05x17 - Bite out of Crime

[bunniefuu]

[car engine starts]

[tires peal, horn honks]

You gotta be kidding me.

[shifts gear]

Hey. That's my spot.

I don't see your name on it.

You cut me off.

You got a problem?

Your car in my spot.

What are you gonna do about it?

Come on. Don't be an assh*le.

What did you call me?

You heard me.

Woman: What's wrong?

Woman: What happened?

[clattering]

[metal clanks]

I´m sorry.

[whispering indistinctly]

Hello?

All: Surprise!

[laughs]

Presenting... the president of the New England Medical Officers...

Dr. Maura Isles.

Well, technically, I'm the president-elect.

Congratulations, president-elect.

Wait! No, Ma! It's gonna go everywhere.

Please. This is not my first rodeo. [cork pops]

I just got elected. How do you all know about this?

Oh, they called to ask how to engrave the plaque, and I had to tell someone.

So she told me, and I told...

Everyone.

Angela: Of course he did.

After all, she's the New England...

What is it?

Susie: Uh, it's an ethics committee.

They review and they publish cases of interest to the medical community at large.

And dr. Isles is the first president-elect in the field of forensic pathology.

Yes, and the first whose patients are all dead.

[laughter] Yes.

Well, we used to be the outcasts of the medical community.

Not long ago, a medical degree wasn't even required to be certified, so...

This is a really big deal.

And N.E.M.O. is very lucky to have you.

Wait.

Nemo?

Oh, no relation to the vengeful submarine captain with a bitter hatred for British imperialism. [chuckles]

Why is everyone looking at me like that?

Oh, Nemo's the little striped clown fish.

[chuckles] With the tiny, tiny fin.

Jack, tell me I'm not alone.

I might've read it in high school?

[sighs] Oh, come on. Who cares?

This is a party, not a book report.

To you, Maura!

Cheers.

Cheers.

Mmm! Cake!

Maura: Aw!

You okay?

Yeah, I'm fine. Why?

You just downed that like somebody was chasing you.

Oh. [chuckles] Um... it's delicious.

Susie: Oh, we need a cake Kn*fe.

Scalpels are clean.

Oh.

Jane: Oh, wait. Whoa. Whoa.

I am all up for dead people getting props, but I draw the line at autopsy tools.

Ma, back me up on this! [laughs]

Whoa! What I could do to a pork chop with these things.

[cell phone vibrates and beeps]

Rizzoli.

Mnh.

Okay, I'll just, uh, take this to the fridge.

Not the morgue fridge.

That goes anywhere near a person with a toe tag, I'll know it.

I understand.

[whispers] I'm watching you, Chang.

The morgue fridge is the only place big enough to fit this cake.

Dead men tell no tales.

Oh! [chuckles]

5x17 - "Bite out of Crime"

[police radio chatter]

So can I call you Captain Nemo or not?

Not. [siren wailing]

Well, I have to call you something.

[gasps] I got it. Captain Morgan.

I'm not sure a pirate theme is in line with the committee's mission.

No, I'm very sure they're anti-scurvy.

When kind of grades do you think a pirate would make in medical school?

Please don't.

High seas.

Why didn't the pirate go to the movie?

Because it was rated "arrrr!"

[laughs] How do I make it stop?

You can't! I haven't even gotten to the booty jokes yet.

Somehow, I'm gonna make Jack pay for this.

You guys all right?

He didn't look like a very Jolly Roger back there.

I didn't notice. But then I was distracted.

By your reflection in the shiny, shiny plaque? No, I get it.

Thank you, by the way. I couldn't do this work without you.

My pleas-arrrr. [laughs]

That was a stretch. Walk the plank.

Hey, what do we got?

Ned Drake. [sighs] 32. Married.

Owns a carpet cleaning business on the other side of town.

Witnesses saw him arguing with another driver right before he dropped dead.

Road rage?

Except no one saw the other driver raise a g*n.

Significant tissue loss around the entrance wound.

Went clean through him.

We recover the b*llet?

Frankie: Not yet.

The other driver is Jay Clark. He admits to stealing Ned's spot, exchanging words, but that's it.

Claims he doesn't own a g*n, says he's a pacifist.

We're looking for places where he could've ditched the g*n.

Trash cans, storm drains. But no one heard a sh*t either.

So witnesses saw the argument, they saw him drop dead, but nobody saw a g*n or heard a sh*t?

That's what we have.

Well, he is sh*t, right, Maura?

He wasn't run through with a spear or something?

Well, I'll need to autopsy to confirm the cause of death, but these wounds are consistent with a g*nsh*t, yes.

Drive-by maybe? Stray b*llet?

It's possible.

Maybe wrong place at the wrong time?

Then again, people will do anything for a good parking spot.

[chuckles]

[siren wailing]

[door opens]

Hey.

So we tried to call Ned's wife to notify her of his death, but her cell phone was in his car.

Oh?

Yeah.

Turns out she forgot it on her way to work this morning.

He was bringing it to her.

Well, that's nice of him.

Oh, but if she hadn't forgotten it, then...

He wouldn't have been there. Did you find anything?

Well, C.S.R.U. hasn't recovered a b*llet.

Uh, but the dimensions of the entrance and exit wounds suggest a high velocity, large caliber b*llet.

What, like a r*fle?

I can't speculate what it was, but I can eliminate the handgun family.

What about a shotgun slug?

b*ll*ts in a large game hunting caliber would've caused more extensive damage.

I can't imagine our truck driver whipping out a r*fle in the middle of an argument.

And based on the angle of the wound track, I think that your pacifist truck driver was telling the truth.

What do you mean?

The b*llet entered just above his heart and exited between anterior ribs five and six.

Which means the b*llet traveled down instead of straight through.

Which means it was likely fired from a position above street level.

How far above?

Well, knowing the distance that the b*llet traveled would allow me to determine the angle by degree.

But without it, i can only say that the sh*t was fired from above.

So unless my truck driver was on stilts, I'm out of suspects.

Hey, that's mine. Get outta here.

No. It is my spot.

Ohh!

Okay, when did our crime scene become an improv class?

If I look through Ned's eyes, I may see what we missed.

All right, well, try to stay alive long enough to help me track the sh*t.

Lots of windows.

Well, the uniforms are going door-to-door. maybe somebody has a problem with Ned we don't know about.

Windows would allow for height, but they're too close based on the angle of the wound track.

Yeah. The sh*t was fired from farther away.

Care for a walk in the park?

Oh, I'd love to.

[rustling]

Wait.

Streamers.

Wind indicators for long-range hunting.

Any one of these trees has an unobstructed view of the street.

That's the one.

Camouflage climbing pegs.

Branches are perfect for a perch.

Yeah, and the distance from the street explains why no one heard a sh*t.

It's a sn*per's nest.

Ned's death wasn't an accident. It was a cold-blooded execution.

All right, thanks.

C.S.R.U. says the area's swept clean.

They couldn't even get a boot print.

Professional.

Could be.

But who orders a hit on Ned?

Well, just because it's a professional k*ller doesn't mean it's a professional hit.

Ned wasn't even supposed to be here.

Professional k*ller, random target?

Don't say the "r" word. It's bad for morale.

[K-9s barking]

Ugh. Somebody lives here.

Or used to. Ugh.

[sniffs] Urine. Mnh.

Explains why the K-9s are all worked up.

Hey, hey, hey. Look at this.

sn*per streamers.

I bet that's our missing shell casing.

Yep.

Large caliber.

Perfect for long-range sh**ting.

[K-9 whines]

Nice job, officer.

[barks]

[chuckles]

Oh, hey!

They're not hiding behind you with more champagne, are they?

Just me.

Well, I hope you're here to make up for the car ride's worth of pirate jokes that I was subject to... In traffic.

Pirates?

Never mind.

What's up?

I...[sighs] Have some news.

Bad news?

Uh, great, actually. For my ex-wife, anyway.

She's been offered a job with Nasa on the R&D team for the latest jupiter probe.

She must be thrilled.

It's a job of a lifetime.

She's gonna be running the Albuquerque facility.

New Mexico.

Yeah.

Our custody agreement requires my consent for her to move Allie. I could object, but...

I hate to get in the way of such an amazing opportunity.

Now I'm working on options ...

Visiting her in Albuquerque, having her come here for holidays.

But look, I don't want this to hang over us.

I'm gonna make it work out. It's gonna be okay.

I'm sure it is.

The lab's processing the shell casing.

There's plenty of prints around the encampment.

So far, no match.

Nina, could you generate a list of current and ex-m*llitary sn*pers in the area?

Could be a loose canon using civilians for target practice.

Give me a few minutes.

If the guy's m*llitary, his prints would be on file.

That den didn't belong to our sn*per.

Whoever lived there just had the casing and the streamers for some reason.

Maybe he had a partner. A lookout?

Possible, but atypical. sn*pers like to work alone.

Just their god complexes keeping them company.

What worries me is that the typical sn*per doesn't stop after one victim.

[door opens]

You get something off the shell casing?

It's standard. Winchester.

.30-06. Factory made. Available everywhere.

No matching print, I'm guessing.

Unfortunately.

But it's the gunpowder that I wanted to talk to you about.

I found a chemical additive that might've been mixed in by the manufacturer.

Yeah, a tag. So it can be traced if it's used in a b*mb.

I'll send it to A.T.F.

They keep track of tags here and abroad.

There's been another sh**ting at a park.

Same M.O. as our sn*per?

Yeah, looks that way.

[police radio chatter]

Jane: Yep.

That looks just like the first nest.

The victim was Jeremy Fritz. 54. Stockbroker.

He was walking to a physical therapy appointment when he got sh*t.

Does he live nearby?

No, but he works right around the corner.

He was on his lunch break.

Well, anything that makes him a likely target?

Well, not according to his coworkers.

Seems like a good guy.

Just like Ned?

No, not like Ned.

Jeremy Fritz is still alive. The b*llet hit him in the shoulder.

He's in surgery.

When can we talk to him?

Soon as the doctor gives his okay.

[sighs] Okay. In the meantime, let's ... let's check into these two victims.

You think there's a reason why these guys were targeted?

I hope so.

If they went to the same barber or had the same birthday, maybe that means something.

I'll get Nina on it.

We'll start looking for a connection right away.

Hey, hey, hey, hey.

Look at this, right there in the bushes.

Boston police! Freeze!

Man: Go! Go! Cover the East!

Man: [speaks indistinctly] Tell them we got a suspect...

South side of the park!

Stop!

Uhh! Uhh!

Man: [grunting]

Come on!

[continues grunting]

[growling] What's your name? What are you doing out here?

[snarls]

Frankie: Hey!

Did he just try to bite you?

Yeah.

[shouting]

[chain clanking]

[grunting and growling]

Korsak: Hey, hey, hey, hey. We have your fingerprints on a shell casing connected to the m*rder of Ned Drake.

Did you help the sh**t? Were you his lookout?

[loud banging]

We also have your prints on a roll of streamers used in both sh**t.

[shouting]

Hey! [grunts]

[panting]

We can help you, okay? But you have to talk to us.

[growling]

Kid, come on. You gotta explain this.

[grunting and panting]

[pounding tabletop]

He's got no I.D., fingerprints aren't in the system, and nothing showed up in missing persons.

So in lieu of an actual name, we're calling him McGruff.

Like the crime dog?

Well, it's better than buster or spot.

He just seems too erratic to work with someone as methodical as the sh**t.

Yeah, I thought the same thing, Which leaves us with dr*gs or...

Cray-cray.

This is interesting.

Hmm.

A few minutes ago, he was about to rip out Korsak's jugular.

Now he's a bored kid in study hall? What happened?

The behavior is defensive.

He's relaxed when the perceived thr*at is gone.

Or when he thinks no one's watching.

I don't think it's an act.

I have a theory, but I'll have to test it before I can make a diagnosis.

I'm going to need a cheeseburger.

We'll search the park in quadrants.

Look for places he could hide materials to build nests, or any evidence of any new nests under construction.

We're checking traffic cameras, but we think our guy was hiding in plain sight.

This guy built nests and hung streamers.

Nobody noticed a thing.

So how'd he blend in?

See if any park employees or sanitation workers have reported missing uniforms, if any regular park visitors heard or seen anything unusual near the nests.

We need to know if the victims' locations had anything in common.

Are there any chain stores, restaurants, or banks that are near both areas?

The sn*per might've had a cause, and the sh**t are his way of drawing attention to his message.

I'll be here for a while if you have any questions.

Any news on Jeremy Fritz?

b*llet caused severe vascular damage.

He'll be in surgery at least another six hours.

[sighs deeply] What's the connection between Ned Drake and Jeremy Fritz?

They're both men, sh*t near the park.

That's it so far.

You're joking.

Jeremy Fritz is a highly successful 54-year-old stockbroker.

His office overlooks the West side of Franklin Park.

And Ned Drake has an office over a chinese restaurant in Dorchester.

They never called the same number.

They had no friends or business dealings in common.

They didn't go to stores or restaurants in each other's neighborhoods.

He's picking the victims at random?

Looks that way so far.

Which means studying the victims won't tell us anything.

Then we refocus on the sn*per himself. What do we know?

That's what I wanted to tell you. The A.T.F. called.

The chemical tags in the gunpowder residue are from a German company that makes high-end powder for... custom reloaders?

They create unique mixes of powder and make special order amm*nit*on.

I'll look for local reloaders that buy from the german company. [Typing]

And we'll need a list of the reloaders' clients.

When I get their names, I'll cross-reference addresses within a 2-mile radius of Franklin Park.

Let's hope it amounts to something. Come on.

[chains rattle]

Hi.

My name is Maura.

[breathing rapidly]

I just came to sit with you, if that's all right.

[breathing slows]

Are you hungry?

[breathing deeply]

[grunts]

Your hand looks like it hurts.

I'm a doctor. I can help if you let me.

It must be hard to find enough food to eat in the park.

I see you understand English.

That's good.

I'm here if there's anything you wanna tell me.

Like how you got hurt.

[breathing deeply]

[grunts]

[strained voice] The hunter.

He hurt you.

How did you know he was a hunter?

G-g*n. [grunts]

Did he give you the shell casing and the streamers, or did you take them? That's okay.

Okay, we don't have to talk about him if you don't want to.

Okay? We can just start at the beginning.

Can you tell me your name? [grunting]

[shouting]

At least you got him to talk.

Well, he might never talk again after that.

Then we'll try pizza.

Chicken wings?

The food wasn't a bribe.

I wanted to observe his manner of eating.

Like an animal.

Exactly.

You know, I think he has clinical lycanthropy, usually brought on by schizophrenia or a psychotic break.

Do I need a tattoo on my forehead that says "What does that mean, Maura?"

Oh. I assumed you were just shocked into silence because his condition is so rare.

Nope!

Less than 1% of the population suffers from split personality schizophrenia, and less than 1% of that group fits the criteria for this diagnosis.

Which is what?

The word "lycanthrope" is derived from the Greek term meaning "werewolf."

The subject's doglike behavior is due to his belief that ...

Hold up.

Okay, you were speaking rather quickly there, but I'm fairly confident you said the word "werewolf."

I did.

He does not!

He might.

This is my shocked face!

Oh, it looks like your "I smell pickles" face.

Why would I make this face when I smell pickles?

I love pickles ... okay!

What you're telling me is that McGruff thinks he can turn into a wolf.

Teeth, claws, the whole business?

That's correct.

When his condition is activated, he experiences delusions and hallucinations that make him believe he is an animal.

In this case, a subspecies of genus Canis called Canis Lupus.

[bell dings, door opens]

Okay, well, he said that he was hurt by a hunter, which is most likely our sn*per. That makes him an eyewitness.

Who thinks he's a wolf.

Nobody's perfect.

McGruff is the only lead we've got.

There must be a way to get a coherent statement out of him.

Possibly after several weeks of intensive treatment.

Okay, well, we don't have time for that.

He's not a ... He's not a patient yet, right?

Technically, no, until I call forensic mental health services.

Hold on. Patient?

Are you guys buying into this kid's wolverine act?

Come on.

I don't think he's faking.

He's been living in a urine-soaked den in the park for at least two weeks.

He told you that?

Or did he bark his way through a game of charades?

I checked the records. Calls about a growling man Stealing people's food in the park started a few weeks ago.

Yeah. The smell alone...

It's a very long, smelly con. It seems unlikely.

All right.

So the only person who can I.D. Our sn*per bays at the moon.

Terrific. How's that gonna hold up?

How do we keep this kid out of the psych ward?

We need to avoid aggravating his condition.

So we keep him calm, he doesn't wolf-out.

Give him as many cheeseburgers as he wants.

And that should buy us some time.

Let's hope it's enough.

[telephone ringing]

Turns out custom reloaders are very cooperative people...

After I threatened them with a warrant to seize all their chemicals to search for unregistered tags.

Nice work. These people all buy custom gunpowder?

These are members of clubs where our sh**t's gunpowder is sold.

Don't they keep transaction records?

They do for b*ll*ts but not gunpowder.

[groans] It's gonna take us days to run full checks on every one of 'em.

We don't have that kind of time.

Pull driver's license photos on all these people.

Maybe the wolf kid can pick one out of the pack.

[laughs] You said "pack."

[sighs]

You get it, right?

I'm laughing on the inside.

[knock on door]

Oh, hi. I didn't know you were gonna stop by.

I feel like I handed you a pile of...

Anxiety and indecision and just walked away.

Not cool.

Well...

It's a lot to process.

I've done some thinking.

I think I've got an option that might work.

And now that I have some actual details, I thought it'd be appropriate to share with you so we can work through it together.

Why are you looking at me like that?

I love when you say mature things.

Well, I am a grown man.

You are, and that's very rare.

And incredibly disappointing to my gender as a whole.

I'm gonna have to bring that up at our next meeting.

So you said you figured out a plan.

Yes. I talked to N.M.U., and they have an opening for a full-time professor.

That's great. It isn't?

That would mean relocating full-time.

But they also have room for an adjunct professor, which would allow me to live and work part-time in Boston.

But then you'd be walking away going to a tenure track job and you would only be seeing Allie part of the year.

If we're gonna make this work, we're all gonna have to make sacrifices.

Do you disagree?

All I know is I... I don't wanna lose you.

[cell phone vibrates]

Mm.

[whispers] Sorry. [beep] It's Jane.

I have to get back to this case.

Of course.

But I don't wanna leave things like this.

Maura, if we both want the same thing, it's gonna work out fine.

We'll solve this together.

Right. Together.

Wait. Sorry. [chuckles]

Bye.

I gotta call you back.

Uniform searching in Franklin Park just found a third sn*per's nest.

Same as the first two?

Pegs in the trunk, perch in the branches.

Well, let's go.

There's gotta be a connection between these nests.

If we find his pattern, we'll find the guy.

Hey. Did you get my text?

You said you were coming down.

Yeah, and then I said, "scratch that I need you to come upstairs and talk to teen wolf."

Um... Well, after that, it's just variations of "where the hell are you?"

These emoticons don't deserve to be used in such disturbing ways.

Gets the point across, doesn't it?

How is he?

He's sleeping.

But we just found a third sn*per's nest, and he's the only witness we have, so we gotta get in there and talk to him.

Well, I know, but the subject of the hunter triggers his fear response, and you saw what happened.

Yeah. Kaboom. Wolf-nado.

Somehow that's exactly right.

All right, so how'd you get him to talk?

Was it the cheeseburger?

I think it was more my sympathy.

For his hand?

Well, not just that, but also the suffering that he endures because of his condition.

You know, maybe if I indulge his delusion and show compassion for his experience of being a man who turns into a wolf, he might feel safe enough to endure talking about the hunter and not trigger his fear response.

Great! Do that upstairs.

Korsak: All the nests are within 300 yards of streets.

Two commercial, one residential. No pattern there.

The other two were in busy areas. This one has less foot traffic.

Looks like the nest locations are just as random as the victims.

There's gotta be ...

Man: Here's a photo from the nest.

Thank you.

Bring up the pictures of the second nest.

Yeah. Mm-hmm.

The one where he sh*t Fritz.

There's only one streamer in the second nest.

Maybe he only had time to hang one, or the others fell off.

No, this guy plans everything to a tee.

If he wanted to use three streamers, he would have.

What's the difference between one and three?

With three streamers, the sh**t picks his target, checks the closest streamer for wind factor, makes the sh*t.

For one streamer to be useful, he's gotta know the exact location of his target.

The sn*per knew when Jeremy Fritz would be at that exact spot.

All the other sh**t were just to throw us off.

Fritz was the sn*per's primary target.

If you'll let me, I'd like to take a look at your hand.

I can help it feel better.

May I take a look at your hand?

[winces]

It's sprained very badly.

Here.

This will help it heal faster and it won't hurt all the time.

Okay?

Must be hard to live in the park.

Hungry.

Is that how you... you met the hunter?

You were looking for food?

He came at night to make the trees.

Did you ever see him in the daylight?

He had a g*n.

Did you ... did you see him with a g*n just one time?

You saw him with a g*n twice?

And the second time you saw him, you knew what he was going to do, didn't you?

Tried to... stop him in the tree.

You climbed up in the tree after the hunter?

That's ... that's really brave.

He pushed me out. [grunts] He hit me more.

You can help us stop him for good. Do you wanna do that?

I know you've been hurt, but you're safe with me. Okay?

I'm not afraid of you. I know that you wanna help.

Now tell me what else you remember about the hunter.

He loud.

Copper.

Wet.

Okay. Thanks. [beep]

Jeremy Fritz is out of surgery, but he's in recovery.

The doctor still won't give us the okay to talk to him.

All right. What about his routine? What do we know?

He goes to work every day at the same time.

On Tuesdays, he goes to physical therapy during his lunch hour.

Where is that?

Here. Two blocks North of the park.

And walking distance from his office.

So once a week at lunch, Jeremy Fritz stands on the same street corner.

It was the perfect plan, but he missed.

Wolf kid said he got into the tree with the hunter.

Words he used to describe the guy were "copper" and "wet."

What if he was describing blood?

You think he bit the sn*per?

Could've. Thrown the sh*t off, saved Jeremy's life.

Drivers' license photos of people who had access to the tagged gunpowder and also live or work near the park.

Get these to Jane and have her run 'em by the kid.

Maybe it'll spark something.

Let's hope he bites with his eyes open.

[woman speaking indistinctly over P.A.]

Psst!

I got your text. He needs a C.A.T. scan?

I think his condition could be the result of a tumor on his hypothalamus, which is part of the brain that detects changes in the body.

It's potentially life-threatening. I had to bring him in.

[sighs] And we were hoping he'd get a look at these photos.

Well, he's just sedated for the test.

I'm sure if you come back later, he'll be alert enough to go through them.

I'm sorry, Jane. I really had no choice.

Mm, no. Of course. Of course.

What's this?

Well, the sn*per doesn't know that he isn't a reliable witness. As far as he knows, this is the only person who can tie him to the sh**t.

Which makes him a target. [sighs]

Yes, it does.

Stay with him no matter what.

Thanks, Jane.

Mm-hmm.

Woman: Dr. Reddick, radiology. Dr. Reddick, radiology.

[exhales deeply]

Yeah. Thanks.

[beep]

Jeremy Fritz picked out three of the people from the driver's license photos, but they all have alibis.

Any of them have connections to Fritz or his family?

Nope.

And I think the painkillers aren't helping much.

Well, maybe a doped up victim is less helpful than the wolf kid.

If Maura can turn him into a reliable witness, he might be all we need.

It's called a C.A.T. scan.

They're gonna take a picture of your insides.

Does it hurt?

Not at all. It looks like a doughnut, and you're gonna go through the doughnut hole on the table.

Mm. You come, too.

You'll hear my voice the entire time.

[growling] Hey, it's okay. You're all right. You're all right.

No, no. Stop. He's not trying to hurt me. [grunts]

What is scaring you?

What are you ...

You, run! Run!

[shouting]

Okay, get him into a room and lock the door!

Jane, I think the sn*per tracked us to the hospital. He's here.

All right, I'll turn around. I'll be there in five.

Woman: Hey!

Maura, I'm here. Tell me exactly where you are.

East atrium, fifth floor. I think he's going down.

Okay, Frankie's on his way with backup.

What does this guy look like?

Tall, dark hair, jeans, a-and jacket.

Be right there.

Excuse me.

Oh!

[both grunting]

Aah!

Uhh! [groans]

Don't...You...Move.

You all right?

[panting] He's got a laceration in his right quadricep.

And you're holding a scalpel.

[scalpel clatters]

Remind me not to piss you off.

[both panting]

Piedmont Westley junior.

Prints brought up a lot of arrests, but not too many charges.

His family politically connected?

Just rich.

Westley's father always got him out of trouble, everything from plagiarism to arson.

Great parenting.

Now his kid's graduated to m*rder and attempted m*rder.

Why did he target Jeremy Fritz?

Uh, daddy's latest move was to get Westley Jr. a job at Fritz's investment firm.

Piedmont worked for Fritz?

For about five minutes. Fritz fired him a month ago.

He didn't think he should mention a disgruntled ex-employee?

Maybe Fritz didn't realize he was disgruntled.

He also didn't know that this job was Westley's last chance.

Or what? Daddy takes his allowance away?

This guy never worked for anything his whole life...

Except for one notable skill.

Marksmanship.

He was the captain of the r*fle club at his prep school.

He was gonna k*ll his boss along with a couple of innocent people just to make us thin.

If I've said it once, I've said it a hundred times ...

Sociopaths always underestimate the resilience of the werewolf.

[sighs]

[inhales deeply]

[whispers] Hey.

A benign tumor near your brain stem is causing your condition.

But once the doctors remove it...

No more wolf.

No more wolf.

Smart doctor.

Maura.

There are a lot of other smart people working really hard to help you.

They found a missing persons report that matched your description.

But it took a while because you went missing in New Hampshire, and your family is from Hartford.

Your name is Michael Lyons.

You're a student at U.N.H.

Michael...

You were taking the bus home and you got kicked off in Boston.

We've contacted your family, and they're on their way.

Thank you, Maura.

Maura.

How are you?

Good.

I feel like I know what you're gonna say, and it starts with "I've been thinking."

I have.

Uh-huh.

About human cell division.

Okay, strike that. I have no idea what you're gonna say.

[laughs] It's really very fascinating.

Okay. Go on.

Well, the way the chromosomes just line up just so.

And then, when the time's right, they're pulled apart by a force beyond their control.

And then they go on to thrive as new, entirely separate entities.

How reassuring.

Did you know that these newly divided cells are actually called daughter cells?

Separation is inevitable.

Is that what you're trying to tell me?

Not for you and Allie.

You can't be so far away from her, not even part-time.

These years are so precious, and I can't ask you to miss not one moment of your daughter's life.

That would be my decision.

The burden of knowing that I was the reason that you weren't there for her...

It would k*ll me.

And eventually, that would... That would k*ll us.

So the net effect is the same whether I stay or go.

Not for Allie.

So...

This is good-bye.

I'm glad you said it, because I can't.

[kisses]

[sighs deeply]

So he'll make a full recovery.

No more wolf.

If you ask me, that wolf situation was a lucky break.

You wanna field this one?

Uh, well, it is true that, if Michael hadn't been living like an animal in the park, he wouldn't have been there to witness the sh**ting.

The sn*per would've k*lled at least three people, and he would've walked, like that guy in the movie.

Here we go.

That guy with the limp? Come on, you know.

Kaiser Soze? [claps hands]

Yes!

Thank you! Thank you!

Okay, you two, don't stay out too late.

And, Jane, you know when you're tired, you get that...

Twitch?

Yeah.

Thanks, Ma.

Love you.

Love you, too.

You okay?

[sighs deeply]

Allie's relationship with her father is more important than mine.

And is that making us feel better now?

[whispers] Not at the moment, no.

[groans]

Look, Maura.... you were given that plaque because you put others before yourself. Okay?

And, yes, I'm sure at the pearly gates, virtue will be rewarded. But... right now, virtue kinda sucks.

Beeing a grown-up sucks.

I'll drink to that.

All right. [Sniffs]

Mmm! Yes!

Oh! [laughs]

And ... no, wait, 'cause ... Well, it's on Ma!

And Korsak. All right.

Jane: Here's to ... being an adult.

Mnh.

It sucks. [clink]

Maura: Yes, is does.