20x15 - Brilliant Disguise

[bunniefuu]

In the criminal justice system

the people are represented by two
separate yet equally important groups,

the police who investigate crime

and the district attorneys
who prosecute the offenders.

These are their stories.

Death Cab for Cutie? - Yeah.

That's my favorite group, too.

Oh. I thought GN'R
was your favorite.

No, that's a
favorite metal band.

Oh, is it?

Well, it's nice to
meet you, Robby.

Oh, yeah, same.

Hey, listen, I know you're
just here for the weekend,

but there's a club in Williamsburg
with a great house band.

I promised my friend I would
spend the evenings with her.

Okay.

Maybe brunch tomorrow?

Awesome, yeah.

There.

Call me in the morning, okay?

Okay.

All right.

Hey, Mom. I just
got to New York.

Oh, and I met this really
cute doctor on the train.

Well, almost a doctor.
He's still in med school.

If we were staying
in a nice hotel,

we'd have 24-hour room service.

Don't worry. I got it handled.

No way. I am not
eating leftovers.

This stuff hasn't even been
touched. Look, a club sandwich,

with steak fries. Still warm.

Is there ketchup?

Maybe under here.

See, honey, I'd
never let you starve.

She's not one of our employees,

either a guest or
a guest of a guest.

Security cameras
cover this area?

No, just the main
entrance and lobby.

Our guests like their privacy.

Yeah, I'm sure
her k*ller did, too.

We'll need your guest list.

Two g*nsh*t wounds.

One to the back of the
head, one in the lower back.

Plus, plastic cable ties
around her hands and feet.

Mac and cheese
and chocolate milk.

This must be off
the children's menu.

Yeah, well,
pretty girl like this,

I wonder whose menu she was on.

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I put the cart out after
I got the kids to bed. I...

I didn't see anyone
in the hallway.

Justine Stebbins, from
Richmond, checked in Friday.

Miss Stebbins? Hotel security.

Miss Stebbins?

Hello?

I don't see a purse.

Maybe she went out.

Lupes, grab that corner.

I think we got the right room.

First sh*t cut the spinal cord.

It was at close range and aimed
to paralyze her below the waist.

There's a time gap before the
k*ll sh*t at the base of the skull.

Five to 15 minutes.

There's tearing around her
mouth consistent with a ball gag.

No evidence of sexual as*ault.

He bound her hands, feet,
gagged her, and paralyzed her.

Yeah, then he watched her wiggling
around helpless, before finishing her off.

It's called, "Letting
her know who's boss."

Yeah.

Justine worked part-time in
a sports clinic in Hopewell.

She was studying to
be a physical therapist.

We're very sorry, Mrs. Stebbins.

What brought your
daughter to town?

Sightseeing.

She said she was staying
with this girl, Candace.

But now you're telling me that
Justine was staying in a hotel.

Maybe this friend, it was
a fib so I wouldn't worry.

When was the last time
you spoke with Justine?

Friday.

She was all excited about
a boy she'd met on the train.

A medical student.

Then she sent me a text,
Saturday afternoon. I can show you.

She was going
jogging in the park.

With this boy? I don't know.

Oh, no.

I erased it.

I erased her text.

A med student.

Maybe she checked into the
hotel to play doctor with him.

The hotel video has her
checking in alone on Friday.

Well, still, we need
to find this young man.

Well, there are no
calls from her room.

We're still waiting on the
dumps from her cell phone,

which, by the way, is missing,
along with her purse and wallet.

The k*ller's no amateur.
He brought plastic ties,

he doesn't touch the girl,
just pop-pop with a .22.

Tidies up the crime scene,

stashes the body
where it won't be traced

to the room for a few hours.

He's one cool customer.

Who somehow talked
his way into her room.

CSU find that in the trash?

Yeah, brunch for
two on Saturday,

and two tickets to the
Nishizawa Museum.

Art and food can work wonders
on an impressionable girl.

Right. Table 23.

You remember who she was with?

Some med student working
really hard to impress her.

He told her he could
see the Houdini sculpture

in the Nishizawa Museum
courtyard from his lab.

Yeah. I don't get it.

It's Houdon. Not Houdini.

This date, you happen
to catch his name?

On his credit card, which
got declined, by the way.

She ended up taking care of it.

His name was Robby,
last name V-I-something.

Mmm-hmm.

I've got to get this.

Robby who works in a lab

overlooking the Nishizawa
Museum, which is on Spring.

Next door to Chelsea University.

Oh, Robby Vickery.
That med student.

Right. Is he here?

You can find...

Dr. Vickery consulting with
his colleagues right back there.

Robert Vickery?

Yeah. That's me.

Lab technician. Is there
some place we can talk?

I never actually told
Justine I was a med student.

I said I worked in a
medical research lab.

Hey, Robby, we're not
going to bust your chops

for trying to impress a girl.

I can't believe she's dead.

We... We really connected.

Yeah? When was the
last time you saw her?

Saturday. We had brunch, then
we went to the Nishizawa Museum.

Is that it?

She told me she'd be in town till
Monday. She told me to call her.

I tried, twice.
Went to voicemail.

So you, Saturday night?

Me? I was here. I had
to destroy some sick rats.

Then I had a burger
at Fratelli's in Brooklyn,

then I went home and crashed.

The bartender at Fratelli's

remembers him leaving
around 10:00 on Saturday night.

That's time enough
to get to the girl's hotel.

Justine's cell records show

three calls from
Vickery on Saturday,

one in the morning
and two quick ones later.

That's pretty much
what he told us.

Yeah, there are
calls to her mom.

Then, she traded
a bunch of calls

with a no-name cell with
a Richmond area code,

from mid-afternoon

and all through the
night, Friday and Saturday.

Calls at one-hour intervals.
It's an interesting pattern.

Google this Richmond number.

Well, well.

"Urban Excitement."

Looks like Justine

was strumming more than
that guitar in her hotel room.

So, she had a booker

in Richmond lining up
appointments for her.

Have the Richmond
PD talk to the booker,

find out who had the last
appointment Saturday night.

Okay.

All right, thanks.

Hey, check this out.

I found ads going
back six months.

She's in a different
city every weekend.

Can't imagine what her
mother's going to think.

Well, the booker said the last
appointment was with a guy named George,

who called from a
no-name 917 cell phone.

And guess what?

The call bounced off the cell
towers around Chelsea University.

Looks like Robby found out
what Justine did on the side

and figured, one
way or the other,

he was going to
get a date with her.

Yeah, well, that
gibes with what I got.

DL-methionine
and choline chloride.

Additives they
feed the lab rats.

It was found in a rat
turd in her hotel room.

It must have come
in on Robby's shoe.

A rat wrangler
and a rubdown girl.

Ain't love grand.

How many times do I
have to tell you guys,

you're supposed to feed the
rats on schedule or they get sick!

Robby, put the rat down.

Put the rat in the cage. Now!

You're under arrest, Robby.

Put your hands behind your back.

I didn't do anything.

Then you got
nothing to worry about.

Here we go.

I swear to God, I didn't
hurt her. I mean, I'd never.

I respect women.

Yeah, we found some of your...

Tokens of respect
on your cell phone.

Nice cleavage sh*t.

And then, there are
the lies you told her.

We're not unsympathetic, Robby.

Blue collar guys like us,

we need to work a little harder

to get a girl as pretty
as this, am I right?

Yeah, that's for sure.

Good.

Now let's talk about how
you ended up in her room.

But I wasn't in her room.

I didn't know she
was staying in a hotel.

There was a cell phone call

from Chelsea
University to her booker.

What? Booker? Who
are you talking about?

She was spreading
her Southern hospitality

all up and down the
Eastern Seaboard.

It's one thing to be de-balled
by someone better than you,

but a common whore?

It's not true.

She was no better than those
sick rats that you destroyed.

No.

It's all lies.

I want a lawyer.

Oh, I'd feel better if your
search had turned up the g*n,

or the phone he used
to book the appointment.

Well, even without
the actual phone,

we might still be
able to tie it to Vickery.

Check the calls from that phone.

If any are to people who
know Vickery, we got him.

My husband's busy right now.

It's about a call two weeks ago

to a number registered
to Cold Stone Limited.

That's our
telemarketing business.

All right, well, we need to
know who made that phone call.

Sorry, our computer's down.

What exactly do you telemarket?

Is everything okay, sweetie?

We were just asking your
wife about a telephone call

made two weeks
ago from this number.

Must've been a wrong number.

Yeah?

Those injuries to your face,

they look about two
weeks old, just like that call.

Every couple of weekends,

our kids go stay with my parents

and we get a room in the city.

We put an ad out
on Urban Excitement.

Bruce takes the bookings.

It's not our
profession, you know.

My hours got cut back.

Anyway, this guy George
called from that number.

He asked if the
appointment was in a hotel.

He said that's what suited him.

What happened when he showed up?

Right away, he was waving a g*n.

He put me face down on the bed.

Can you describe him?

I didn't get a good look.

White, young, tinted glasses,

had a baseball cap that said
"Poconos" on it or something.

Hmm. What happened next?

He tied me up with
these plastic ties,

then he emptied my purse.

Then he tried to gag me.

I knew if it let
him, I was dead.

I kicked and I screamed.

He hit me, then he ran out.

You guys wait here.

She couldn't ID Vickery's photo.

Well, this att*ck seems like it
was about money, not revenge,

which points away from Vickery.

What about those other
calls from that no-name cell?

Dead ends, or the numbers
come back to escort ads.

Whoever was using that
phone was targeting escorts.

Show me the location of the
towers where the calls originated.

Most bounce off a
tower near Vickery's job.

Some in Brooklyn.

Yeah, look at this cluster of
calls here, in Norwich, Connecticut.

All the same weekend
three weeks ago.

And Norwich has
the Indian casino.

Which has surveillance video.

Yes, that's me.

I was at the casino
with my fiancé.

How did you find me?

Your credit card.

We would've talked
to your fiancé first,

but the casino didn't
know who he was.

We're just assisting the
Norwich police in an investigation.

A woman was assaulted
in the washroom

in the lounge the
evening you were there.

Did you see anyone in the area?

No.

I didn't use the washroom.

Maybe your fiancé did.

No, we were
together all evening.

Oh, well, all the same,

Miss Newton, we told the Norwich
police we'd talk to everybody.

My fiancé's very busy,

but if you give me your card,
I'll pass him the message.

When's the big day?

Two months.

It's like a fairy tale.

They aren't even married and
already she has him under lock and key.

Hey, hold up a second.

Hi, this is Carrie
Newton's Uncle Joe.

I know, I don't
want to bother her.

I'm just... I'm wondering
where she's registered.

Right. And her fiancé,
what's his name?

Alex Conway, right, of course.

I want to get him something
besides pots and pans, you know,

something for his office maybe,

and Carrie told me what he does,

and I don't remember.
What was it?

Right, right, okay.

That's... You know what?
No need to tell Carrie I called.

Thank you.

A grad student in
Behavioral Science.

Guess who he shares
a microscope with.

I don't see how answering
your questions helps my client.

Not answering them
definitely won't help him.

That weekend, did you talk about
Justine with anybody at the lab?

Yeah, after I got back
from the museum,

I talked to some students.

They're always bragging
about their hookups.

Which students, specifically?

Atul Khana, Jason Chai,
they're med students.

And Alex Conway,
he's a grad student.

What did you tell them?

I showed them my
pictures of Justine.

I told them I got
lucky with her.

How did they react?

Atul and Jason,

they asked me if I squeaked
when I was doing it with her.

What about this Alex Conway?

He kept looking at
my pictures of Justine.

He thought she was hot.

He said, good for me.

What a phony.

If Conway was trolling
escort ads on the net,

he would've seen Justine's ad,

and he would've recognized
her picture on Vickery's phone.

He figures she was
working out of a hotel,

perfect mark for a rip-off.

Conway likes gambling.
Gambling costs money.

This is a grad student
from a prestigious university,

a researcher with
no criminal record.

Listen, prove that no-name
cell belongs to Conway,

then you can bring him in.

Right.

Hmm. Got the latest
dumps off the no-name cell,

mostly text messages,
every night for the last week.

Huh! All to an Internet
messaging service.

He was using his cell to
chat with somebody online.

He has a text buddy.

We get a warrant,

maybe we can be his buddy, too.

"You're all talk, lady.

"Show me something.

"What do you want to see?

"Anything to get
me off right now."

You know, we have
a voice text function.

Yes, please.

AUTOMATED FEMALE
VOICE: Picture's en route, Tiger.

Let's see what she sent him.

Damn.

She's a tr*nny.

You got my attention now.

We've been talking for a week.

When are we finally
going to get together?

Soon.

This is a waste of time.

When you decide what
you want, let me know.

Damn, she hung up.

Can we pretend we're
her and hit him back?

No problem.

Sorry for the attitude.

It's just you tease me too much.

I don't even know
what you look like.

I want to see your eyes.

You'll see my eyes when we meet.

I want to be tied up.

No sissy velvet ropes.

How about plastic ties?

I will treat you like the
piece of garbage you are.

Let me see.

Let's make it happen in an hour.

Bodega on Tenth and Avenue C.

Deal. An hour. I'll be there.

Our boy's into some
serious strange.

I don't know. What?

You don't think that's strange?

I just think it's interesting

how people are
wired differently.

Okay.

Time to check
Mr. Conway's wiring.

Alex Conway?

Alex!

You're under arrest.

For what? I'm just
going to the store.

Not anymore.

What's this?

Plastic cable ties and
a prepaid cell phone,

what else you got?

And a .22. I'll take it.

Leave him alone.
He didn't do anything!

Ma'am, I need you to step back.

No, this is a mistake!
He's a scientist.

Lupo...

This .22, it's a pellet g*n.

That's the girl Vickery...

Dr. Vickery, was bragging
about. I never met her.

Her, I met, in a hotel room.

When I told her I just
wanted to interview her

and I only had 50
bucks, she zooed on me,

threatened to get me in trouble.

You booked an
escort to interview her?

Sometimes I have to use deception
to get people to sit down with me.

But that's the nature
of my research.

Well, what about
transsexuals, Alex?

Research or fun?

I study the neurological basis
of nontraditional sexual behavior.

So, I interview as many
promiscuous people as possible.

It can get dicey, so that's
why I bring the pellet g*n.

And those plastic
ties you were carrying,

what part of your
research is that?

I brought them as a
token of good faith,

because I was asked to.

The cell phone that you had,

that connects you to the
m*rder of Justine Stebbins.

Well, I use that so my interview
subjects can't get a hold of me.

I keep it on my desk

at the lab, everybody uses it.

He was meeting a
transsexual, for his research.

He said if I didn't hear from
him in an hour, I should call 911.

Alex is a great person
and a brilliant scientist.

He would never hurt anyone.

You know he's seen prostitutes?

For his research.

One of those prostitutes has
accused him of robbing her.

That's a lie.

My dad owns a chain of
Laundromats. We don't need money.

Except Alex likes to gamble.

We go to the Indian casinos
together once or twice a month, maybe.

Saturday night two weeks
ago, where were you?

Home, with Alex.

We spent the night making
the guest list for our wedding.

Conway must've made us when
we were texting him. He set a trap.

We walked right into it.

The pellet g*n, the
explanations for everything,

the fiancée there
to vouch for him.

What about this fiancée,
can we get through to her?

She thinks he walks on water.

And the search of his
place turned up nothing.

He's coming up for
arraignment this afternoon.

I'm not sure we have
enough to hold him.

I'm not sure we should hold him.

Mr. Conway's a clever boy.

Maybe the thing to do here is to
let him keep thinking he's clever.

$5 million bail?

My client's a respected
academic with no priors.

It's simple mistaken identity.

The defendant's
fingerprints were found

in the victim's
hotel room, Judge.

If he wants to argue
sufficiency of the evidence,

he can do it at trial.

Excuse me, Judge.

My name's Oscar Newton, and my
daughter is engaged to Mr. Conway,

and I believe in this young man,

but we are only able to post
$3 million bail at this time.

Sir, you're not
allowed to speak.

Mr. Cutter, are we
boring you here?

Sorry, Judge.

The People need to
amend the information.

I've just been informed
that the fingerprint match

I alluded to wasn't
borne out by a retest.

But our other evidence
is still compelling.

Dream on. Defendant is released.

ROR. Next.

Well, he's not dumb. He's got
to figure we'll be watching him.

Not dumb, but reckless.

He's a gambler who robs escorts
in hotels. He likes to take risks.

Let's prime the pump.

How's Mr. Vickery
doing these days?

Tired of sitting in jail.

Good. Let's offer him a way out.

So, they let you out, too, huh?

You know I didn't do anything.

Whatever you say.

I need F-4 and F-5
prepped for dissection.

You know, you want
help with that thing.

I mean, anything you
want me to tell the cops.

Excuse me?

Not that you did anything.

But if, you know, you
want me to cover for you.

Vickery, even if I
did have something

to worry about, which I don't,

you think I would let a bug
like you to watch my back?

You know, I've watched
your back plenty!

That Monday after Thanksgiving,
all your experiments?

After you set them up, you
disappeared for the rest of the night.

I had to enter the data for you!

And the next Monday,
you pulled the same crap.

I covered your back.

I always cover everyone's back.

Just get my rats ready.

And the next Monday,
you pulled the same crap.

I covered your back!

The instructions were
to get Mr. Conway to talk,

not to go off on him.

Mr. Vickery held up
his end of the bargain.

I expect you to hold up yours

and file for dismissal
of all charges.

All right.

That worked like a charm.

Vickery said Conway was AWOL

the first two Mondays
after Thanksgiving, right?

AWOL all night.

Guy like him, I'd like
to know where he was.

Yeah. I got his credit
card records here.

Yeah, on the first
Monday, he's got a charge

at a newsstand at Penn
Station at 8:45 p.m.,

and on the second Monday, there's
another charge at Penn Station,

a snack bar, 8:50 p.m.

He was taking a train.

Got to be the 8:53
express to Atlantic City.

You go to enough
bachelor parties in AC,

you get to know
the train schedule.

So Alex Conway was
sneaking out of town

to feed his gambling monkey.

Know what else AC's
lousy with besides casinos?

Escorts.

Yeah, the hat, Poconos.

We had four robberies
over those days

that come back to a
guy wearing this hat.

Robberies of escorts? No.

Convenience
stores, gas stations.

A palm reader even. Two
months, the guy's still in the wind.

Not for long.

A couple of your casinos
have our Mr. Conway

on their security cameras
on those dates. Mmm-hmm.

Hey, B, check this out.

"When the victim
tried to get up,

"the suspect hit him at the
base of his spine with a pry bar,

"causing temporary
paralysis of his legs."

We have new
evidence, Your Honor,

and a request from New Jersey

to hold Mr. Conway,
pending extradition,

to face four robbery
charges in Atlantic City.

And we're seeking bail
modification to $5 million.

It's bootstrapping, Judge.

Mr. Cutter's got no case, so he's
getting New Jersey to do his dirty work.

Sour grapes, Mr. Backlund.

Bail's set at five million.

We're done here.

Dad, we have to pay Alex's
bail. We're done here, Carrie.

I'm sorry.

I guess no more family
dinners for Mr. Conway.

Well, he can still count on his
fiancée to be an alibi witness.

Maybe we can do
something about that.

What are they doing here?

It's time to face
the facts about Alex.

He's not the man you
thought... We thought he was.

I won't listen to their lies.

We're your parents,

and we're entitled to
five minutes of your time.

Now, sit down
and listen to them.

Carrie, did you
know Alex had gone

to Atlantic City to gamble?

This is him at the
Golden Dome Casino

on a night he was
supposed to be in his lab.

He lost over $30,000.

While Alex was in Atlantic City,

four businesses were
robbed at gunpoint.

This is a sketch of the suspect.

I don't want to hear anymore.

One of the victims
was struck with a pry bar

at the base of the spine,

the exact same spot where
Justine Stebbins was sh*t.

Injuries meant to paralyze
them below the waist,

something someone with an
intimate knowledge of neurology

would know how to do, and
do with surgical precision.

It's not possible. I know him.

Carrie, believe me, some men
keep part of themselves locked up.

They wear a mask.

Alex is one of those men.

It can't be. I love him.

You can't protect him anymore.

I lied for him.

The night the girl was k*lled,

Alex went out jogging.

He wasn't with me.
He wasn't with me.

Oh, my God. We were
going to be married.

Your fiancée's taken
herself off your witness list.

You're all alone now.

I've been alone since I was 11.

Anyway, better to find
out now that she's weak

than after we were married.

Speaking of weak, your
case is all hat and no cattle.

The only evidence tying my client
to these crimes is a Poconos cap.

Thousands of which were sold.

The only hat the
jury will care about

is the one he was wearing
when he was arrested.

The offer's 20-to-life.

This is all predicated on a
misunderstanding of my research.

I interview my subjects
in their native environment

because that's the only
way to get accurate reporting.

Masters and Johnson
would be so proud of you.

Twenty-to-life.

This is going to be fun.

The research excuse,
that's some trial strategy.

He's enjoying this too much.

We need to do our own research.

Risk taking, inflated
sense of self, promiscuity,

there are 20 markers on the
PCL-R scale of psychopathy.

Conway ticks most of them.

I thought psychopaths
were hyper-rational.

This guy's a runaway train.

Well, he's not
so out of control.

He went from robbing
gas stations to escorts

because they weren't
likely to report him.

His exposure to that world

is probably where he got his
taste for sexual adventurism.

He allowed himself to
be sucked into a vortex

of perversion and v*olence
because it thrilled him.

What about his research defense?

According to his professors,

Conway's working
to identify the centers

of the brain responsible
for sexual orientation.

But commando stuff
like field interviews

with sex workers and
transsexuals isn't a normal part of it.

Well, now that he has
a taste for the v*olence,

how likely is he to stop?

How about, not bloody likely?

Unless we stop him.

I'd love to hear how.

No eyewitness, no
m*rder w*apon...

We offered him a plea.
He turned us down.

Not surprising.

Psychopaths engage in a
cost-benefit analysis of their behavior.

They can't be bluffed.

So sweeten the pot to
make the plea more attractive.

And give a budding serial
k*ller a slap on the wrist?

I'm going to put Mr. Conway
in jail for a good, long time.

What were you
saying about risk taking

and an inflated sense of self?

How many markers on
that scale does Mike hit?

In this case, you might hear
evidence of unusual sexual behavior.

With that in mind, what
would you think of someone

who had sex with transsexuals?

I'd think he was sick.

For cause, Judge.

Number six is
excused with my thanks.

Number seven, would
you be prejudiced

against a person simply
because he behaved in a manner

that some might consider
risky or outside the norm?

I don't know. I
don't know. It's...

It's really hard
for me to focus.

My wife and I just separated,

and I really wish I wasn't here.

This juror is acceptable.

They're keeping him?

Now the genius
thinks he's a lawyer.

People have no objection.

Number seven is empanelled.

I fought him.

He punched me, but
I just kept screaming.

Finally, he ran out.

Do you see that man here today?

That's him, the defendant.

Thank you.

This economy must be tough on
folks like you and your husband.

It is. The store where I
used to work closed down,

my husband's working part-time.

We were in danger
of losing the house.

We were under a lot of stress.

Now, isn't it true that my client
booked an appointment with you

so he could interview
you for his research?

No, it isn't.

And when your husband found out

that you let my client run
out without paying you,

your husband lost his temper,

under the weight of all that
stress he lashed out and hit you?

No, that's a lie.

Thank you. No more questions.

Alex kept looking at
my pictures of Justine.

He asked me if I was sure
she was from Richmond.

Did her phone have a Richmond
area code? And I said, "Yeah."

The same area code as in
Justine's Urban Excitement ad.

Thank you.

All day you pick up

after med students
and grad students,

help them get their
degrees, the high paying jobs,

while you're stuck in
the lab with your rats.

Little unfair, no?

Yeah, I guess.

Now, finally you had something
to show off to those students.

This hot girl you bragged about
having passionate sex with, right?

Yeah.

So when Justine didn't take
your calls, it had to be frustrating.

After all that bragging, this
prost*tute who had sex with strangers

thought she was
too good for you.

I didn't know she
was a prost*tute.

Her face was plastered
all over the Internet.

And when you
realized what she was,

your frustration boiled over.

No.

You tricked your
way into her room

and taught her a lesson she'd
never forget. That's not true.

Then you blame this crime on
someone who is better than you.

No, he is not.

Somebody who is more
accomplished, more respected...

He's not better than
me! He's nothing!

He's nothing!

No more questions.

We'll take a brief lunch recess.

We've got a problem
with Number Seven.

Pinter. He's made
up his mind already.

Yes, sir, I understand
my obligations.

You understand that you
have to keep an open mind

until you hear all the evidence?

I mean, if not, I'll excuse you.

No, I can keep
an open mind, sir.

I lost my parents when I was
a kid, like the defendant, so...

I'll give him a fair shake.

You can return to the jury room.

Mr. Cutter, I'm satisfied
with Mr. Pinter's answers.

Now, can I get back
to my sandwich?

Yes, Your Honor.

Two weeks ago Pinter was
bucking to get off the jury.

Now the judge gives him a
way out, and he doesn't take it?

Not just that. He said Conway
lost his parents as a kid.

That hasn't been
mentioned at trial yet.

Somebody got to him.

If you can't win in
court, harass the jurors.

That's a trial strategy we
haven't covered in law school yet.

Mmm.

Here we go.

No wonder he can't
keep his mind on the trial.

He's got a new squeeze.

Hey, B,

don't we know her?

Son of a bitch.

Carrie Newton?

A juror's dating
Conway's fiancée?

Brown contacts and a
dye job, but that's our girl.

The cops followed the
happy couple to a hotel.

Explains why Pinter's
not interested in our case.

She turned him against
us and for Conway.

I thought you had
an intervention.

I thought you turned
her against Conway.

We were played.

Conway must've put her up to it.

Pulling her strings, it's the
ultimate validation of his ego.

Speaking of ego,

you wanted to go mano
a mano with him, Mike.

How's that working out for you?

I was having lunch
at the courthouse

cafeteria the first
day of the trial.

She sat down. We hit it off.

I told her I was on the
case of a guy accused

of k*lling some masseuse.
She was shocked.

She told me he was her cousin.

She said a few things about him,

but I swear, we never
talked about the trial.

I want to know if he was offered
sex or money in exchange for his vote.

No, no. She never
said acquit, I swear.

You're excused
from further service.

I advise you to retain counsel.

The People move for
an immediate mistrial.

The jury's been contaminated.

How? Deliberations
haven't started.

We'll question each juror.

If Mr. Pinter hasn't spoken
to anyone about the case,

we'll move forward.

Jury tampering, obstruction,

you're going to
jail for a long time

unless you testify that
Alex put you up to it.

He didn't. I was
sad and I was lonely

and I reached out to a stranger.

Jordan Pinter admitted that
you discussed the case with him.

I didn't say anything to him
about how he should vote,

so there's nothing
that you can do to me.

Alex told me you'd try
to use me to get to him.

Carrie, can't you
see Alex is using you?

He's using you. He is
sucking you down with him.

No, he's not. He's innocent.

I don't know why you
people, you can't see that!

The Judge talked
to all the jurors.

Pinter hadn't
approached any of them.

Yet. Carrie was going to
wait until deliberations started

before squeezing him
to throw the verdict.

Conway coached her well.

If the jury knew
what he tried to do,

they'd convict him in a second.

But they don't
know, and they won't.

This has gone far enough, Mike.

The case is a shambles.

I'm not offering
him another plea.

He's taking the stand
tomorrow. I can get him!

You're staking a lot on
your ability to break him,

maybe too much.

Just remember,
Conway's not the only one

who does cost-benefit
analyses of behavior. I do, too.

Well, I'm no bean counter,

and if I have to go out on the
ledge with Conway to get him,

then that's what I'll do.

When I chose this
research method,

I knew I was stepping
into a dangerous world.

But when I consider the cost,

even in the service
of science, no,

I can't say it was worth it.

Thank you.

So in other words, Mr. Conway,

this case has been
nothing but a giant nuisance

to your academic standing.

Not just that. It's been...

Devastating to
the people I love.

The people you love?

And who would that be?

My fiancée.

Your prosecution of
me has utterly destroyed

our happy life together.

Your fiancée.

Now, the police testified
that she was with you

when you were arrested on
your way to meet a transsexual.

To conduct a research
interview. Carrie knew that.

And at the time of the arrest,

she offered an alibi for you

for the night of Justine
Stebbins' m*rder.

Correct? Correct.

An alibi that she
later recanted.

Correct? BACKLUND: Objection.

His client opened the door
into what Miss Newton knew

or didn't know.

So he did. Overruled.

Answer the question, Mr. Conway.

She withdrew the alibi

because she was being
relentlessly hounded by the police.

In fact, she...

She broke off her engagement
with you, didn't she?

The stress overwhelmed her.

But once I'm
cleared of all charges,

we'll be together
again. I know it.

Well, how can you know it?

You can't even get her
to testify for you, can you?

Like I said, the police and you,

Mr. Cutter, manipulated her.

Manipulated her into
recanting a true alibi?

A woman that you say loves you?

She does love me.
She looks up to me.

I mean, obviously not enough
to speak up in your defense.

You don't command much loyalty
from her, do you, Mr. Conway?

That's not true. You know,

when I tell my people
to jump, they jump.

Like Ms. Rubirosa here,

I once ordered her to
use her attractiveness

to influence a
juror, and she did.

But you, you don't command
that same obedience,

do you, Mr. Conway? Wrong.

Carrie listens to me.

She humors you, is
that what you mean?

No. She would've
testified if I wanted her to.

Oh, she didn't testify
on your orders?

Yes. Well, isn't it more likely

it's because she
knows you're guilty?

Wrong! She does what I
tell her, whatever I tell her.

She slept with
one of the jurors,

that Pinter guy,
because I told her to.

She does exactly what I
say because she admires me.

Objection, Your Honor. Sidebar.

Denied.

Mr. Cutter?

No more questions.

Mr. Conway, having
found you guilty

of one count of
second-degree m*rder,

this court hereby sentences
you to a term of 25 years-to-life

in a facility to be determined

by the Department of Correction.

We're adjourned.

Good. The right psychopath won.

Listen, Connie, I'm sorry.

Listen, I get it. It's okay.

Whatever it takes to win, right?
- Alex!

Baby! Look!

Alex, look!

I'll be there.

No matter where they
put you, I'll be there.

I'm here for you, Alex!

Baby, I love you!

Alex!

Alex!

Love's a bitch.