01x05 - Rogue

Previously on Legends...

We have a surprise for you.

And an apology.

I'm almost on the platform!

There is no Martin Odum. He's a legend.

Who am I?!

You know, the LAPD, they found a couple more witnesses.

Why didn't you tell me you were there?

Martin: I didn't kill him.

Rice: Who did?

I don't know.

Rice: Were you working undercover on a case?


Maggie: Dante Auerbach, British arms dealer.

Lower the gun, Ana.

Everything's gonna be okay.

Nothing's ever gonna be okay.

I will never go back!

Woman: Nice to be back in your own skin?

Oh, yeah.

A big snug actually.

You look tired.

Have you been sleeping?

Yeah, here and there.

Was it difficult coming out of legend this time?

Yeah, of course it was.

Dante lives well.

Nice car, nice clothes.

How do you feel about going back to Martin Odum?

How do I feel?

You mean what were my feelings?

When you step back into your own shoes, was there a strong emotion connected to it?

Were you sad?


Were you angry?

Yeah, um... yeah, I was angry.

Really angry.


Because I knew I'd have to answer your idiotic questions again.

(Both laugh)

Martin, when agents come out of legend, they often indicate signs of extreme stress.

Sometimes that stress is caused by guilt they feel about things they had to do undercover.

Stress and guilt?

What, you think I'm indicating all that?

Through your sarcasm... yes, I think you are.

What would you know about it?

I've worked with DCO assets for years.

Is that right?

For years?


Have you ever done it then?

Gone under, I mean.

Stepped into a legend.

That's not part of my job.

But you're gonna sit there and tell me what I'm indicating?

You, who's never done sh1t.

Who's never been in a tight spot?

Martin, I'm here to help you.

How are you gonna help me when you don't know what you're talking about?

I can listen. You can explain.

We can talk it through...

Oh, and we'll have a good cry at the end, yeah? Stop wasting my time.

Yeah, yeah. Go on.

Write that down. Gone mental.

Martin: Oh.

Quite an outfit you run here.

Tell you that much.

People who don't do it tell people like me, who do, how to do it.


I mean, that doesn't, uh, exactly instill a lot of, uh, a lot of trust, does it?

Do you trust yourself?

Do you feel like your legends change who you are?

Boy, you're giving me a right bloody headache.

Do you know that?

What are you scared of, Martin?

What, am I indicating fear now?

You tell me.

No, actually.

I'm indicating, uh, shove it up your ass.

That looked fun.

I'll send you my report this afternoon.

Where's Chief Gates?

He's in Washington for subcommittee meetings this week.

It's my call.

What's the verdict on Martin?

He's hostile, unstable.

I cannot recommend he go back to active duty.

I know this was a difficult case, Agent McGuire, but Martin's had to deal with major trauma in the field before.

I think this is something else.

Whatever he's dealing with, it's not about what he did as Dante Auerbach or any other legend for that matter.

He's struggling with having to be Martin Odum again.

Sonya: And then you show up and you don't even know who you are half the time.

Martin: People died today because I misread the time.

I'm not who I think I am.

Man: Welcome home, Mr. Auerbach.

Martin: I'm not who I think I am.

Mccombs: There is no Martin Odum.

Martin: Auerbach...

Mccombs: He doesn't exist!

Martin: I'm not who I think I am. Who am I?!

(Indistinct chatter, music playing)

Don't tell me your date's a no-show.

How you doing tonight?



You want to buy me a drink?

I'm married, Crys.

Take the night off.



Uh... you're gonna be mad at me when I tell you.

Crys, come on, Agent McGuire, just let me explain...

No. You should've identified yourself first, asshole!

Just have a couple of questions to ask you.

Did you follow me here?

Couldn't approach you at work.

It's about Martin Odum.

You have about two minutes till the valet brings my car.

This is an eyewitness video of the murder of a homeless man...

Robert McCombs.

And that's your agent... Martin Odum standing over him.

So, you think Martin killed this guy?

I did. Then another witness told me that a woman from the crowd did it then and walked away.

Odum steps up right after her.

So, interview Martin. See what he has to say.

I already did.

And what he had to say was a big old lie about being there.

And that raised one eyebrow.

Then Chief Gates came to my house to tell me to drop the case.

It's the same look I had.

(Knocking at door)

Who is it?


I brought dinner.



The guy downstairs knew your order, but I got a few extra things, just in case.

I know I should've called.

I feel bad how we ended things the other night.

Are you in the middle of something?

(Laughs): No.

No. I'm sorry.

Come in. I'm glad you came.

Where'd you get the piano?

Someone left it behind.

Too big to move, I guess.

That's why I took the apartment.

That... and the view.



Yeah, those two things and then I think you're out of reasons.

Well, it's cheap.

Close to you guys.

I'm teaching myself to play, actually.



Play me something.

I don't think so.


Not yet. (Laughs)


The last time I saw you, you said you were having trouble.

Yeah, I've, uh, I've started to see someone about that.

You're seeing a shrink?

Yeah. It's good.

Good for you.

I'm taking some time off, actually.

You look tired.

Yeah, I've not been sleeping much.

Don't want to, really.

Been having these... these dreams.

What about the memory stuff?

Well, it's scary... to have these blank spots.

And they're getting bigger.

I've just got this fear that one day I'm...

I'm gonna wake up and not know my own name.

I know your name.

It's Martin MacDonald Odum.

Tough guy.

Who stops bad guys.


(Chuckles): No. No more for me.

You don't have to leave yet, do you?

No. But I know what you're doing, Martin.


What am I doing?

(Both laughing)

Well, I've got all sorts of scars all over my body.

Haven't got a clue where they came from.

I can't believe you don't remember.

We've been over this, Martin.

You were in a car accident.

Drunk driver, they think.


They had to cut you out of the wreck.

You were in the hospital three weeks, in a coma.

And when you woke up... you didn't remember much.

Not even me.

When was it?

February 2004.

They ever find the driver?

No. They didn't.

It's late. I've got to go.

(Car crashing, siren wailing)

Sonya: I know your name.

It's Martin MacDonald Odum.

Mccombs: There is no Martin Odum.

Trust no one.

Sonya: You don't remember?

You were in a car accident.

Mccombs: They don't want you to know the truth.

They don't want you to know who you are.

There is no Martin Odum.

He's a legend.

Martin: I'm not who I think I am.

(Gun cocks)

Mccombs: Everything about him is fake. There is no Martin Odum.

Martin: I'm not who I think I am.

Mccombs: He doesn't exist. There's a book in the left pocket... the answer's in there...

The answer's in there...

Maggie. Yeah, it's me, Martin.

Can you do me a favor? Write these numbers down.

Two, zero, three... seven, six, nine... eight, one, eight, five.

I don't know.

Hoping you could tell me.

(Siren wails in distance)

Martin didn't tell me anything about this.

Was McCombs part of an active DC operation?

Not to my knowledge.

Then Martin Odum was mixed up in a homicide.

And Chief Gates is covering for him.

Now, you want to tell me why?

You're crazy.

Listen, hey, hold on, now, I-I understand the conflicting loyalties, okay? I get that.

But just consider this: Right before McCombs got stabbed, all the surveillance cameras went static... synchronized electronic interference, high-emitter frequency.

Now, this is state-of-the-art tech.

What does that tell you?

It was a hit.

From a pro.

Could it be anything else?

What was McCombs into?

Far as I can tell, just Dumpster diving, drinking, some panhandling.

There had to be a reason why someone wanted him dead.


I was gonna head over to Veterans Affairs, see if I can get a look at McCombs' psych file.

All right.

Let's go.



How are you?

You look rough.

Yeah. Feel it. (Chuckles)

Listen, uh, thanks for meeting me outside the office like this.


How's leave? Been hitting the beach, boozin' it up? What you been doing?

Aw, I just sit around all day.

Listen to my own wheels spinning.

I ran the number sequence.

Yeah? And... anything?

I'm gonna give you the short version.

Okay... cryptanalysis came up zero; GPS, Social Security number, IP address... none of those matched up... then I remembered this guy that I dated last year who worked for the NSA, and he was so into the modern surveillance state, and how great it would be for society and there'd be, like, no crime...


Nightmare. You know.

Not simpatico at all.


Sorry. Uh, all of that got me thinking, and I'm a little embarrassed, 'cause it's kind of obvious, but...

Ten numbers.

It's a phone number.

Yeah. Might have been why he dog-eared the pages... in case he forgot it.


Don't bother.

I already called it, and it went to a private voice mail. I didn't leave a message or anything, but there's no greeting, just a beep.

Any chance you could find who that voice mail belongs to?

Hmm... since it bills through the phone company, you have to have a name and address to open an account.

Guy's name is Dennis Evans.

You know, you got to be careful, Maggie.

You gotta cover your tracks, do you understand?

Don't tell anyone about this.

If you get caught, you could...

Lose my job, I know.

Or you lose your life.

I'm being careful.

Why don't you just tell me what's going on?

I-I've got a lead on a case.

I can't say what it is yet, but...

I think it's significant.

And the less you know... the safer you are.

That's fine.

You need to tell Gates.

Yeah, when the time's right.

I'm not on active duty and, given my present status...

"Doghouse" is the designation.

Yeah. I'd rather put the case together first.

You know?

Beg for forgiveness later.

Dennis Evans, huh?

His address is on the back.

He vibes total shut-in.

He lives on disability from a truck driving job.

Dennis Evans?

I'm Martin Odum; FBI.

What do you want?

I was hoping to ask you some questions about Robert McCombs.

No, uh, no comment on that one, boss.

What, do you know him?

Not talking to nobody.

Well, I just need a couple of minutes.

Stay the hell away from me.

Please don't kill me, man! Please don't kill me! Please...

How do you know McCombs?

How do you know McCombs?

Don't start with that.

If you're gonna do it, just do it.

Who do you think I am?

Man, why are you trying to torture me?

I'm not gonna hurt you.

I just want some answers, all right?

All right?

Wait, what's your name again?

Martin Odum.

No. No, your real name.

That is my real name.


No, it's not.

I know you, man.

I know you.

You're in the photo.

What photo?

Sorry about that whole hatchet thing.

I thought you were misrepresenting yourself.

Were you scared I was gonna kill you?

I know PTSD does that paranoia thing, but, uh, you still can't be too careful.

I'm telling you, you're in this photo.

If I could ever find it.

Who's after you?

I don't know. I mean, I don't know who they are, but I know they're watching me. Even tried to kill me a couple of times... that's why I'm living off the grid.

Least I thought I was.

Ah. Here. Here it is.


There you are.

There's McCombs. And there's me.

Where was this picture taken?

I was hoping you could tell me.

I don't know. Someplace in Iraq, I think.


I was never in Iraq.

Yes, you were. Yes, you were.

There you are, man, right there.

And-And it's time stamped right on the back.

February, 2004.

Sonya (overlapping): You were in a car accident.

Hit and run. You don't remember?

One driver, they think... February, 2004...

This-This must have been manipulated somehow, 'cause I was never there. Never there.

You can't remember... you can't remember, I can't remember, McCombs couldn't remember.

See, we all got the same thing.

They did something to us over there, man.

I don't know, they-they-they scrambled our brains or something.

They put, uh, microchips in our teeth.

That's paranoid nonsense.

Is it?! They want us dead.

They want us dead. That is why they're hunting us down.

Right? So they can cover up whatever they did to us over there.

I am telling you... don't trust anyone.

Trust no one. Trust no one.

No one.

No one.

Tell me about McCombs.

I don't know, McCombs, he-he found me when his symptoms started to show up.

And we tried to get some answers, but we just hit walls.

I am telling you, there is some kind of cover up going on.

And it goes to the top, man.

To the top.

Have you spoken to anyone else in this photo?

They're all dead.

I thought it was just McCombs and me left, till you show up... now there's three of us.

No, there's still two.

McCombs is dead now.

They got him?

They got him... He got too exposed.

I gotta get the hell out of here, man; I gotta disappear.



What is it?

Oh, oh.


What is it?

There's-there's this guy, this guy that...

McCombs was looking for.

This guy McCombs was looking for.

I wrote his name down here.

Maybe the FBI can... can track him down.

This guy... Kyle Dobson.

This guy knows what happened to us over there.

He was in charge over there.

Where is he now?

I don't know.

I don't know. I don't want to know.

I wouldn't touch that guy with a ten-foot pole.

I mean, this guy probably killed McCombs.

This issue is doctor-patient confidentiality.

I'm sorry, but I can't tell you about the treatment we provided for Mr. McCombs.

This is an active investigation, Dr. Brooks; Robert McCombs no longer has anything to protect.

He's dead.

Well, I'm sorry to hear that.

Still doesn't change anything.

So you're gonna make us get a subpoena?

Life's tough.


Yeah, it is, so... tell me, how many oxy scrips you writing these days?

I... couldn't say.


Well, I know that oxy abuse is a huge problem.

And you know what the DEA says, right?

Trust, but verify.

Are you threatening me?

No, no, of course not. I would never do that.

Just call it persuasive authority.

We'll keep it between us.

McCombs: No! No, no.

You think you know. But you don't know, man.

You only think you know, but it's a... it's a tragedy of war.

It chews you up.

You go to Iraq, they don't care what happens to us.

He was diagnosed with a dissociative identity disorder.

Is that like a split personality?

Similar. More like he... lost himself, forgot who he was. When he came back from Iraq he had severe PTSD: insomnia, night terrors, paranoia, memory loss.

I told Evans, I told Evans, I told Evans... he needs to take cover.

Evans... do you know who that is?

He was a friend of McCombs' from Iraq.

Came in to visit him here once.

His first name was... Dennis.

It was raining fire.

I saw a whole world burn.


What's that saying? "Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you"?

Well played back there.

How'd you know the doctor was overprescribing?

Rolled the dice, played the odds.

So you just got lucky.

No, no luck.

Skill. Masterful skill.

So, where did you pick up these skills?

I was with LAPD Homicide before I joined the Bureau.

You know, the real police.

Mm, I get it.

You're one of those reverse snobs, down on anybody who came up through the academy.

You think we had it easy.

Well, facts being what they are... pretty much.

DCO's a little different.

Maggie: Kyle Dobson is wanted by Interpol, but the file is sealed... there's no access without Gates' authorization.

(Sighing): I want some duck rolls.

Where did the waiter go?

He just disappeared.

Martin: Dobson was in Iraq from 2003 to 2006.

With a private military contractor called Verex, where he was under scrutiny for unaccounted money, missing weapons, even some rugs from Saddam's palace, but the investigations went nowhere.

Where is he now?


Local PD has Dobson pegged as a suspect in a smuggling ring.

They can't find him.

What's wrong?

Did you use the computers at DCO?

Did you cover your tracks like I said?

Of course.

'Cause I don't want any of this coming back on you... not from Gates, not from anyone I got it, Martin.

Well, I don't mean to be harsh.

I'm a big girl.

Okay? I know what I'm doing.

That's how I was able to find this.

What is it?

Found it in his Iraq file.

Whole thing's been scrubbed.

But I did manage to trace the serial number on the file.

It's from the Defense Department.

Something called Operation Raining Fire.

Man: Take cover!

(Shouting, explosions)


You ever heard of it?

Maggie, I need you to just get me on a plane to Houston this afternoon.

Why, 'cause you're gonna go after Dobson and-and what?

I'm your travel agent?


Please, look, just do your computer thing, yeah?

Book the ticket under the name of Len Barlow.

Len Barlow.

He's a legend?

Yeah, in more ways than one.

Martin, you know going solo on this is crazy.


Okay... tell me about him.

Back-fill his record history.

Let me help.

Len's a cowboy.

Born a century and a half too late.

Raised in Midland.

Father worked the oil rigs, Mother left him... walked out on him when he was seven.

His life was about taking what he could get.

And he liked playing the outlaw.

He did a dime in prison for armed robbery.

But he learned to do better.

Okay, I'll give Len a long criminal record.

Juvie to county to state prisons, probation and parole officers.

Martin: Prison was grad school.

Taught how to crack safes, got out, started taking down scores.

He did well for himself.

(Southern accent): Cops called me an East Texas contrabando.


I got another reputation, too.

Let's just say I never lost a gunfight for lack of shootin'.

So McCombs comes back from Iraq PTSD, loses touch with reality, and ends up dead.

Well, his murder definitely wasn't an accident.

Neither is Martin's involvement.

You're taking some big leaps.

Are you sure the fact that you two have a relationship isn't clouding your objectivity?

Who said we had a relationship?

I am good at my job.

That's who said.

Not that good, Tony.

'Cause I don't do relationships.

Mr. Evans?

Please open up! FBI!

I'm gonna go check around the back.


(Quietly): We got a break-in.

(Door creaks)


Oh, God.

What the hell is going on here?

(Fast-tempo country rock playing)

♪ I can't settle on sunshine ♪
♪ I can't take all the heat... ♪

Shoot, man!

Thought I was done with you.

How long has it been, Chang?

Since you last sweat me?

Boot on neck?

(Laughs): Two years.


Bourbon for my friend.

How are you these days?

I'm being goat-raped, that's how I am.


These guys I'm dealing with... zero integrity.

We had a deal... I cover their stuff at the port, make sure they get their stuff through customs, and I get the Heisman on the kickback.

Well, just sounds like bad business.

It's stupid.

To alienate a partner... builds up resentment.

Wait. You're here.

Which means you want something.

Have you ever heard of a guy called Kyle Dobson?


Dobson's a bad dude.

You know him?

Like I know Dahmer or Ken Skilling... just by reputation.

What's his business?


I hear he runs a lot of weight for the Sinaloa Cartel.

It's too bad you don't know him personally.

Too bad?

Yeah, it's disappointing.

Here it comes.

Boot on neck.

Look, you run your little scams down here and make your bones.

Now I'm here.

I can either look the other way, or I can run you in.

I thought we were friends, man.

Look, the deal was, you stay on top of things down here.

It's the fourth largest city in the country.

You want to be a CI or a fish at Lompoc?

You need to deliver... that's how it works.

This Dobson... he's the kind of guy you're supposed to know.

I'm sorry, Paulie, I'm gonna have to call in a chit.


I don't know Dobson.


I might know one of his girlfriends.

She goes to karaoke night at the Copper Bucket.

Yeah, I'm listening.

That's what you're gonna do, go in through the girl?

You're not her type.

I'll bet I know a guy who is.

She likes big hats, man, not redcoats.

She'll like Len Barlow.

Rice: So McCombs, and now Evans were both killed by pros.

And the only connection we have to 'em is...

Martin Odum.

What is it? Did anything turn up?

I ran the phone history for Evans.

I didn't find anything useful.

It doesn't look like he used the phone that much.

He was hiding.

His Internet was also run through proxy servers, so it makes sense.

I'll keep digging and see if I can follow that trail.

Have you heard from Martin?

No. Why? Was I supposed to?


But he's not answering his phone.

That's it.

Thank you.

I think it's time we talked to Martin directly.

So, your plan is to just ask him what's going on?


And you think he's just gonna tell you?

There's no reason for him not to.



What are you doing?

I'm seizing the opportunity.

We're not breaking in to his apartment.

You're right, we're not breaking in to his apartment.

I am.


This guy needs a maid.

And an IKEA catalog.

(Door creaks)

Does the name Len Barlow mean anything to you?


Did you find something?

Len Barlow is one of his legends.

He's gone rogue.

Woman: ♪ Don't come home a-drinkin' ♪
♪ With lovin' on your mind ♪
♪ Don't come home a-drinkin' ♪
♪ With lovin' on your mind... ♪

Which one is she?

Dobson's girlfriend?

You get one guess.

I got to tell you, man, this is a dangerous thing to do.

You bark up that tree, you don't walk out of here.

(Southern accent): Got to get the big dog out from under the porch.

You sing even better than you look.

And that's saying something.


Nothin' up my sleeve.

Just being friendly.

Buy you another tequila?

I don't think my boyfriend would like that too much.

What he don't know won't hurt him.


If he finds out, he'll hurt you.

I won't tell if you won't.


I'm Len.

Mind wrangling a couple of Don Julio Anejos for us?

Appreciate it.

You're pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?

Someone's got to be.

To us and to others like us.

Hey, Tara, you're up next.

I just sang.

Man: Well, it's time for an encore.

Why don't you let her decide if she wants to karaoke or not.

Why don't you shut your mouth.

You think I'm gonna sit quiet here and listen to your aspersions, you got another one comin'.

I'm hardheaded that way.

You see these big bastards up by the stage?

All I got to do is whistle and they're gonna charge over here and start stompin'.

Don't whistle, then.


Now... if that's sorted out, I'd like to finish my conversation with the young lady here.

Your name again?


You are hardheaded, aren't you?

Turn me loose or lose your hand.

You're with him?

A friend of his.

That boyfriend I was telling you about.

Well... he's a lucky guy.

(Laughing): Oh, my God.

That was damn close.

Wow. C-hair close. Those guys are animals.

Wasn't that close.

Still had some ways to go before we got into it.

You know, I like you with this Texas thing.

It's bona fide, for real.

Hey, Martin... Len... think I'm gonna bounce, go hide for a few months.

We're good though, right?

Debt to society paid?

We're good.

(Country music playing)


Tara, if you can help it, try not to blow any strangers on the way home.

Then you better drive me.

(Men guffawing)

(Phone ringing)

Sonya, you okay?

Yeah. I'm fine.

I just called to say hi.

Not a good time to talk?

Depends on who walks out the door I'm looking at.

Are you at work right now?


Are you working?

I stopped by your apartment last night, but you weren't there.

I'm in Houston. Uh, FBI conference.

How'd you sleep? No nightmares, I hope.


Good. Listen, I just wanted to say how nice it was to talk again.

It felt like old times.

I've missed that.


Yeah, I've missed it, too.

I'm gonna have to get you to play the piano for me sometime.

(Sonya chuckles)

Can I ask you a question?

February 2004.

Are you sure that's when I had my car accident?

Of course I'm sure.

That Valentine's Day, you... were supposed to take me to Hawaii.

Evans: There you are, man. Right there.

Martin: I was never in Iraq.

And it's time-stamped 2004.

You don't remember?

No, I do.

I was just wondering if it was that year or the year before.

(Woman laughs, man talking)

Listen, can I give you a call when I get back?

It'll only be a few days.


Give Aiden a hug.

I love you.

(Hangs up)

How was that?

No, we're going right over here.

Come on, this is my car.


Just lean on my arm.

(Alarm chirps)

Come on. Get in.

Is this a Camaro?

No, it's a Mustang.

Damn, I haven't been in a Camaro since high school.

Yeah, I know, all right?

Z/28 with the racing stripes.

That thing was cherry. Wow. You were rolling in a Z/28, man. You were the shizz, baby.

Uh, can we make these seats warm? Because, you know, I get so hot when I'm drunk, but right now my ass is feelin' real cold.


(Quiet laugh)


You ain't Campbell.

You ain't mad at that, are you? (Chuckles)

I reckon not.

Thought we'd go see your boyfriend, Dobson.

What's the address?


I don't think that's a good idea.

Got a business proposition for him.

Come on, we'll get a 12-pack on the way.

It'll be a laugh.

Are you serious?

You can't have too many friends.

(Engine starts)

(Tires screech)

(Engine revving)

(Tires screech)

Kyle thinks I don't know about this place, but I do.

Let me help you there, sweetheart.

(Tara chuckles)

I got that.

Who's in there?

I don't know, probably just Kyle and one of his guys.

Is there a back door?

Why do you care?

(Knocking on door)

Man: Who is it?

Tara: It's me. Let me in.

(Lock buzzes)

Well, this was your idea.

Come on.

You're not supposed to be in here.

Oh, shut up.

It's Friday.

We brought beer.

Who's this?

Name's Barlow.

Where's Kyle, huh?

He in the back?

Oh. Come on.


Call you back.


What the hell you doing here?

Well, Len here was nice enough to give me a lift.

Tara, I'm working.

Tara: You work too much, baby.

Dobson: Hey.


What'd you say your name was?

Len Barlow.

You look familiar.

We met before?

I don't think so.


I got a memory for faces.

Names... not so much.

Definitely remember your mug.

Tara: Why are you being so weird, Kyle?


You look like a guy I knew about ten years ago, in Iraq.

Dead ringer.

You could be his twin.

Everybody's got one somewhere.

Now tell me about this friend of yours.

What were you doing in Iraq?

I never said he was a friend.

What I do know: he's supposed to be dead.

All right, you guys suck.

This is no fun at all.



(Groaning in pain)

What do you want?

You want money?

I want answers.


Get up.


It's been a pleasure, sweetheart.


Go on...

Dobson: You're making a big mistake, asshole.

Get in the car! Move!

Get in! Get in there!

(Engine revving)

(Horn blaring)