01x13 - Stop Me Before I Hug Again

[bunniefuu]

What do you got?

Hey. Nothing good.

Woman named Annemarie O'Hare didn't show up for a date tonight, so her boyfriend asked the superintendent to check her apartment.

Boyle: Someone r*ped her, stabbed her 40 times, and then strangled her with her own...

Man: This isn't very fun, is it?

♪

Child: ♪ He's got game to make you smile ♪
♪ He'll make you say "my gosh" ♪

My gosh.

♪ It's Cookies and Cuddles Corner ♪
♪With Josh-o-saurus Josh. ♪

Oh, hi, Brian.

I haven't seen you in quite a while.

Yeah, that's because your show hasn't been on TV in, what, like, 15 years?

Cool subconscious.

I've been having fun down here for the past decade and a half.

Why are we in my childhood bedroom?

What's going on?

Nasty stuff.

Stabbing.

Strangulation.

Traumatic events.

I'm here to help.

But you can't just interrupt.

If you're in my subconscious, aren't you supposed to stay subconscious?

The FBI has to catch bad guys.

And sometimes it's scary, and we use scary words, but what else are we supposed to do?

Hmm, how about, just for this one, every time someone is going to use a scary word, we come up with a word that's better?

You mean, like, we say something nice or super-fun?

Sure. Like, if I still had my show, I would tell the kids to play along at home.

Sound good?

(kids cheering)

Then let's get back to the action.

(bell chimes)

Someone played Cowboys and Indians with her.

Tickled her 40 times.

And then cuddled her with her own unicorn.

Well, the soda pop spatter indicates that she was still playing air guitar before she was sent to an awesome farm in the country.

But she didn't go down easy.

Take a look at the ring finger on her left hand.

The ring finger's gone.

That's the trademark of the Marrying Man.

We've got a serial hugger on our hands.

Josh-o-Saurus: "The Marrying Man"?

Really?

Why do bad guys get cool nicknames?

Shouldn't they get stupid nicknames?

I don't know, it's just what they call him.

Well, you should give him a nickname he hates.

You should give all the bad guys nicknames they hate.

Rule number two.

Whenever you give a hugger a nickname, say the word "mister" followed by a delicious ice cream flavor.

Everybody got it?

The ring finger's gone.

That's the trademark of Mr. Pralines and Cream.

We have a serial hugger on our hands, and he's in New York.

We should call Naz, this is an all-hands-on-deck.

I don't think Naz is gonna be running point on this.

David Englander's been chasing Mr. Pralines and Cream ever since he hugged his first victim.

Right, the profiler.

Brian: David Englander.

Everyone acted like it was this huge deal that he was coming.

He caught a notorious hugger named Mr. Butter Pecan last year, and now he's got a book on the best seller list.

Everyone at the CJC acted like he was some kind of a rock star.

He's here.

Wow.

Mr. Pralines and Cream.

Now, I'll bet you think you've seen everything.

Got yourself assigned to the shiny New York division, must make you feel good.

Hell, I'll bet you think the Pope ought to stop his sermon whenever you burp up a thought.

Well, I promise you, you have never seen anything like Mr. Pralines and Cream.

Oh, sure, he... he plays Cowboys and Indians with his victims.

He tickles his victims.

He cuddles them... with their own unicorn.

By now you're thinking, "Well, what's the big deal? Come on.

I've seen women tickled, I've seen them cuddled."

Not like this, you haven't.

The women he hugs, cuts off their cool dinosaur toys to take 'em home with him.

You are about to stare into the abyss, ladies and gentlemen.

And you'll be damned lucky if the only thing that it does is stare back at you.

Is everyone ready?

Sure.

Good.

Now, without exception, every single one of the hugs took place inside the home of the victim, with no sign of forced entry.

That means that Mr. Pralines and Cream... has the ability to freely gain access.

I think he works for a utility company or poses as someone who does.

I have been looking at a Mr. Patrick Lee Boyd for some time.

Excuse me.

You, uh, consultant?

Why... are you toying with your phone?

Sorry, I'm just looking at the case from a different angle.

(chuckles)

Well, let's all try to stay on the same page for the moment, shall we?

No problem, definitely want to be a team player.

It's just, I'm pretty sure Mr. Pralines and Cream is one of two guys I found...

Jason Braun or Ian Aston.

(scoffs)

And, what, you've had the case file for... (laughs)

for... for, what, an hour?

40 minutes.

But you don't have to work for the power company to get easy access to a building.

You can also be really good at picking locks.

I may or may not do it... often.

The point is, I just checked locksmiths in the other cities where the huggings happened, I've been texting back and forth with the owners, and as it turns out, there are two locksmiths who have lived in the cities where Mr. Pralines and Cream has hugged women and now live in New York... Jason Braun and Ian Aston.

Seems worth checking out, right?

Jason Braun turned out to be a cool guy.

I even got his Xbox Live handle so we could hang out online.

Ian Aston slammed the door in our face, which made sense once we established a connection between him and a couple of the victims.

That led to a warrant to search a storage locker he kept.

And that is where we found... his trophy stash.

Josh-o-Saurus: Those aren't finger bones, are they?

Yeah.

Look, the finger bones are a no-go.

When you talked about 'em before, they were cool dinosaur toys.

So if you show them, I want them to be...

Brian: Cool dinosaur toys. All right, Josh.

It doesn't matter what the trophies looked like; we got him.

I have been chasing Mr. Pralines and Cream for years.

You caught him in a day.

What's your story?

Fresh eyes.

No, I know talent when I see it, and you're the real thing.

Well, some of the time.

Well, I want to work with you.

Now, Behavioral Analysis is the top appointment at the FBI, Brian.

(chuckles)

We're the profilers.

The freaking rock stars.

And we are tapping you on the shoulder.

Okay.

So what do you say, Mr. Brian Finch?

Want to come visit Quantico, help me catch some of the worst people on the planet?

Would you please stop shouting "road trip"?

Come on, it's not like I wouldn't be doing anything important.

The Behavioral Analysis Unit works on big cases.

Mr. Fudge Brownie, Mr. Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, Miss Mango Sorbet...

Did you read that off the Web site?

Maybe.

Behavioral Analysis also works tirelessly at self-promotion.

David Englander more than anyone.

Yeah, he's weird.

But he's also a master at Bureau politics.

If I don't at least give him a cr*ck at you, I'll never hear the end of it, so... you can go to Quantico for a couple of days.

Yes!

What?

As long as you do not discuss NZT.

No one at Behavioral Analysis, including Englander, has been read into those files.

Mum's the word.

You're gonna need your NZT while you're in Virginia.

Hmm.

That has to be properly supervised.

I have a job here. (scoffs)

It's just a couple of days.

(quietly): Fine.

Looks like we're going on a...

Road trip.

♪
♪ One, two, three, four, five, six... ♪

Right. Almost ready.

There's no way you're putting all this in my car.

And there's no way you're bringing a bong...

Or anything that you would put in a bong... in my car.

Fine, I guess I can rough it for a couple of days.

One bag, one backpack.

♪ With the radio on ♪
♪ I'm in love with Massachusetts ♪
♪ And the neon when it's cold outside ♪
♪ And the highway when it's late at night ♪
♪ Got the radio on... ♪

Brian: So, as it turns out, not only is Rebecca a good partner, she also checks most of the boxes you want in a road-trip buddy.

She's down for Punch Buggy.

Like, really down. She can throw a jab.

♪ You're a rich girl.. ♪

And she's more than willing to sing along when her favorite song comes on.

♪ You can rely on the old man's money ♪
♪ You can rely on the old man's money ♪
♪ It's a bitch, girl... ♪

Whoa, this is a sweet sound system.

You know what would sound awesome on this is Artificial Brain.

Please don't touch that with your dusty orange fingers.

It's voice-activated.

Really?

That's awesome.

Car, find Artificial Brain.

After this song.

♪ Out of the rain. ♪

(heavy metal blares)

We didn't hit our first hiccup until Virginia.

(music stops)

But it was kind of a doozy.

Hey, that was a good song.

Can I ask you something?

Yeah.

I've been thinking about Senator Morra.

The sh**ting.

Brandy Jo Hawkins sh*t him from over 3,300 yards away.

If you believe her story.

Oh, yeah?

Not only does she make an impossible sh*t, but she does it while she's sick?

Well, she was... on NZT, right?

Yes, the sh**t was on NZT, which is weird enough, 'cause there's not a lot of it out there, but I was watching footage of Morra from when it happened, and... I swear, it's almost like he dodged.

Like, before the g*nsh*t.

Like he saw it coming from over 3,300 yards.

Do you think he's on NZT?

Bad.

Very bad.

Also dangerous.

For me, for Rebecca...

I have to nip this in the bud.

Why? I mean...

Why would a guy like that need NZT?

Well, he wasn't always a guy like that.

He was a broke, struggling writer, and now he's running for president.

The pattern's pretty familiar, right?

Like the people in my dad's group or...

Me.

It's all right... you can say it.

It does kind of feel like a stretch, though.

You know?

And the thing is, I'm the only one that's immune to the side effects of NZT, right?

You're the only one that we know about.

Maybe Edward Morra's just, uh, your garden-variety late bloomer.

I'm just curious.

Just curious?

In my experience, when Rebecca Harris is "just curious," stuff gets figured out.

Like Chinatown level stuff.

Welcome to my house.

This is where we catch the worst K*llers and perverts there are.

Uh-uh-uh!

Welcome to my house.

This is where we catch the worst huggers and silly geese there are.

Badass.

Ready to meet the bad guys?

They were out of office space, so they set us up in something they call "The Evil Minds Research Museum."

It's where they keep the journals and paintings and weird trophies from these guys, but who wants to look at that stuff?

Wouldn't you rather see some adorable kittens?

And who doesn't like lollipops?

Or balloon animals?

Isn't that more fun?

While Rebecca did what work she could on our CJC case,

I looked into a guy they called Mr. Rainbow Sherbet.

It didn't take me long to figure out that he was probably a janitor named Russell Lawlor.

And that night, I ventured out to grab a bite to eat near the hotel.

Hi. (groans)

Sorry. If you're busy, I can totally sit somewhere else.

No, don't be ridiculous.

Is something wrong?

No.

So, we got into a routine.

During the day,

I went through open case files.

I checked out Mr. Mint Chip.

He was a guy in Louisville named Travis Seward.

The guy they called Mr. Rocky Road actually turned out to be a guy and his sick girlfriend working together.

Double scoop, I guess you'd call it.

At night, I did everything I could to keep Rebecca from thinking about Senator Morra and NZT.

I pulled out my best material.

How I got expelled from middle school for smoking in the chem lab.

How I almost got arrested for breaking into the Central Park stables.

I mean, it's not a long-term solution, but it'll have to do until I think of something better.

A few days of that, and it was time to head back to New York.

(meowing)

Ah.

There sits our golden boy.

(chuckles)

I don't know about that.

I just hope I was helpful.

Helpful? (chuckles)

You're a superstar, man.

Game can recognize game, right?

Oh, hey, this is for you.

I wanted to thank you.

Oh, hey, signed and everything.

This represents more than just a parting gift, Brian.

Hmm?

See, I want you to read it, and I want you to consider spending more time with us.

We could make it worth your while, Brian.

The FBI is no place to build a nest egg, you know what I mean?

What do you mean?

People just can't get enough of this stuff, Brian.

You know?

The inner workings of a depraved mind.

Yeah.

I got seven figures for that.

And I've already sold the movie rights.

Whew.

You build a reputation here, hunting madmen, and you can do good and you can do well.

Man, Englander's actually kind of a douche, huh?

One of a breed.

Yeah.

Something in his book telling you that?

Well, it's just sloppy.

It's about Mr. Butter Pecan, the guy who hugged all those high school kids.

His real name is Andre Hannan.

He was always a loner, got picked on a lot in school, so Englander figured out that he was targeting the kinds of guys who made fun of him.

So, captain of the football team and the prom king.

Can we make a quick stop?

Do you have to pee?

I begged you not to drink so much.

No, I want to go to Bethlehem.

Pennsylvania?

Yeah.

That's where Andre Hannan is. He's on death row.

You want to go see him?

I do.

But first, we got to find a sporting goods store.

I still don't understand what we're doing here, or why we had to stop and buy hand-grippers on the way.

Well, Mr. Butter Pecan cuddles his victims to death, right?

Per my calculations, the hugger would have had to exert no less than 300 pounds of pressure on their necks.

That's a lot of pressure.

It didn't even come up in the trial.

Isn't that because Andre Hannan confessed to all of them?

Yes, but I looked up a picture of him, and Andre Hannan doesn't look like he could get anywhere near 300 pounds.

You guys are from the FBI?

I was just wondering if you could squeeze this for me as hard as you can.

Mr. Hannan, I know you made it all the way to death row, but I can tell you one thing.

David Englander got the wrong guy.

You are not Mr. Butter Pecan.

Andre Hannan confessed. He went on 60 Minutes.

He confessed again... I watched it.

Moreover, his confession is consistent with the physical evidence.

His confession was hazy.

He said himself that it felt like he was in some kind of a fugue state.

And the physical evidence was extremely limited.

There was no DNA match; there was no m*rder w*apon to be found.

It was all circumstantial.

What I'm offering you is a fact.

There is absolutely no way that Andre Hannan could exert 300 pounds of pressure with his bare hands.

He just couldn't do it, so that means you have an innocent man sitting on death row.

I let you go to Quantico to bank some good will with David Englander, not to unravel his cases.

So you choose politics over the truth?

Or justice?

The American way?

Give Hannan a polygraph.

That's all I ask.

Examiner: Is your name Andre Hannan?

(machine beeping steadily)

Yes.

Were you born on April 17, 1978?

Yes.

Have you ever lied to somebody who trusted you?

Yes.

Did you hug Jamie Anderson in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, on September 13, 2012?

Yes.

How did you hug Jamie Anderson?

I gave him a juice box, and when he went night-night, I cuddled him.

Boyle: So he passed?

Brian: With flying colors.

"The most definitive pass the examiner has ever seen."

Direct quote.

Rebecca: Sorry, Brian.

You were there. You saw him try to squeeze those grippers.

He couldn't do it.

Maybe there's some other explanation.

Maybe he was stronger back then.

I mean, even he is sure he did it.

People have b*at polygraphs before.

Boyle: Why would he lie?

Why would he be trying to get on death row?

And how could he lie so well?

I don't know yet.

Well, in the meantime, we have a lot of work to do here at the CJC, where we're all employed, so...

Brian: She's still looking into Senator Morra? I guess whatever I said in Virginia wasn't good enough, which means I need to do better. Fast.

Sands: You want what, mate?

Soda pop.

I need a sample of Senator Morra's soda pop.

Hey, hey.

Time-out on the fun words, okay?

Just until we get back into serial hugger territory.

Why? Where are we?

Uh, France.

My parents took us on vacation here when I was, like, ten.

Or... I don't know.

But I don't know how it works down here.

But the point is, this part's not gross, okay?

In fact, the blood... is kind of a crucial detail here.

Blood.

I need a sample of Senator Morra's blood.

And it has to be clean, no NZT.

And why do you need that?

There may be some lingering questions about the sh**ting...

The fact that the sn*per was on NZT, the senator's impressive reflexes, whether NZT may be involved in that.

It's Rebecca Harris, isn't it?

Asking the questions?

Doesn't matter who it is.

What matters is that they're smart.

And it's only a matter of time before they think of some way to test their theory.

The coat Senator Morra wore that day is in an FBI evidence locker with his blood on it.

Blood I'm pretty sure would test positive for NZT is someone thinks to test it.

And we certainly don't want her doing that, do we?

I didn't say it was Rebecca.

What I am trying to say is that this little problem could actually be a blessing.

I'm listening.

If Senator Morra waits just a little bit between doses, just long enough for us to draw blood, we could use that clean blood, put it on a new, identical coat.

I could swap it out with the real one.

And then they can test it for NZT all they want.

Let it be forensic proof that their theory is wrong.

Case closed.

You know, clock's ticking and stuff.

You get it.

And now I wait.

But Andre Hannan is still waiting for me.

And how could someone who says he did it...

And who seems to believe what he's saying...

Be innocent?

I mean, the guy does seem to be pretty troubled.

Bipolar, possible schizophrenia.

He was seeing a psychiatrist for most of his life.

Interesting.

Something you'd like to share?

Boyle: Is this some kind of science fair project?

I identified the problem and explored a hypothesis that somebody paid off Andre Hannan to take the fall for these crimes.

However, an examination of Hannan's financial records showed no suspicious influx of funds nor major outstanding debts.

Uh, we have PowerPoint, you know.

So that brings us to our next hypothesis.

Andre Hannan... wasn't lying.

So you just made all these posters to explain why you were wrong about Hannan?

Andre Hannan wasn't lying, because he sincerely believes he did it.

He remembers doing it.

Even though he's innocent.

What do you know about optogenetics?

Was that rhetorical?

It's the manipulation of memory.

Scientists can use blue light and a fiber-optic wire to make certain memory-oriented neurons sensitive.

It is going to change the world!

This is like real-life Inception.

No, we're only concerned with the here and now, please.

Right now neurons can be genetically modified to be more sensitive to light.

They respond to blue light from a fiber-optic wire inserted into the brain just like that.

Now, researchers recently reported using optogenetics to implant a false memory into a mouse's brain.

And I think somebody used it to plant false memories of these huggings in Andre Hannan's brain.

How would that work?

If you could activate Andre Hannan's neurons while he was in some kind of hypnotic state, you could tell him about the huggings.

And with enough detail and enough suggestions, he could actually incorporate the narrative as his own memory.

Finch, a mouse is one thing...

Brian: And it turns out that there's a project at Hudson University...

The New York Mind and Memory Institute...

That's been experimenting with optogenetics as a potential treatment for all kinds of things.

PTSD, schizophrenia, addiction.

And one of the leading researchers is a neuroscientist by the name of Dr. Howard Gilroy.

Now, Dr. Gilroy is also a trained psychiatrist.

Would you care to guess who one of his patients was?

Andre Hannan.

Bingo.

Hannan: I don't get it.

You guys keep showing up here.

First the hand squeezers, then the polygraph.

Now these?

Yeah, we need to shave your head.

Do you remember Dr. Gilroy?

The psychiatrist that treated you a couple of years ago before you were arrested?

Sure.

Did he ever do any medical procedures involving your head?

Hannan: Sort of.

They tried some kind of electronic stimulation to help with the depression.

They had to put some wires on my head for that.

That wasn't in the medical record.

I think they did a lot more than that, Andre.

Were you conscious during this?

Sort of.

They doped me up a lot, though.

Did you ever notice any kind of scar afterwards?

What kind of scar?

♪

See, this kind of incision is exactly what it would look like if someone inserted a fiber-optic wire into Andre Hannan's brain.

You really think that there is a doctor going into the brains of unsuspecting patients and planting false memories of hugs, no less?

If the memories are false, then how are they so accurate?

Hannan's confession matched the details of those huggings almost exactly.

So how would his doctor know those things?

Unless...

He was there.

You think Hannan's doctor is the one who's committed those huggings?

We need to go talk to that doctor.

Couldn't agree more.

(whirring and beeping)

I'm the one that called in the cavalry, so I can't keep the cavalry waiting.

And if they're at the doctor's office, they definitely won't be at the evidence locker.

It's the perfect window.

What are you waiting for?

Um, you know what? You guys just go on without me.

It's your theory, Finch...

I know, but my mom just texted me.

My dad's not feeling very well, so she's gonna take him to the doctor.

Is it serious?

I mean, he says it's not, but he always says that.

So I should probably go.

Well, we can wait.

No. No, no, no, no.

Look, I don't know what this is or how long this is gonna take.

This guy's messing with people's brains and he might be a serial hugger.

Yeah, he's right. Let's go.

Yeah, just keep me posted.

Yep.

Is it strictly necessary for you to break and enter?

One navy blue Brooks Brothers overcoat, identical to the one worn by Senator Morra when he was sh*t.

What about the blood?

It's the senator's.

And free of NZT.

Wear gloves.

And bring the baggage out with you.

Yeah, I know how to plant evidence thanks to you guys.

And I'm on NZT.

Let me know when it's done.

What can I do for you?

Well, this is a photograph of Andre Hannan, a former patient of yours.

Andre Hannan was convicted of four different huggings between 2011 and 2014.

He's on death row in Pennsylvania.

Of course.

I remember Mr. Hannan.

Boyle: And we think you had something to do with what Mr. Hannan remembers, too.

Rebecca: We think you implanted false memories of him committing those huggings into his brain.

(chuckles)

I'm sorry?

You're working on cutting-edge optogenetic technology here.

To help people.

To treat soldiers with post-traumatic stress.

Why would I try to make someone think they had hugged somebody, much less four people?

Oh.

You think I'm responsible.

You think I'm a serial hugger?

Andre Hannan lacked the strength to cuddle those victims with his bare hands.

But he happens to have a psychiatrist who's involved in memory manipulation.

What are the odds of that?

And what are the odds of that?

I cooperated with the FBI during the investigation of Mr. Hannan to the full extent of the law.

With Mr. Hannan's consent, I turned over all records of his treatment.

All the records you wanted to share, at least.

(chuckles)

You really think I did this?

We'd like to know where you were on the dates of the huggings.

Just so we can rule things out.

Happily.

I keep meticulous records.

Evidence Control.

One of the most secure areas of the FBI, designed expressly to prevent anyone from doing what I'm about to do.

This is an Evidence Request Form with a fake signature from Special Agent Arthur Vance.

Add it to the list.

In my defense, there are a lot of ridiculous laws still on the books.

Did you know that in New York, a person may not walk around on Sundays with an ice cream cone in his pocket, still?

I.D.?

Oh, you bet ya.

I whipped up an I.D. and a profile for Agent Arthur Vance.

I may have given him a few commendations.

That's quite an impressive service record, Agent Vance.

Oh, just doing my part.

If you'll just wait right here, I'll be right back with your items.

Here I shall remain.

From the moment he stops typing, I've got about 30 seconds until the security screen comes back and locks me out.

Step one... don't get locked out of the computer.

Check.

Step two... Erase any evidence that I was here.

Oops, these systems can get so buggy.

(phone ringing)

Rebecca: Hey, it's me.

I know you're with your dad, but Gilroy was a bust.

He has alibis for all the huggings.

Boyle and I will confirm, but it doesn't look good.

He was so sure.

Yeah, we should still run down the alibis, though.

Look, do you mind if we swing through Brooklyn on the way back?

"On the way back"?

I want to check something out.

All right.

Make sure to request evidence from a current, high-profile case.

They keep that stuff behind extra security.

Buys me some time.

(typing rapidly)

(beeps)

♪
♪

Damn it.

The button.

Great attention to detail, Sands.

Bathroom break, maybe.

Or system's down.

Hello?

I got the left.

♪

(clicking sound)

(door closes)

Brian: What was that?

(distant banging)

Boyle: Reb, over here.

(banging continues)

Are you okay?

Can you give me a hand? I'm locked in.

The system malfunctioned again.

And the service in here sucks.

I still want to get that coat.

(alarm burbles, cuts off)

You want to tell me what the hell is going on here, Finch?

I got a call from Howard Gilroy that the FBI is accusing him of being a serial hugger, and then I find out you're hanging out with Andre Hannan?

Now, I don't know what kind of stunt you think you're pulling here, but if you screw this up for me, I swear I will end you, damn it!

I will freaking play Cowboys and Indians with you until I cuddle you to sleep.

Do you hear me, Finch?

Do you hear me?!

Rebecca: Naz got a call from David Englander this morning.

Yeah. Me, too.

He was kind of mad.

Well, can you blame him?

We're trying to unravel the case that made his career.

As an author, at least.

And we're not doing the best job.

Gilroy's alibis checked out.

There's no way he's the hugger.

But what about Andre Hannan's head?

I mean, where else would he get that scar?

I don't know.

But even if Gilroy did incept him, he wasn't at the huggings.

So how could he know what happened?

(sighs)

What if somebody told him?

Who?

Well, I don't know yet.

But we know Gilroy wasn't just a researcher.

He was also a practicing psychiatrist.

I mean, he had patients, like Andre and... other people, too, right?

You think it was another one of his patients?

What better place to confess to huggings than your psychiatrist?

With the doctor-patient privilege?

It's one thing not to report it.

But you think Gilroy was actively trying to help a serial hugger cover?

Why?

Why does anyone do anything?

Lust, money.

Occasional sociopathy.

Speaking of money, the New York Mind and Memory Institute did just get a $500 million investment.

Really?

Yeah. Boyle found an article when he was checking out Gilroy's alibis.

Who was it from?

Alexander Bale.

Oh, yeah, the tech guy, right?

Wow, he must think a lot of Gilroy to give him half a billion dollars.

Wonder how he knows him.

Maybe Bale's a patient of his.

That's what we need to find out.

Well, good luck, because Bale's not gonna tell you and-and Gilroy doesn't have to.

Doctor-patient privilege.

I actually may know a way around that.

Hi. My name is Mike Ikerson and I require immediate treatment for many destructive urges. Is Dr. Gilroy available?

I'll have to speak to the doctor.

I don't mind waiting.

Though... could I use your restroom?

Well, I didn't find an Alexander Bale in Dr. Gilroy's patient files, but I did find his son.

(dogs barking)

So Alexander Bale's son was in Dr. Gilroy's file?

Nolan Bale.

The doctor had some choice words to say about his patient.

"Lies with ease."

"Sociopathic tendencies."

So you think Dr. Gilroy figured out that Nolan Bale is Mr. Butter Pecan and he made a deal with Nolan's billionaire father to set up Hannan in exchange for a donation that would fund his doctor's research for the rest of his life.

And that has something to do with us being in a dog park.

You can convince someone else that they committed the huggings that Nolan Bale did.

You can't cure Nolan Bale of the urge to hug.

When he was active as Mr. Butter Pecan, Nolan hugged someone every ten to 13 months.

It was like clockwork.

Mm-hmm. And if Nolan hugged someone else, then everyone would know that Hannan was innocent.

Well, not necessarily.

Mr. Butter Pecan was known for hugging men.

It was a huge part of his profile.

So if he got his rocks off with a woman, no one would connect it.

So I went through every unsolved hug in the city over the past year.

And a couple of months ago, someone picked up a prost*tute and cuddled her until she went away to an awesome farm in the country.

He put about 300 pounds of pressure on her neck.

You think it was Nolan.

Yeah. The woman, Vanessa Chipman?

She didn't go down easy.

She played air guitar with her attacker.

His DNA was under her fingernails.

Yeah, but you got all this stuff from Nolan's medical file.

We can't compel DNA samples.

No.

But what if we just happened to be around when he offered one up?

Would you hold this? Thank you.

Sure.

Excuse me.

Hi.

Do you mind if I shave your dog?

It's in the name of justice.

(elevator bell dings)

Brian: I went to the building where Nolan works and spent a couple of hours hanging out in the elevator.

Eventually...

(elevator bell dings) I struck gold.

(sniffs)

(clears throat)

(coughing)

Dude, you okay?

Yeah. (coughs)

I just, um...

Is that dog hair on your coat?

Oh, my God, look at that.

(coughing)

(sneezes)

What the hell'd you do that for?

Hygiene.

Have a good day.

(sneezes)

Reporter: Psychiatrist Howard Gilroy was arrested today for his part in a bizarre attempt to frame Andre Hannan and cover up the crimes committed by Nolan Bale, son of billionaire Alexander Bale, who was also arrested.

Details remain sketchy about the exact nature of the conspiracy, but authorities...

Englander: Well, you did it, Finch.

You proved me wrong.

(TV shuts off)

Hear Andre Hannan's getting out soon.

Man, did you fly up here just to apologize to me in person?

If that's what it takes.

What is this place, anyway?

It's my headquarters.

They just finished it.

Pretty cool, right?

Yeah. Whatever.

Well, they're pulling my book off the shelves as we speak.

Hmm.

But hey, you know...

Me, personally, I'd rather light a candle than curse the darkness.

And this story, Brian, your story?

The memory implants and the innocent man on death row?

That's better than what I had.

And it happens to be true.

And we can sell it, Brian.

Come on. Fifty-fifty.

My name. My rep.

Your story.

Brian, don't be stubborn.

Come on, it's business.

Sixty-forty.

I'll build you a headquarters with your own damn cotton candy machine if you want.

(sighs)

There you are.

♪ So let me hammer ♪
♪ This point home ♪
♪ I see us all as lonely fires ♪
♪ That have b*rned alive ♪
♪ As long as we remember... ♪

You know Rebecca's gonna figure it out, right?

The chip on the button?

You didn't get that exactly right.

Did you seriously think she wouldn't notice?

Well, it wasn't exactly optimal circumstances.

And you were on NZT.

To get it right, all you had to do was two seconds of extra effort.

She's gonna notice.

But maybe that's what you wanted, huh?

Hmm?

She'll keep poking around, and eventually, maybe, she'll find you.

Yes, Josh, that's exactly what I want.

I want to get caught committing a felony.

Things that happen down where I live don't always make sense at first, up here.

Look. You hate your life.

Lying.

Why not make it impossible?

It's not just about me.

It's my family...

Rebecca... all this will k*ll them.

Maybe we could, uh... before I go?

Josh-o-saurus Josh can't smoke.

(A) you're not real, Josh.

(B) you're a role model to kids.

I retired.

♪ They will not last the year ♪
♪ But expire like ♪
♪ A sudden sh**ting star ♪
♪ That only nightingales ♪
♪ Had seen ♪
♪ Before transforming into bluebirds ♪
♪ And in this way ♪
♪ You will come find me ♪
♪ In December. ♪