get it. Funny.[/i]

Jake: Oh, it actually worked.

Huh.

People are really starved for entertainment in here.

Jail is hell.

Boyle: Yeah.

Holt: All that we know about Figgis's man in the FBI is that he's a white male of average height and build, and according to Jake, he has a scar on his hand.

Gina: Oh, this is a long-sh*t, but if his name is Joe, could we call him Scar-Joe?

Holt: Scar-Joe. Never heard that before.

I like it. We'll use it.

Now, funeral assignments.

Gina and I will greet people, shaking hands and checking for the tell-tale scar.

Terry: Excuse me, sir.

Are you sure you want to be on the receiving line?

You hate small talk.

Holt: No, I can turn it on when it's called for.

"The Bachelor" is a television show, hmm?

Andre Agassi's at it again.

I, too, avoid gluten.

Terry; Okay.

Holt: I want the rest of you checking out the crowd for anyone suspicious.

Officer Lou: Oh, I'm sorry. Am I interrupting?

Holt: No, we just all came in here separately and then started chatting, you know, breezy stuff.

"The Bachelor" is a television show.

Andre Agassi's at it again.

I, too, am avoiding gluten.

Jake: Do you see Amy? How is she?

Boyle: Great. She just got lunch, double helping of spinach.

Baby's gonna love that folic acid.

Jake: You are so strange.

All right, this is her first time eating in the dining hall.

Where she chooses to sit is very important.

[alarm blares]

Jake: Oh, good, she's headed towards that table of hot blonde girls.

Wait a minute. No.

They're Nazis.

The hotties are Nazis. They're hot-zis.

Swerve, Amy, swerve!

Good, good, good, good, good, good.

Okay, and...

All right, sitting alone.

Bold choice, bold choice. Hmm.

Oh, here comes Maura.

Maura: Hey, Cortez.

I hear you can smuggle in crap from outside.[/i]

Jake: Noice, it's working.

Amy: That's right, baby.[/i]

What do you want?

Maura: What I want... is for you to back the hell off... because I'm the only store in this prison.

Jake: Uh-oh.

Amy: Well, I didn't see your name on the outside of the prison, unless your name is Texas State Penitentiary Comma Spring Valley Unit.

Jake: Oh, this is bad.

I can't believe I'm gonna say this, but she should have sat with the hot-zis.

[door buzzes]

Amy: Hey, what's going on?

I was talking to Figgis and then the guard said I had an appointment.

I'm not supposed to check in until tomorrow.

People might get suspicious.

Jake: Look, we called you in because your first contact with Figgis was a disaster.

Amy: Why? Because our smuggling plan backfired and she threatened to k*ll me?

Jake: Yes, every single detail of what you just said.

We need a new plan.

Amy; And I've got one.

I need to step to her.

Jake: Step to her?

Amy, this isn't "High School Musical."

Boyle: Yeah, Amy, this isn't "High School Musical 2."

Jake: Yeah, and it isn't "High School Musical 3: Senior Year."

All right.

Point is, it's not a high school musical.

Boyle: That's right.

Amy: I got it.

Jake: Look, Figgis is seriously dangerous, all right?

She's k*lled more people in prison than she did on the outside.

Amy: I know, and if I back down now she'll never respect me and we'll get nowhere with her.

Trust me, I've got this.

Jake: Okay, I can see that logic, but in the interest of keeping you as un-shanked as possible, I think maybe we need a signal in case things go south.

Boyle: Ooh, I know. Scratch your butt.

Jake: No, that's no good. What if her butt itches for real?

Amy: I think I can handle it.

I've made it through 20 years of adulthood without scratching my butt in public.

Jake: Amy.

Boyle: Amy.

Jake: Come on.

Boyle: Come on.

Both: Come on.

Amy:,All right.

Jake: Never? Ames, come on.

Come on.

[organ music playing]

Yo, it's too bad, right?

[chattering]

Holt: Hello, thank you so much for coming.

High five?

Detective Pimento didn't want his funeral to feel stuffy.

Condolences, my man.

♪ ♪

Terry: What's going on, sir?

Why are you high-fiving the bereaved?

Holt: The handshakes weren't working.

You couldn't see the inside of the thumb webbing.

Gina came up with an artful solution.

Gina: I'm very sorry for your loss.

Get some.

Holt; The system works.

Rosa: Any sign of Scar-Joe?

[sighs] Terry: Not yet.

[frustrated groan]

Rosa: I don't know how much more of this I can take.

All these jerks keep on asking me how I'm doing.

Terry: This shouldn't be so difficult.

Your fiancé did really leave. Just act sad about it.

Rosa: Fine, I'll pretend to be sad.

I'll make myself cry.

Watch: [loud groan]

Terry: That's not how this works.

Rosa: Or is it?

Suck it, Sarge.

Amy: Hey.

Give me those 20-pounders.

Maura: Wait your turn, Baby-Sitters Club.

Jake: No weight lifting.

You can sh**t that baby across the room.

Come on.

Amy: What's going on? I was stepping to her.

Jake: I know, but it wasn't a good time.

She was holding a 20-pound weight.

That's basically Thor's hammer, babe.

Amy: I can handle myself.

Jake: Cool, yeah.

Just, you know, don't confront her when she's armed.

Amy: Fine.

[door buzzes]

Seriously? She was at lunch. She didn't have a w*apon.

Jake: She had a fork.

That's like four tiny shivs on a stick.

[door buzzes]

Amy: What the hell?

Jake: Socks are just a noose waiting to be braided.

[door buzzes]

Amy: We were playing hearts.

Jake: In the wrong hands, every playing card is like a throwing star.

[door buzzes]

Amy: She was alone, her hands were empty, and I think she was napping.

So what was the big thr*at this time?

Jake: You did the signal.

You scratched your butt. Right, Boyle?

Boyle: Uh, I don't know. I was focused on her waddle.

Which you are nailing, by the way.

[scoffs]

Amy: Well, I know for a fact that I didn't scratch my butt because my right cheek was actually itchy and I fought through it.

I know what's really going on here.

You don't think I'm tough enough to do this.

Jake: Okay, you know what? Fine, you're right, I don't.

But it's only because Maura is so much more terrifying than we anticipated.

I mean, she has a full back tattoo of herself stabbing a guy.

Boyle: He looks like Tom Hanks!

Jake: Yeah, and that's America's male sweetheart.

Amy:,I can't believe this.

You wouldn't tell Rosa to stand down.

Jake: Well, yeah, because she's Rosa.

I mean, one time, I saw her eat a whole apple using a Kn*fe, just like in the movies.

Amy: Get over the apple thing. That was three years ago.

Jake: I know, it was just so cool.

Look, I'm your handler, all right?

You have to just trust me on this.

My job is to keep you safe. It's the right call.

Amy: Fine, I'll slow-play it.

But people are getting suspicious, so you can't come running in every time I'm in the same room with her, okay?

Jake: Yeah, okay.

Are we good?

Amy; Yeah, we're good.

Boyle; This is so sweet. Now kiss her belly.

Jake: Boyle!

Amy: Boyle!

So let us all bow our heads and join together for a moment of silence.

[organ music plays softly]

[scoffs]Rosa: This church is so quiet.

Terry: Pretty normal for a moment of silence.

Captain has eyes on a guy he thinks might be Scar-Joe.

Okay, be cool. Let's check him out.

[funky music]

♪ ♪
♪ ♪

Rosa: Please make me defile this church.

Perp: What do you want?

Holt: Take off your gloves and show us your hands.

♪ ♪

Gina: And no scar.

He's just a glove-wearing freak with beautiful hands.

Rosa: Why did he run then?

Holt: He's a pickpocket.

I guess the bereft are easy targets.

Also, Scully, here's your wallet back.

Boyle: How's Amy doing?

Is she paying enough attention to her pelvic floor?

Jake: Ignoring that.

She is keeping a low profile, just like we discussed.

Boyle: I'm really impressed with you two.

You disagreed with the best strategy, but talked it through like adults.

Jake: Well, the key is trust.

I trust her to stay out of danger, and she trusts me not to interfere.

Oh, my God.

She just pushed Figgis into the garbage.

She's in danger. I must interfere.

Maura; What the hell do you think you're doing, huh?

Amy: Showing my unborn baby how an ass gets kicked.

[growls]

Jake: All right, Cortez, time for your checkup.

Amy: [sighs] No, thank you, I feel fine.

Jake: No, you don't.

It's your uterus, it's... gonna explode.

Amy: What?

Jake: Come with me.

Stand back, everyone. You're all in the splash zone.

[groans]

This ute's gonna boot.

Here we go.

[sighs]

Amy: What the hell?

We agreed you weren't gonna do that.

Jake: You disobeyed a direct order from your handler.

Amy: Yeah, I did. Because that order was crap.

I did the right thing and it's insulting that you don't see that.

Boyle: Hey, hey, hey.

The baby can hear you yelling and it's upsetting him.

Amy: It's a fake baby, Charles.

Boyle: I meant me. The baby's a cover.

Jake: Okay, stop.

You're right. I'm 100% in the wrong.

The truth is, I'm the one that's not tough enough to be in here.

I mean, watching the woman I love, unarmed, locked up with all these murderers.

It's just too much for me.

Boyle: Oh, my God. Amy, go to him.

Jake: I screwed up.

Amy: No, you didn't.

I get it.

Being a cop and dating a cop...

It's harder than I thought it would be.

I worry about you too.

Boyle: Oh, my God. Jake, go to her.

Jake: Look, I was just trying to keep you safe, but I wasn't letting you do your job.

I'm sorry.

Boyle: Why aren't you going to each other?

Jake: I think I have to take myself off of this assignment.

Amy: Are you sure?

Jake: Absolutely. You got this.

Hopefully, I haven't already blown your cover by dragging you into my office so many times.

Also, I'm pretty sure a lot of people heard me say that your baby's blood type is "OG."

Amy: Yeah, you're a pretty terrible doctor.

Mm-hmm.

But... I think I know how to get things back on track.

Jake: Hey, Cortez, you're late for your appointment.

Amy: Quit touching me.

Oh! Ugh!

[grunts]

I don't need checkups every two seconds, you dimple-chinned freak!

Jake: Oh! Aah... ow!

You're so tough and I'm just a beautiful intellectual.

[grunts]

Martie: Hey, I love b*ating up doctors.

Can I get in there?

Amy: No! He's mine.

All of you, back off!

I'm kicking for two.

[yelling, groaning]

Terry: Sorry that wasn't Scar-Joe.

Rosa: I don't want to talk about it.

Talking about your feelings is for losers.

Terry: I guess Adele's a loser in your world.

Look, the funeral's almost over, we basically pulled it off.

All you've got to do is give a convincing eulogy.

Rosa: Roger that.

Pimento's dead.

Thanks for coming.

[sighs]

Adrian Pimento was very special to me.

And now he's gone.

And I'm starting to realize... there's nothing I can do to bring him back.

I guess life is just gonna suck for a while.

But it's nice to know there's a room full of people who is sucks for too.

I'd also like to add... the next person who hugs me gets their necks snapped.

Gina: And... she's back.

Jake: Okay, this is it, I'm leaving.

You're in charge.

Boyle: I'll take extra good care of her, Jake.

Jake: Just let her do her thing.

But this is Texas, so also make sure she doesn't somehow get the death penalty.

Boyle: Mm-hmm.

Jake: Stay tough, Cortez.

Boyle: You're touching her boob. Should I turn away, or...

Jake: I'm not touching her boob. She's tiny on the screen.

I'm just saying good-bye, man.

Boyle: You know, why don't I turn and give you privacy?

Jake: No, don't turn. That's what makes it weird.

Ugh!

[upbeat music]

Holt:,Well, we pulled it off.

Nice eulogy.

Terry; I thought it was dumb.

Holt: Sergeant?

Rosa: Excuse me?

Terry: You said there's nothing you can do to bring him back, but you're wrong.

None of us are gonna stop fighting until he comes home.

Rosa: Thanks.

Terry: And if you ever need to talk, or get drunk, or throw stuff off a roof, I mean, I don't know your process.

Am I hitting on anything here?

Rosa: The roof thing sounds pretty good.

Holt: Very well. Let's throw something off the roof and then we'll get back to work.

High five.

I quite like them now.

Amy: What are you looking at? You got a problem?

Maura: Whoa. Cool it, k*ller.

I just wanted to say good job on b*ating the crap out of that doctor.

Amy: Oh. Thanks.

Maura: I like you. You got balls.

Maybe you should come work for me.

I could use a bruiser on my crew.

Amy: I'm not a bruiser.

I'm a psycho.

Maura: Even better.

Boyle: Nice job, Cortez.

Oh, I touched her boob. I've got to tell Jake!

Not a doctor.

Shh.