05x14 - The Box

[bunniefuu]

Oh, yeah.

I'm Philip Davidson.

Detective Jake Peralta asked me to drop by.

Mm, the dentist who m*rder*d someone.

Spoiler alert: they think you did it.

Can you show him to Interrogation Room C, please?

- Have fun in there.

- Thank you.

What are you smiling about?

How uncomfortable this guy is.

Jacked up the thermostat, got the table all sticky, made one of the chair legs too short, and worst of all, I had Gina greet him.

- What did you have her do?

- Be herself.

- Poor son of a bitch.

- Yeah.

Why are you wearing a tuxedo?

Kevin and I are attending the opera.

Ooh, the opera.

Is it the one Bugs Bunny sings?

- Yes.

- Okay.

- So, who's this?

- This is Philip Davidson.

- What do we have on him?

- Clear motive, clear means, and a nonexistent alibi, but the DA won't bring a charge because he says it's all circumstantial.

We want to bring this guy down, have to get him to confess right here, right now.

Mm.

An interrogation with a ticking clock and everything on the line?

I better call Kevin and tell him I won't be attending the opera.

There's someone else I'd rather hear sing.

- Oh, damn!

- Hello, Kevin.

I won't be joining you at the opera tonight...

- Oh, sorry, I didn't know - It's under my name, H-O-L...

- you were on the phone already.

Oh, damn!

You're right.

He did it.

But we have no m*rder w*apon, no witnesses, and you really didn't find any usable forensic evidence?

The body was discovered rotting in the Pine Barrens.

It'd been rained on for weeks and chewed up by coyotes.

The only other DNA other than the vic's was some bear semen found in the hair.

- Right.

Who found the body?

- Hikers.

You're really just gonna blow past the bear semen detail?

I imagine a bear mistook the rotting corpse for a female of its species and had intercourse with it.

- Nothing I haven't seen before.

- It isn't?

Let's get in here.

Start working this guy.

Oh.

You're gonna come in with me.

I just thought maybe you'd watch from out here, you know, pull me out when I'm getting too hot.

Call me a loose cannon.

You know, classic Captain stuff.

Peralta, do you know what I miss most about being a detective?

A good interrogation.

Breaking suspects down.

Talking quietly and then talking real loud.

Looking away and then looking right in their eyes.

Leaning.

- That was amazing.

- So, can I join you?

Well, a lot of these techniques do work better with two people: you know, good cop/bad cop, crazy cop/sane cop, fast-talking streetwise cop and Hong Kong cop, AKA the "Rush Hour." You know what?

Let's do this.

Let's break this son of a bitch!

- Hello, Philip.

- Detective.

This is Captain Raymond Holt.

He's a bit of a legend in interrogation circles.

Hey, Cap, who's the scariest person you've ever gotten - a confession out of?

- Connie Buttons.

Okay, thought it was gonna sound a little cooler, but no matter.

So, shall we recap the night that Robert Tupper was m*rder*d Friday the 22nd?

I believe you were the last person to see him alive, correct?

No.

I'd imagine whoever k*lled him saw him after I did.

Ooh, nice dodge.

You're quick, like a cat.

- Like a dancer.

- Like Great Tiger.

From "Mike Tyson's Punch-Out." He could teleport around the ring.

Most people thought it was impossible to get past him.

I b*at him every time.

You just punch him when he gets dizzy.

Really?!

I mean, duh.

- Everyone knows that.

- Tell us about Friday.

I had a late afternoon surgery.

Simple gum graft.

It wrapped around 6:00, and then Robert and I talked after.

And who else was in the office?

Our hygienist and anesthesiologist had gone home, and Grace, who usually locks up, had left early because her grandson had a school play.

So it was just you and Robert.

- No witnesses?

- That's lucky.

It wasn't lucky because there was nothing to witness.

Robert just wanted to talk about f*ring one of our office assistants, Cheryl.

- And that's all you discussed?

- Yeah.

- Nothing else?

- Nah.

Zero other subjects were mentioned?

- None.

- Not even how gross gum grafts are?

- They're really not that gross.

- Liar!

About the gum graft thing, and about the meeting.

We just talked about Cheryl.

Right.

And, of course, there's no way for me to check if that's true, because whoever took Robert's phone wiped all of his calendars.

Except...

it was all backed up on his home laptop.

Would you like to hear what he said the meeting was about?

"7:00 p.m.

Talked with Philip about..." Missing meds.

Ooh.

Did I get that right?

Uh, yeah.

But "missing meds" hardly sounds like "f*ring Cheryl," - so maybe you want to explain...

- He thought Cheryl was stealing Diazepam.

That's why he wanted to fire her.

Any other questions?

Uh...

Boy, you really thought you had him with that one, huh?

- Well, I...

- You got so excited for it.

Let me guess, you, ah, practiced that notebook flip?

- Well, yes, obviously.

- I'd like to move on, unless you have any other big revelations in here.

Let's see.

"From Gomez: Dear Morticia, I feel so happy when I'm wit' ya." I was just spit-balling wedding vows there.

So you said you and Robert were partners, but it was Robert's name on the business, correct?

Yeah.

He started the practice and then I joined after.

Uh, Captain, something's come up in the case.

Can I talk to you outside for a sec?

What the hell are you doing in there?

You totally undermined me.

I know, and I apologize, but I'm executing a strategy.

Oh, really, and what strategy might that be?

Make Jake feel like an idiot, or make Jake feel self-conscious about his Addams Family-themed wedding vows rap?

No, I want Philip to underestimate you and fear me.

I'll badger him with my superior intellect, while simultaneously belittling you.

Once Philip dismisses you as a thr*at, I'll leave you alone with him, and he'll let his guard down.

If I didn't know any better, I would say you're describing smart cop/dumb cop.

Look, I thought you had him on the calendar reveal.

But he was a step ahead.

You got flustered, and I realized in the moment we could use this to our advantage.

So what do you want me to do, ask stupid questions?

Stupid questions, grammatical errors, lose your train of thought, just ask him to confess...

ooh, relate everything back to those movies you've seen.

Kinda seems like a sh*t at me about "Die Hard," but okay.

This is not a comment on you, Peralta.

I just want to bring this guy down.

Yeah, that's all I want too.

And to possibly say, "You can't handle the tooth." You know, if it comes up naturally.

- It won't.

I actually think...

- It might.

It can't.

So what do you say?

Me want to.

- Dumb cop.

- I got that.

- Yeah.

- Well done.

- Mm-hmm.

- So, the night of the m*rder, you met with Robert in the surgical suite.

Why there?

Why not your office?

Uh, just preparing for the next day's surgeries.

Don't you have an assistant who does that?

I'm a meticulous person.

I'm careful how I do things.

So careful that you...

I'm sorry, I forgot what I was gonna say.

Come back to me.

Now, we did a sweep of the room where you and Robert fought.

- Talked.

- Right, talked.

- The entire room had been scrubbed.

- It had been cleaned.

It had undergone industrial sterilization to remove all traces of blood and DNA.

It's a surgical suite.

People bleed in there every day.

We have to sanitize it by law.

Ooh, I remembered what I was gonna ask.

- Did you k*ll him?

- No.

Ah!

If you had said yes, I woulda had you!

So, after you and Robert fought...

- Talked.

- You left the office, - but you didn't take your car?

- I went to a bar, The Scotchman.

I didn't want to drive drunk, so I took a cab.

And you didn't have your phone?

I left it charging in my office and I didn't realize till I was already out of the building.

Oh, man, if I go ten minutes without looking at my phone, my pumpkin crop dies on my little farm.

This is not the time for stories about your digital squash, Peralta.

- Fine.

- Talking about your phone.

Why does it matter that I forgot it?

Ohhh, if I had it on me, you could've seen it pinging off the cell tower.

Doesn't matter.

Didn't have it on me.

So you took a cab to this bar.

Well, we talked to the employees of the Scotchman.

- Nobody saw you there.

- Nobody remembers seeing me.

But let me ask you this...

did you k*ll him?

Nah.

You know, it's not surprising nobody remembers seeing me.

The bar was extremely crowded that night, and I spent my whole time in the corner talking to this woman, Dana.

- Oh, so you said.

- But when we ran all the credit card receipts, nobody named Dana bought any drinks that night.

Trust me, Dana wasn't buying her own drinks.

- No?

- No.

Okay.

- Hold on.

- Hm?

I need to deal with this.

Let's take a five.

Or...

I could keep this interview going solo.

Of course.

I'm sure that'll be, um...

pretty helpful.

All right.

Where should we start-a-rooski?

Don't you think maybe we should just wait till your boss comes back?

Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?

Because you're scared.

You know I'm playing hardball, except for that the balls are questions.

And here they come.

What kind of car did Robert drive?

Also, Dana from the bar, what color was her hair, and which night does the cleaning crew sterilize your office, and have you ever been up to where the body was found, and when you left your phone at the office, was it plugged into your computer or an outlet, and did you k*ll him, and what did your cab driver look like?

This seems like a huge waste of time.

But, here you go.

Robert drove a Saab, Dana's hair was blonde, they sterilize on Wednesdays and Saturdays, I haven't been to Vernon in 20 years, the phone was plugged into the wall, no, I didn't k*ll him, and the cab driver had a beard and an earring...

I sorry I didn't get his license number.

Wow.

- Very impressive.

- Yeah.

You didn't fall for my "did you k*ll him" gambit.

No.

Although it is interesting that you knew the body was found in Vernon, New York, when that information hasn't been released to the public.

Well, hello, Dolly.

I can't believe you thought I was the dumb cop.

I mean, I've watched "Planet Earth." With the British narrator.

I can tell you anything you want to know about "three-toed slow-ths" and I got you to say you knew where the body was found, which kinda seems like something only the m*rder*r would've known.

Actually...

Robert's wife told me.

I've been talking with her a lot, comforting her.

We asked her not to share that info, and she promised us she didn't.

Well, she's been distraught.

She might not remember.

Uh-huh.

Flimsy.

So what did you mean when you said that you hadn't been to Vernon in 20 years?

My uncle has a cabin there.

I would visit him as a kid.

Wow.

So your uncle owns a cabin in the town that the body was found.

That is quite a coincidence.

I haven't been there for 20 years.

You can call my uncle if you want.

Oh, we are.

So you might as well just confess now, or we can take our sweet time like...

the mer-jestic slow-th.

Either way, we've got you.

- We don't have him.

- But I just told him we did have him.

Philip's uncle said he hasn't been to the cabin in months and he hasn't spoken to Philip in over a year.

- Well, what about the neighbors?

- There's only one other house off that road and we haven't been able to contact the owner.

Yeah, but Philip doesn't know that.

He's rattled right now.

We tell him the neighbor saw him that night, he'll cr*ck for sure.

- So you want us to lie?

- No, I want me to lie and for you to stand behind me and say, like, three oh damn 's when I really get cooking.

All right, fine, two oh-damns.

- One oh-damn?

- There will be no oh-damns.

But it will be so satisfying in your deep, powerful voice.

- We're not lying.

- It's legal.

The Supreme Court said that we're allowed to lie in an interrogation.

I told a perp that I knew Steph Curry a couple days ago.

It had nothing to do with the case, but I could say it.

It's a tactical mistake.

You're guessing what happened that night.

But what if Philip never went to the cabin?

He did.

I can feel it here.

- Your stomach?

- No, my gut.

Your gut, or intestines, is lower.

You should point down here, closer to your pubis.

- I'm good.

- Suppose you're wrong.

Now Philip knows we have nothing.

There goes our credibility and our leverage.

No, we need a different strategy, All right, fine.

How about this...

I convince him I'm unstable.

I run in there screaming, I throw a chair through the two-sided mirror, glass goes everywhere.

He's like, "If Mad Dog Peralta will do that, who knows what else he's capable of?" No offense, but you don't get angry well.

What?

That's not true.

Remember how angry I got about how fast Daenerys got from Dragonstone to north of the Wall?

That was intense.

You have a boyish face and a big goofy grin.

It's like being yelled at by a children's cereal mascot.

Hey, some of those are scary.

Count Chocula much?

All right, fine, I see your point.

What do you suggest?

Let's get all up in his personal space.

- Make him feel uncomfortable.

- Okay, fine.

Let's get intimate.

So, Philip, you're hanging out at the bar with "Dana." How late did you stay?

I got in the cab around 3:30.

Kinda hard to find a cab in that neighborhood.

Why not a ride-sharing service?

Didn't have my phone, remember?

- Did you talk to the driver?

- No.

What route did you take?

I don't know, I was watching Taxi TV.

- What was on?

- Fallon highlights.

- What was he doing?

- Slow-jamming the news.

- Who was the guest?

- Amy Adams.

- Who's that?

- Famous actress.

- Why would you...

- Wow.

You got some old silver fillings in there.

You probably want to drill those out, replace 'em with porcelain.

- Okay, but why...

- And that is some serious plaque buildup.

- Let's get back to...

- No, no, no.

Open wider.

Let me see.

Good God, when is the last time you had a cleaning?

Damn it!

Not only did we not break him, but now I have to go to the dentist?!

We need a new strategy.

And all this dental talk has given me an idea.

Okay.

We have a few more questions for you, doctor.

Doctor.

Huh.

It's funny when people call dentists "doctor." We are doctors.

We do four years of medical school.

Yeah, but it's called "dental school." But we learn about the entire body.

But if you had cancer, you wouldn't call a dentist.

You know it's actually harder to get into dental school than medical school.

Well, because there are fewer dental schools.

Because most people want to become actual doctors.

That's ridiculous.

It's not like we're college professors calling ourselves "doctors." - Not the same thing, my friend.

- Well, sure it is.

When someone has a heart att*ck on a plane, do they yell out, "Yo, does anybody here have an Art History PhD?" A PhD is a doctorate.

It's literally describing a doctor.

- Maybe let's refocus.

- No!

The problem here is that medical practitioners have co-opted the word "doctor." - Okay, Captain...

- I know we live in a world where anything can mean anything, and nobody even cares about etymolo...

Apparently that's a trigger for me.

Yeah, apparently.

So...

now can we lie?

No, no.

But you know what often works?

Making him confront his victim.

Look your dead friend in the eyes and say his name.

Robert.

Okay, maybe say his full name.

- Robert Tupper.

- His middle name's Henry.

Robert Henry Tupper.

His wife called him Rob.

Work that in.

- Rob Tupper.

- Work it into the full name.

Robert "Rob" Henry Tupper.

Now say it with a frown on your face.

Robert "Rob" Henry Tupper.

Now try not to blink, so tears come to your eyes.

Robert "Rob" Henry Tupper.

Man, this guy is a good m*rder*r!

There's got to be some way to break him.

Wait a minute.

I just had an idea.

Two, three, four.

Yeah, I really got to stop trying that.

It never works.

Tell us more about your relationship with Robert.

We've been over this a thousand times.

We got along well.

So you never fought, at all.

About anything.

I mean, we worked together.

We disagreed sometimes.

But we had a good partnership.

He never, for instance, skipped a party so he could micromanage me as I tried to do my job.

That's what's happening here, right?

That's why you're wearing the tuxedo?

I skipped the opera, not a party; it's no big deal.

Yeah, it's the Bugs Bunny one.

And I'm not here to micromanage anyone.

I'm here because I enjoy interrogating scum.

- Scum like you.

- That was implied.

I just thought we had a good rhythm going.

- We do.

Okay.

- I know.

Okay.

You don't think the fact that he skipped the opera has anything to do with him not believing in you?

He believes in me.

Okay.

Why did he make you dumb cop?

He didn't make me dumb cop, not that it's any of your business.

We agreed on it as a strategy.

Right, but why wasn't he dumb cop?

Please.

You never would have bought that.

- What?

- It's just that, um, between the two of us, you are more believable as a...

- Dumb cop?

- Yes, dumb.

Uh, the-the dumber of two smart options.

Wow.

Rough.

All right, that's enough.

You're not interrogating us.

- We're interrogating you.

- Exactly.

Tell us about that Diazepam.

If Cheryl didn't take it, then who did?

Because we're pretty sure it was you.

Honestly, it could have been any one of our employees.

They all have access to the storage room.

You know, it's silly, but, uh...

I trust the people who work for me.

I'm telling you, Captain Holt is only in here because I want him here.

Really?

So you're in charge?

And all those strategies you've been coming after me with, those were all your ideas?

Right.

The guitar thing was mine.

And you signed off on that?

- Well...

- Seriously?

- Ooh, this is sad.

- Shut up.

- I just feel bad for you.

- I said shut up.

Your boss thinks you're an idiot; that can't feel good.

All right, listen, you son of a bitch, you think you're smarter than us?

You think you've gotten away with it?

You haven't.

We're gonna find something.

One skin cell, one eyelash, one tiny inconsistency in your story, and you're gonna spend the rest of your life in prison.

Everyone who loves you will leave, and you will die alone!

And at that time, it will be your head that a bear has sex with!

I'm pretty sure you're going for angry, but in my mind, it just seems like when a Muppet gets upset and starts going like...

Oh, you want angry?

I'll show you angry!

Do you feel like I lost the upper hand?

Because I still think it's about 50/50.

I told you getting angry wouldn't work.

Well, your brilliant ideas haven't gotten us anywhere either.

I'm telling you, the only thing that's gonna work is lying about the cabin.

That would be a huge mistake.

- It'll work.

- No, it will backfire and jeopardize the entire case.

Oh, so Philip is right, you don't trust me at all.

Stop it!

You know you're one of my best detectives.

So let me do this my way.

I did.

I let you do it your way, and it was a disaster.

I had to jump in with the dumb cop gambit to rescue the interrogation.

I'm sorry.

I know you're frustrated, Peralta.

But the fact is, we don't have enough.

We may not get a confession.

It happens.

You're right.

I'm sorry.

This guy has just really gotten under my skin.

- Mine too.

- I'm gonna go to the bathroom and try and clear my head.

- I think that's a good idea.

- Good.

Oh, no, Peralta, what are you doing?

Guess what, you d*ck?

I just got off the phone with Vernon PD.

Oh, no, no, no.

Your uncle's neighbors saw you go into the cabin the night of the m*rder.

They ID'd your photo.

I've got you dead to rights.

Interesting.

But, uh, my uncle only has one neighbor, and I'm pretty sure he didn't identify me.

Oh, really?

Because you were so careful?

Because he's been dead three years.

Well.

I'm friends with Steph Curry.

So...

So, this is how it looks to me.

You were lying in an attempt to frame my client.

No, no, no, no.

Look.

Even if we were lying - about having a witness...

- Which you are.

- The neighbor's dead.

- No, it could've been a squatter or a hunter or a squatting hunter, not all hunters have homes...

Peralta's point is, legally, he can say whatever the hell he wants - in an interrogation.

- True.

But that doesn't play so well with juries.

You screwed up, and my client's leaving.

No!

He can't leave until I dismiss him.

You've had him for ten hours and 45 minutes.

15 more and we file a harassment claim.

Great!

Then I'll just keep him for 14 minutes.

Seriously?

Just to be childish?

Yuh doy!

I told you not to lie!

What were you thinking?!

I thought it would work.

And I wanted to be the one that got him.

Is this about your ego?

Are you that desperate for everyone to know how great you are?

It's not about everyone.

Okay?

It's just...

I wanted you to know.

Oh, my God.

I got it!

He's not answering any questions.

That's okay.

I have no questions.

That's right.

I'm about to monologue, son.

You better make it quick.

You only got eight minutes.

All right, then let me paint you a picture...

of Philip, a successful periodontist that's become addicted to Diazepam, a sedative I take because I'm junkie scum.

Also, for real, addiction is a disease.

I would be super empathetic if you hadn't m*rder*d a man.

- What is the point of this?

- I'll get there.

So, one day I'm working late when my boss Robert surprises me.

He found out I was stealing meds...

again, junkie scum...

also again, not your fault.

There's a major genetic component to addiction.

He says he's gonna file a police report.

I could lose my license.

We fight, and something in me just snaps, so I grab the first thing I can find, and I hit him with it.

You still have no m*rder w*apon.

I do now.

Here's a pic I found on Yelp of the surgical suite six months ago, and here is a sh*t that our crime scene photographer took of the same room two weeks after the m*rder.

- Notice any differences?

- We're not answering that.

That's all right, I can just tell you myself.

The Yelp sh*t has six of these heavy-looking glass awards from the Brooklyn Periodontics Society in the background, whereas this sh*t only has five.

What happened to number six?

- m*rder*d Robert with it!

- I didn't.

You lost all control and you bludgeoned him to death.

There must have been blood everywhere, but you got lucky.

You were in the surgical suite; it can be sterilized.

You never would have gotten away with it in your carpeted office.

- That's not what happened.

- Don't say anything more, Philip.

And your office manager would have heard all of the screaming but she was at her grandson's play.

- Lucky again.

- You're wrong.

You put Robert's body into a wheelchair and shoved it in the elevator.

It's a miracle there wasn't blood everywhere.

- That's not true.

- Now you're in the garage with a corpse.

You panicked and left your phone in your office, and you don't have your car keys, but Robert's are in his pocket so you put him in his car - and you take off.

- No.

- You can't believe what you've done.

- No.

- Philip.

- You're flustered.

You have no GPS, so you just start driving.

- No!

- Philip!

Next thing you know, you're in the Pine Barrens, and it hits you: your uncle's cabin.

He has a place there.

You're the luckiest son of a bitch...

- It wasn't luck!

- Yes, it was.

- You got lucky at every turn!

- No.

I knew exactly where I was driving, I left my phone in the office on purpose, I was in the surgical suite by design, and I didn't use some glass award that any idiot would clearly see was missing.

I made a rod out of a special dental polymer, k*lled him with it, then melted it back down.

It's already in a patient's mouth...

son!

Oh, damn.

Oh, damn.

Oh, damn!

And that is three oh-damns.

Oh, damn!

Ohhh.

Fresh air.

Wow, I don't say that a lot.

There's one thing I still don't understand.

Did you know you had the wrong m*rder w*apon?

Ah, excellent question, sir.

Yes.

I spotted the missing dental award when I first took the case.

I asked around weeks ago.

Turns out a cleaning lady knocked it over and shattered it.

Then why did you run in there like that?

Because in talking to you, I realized what Philip's worst fear actually was: that we would think he was just some dummy that got lucky.

Right.

He had planned the perfect crime.

And it k*lled him when you said he was sloppy and impulsive.

He needed us to know how smart he was.

Right.

Like someone else I know.

Yup.

Kevin.

I'm proud of you, Peralta.

Thank you, sir.

Now let's go get some sleep.

Hey, guys.

My goodness.

We're almost late for work.

Oh.

Well, in that case, good morning, sir.

Good morning, Peralta.

God, I love this job.