02x01 - Twenty-Fifteen

[bunniefuu]

[chuckles] You see this?

Well, that headline had to sting.

"Leaving to spend more time with her family"... quaint.

[elevator bell dings]

Isn't it amazing how blood in the water always seems to inspire family values in politicians?

Right? [chuckles]

See, now, that's the kind of woman you should be chasing... not the g*dd*mn D.A.

[telephone ringing]

Okay, where are we with Sarah Tran?

We're still digging.

As of now, she's in the wind.

All right, guys, I'm getting a lot of sh*t from upstairs.

Undercover cop goes missing for four days?

We got to do better than "she's in the wind."

All due respect, Boss, we're Homicide.

We don't even have a body. She might not be dead.

Seems like Missing Persons should be all over this.

Well, don't talk to me about divisions, okay?

She's one of us, remember that.

Well, no one's being lazy... Sarah was investigating an underground prostitution ring, and she dropped off the face of the Earth.

English: There's no evidence. There's no witnesses.

We don't know if she was k*lled, if she was abducted, or she just went to Vegas.

Well, figure it out.

What do you think, Inspector?

Mr. Choo, we just need to know if you recognize this woman.

No, what does he think? Good sandwich?

Uh, not bad for a Korean barbecue in the middle of Japantown.

Answer the lady, please.

Her name's Sarah Tran.

I don't know her.

Of course not.

[yawning] Oh, my God.

What, you tired already?

Yeah, I'm tired. I didn't sleep last night.

Uh-oh.

No.

No?

I'm actually done with dudes, I've decided.

[laughs] I'ma tell Kami Keefer on you.

[chuckles]

She's gonna rock your world.

Yeah, that's not gonna happen.

[rap music playing]

[indistinct conversation]

Field trips... how many times are they gonna drag us up the coastline to go hug redwoods?

♪ ...we bangin' on your knees with your last wish ♪
♪ Like a punk trick ♪
♪ Y'all finished ♪
♪ It's all about respect ♪
♪ So just forget the rest ♪
♪ Yo, yo, it's all about respect ♪

Hey, Alfie, you got something in there for me to drink?

♪ You gotta pass the test, homeboy ♪

You know, how about a red Gatorade?

I mean, you always got red Gatorade, right?

♪ So what the deal is, playa? ♪
♪ Yo, yo, it's all about respect ♪
♪ You better show respect or protect your neck ♪

[g*nsh*t]

[students screaming]

All right, 5-Henry-9. Code 33.

sh*ts fired. Third and Green.

[screaming continues]

[sobbing] No, no!

[g*nf*re]

[screaming continues]

[g*nf*re continues]

[indistinct shouting]

Hildy: 5-Henry-9, 5-Henry-10.

217 in progress... school-bus sh**ting.

Green, between Third and Fourth.

All right, I'm going in.

[g*nf*re continues]

[shouting continues]

[sobbing] Help me! No! Help me.

[g*nf*re]

[students screaming, sobbing]

[g*nf*re continues]

We have at least two sh**t. White male, 15 to 18.

Use caution until we can confirm these two are alone.

Patrol units, block west and east ends.

Clear civilians.

[student sobbing]

[g*nf*re]

Aah!

Aah!

[student sobbing]

Dispatch: 3-Henry-5, 3-Henry-6.

Two-minute ETA.

[indistinct shouting]

[screaming]

[sirens wailing]

5-Henry-200. On site, west end.

Hey, out of the way! Out of the way! Move! Move!

[helicopter blades whirring]

[police radio chatter]

[student breathing heavily]

[door banging]

Relax.

[g*nf*re]

No!

[tires squeal]

Move! Back! Back!

Student: Help me! No! No, please.

[sobbing]

[door banging]

Go.

Out the back.

Now.

[banging continues]

[door opens]

[people screaming]

Don't sh**t! Don't sh**t!

Police! Get over here! Now! Now! Move!

[sirens wailing]

All right, how many sh**t?

Two. Just two.

What are their names?

Um, Dustin Maker and Alfie Rentman.

All right, radio that in.

Suspects' names are Dustin Maker and Alfie Rentman.

Get him past the tape, straight through questioning.

What's your name?

Mason.

English: 5-Henry-9. Cover me.

Move, Mason! Move!

I'm trying to get a closer look.

Hildy: 5-Henry-10.

We have confirmation... there are only two sh**t.

[screaming]

Repeat... only two sh**t.

Koto: 5-Henry-200. Terry, you got a green light.

Take a sh*t if you have it.

[g*nshots]

[students screaming]

[g*nf*re]

[g*nf*re]

Check your ear.

Terry, are you okay?

I lost you.

[breathing heavily]

Front of the bus. Engine block.

[g*nf*re]

Move! Move! Out of the way!

Move!

Get down, get down! I got you, Terry.

5-Henry-200 tacking east from Fourth.

Dispatch: First units 10-97 at the location, east end line.

All right, watch your back drop.

No civilians, no civilians. No blue on blue.

[siren wailing]

Hey, how many rounds we got left?

Plenty, but we're out of time.

[g*nf*re]

[glass shattering]

[expl*si*n]

Come on.

[expl*si*n]

[expl*si*n]

5-Henry-9, Code 33.

Clear the air. All units.

This is happening. 406.

Man: We are just getting reports of a*t*matic g*nf*re on Green Street...

Woman: ...trying to determine if a school bus is involved.

[sirens wailing]

[canisters clattering]

[explosions]

[g*nf*re]

[tires screeching]

[police radio chatter]

[helicopter blades whirring]

There, east end, next to the dispensary... clear exit.

Yeah? Then what?

Then we stay alive, and we're legends.

We discussed this.

Look, do what you've got to do, but I'm finishing the game.

[canister pin clicks]

[canister clatters]

[expl*si*n]

sh**t.

10-13, Tactical on approach.

Man: 10-4. Tactical is 10-97 on the west approach.

Who's got the bird's-eye?

4-Victor-3. I got an aerial from on top of the parking structure down on the bus.

I'm blind... too much smoke.

Man: Right there!

Hey.

Get him out of there!

Hey! Dude, get out of the way.

Get off the street!

Get down!

Walt, eyes up. You're downrange. Eyes up.

[clicking]

Man: Bravo, take cover!

Move up! Right there!

Man: Air 16. We are unable to maintain a visual on any suspect at this point.

Get out of here! Get out of here!

Looks like we need additional units to the south.

Move, move, move!

East end looks soft.

Lock this block before they scoot.

[canister clatters, expl*si*n]

[bell dings]

Easy, easy.

SFPD.

You got a phone and working toilet?

Yeah.

Hope you don't mind a few visitors.

Koto: This is 5-Henry-200. Tactical Command post set.

Fog city convenience, northside of Green, just west of the bus.

[siren chirping]

Dustin, please don't k*ll me!

[gasps]

On the ground or in your grave.

Both.

[g*n clicks]

[whimpers]

Suspect's g*n is clear. Get some cuffs on him.

Cuffs, cuffs, cuffs!

Hildy: sh**t one is down.

[handcuffs click]

We need sh**t two. He's got to be close. Come on.

Come on.

Take him, guys.

Got him?

Yeah.

sh**t one in custody.

All eyes, find sh**t two.

[g*nsh*t]

Aah!

Where did that come from?

Oh, I'm hit.

Where did that come from?!

[police radio chatter]

Cover me.

Officer down.

Officer down.

[groans]

5-Henry-200. Inspector Lieutenant Homicide.

We need to clear under the bus.

Circle, circle!

Perimeter, who's got eyes?

Man: Too much smoke. I can't see.

English: Everybody, shut up and clear the air.

Keep your margins!

Cover me! I'm going in!

Go, go, go, go, go, junior.

Where is he?

He's not there.

[police radio chatter]

sh**t two is in the wind.

I repeat, sh**t two in the wind.

Man: Back alley of Sixth Street is clear. No sign of suspect.

Man: Copy that. Nothing on the east end, but we are still searching.

[sighs] No service.

Jammed. AT&T and Verizon are down.

Their servers crashed.

English.

Yeah?

Veracruz has an update.

Hey. Thanks.

So, you knew the sh**t?

Dustin and Alfie? Yeah.

At least I thought I did. I liked them.

I left my backpack on the bus... big blue one.

It has a picture of my Grams in it.

I'll see what I can do.

Thanks.

[sighs]

He must have got out from under the bus, slipped through the hole in the fence.

It's a straight sh*t from Dog Alley to Market Street.

This kid knew exactly what he was doing.

And here comes the world.

Tac's got four-by-four squared off for door knocking.

Should only be around 60,000 doors.

Assuming he's still here.

He had 26 minutes before our edge was secure.

So, you two are feeling optimistic.

[police radio chatter]

All right, suspect in custody?

Dustin Maker, senior at Whitman, unconscious in the lockup wing at St. Ignatius.

Suspect not in custody?

Alfred Rentman, white, junior.

We're still working on actual ages.

Quiet types, video games.

No history of v*olence.

You know, good boys, you'd never have guessed... same old story.

Maker lives in Outer Richmond, poor kid.

The missing sh**t lives in Sea Cliff, next to Lincoln Golf Club.

Rich kid.

Tac units are surrounding both houses, and from the outside, there is no sign of life.

I sent Walt and Kaleb to the missing sh**t's house.

Good. We should bust in and grab up what we can.

This is a manhunt.

Hildy: No.

The first sh**t is alive and in custody.

This is going to trial, people.

Everything we do, we do by the book.

We need a warrant, and now.

Yeah. On it.

And exactly how long have you been a native French Canadian?

Uh, excuse me?

Your Honor.

Let's take a brief recess.

This is happening right now?

It is.

Thank you.

[banging on door]

Search warrant!

Man: 2-Tom-7 at sh**t one residence. All clear.

Two bedrooms, seven rooms total... nobody home.

Dispatch: Copy that. Maker residence is clear. Stand by.

Third floor clear. Single resident.

Diploma says "Dr. Rentman."

First floor clear. Single resident.

Looks like mom.

Same family, separate units?

How do you raise a school sh**t?

In the middle.

Where the hell are this kid's parents?

Copy that.

Okay, nobody's home... neither kid.

All right. CSI?

Couple computers, some video-game consoles... stuff Keefer can dig into later, but...

Right, but that's gonna take time.

Well, Rentman caught a graze to the ear.

Checked every hospital, drugstore, and pharmacy in an eight-by-eight.

Don't you report to somebody?

Not you.

I need an aspirin.

Okay, sh**t in custody, Dustin Maker, he's all over social media... Facebook and Twitter, reddit... but I can't find anything for the second sh**t, Rentman.

As far as I can tell, he doesn't even exist online.

The long g*ns used were AR-15s.

Now, usually hard to get, but most certainly harder to customize.

Check this crazy sh*t out.

CSI snapped a photo of Maker's g*n.

It's a sear-cut lower receiver, makes it fully a*t*matic.

600-RPM chainsaws.

Amazing.

I-I didn't think it would get worse than when Hill's crew started sporting Rico Mak-90s with hundred-round drums a decade ago.

But teenage psychopaths unleashing 600 rounds a minute?

[door opens, closes]

It's time. [clears throat]

[door opens]

[sirens wailing]

[helicopter blades whirring]

Hey, look up.

Right? News choppers... cover the bodies, please.

Show a little respect.

Let me get to the back, please. Thanks.

So... the first sh**t was right here.

sh*t the kid across from him with his sidearm.

Second sh**t was behind in the opposite corner.

Perfect angles for cover.

They sh*t the hell out of this bus.

All right, check this out.

This seat here... there's no b*ll*ts, no blood.

There's not a scratch.

I met this kid.

His name is Mason. He escaped.

No.

They chose to let him go.

They wanted a witness.

Why the hell would they want a witness?

To tell their story.

[camera shutter clicking]

[police radio chatter]

Second sh**t's parents are at 850.

Cell service is back up?

Yeah, it's back up.

Okay, one second.

Louise? Hey, are you okay?

Oh, thank God. Okay. Um... are you still at school?

No, that... that's good that they're keeping you there, sweetie.

Can I talk to your teacher for a minute?

Hey, Ms. Jensen.

No, I-I know, it's late. Mike should be there any minute.

I'm sorry.

Okay.

Okay, yeah. That sounds good. Thank you.

Hi, babe.

Um, okay, so, everything's good.

Daddy is on his way.

He's gonna be there as soon as he can, okay?

I promise. Yeah, I promise.

All right, I love you.

Okay? I love you so much, and I'm gonna see you soon.

Okay.

Okay. Bye.

English: You all right?

No.

School's still on lock-down, and they won't release kids without a parent, and Mike's M.I.A.

She's just sitting there by herself.

I think she's the last kid there.

Hey, she's gonna be okay. She's gonna be fine.

[cellphones ringing, vibrating]

It's their friends.

Their families.

Everybody they know.

[brakes squeak]

[indistinct shouting]

[camera shutters clicking]

Excuse me. Excuse me.

My wife was driving the bus, and I'm just trying to get some information.

Yeah, of course.

Uh, come on in. We'll help you out, all right?

Hey, Walt?

This gentleman's wife was driving the bus.

Can you help him out?

Absolutely.

Thanks.

Right this way.

Can I get you some coffee?

Sure.

Okay, now, the second sh**t's parents... where are they?

Yeah, uh, Interview Room, uh, the Rentmans, and they're clueless.

They, uh... they think their son is one of the victims.

All right. Thanks.

I don't understand.

That... that's my son. That's Alfie.

Then your son is the second sh**t.

W-What... what are you saying?

He k*lled over a dozen people.

We have hundreds of witnesses.

I don't understand.

These, uh, windows... make me seasick, like we're on a boat.

[chuckles]

Is that intentional? Uh...

You did this, Frank!

Okay, okay, okay.

You did this!

God damn it, Frank!

All right, all right, all right.

All right, all right. Okay, okay.

Okay. Okay, come on.

[screams]

Come on.

Calm down. Calm down.

No!

- You got her?

Mm-hmm.

All right, come on.

All right, easy.

[door closes]

Frank: I'm sorry. Are you all right?

I'm fine. Sit down, please.

[sighs]

[sighs]

Were you involved in what your son did today?

That's, um... that's not a simple question.

Answer me!

My son... is a sociopath.

You all right?

I'm so sorry. I...

I lost it in there.

Yeah.

[sighs]

My husband makes me crazy.

He... he spends half his life in denial, then when anything happens with Alfie, he just becomes a scientist, never a father.

[sighs]

[sighs] Why don't you tell me about Alfie?

He was troubled... as long as I can remember.

Didn't like to be touched.

Didn't connect with other kids.

I've been wanting to put him in therapy for years, but that assh*le always insists that Alfie can be fixed with meds... everything's chemical.

And I let him talk me into it.

But now... now... this.

This, I...

How do you come back from this?

[sighs]

What's gonna happen to us?

Does Alfie have a phone? Can you call him?

I've been trying.

He doesn't answer. It doesn't even ring.

It just goes straight to voicemail.

Those... poor families.

Oh, God.

[crying] I'm so sorry.

I just...

I don't know what to say.

[breathing hoarsely] I don't know.

[sobbing]

[sighs]

He has a documented genetic history of schizotypal behavior, exhibits numerous indicators of antisocial personality disorders.

Statistically speaking, his diagnosis is clear.

Diagnosed by who?

Who's his doctor?

One of the world's leading experts in the field.

This is you?

I'm a neuroscientist. I specialize in sociopathy.

Inspector Mulligan, my son is very sick... and very, very dangerous.

Dr. Rentman... no sh*t.

[helicopter blades whirring]

[siren wailing]

Okay, so, you're Alfie Rentman.

Uh, you're sh*t.

We don't know how bad, but you are wounded.

And you're on the run.

Or you're on to the next step.

I mean, a lot of mass murderers have a series of events they want to accomplish before they get caught or k*lled.

I mean, Harris and Klebold, they both wanted to blow up Columbine.

Of course, never got around to it.

Excuse me.

I'm Brian Tran, Sarah's husband.

Yes, Mr. Tran?

I'm sorry to interrupt, but I've been calling and calling, but nobody's giving me any answers.

I just need somebody to tell me something about what's going on with my wife.

Have, uh... have you seen the news, sir?

Yes, and it's terrible.

But I still have to find my wife.

We're doing everything we can. We're following every lead.

Do we even know if she's alive, or, God forbid...

Sir, we don't know anything, and the reason why no one's answering the phones is because this entire department is involved in a manhunt to try and find this psychopathic mass m*rder*r who's now loose in the city.

I'm sorry.

I know this is hard.

Just... just promise me you'll call as soon as you hear anything.

We will.

We got to find this g*dd*mn kid.

Oh, geez.

[indistinct conversations]

All right, let's go around back.

How is he?

Alive. The Kevlar vest saved him.

Is he conscious?

Yes, although he's in a fair amount of pain.

A cracked sternum, bruising on his left lung, but he's stable and should make a full recovery.

Can we see him?

You can try. He hasn't been very forthcoming with any of the doctors or nurses.

But from what I can tell, he's coherent.

Just doesn't want to talk.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go save some lives I actually care about.

Excuse me.

Together?

One by one.

[cellphone vibrating]

I'm the door knocker. You're the chaplain.

Hello? Oh, hey, Ms. Jensen.

What? He's not there?

Um, okay, let me, uh... [sighs] let me make a quick call, and, uh, I-I'll call you back.

Okay. Thanks.

What's up?

Mike never showed.

Louise is just sitting there by herself.

I swear to God, Terry, I'm gonna... I'm gonna k*ll him.

All right, go get her.

No, I... [sighs]

Let me just, uh... let-let me just make a call.

One second.

[monitor beeping]

Are you in pain?

Have you seen a doctor?

They give you any medication?

I don't take meds. That stuff will make you crazy.

[scoffs]

I'm Inspector English.

What are you here to inspect?

You.

Your basic condition.

State of mind.

Make sure you're getting taken care of properly.

Yeah, they won't let me have a TV.

I know.

What are they saying out there?

That you're the k*ller of the week.

Famous.

For a week.

Where's Alfie?

He's dead.

Hey, Mom and Dad. It's me.

Uh, can you call me when you get this?

Everything's fine. I just...

I-I need you to call me.

All right, thanks, bye.

Hey, check out this photo. Just came in.

Screen grab from a taxicab.

English: Oh, wow. What's the location?

SoMa, near Bryant and Kolb.

Look at that time stamp.

That's like 10 minutes ago.

That's not bad.

Yeah, but this kid moves fast.

Well, then, so should you. Go.

Go. I'll finish this, all right?

And then I got to grab Louise, so I'll see you in a bit.

Yeah. Uh... give Louise a hug for me.

I will.

Did Alfie k*ll himself?

No, he was sh*t.

Where are your parents?

Where'd you find him?

Alfie.

SoMa.

Down by the warehouses.

Idiot.

I told him hitting that concert was a stupid idea.

What concert?

Why do you care?

He's dead... right?

Concert... warehouse district.

[beeping]

Where are you?

You're in Vegas?!

Are you kidding me?!

No, s-stop, Mike, okay? Stop.

I don't want to hear it right now.

I don't want to hear...

No, I don't want to hear your sh*t, okay?

You're drunk.

No, you're drunk. I can tell. You're slurring your words.

I don't...

I got to go.

[sighs]

Hey.

Hey, what have we got?

Band started about an hour ago.

All right. Do they know we're here?

If they do, they don't give a sh*t.

Oh, God.

I got you.

Oh, thanks.

Okay, so, it's an old textile plant, condemned in '83.

We had to pull these schematics out of city archives.

They're outdated, so they may not be accurate.

The warehouse just sold a couple months ago to that, uh, Russian billionaire, Vladimir Slim.

Slim Shady.

Bet he doesn't even know he owns this building.

Okay, Keefer, you're up. What you got? What'd you find?

An invisible embed on the first sh**t's reddit feed.

The concert is underground... invite only.

Here's the guest list.

The guests are all listed under pseudonyms.

See that "Pi"? That's our second sh**t.

Matches his online gaming profile from the Xbox we pulled at his home.

So, you're saying he RSVP'd?

Correct.

All right, how many people we got here?

[scoffs] 200, 300.

300 drug-addled teenagers.

Who, for all we know, view this punk as a hero.

Look, every second we spend out here while he's in there, more lives are at risk.

Okay. How many plainclothes we got?

Um, 10 in each station, 80 total.

Probably 20 nearby.

No sudden movements.

If you spot our target, signal Molk, and then fall back.

On my command... unless he makes a move, no b*ll*ts, no bodies, no blue on blue, no mistakes.

[drums b*ating intermittently]

[indistinct conversations]

[heavy metal music playing]

♪ Is it sick of me ♪
♪ To need control of you? ♪
♪ Is it sick to make ♪
♪ You beg the way I do? ♪

Molk: Walt, move left towards 10:00 so we can get a view of the stage.

That's it.

♪ Is it sick of me ♪

Thanks.

♪ To watch the wicked way you thrill? ♪
♪ Is it sick to say ♪
♪ I live to break your will? ♪
♪ Are you ♪
♪ Sick like me? ♪
♪ Am I beautiful ♪
♪ As I tear you to pieces? ♪
♪ Am I beautiful? ♪
♪ Even at my ugliest, you always say ♪
♪ I'm beautiful ♪

I got him. I got him.

Suspect is to the right of the stage.

20 feet back.

♪ You are beautiful ♪

I can't get a clear sh*t.

♪ Even at your ugliest ♪

Suspect on the move. He's on the move.

♪ You're beautiful and sick like me ♪

Wait, w-where is he?

I got nothing.

[g*n clicks]

He's on stage. Engage.

I got him.

I'm really looking forward to this.

Kiss my ass, you limp-d*ck freak.

Watch out!

Get out of the way!

English, no.

Molkie, what's down here?

Uh, tunnels.

Uh, Triad, BART, muni, water.

It's a maze, Terry. It's not safe.

Terry?

Terry! It's not safe!

[metal clatters]

[g*nsh*t]

[groaning]

[both sigh]

You scared me, man.

I scared you?

We got to move.

Yeah.

Ah, useless.

Good?

Yeah.

Man: 6-James-40. sh*t fired in the tunnel.

[sighs] Maybe they got him.

6-James-40. Officer down. Star 5-Henry-4. I repeat, star 5-Henry-4.

That's my guy. Come on.

Hi. I'm so sorry.

No problem.

Goodnight, honey.

I'm sorry, babe.

It's okay. It's not your fault.

Were you scared?

No. Where's Dad?

Daddy had to go out of town on a work thing.

I'm sorry. I-I totally forgot.

Did you eat?

Just some cheese and crackers.

All right, well, let's go home.

I'll make you pancakes, okay?

How many kids were k*lled on the bus?

I don't know.

Yes, you do.

I don't want to talk about it right now, okay?

Do I have to go to school tomorrow?

No.

Not tomorrow.

Mom?

Yeah?

Sometimes I wish you weren't a cop.

Sometimes I do, too.

Okay, let's go.