02x05 - Let it Ride

[bunniefuu]

- Thank you.
- Good luck.

Three horse to win in the second.

That's a big bet, Howard.

Are you sure?

I'm feeling lucky.

That's all yours.

It is another lovely day for a race

here in beautiful Santa Anita Park.

Race number two coming up...

- Table for one.
- Of course.

Does the gentleman
require a jacket and tie?

Yes.

...along with newcomer Demi Mare.

Demi Mare, as you can probably guess,

is a California girl.

Another time, maybe.

And they're off.

Three horse Demi Mare
had a bit of an awkward start.

Temper Steed broke well.

Saddle Lass is up on the pace.

Come on, three horse.

On the far outside...

Come on, Demi!

...Demi Mare going up
after the tardy start,

all the way to the battle of the leads.

Misty Grace is next,

as Saddle Lass leads the way
into the backstrech.

- And Demi Mare...
- Come on, girl.

- ...is now second through the quarter...
- Come on, Demi!

- At the post...
- Come on.

Come home to Papa.

Demi Mare! And it's the three horse,

Demi Mare, for the win!

Demi Mare, paying 88 to one.

Gone. All of it.

Gallon of milk, pizza, all the
fruit I cut up for the weekend.

RJ raided our refrigerator again.

Why am I paying

for a meal plan for this kid?

At least he left
a thank you note this time.

He should've left cash. From now on,

market price
for each piece of food he takes

comes out of his inheritance.

It's a good thing he forgot the ribs.

He didn't. Read the note.

He has gone vegetarian.

Okay, now he's out of
the will altogether.

Honey, please tell me you're not
still working on that will.

I'm still tinkering with a few items.

I got to get it right. Roger, come on.

Add Harper and divide by three,

and be done with it.

I, personally, am tired of discussing

our demise every morning.

It's more complicated than that.

It's about insuring my legacy.

Oh. Your legacy.

Without one, a man has nothing.

- Oh, cr...
- Hey, I need to use y'all's shower.

Hey, you, and what happened to yours?

They took it.

Someone took your shower?

- They towed it.
- Wait a minute,

who took your trailer?

The city... oh, and here's the best part:

they said I was trespassing,

in my own house.

What? Here, baby.

- Thank you.
- Let me see this.

- Where the hell's all your food?
- It... no, it says

that you were parking on public land.

I'm part of the public.

You know? And isn't there some law

that, like, protects this kind of thing?

- What law?
- The law

that says, you know,

he, who which... parks his house

on thy land,

gets to liveth... there.

Not a law.

You're talking about the Homestead Act...

The Homestead Act, Rog.

...of 1862.

- Ooh, 1862.
- I'm not sure that applies.

Martin, did you call the number on here?

What am I gonna do?
Give the city of Los Angeles

a tutorial on the laws?

I think not.

Can I speak to counsel

in her chambers, please?

No, no, no, no, no, no, Roger.

- No.
- Look. Hey.

It's just a few phone calls.

- What's the big deal?
- I can't help him.

He is squatting on public property.

Well, if he doesn't get back,

guess where he's gonna squat next.

Hi, I'm sorry.

What are the chances we can get
a fresh pot of coffee?

And some eggs to go with those ribs?

I'll see what I can do.

You guys leaving?

Life's too short, man.

How bad could it be?

Detectives Riggs and Murtaugh.

Took you long enough.

Leo.

What the hell's going on?

My friend and client Howard
Trotter has been m*rder*d.

Sorry to hear that, Leo.

Why the EMTs and the coroner

all, uh, what's the word I'm looking for?

Oh, "fleeing." Yes. Fleeing.

Because I told them I would sue them

if they tried to move his body.

That's their jobs.

They were contaminating
the scene of the homicide.

You're welcome.

It wasn't a homicide.
Uh... Eyewitnesses says

that he collapsed watching
the race, and had a stroke.

Okay. Does this look like the
kind of man who has a stroke?

Believe it or not,
he was the picture of health.

Maybe the before picture.

Come on, Leo.

Guys. Who are you gonna believe here? Me,

or the B-team?

Excuse me?

You did not just say...

Oh, B-team.

'Cause of our last names.

Exactly. That's-that's
exactly why I said that.

Really? What's his name?

Detective Bowman, nice to meet you.

There you go.

Gentlemen.

Howard Trotter was m*rder*d, okay?

For the past few weeks,
he's had an impending sense

of doom, like Death was
following him, and then,

somebody broke into his apartment.

Oh, maybe it was Death.

I mean, if it was
following him and everything.

This was an intuitive man.

He was also 350 pounds

and prone to a stroke.

Roger, I get that you're
too busy to return my calls,

or my e-mails,

or my invitation

to the opening midnight
screening of Wonder Woman.

- How was it?
- It was delightful.

This was my best friend.

And if there's even a chance

that he was m*rder*d...

We'll look into it.

Thank you.

Why? Wait... why?

Yes. Well, the guy bet on the races,

but he wasn't watching when he fell.

He was looking

the other direction.

Maybe he was checking for the john.

Oh, Rog, we've had worse leads than this.

Besides, he misses you.

I don't miss him.

Hey.

Here's what I want.

I want a forensic unit on this,

I want major crimes,
and I want a SWAT team.

All right, you're gonna get
a wannabe screenwriter

who moonlights as an M.E.

I will take it.

Will lunch be provided?

I've rarely seen a body this unhealthy.

His liver

was beyond failing, he had early and late

onset diabetes, his cholesterol was...

...unheard of.

Sorry, Leo.

Well. You want some jerky?

It makes everything better.

The man truly should have d*ed

several natural deaths by now.

Wait, wait. "Should have"?

Get the lights, please?

I noticed an irregularity
in his tox screen.

What kind of irregularity?

Poison. Specifically, warfarin.

In concentrated doses,

it can trigger an
intraparenchymal hemorrhage,

AKA a stroke.

From what I can tell,

he was injected here,

in his neck.

Gentlemen, Howard Trotter was m*rder*d.

You see what Howard did there?

Huh?

He got the band back together.

Synced & corrected by -robtor-
www.addic7ed.com

After that opening,
you can expect all the...

A great man has been taken from us.

Grounded before the finish line.

At the tender age of 29.

You know what, I, uh...

I talked to Howard recently,
and he said that, um...

that he was gonna finally try
to drop that last 200 pounds,

and, um, give up p*rn, you know?

Really have a second act.

- Skip the fries, everybody.
- A memorial at a bar.

I know.

It's genius.

I look around, and I see
the faces of the people

that Howard drank with,

that he owed money to,

and I know that he will be missed.

Not in the buffet line!

I'll tell you, Rog.

You really need to be taking notes.

This is how I want to go out.

- Yeah, of course you do.
- Mm-hmm.

And speaking of which,
I'm revising my will,

and I'm putting you in it.

There's probably a lot you didn't know

about, uh, my friend.

No, thanks.

What do you mean? This is an honor.

I'm-I'm actually leaving you something.

Yeah, but I just don't want it.

You know, I don't... I don't
even have anywhere to put it.

Right? The trailer's gone, so...

you know.

Wait, is it booze?

No... no, it's not booze.

Yeah, I don't want it.

And in closing, let us all raise a glass.

- Drinks are on the house?
- To Howard.

Not on the house, Leo.

50% off?

Half... thir... twen... Hmm?

Let's... everybody,
let's, uh, raise some,

uh, somewhat, uh, complimentary nuts.

And, uh, think about Howard.

Ugh!

Hey, bartender, these beer nuts are wet.

Oh, it happened again.

More nuts.

I wasn't gonna do it.

I wasn't gonna do it.

Hey, you know what? Leo.

Next time, when your friend dies,

just take us directly to the apartment.

I did. Howard lived upstairs.

- What's wrong with him?
- Oh, moist nuts.

What is that smell?

Trout.

- Trout?
- Mm-hmm.

Well, you weren't kidding.

Whoever robbed the place trashed it.

No.

It pretty much always looked like this.

Was anything stolen?

How would you even know?

Yes, there was something stolen.

Howard's lucky baseball bat.

Allegedly signed by Sandy Koufax.

I got that for him
as part of a settlement.

Imagine that, Riggs.

A meaningful gesture from
one friend to another,

giving something of emotional importance.

Is that what this is about?

Who says no to being in a will?

I don't know. Maybe someone who says,

"I have enough crap of my own,
I don't want your crap."

Gentlemen!

No fighting in the abode of the deceased.

I... seriously, I don't know
what you want from me.

Have I not been clear?
Respect, Riggs, respect.

God help me. Do you know what?

You're like talking to a crazy person.

Do you know that? Like
an actual crazy person.

Ask me again if you want me
to be in your will.

- Do you want to be in my will?
- Respectfully,

no, no, no.

I only asked as a courtesy.

- A courtesy.
- Oh, God!

You know what, you're like talking
to a crazy person. You know that?

I hope... I hope you...

I hope you know a good lawyer.

I hope he knows a good lawyer.

I watched the life go out of his eyes.

I stood there,

covered in

the fluid and viscera of his life.

He took a shower, right?

Because we just had
those chairs recovered.

I think he's speaking metaphorically.

Human viscera doesn't wash off.

Again, metaphoric.

Okay, where I'm unclear is why
you two were in the hallway...

Uh, actually, that's on me, because

I asked them
to take their argument outside.

Argument?

Riggs keeps refusing to be in my will.

It's infuriating.

You're putting Riggs in your will?

Yes, w...

Okay. Is there something
you'd like me to leave you?

- I love your bedroom set.
- Gentlemen,

I k*lled a man
I don't know anything about.

I mean, what were his hopes,

his dreams? Did he aspire to greatness?

Might he have cured cancer?

His name was Alex Olea.

Ticket stub found in his pocket
places him at the track

when Howard was k*lled.

That bastard. Well, I'm glad he's dead.

Well, he may not solely be
responsible for it.

Olea was an enforcer

for a loan shark named Guzman.

- Tony Guzman?
- You know him?

I did some of my best work for him.

And then he refused to pay my final bill.

So Howard was a gambler. Is it possible

- he owed Guzman some money?
- It's possible.

If Howard did, though,
I wish he would've come to me.

I would've given him a much better rate.

Guzman has a tattoo shop on Sunset.

Well, let's go.

No chance. You're
staying here. All right?

Remember what happened the last time.

When he says, uh, "last time,"

he means, um...

I k*lled a man.

- I heard.
- You know,

they say, in, um, the
final moments of life,

a dying man evacuates his bowels...

You sure you don't want
to take him with you?

So, they impounded your trailer.

That has to be unsettling.

Riggs?

Does this couch pull out?

I-I mean, it doesn't really matter.

I kind of... I still think it'll work.

Move to my couch, that-that's the plan?

Well...

I mean, everything I need is here.

Right? You know? I mean, I can...

I can eat in the break room,
get my sheets from the morgue.

You know.

When do you come in? 'Cause sometimes

I like to sleep in the nude.

What about the Murtaughs'?

Yeah, the Murtaughs
like to have conversations

first thing in the
morning... uh, you know,

act like they're all awake and...

it's just really not my scene.

So, rent a place of your own.

Nah, nothing beats the trailer.

Trailer you no longer have.

Well, uh...

Riggs, why do you think you're
avoiding this problem?

Um, is it a problem

or have I just solved my commute issue?

You brought up your dad last week.

Right.

So I dug into your files.

What files are those?

You moved around quite a bit as a kid.

First you and your dad.

And then by yourself,
different foster homes.

Wow. Wow, you went way back.

Those are, those are out-of-state files.

Is that part of your job now?
To kind of...

- research...
- My job

is to help you do yours.

And after today, you have nowhere to go.

For someone with
an unstable childhood home,

- that can be...
- You want to talk about my childhood?

Let's talk about my childhood, um...

I lost my mom.

When I was a little kid.

Um, you know, and...
my dad did the best he could.

I mean, it was just him
and a 12-year-old.

You know, nobody to take
care of either of us, really.

But he figured it out.

You know, gave me a childhood.

And I believe I...

I believe I'm the man I am today
because of him.

Hell's this? _

Where we gonna sleep?

Where we gonna sleep?

In our home.

Look at that, home run.

Let's go.

Martin.

Hey. Hey.

Uh, Rog is, uh, up in the precinct.

No, I'm actually here to see you.

I was just across the street
at Public Works

looking into your trailer situation.

Oh, great. When are they gonna return it?

Yeah, they're not.

Is this really the first one you saw?

They said they sent you ten.

You know, I don't really, uh,
check the mail, so...

And there was a tow truck
driver you threatened?

That's ridiculous.

There was this guy that
I thought was breaking in...

Whatever. When are they gonna
give my trailer back?

I don't know that you do.

The fines you racked up

are gonna cost more
than the trailer is worth.

You can't go back to living
where you were living.

Maybe it's time to start
looking for another place.

Oh, great. All right, awesome, thank you.

No, hang on.

Maybe Roger and I can help you plan.

Look, I don't want
your help, Trish. Um...

I was just trying to...

I know, and, uh, I-I appreciate it.

But it's my mess, so
I-I'll take care of it.

She was in your business

because you asked her to be

- in your business.
- Hmm. Did I?

Yeah, when you walked into our
house barefoot and homeless.

That was a clear cry for help.

So, in that spirit, cry heard,

you can stay at our house.

No, thanks.

I'm telling you, we have the space.

I know, I just don't want to.

Then where you gonna sleep, Riggs?

It's California, Rog.

- I'll sleep outside.
- Outside?

Okay, fine, you know what?
Offer rescinded.

You cannot stay at our house.

Perfect.

Then we're on the same page.

Yeah, good.

Officers.

Sorry, we're, uh, we're closing up.

Really?

'Cause, uh...

ah, he's still got, like,
a half a eye to go.

You're crowding me.

We are looking for

a, uh, Tony Guzman.

He's a triple thr*at.

Loan shark, extortionist...

What was the third thing?

Cobbler.

- Not a cobbler.
- Mime?

Dancer. I don't know if it was an

alchemist or... Either way. Ooh.

Look at this, Rog.

A baseball bat...

signed by Sandy Koufax.

Say what? We were just talking to a guy

who had the exact same bat.

You know, what are the odds

that you had

the previous owner of this bat

m*rder*d?

Howard Trotter?

You play the horses?

Trotter owed me money.

The bat was collateral.

- I didn't k*ll him.
- We didn't say you k*lled him.

No, no, no, no. No, no. Not you.

We're just saying that
you had your friend,

Axel, do it for you.

Arms dealer!

That was it. It's extortionist,
loan shark, arms dealer.

- I knew it was something.
- g*n!

Hey! Hey, Riggs!

Oh.

Looks like a home run.

All right.

The illegal sale of firearms,
as*ault a police officer.

The unsolicited tattooing
of a police officer.

I was gonna let that one slide,

'cause that is a pretty slick tattoo.

- Looks like a churro.
- Well, it looks

like a squiggly line,
but if you put some wings

on it or something, it
could really look rad.

Uh, and m*rder for Howard Trotter.

I didn't k*ll him.

Trotter owed me money.
Why would I have him k*lled?

Well, off the top of my head,
to make an example out of him.

That was a really good answer.

Yeah, right? Off the top of the head.

Off the top of the head. Yeah.
See how quick that was?

To make an example, your break
a leg, you take a finger.

Dead guys can't pay.

Besides, Howard had just come
into a windfall.

Howard wasn't a winner, so...

What windfall?

I have no idea,
but that's what he told me

the day before he d*ed.

A windfall?

- A windfall.
- There was no windfall.

He said he had a windfall.

He owed the guy money and
didn't want to lose his fingers,

so he said windfall.

Do you guys still like Guzman for this?

He was at the track, he sent
the thug to Howard's house,

he probably had access to needles

and rat poison.

Ooh, did you tell him about your tattoo?

You got a tattoo?

- Let me guess: a little Buddha?
- No, squiggly line.

Oh, we should get matching ones.

I'm going home.

What about the windfall?

- There was no windfall!
- Okay.

No one believes
there was a windfall, Leo.

And they're probably right, but...

what if they're not? Hmm?

You just said they're probably right.

Here's what I'm saying:

we go to Howard's place,
and you look around

for signs of anything "windfall-y," okay?

What if we find something
that blows this case wide open?

Huh? Do you guys want
to be the B-team forever?

I thought that was about our names.

It is.

And I'll buy you dinner.

Junior?! Junior?!

Get back here!

Junior!

Get your ass back here!

Junior!

Where are you?

Get your ass back in here, boy.

Running like a little rabbit.

Where are you?

You can't stay out here forever!

You hear me, boy?

You know what's good for ya,
better hope I don't find ya.

You little rabbit.

Junior!

You little rabbit!

Junior!

Okay, I vote we call it.

Still over two feet of sub sandwich left

if anybody wants some.

- Leo, your friend, he is...
- Eclectic.

A hoarder.

A hoarder with a sweet music library.

Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden,

Yngwie Malmsteen, Metallica.

Yngwie Malmsteen?

No way. Howard was definitely not a fan.

Not only that, he, in fact,
very specifically,

was mad at Yngwie

because he lost some money on
a horse that was named Yngwie

Malmsteed.

Well, he's got over a dozen

of the guy's albums.

Super fan.

That's not right.

That's not the Howard I know.

What the hell is this?

Jockey Club, June 6.

Here. Play it.

Yeah, the three horse

looks like a mudder, but my guy
says it's locked.

Bet the Exacta, you go home rich.

Holy Ruth Bader Ginsburg,
you know what this is?

Private conversations at the Jockey Club.

Whatever Howard heard
probably got him k*lled.

It's his nerve,

his willingness to offend.

I repeatedly asked him to stay here,

even though that's not what I wanted.

I mean, what I wanted...

What?

It's confusing.

You wanted to fix him.

Is that wrong?

No, but...

maybe there are some people
you-you can't fix.

I don't want to believe that,

because what if I'm the one that's broke

and he is the pain
that I can't move past?

- Maybe I did fix him.
- Mm.

I'll see you upstairs.

Yngwie.

What?

We broke the case.

It's almost 11:00.

That's right and it is time to...

celebrate.

'Cause my knowledge of Howard

led us right to it.

To what?

The windfall.

I could kiss you right
on that head. Bring it in.

Oh!

I'm gonna crash here, after all, Rog.

You know I handle DUI, right?

Look, Trish, I owe you...
No, no, no, no, no.

No. I'm speaking.

Martin,

just because we let you
into our home does...

You are making it very hard.

To be continued.

Bet the Exacta, you go home rich.

Jockey Club at the racetrack?

Okay, so you think this
recording got him k*lled.

Howard heard something
he wasn't supposed to.

Howard logged everything
he recorded in this notebook,

but we checked against the CDs.

There's one hour missing.

2:00 p.m. to 3:00 p.m.
a month ago, today.

Beautiful. So, head down
to the racetrack,

pull the security video and...
you've already done that.

Here we go.

Howard's so-called friends.

All of them were at the memorial.

- What do we know about them?
- Well... oh, perfect timing.

The B-Team.

You know with the office
supplies in this room alone,

I could k*ll you nine different ways.

Mitch Brennan.

Served time for kidnapping and extortion.

Joey McConnel, skated on a weapons beef.

Hoak Zeeland, federal expl*sives charges,

and Shane Plyskin, just out of Lompoc

for attempted m*rder.

What do they all have in common?

Hmm?

They all hate the Jockey Club.

And yet, they were all
at the Jockey Club. Ironic.

That's not what ironic means.

Yeah.

Okay, I'm gonna go back
to this godforsaken bar,

find out what they were talking about.

Maybe keep Bailey away from Leo.

He's a bleeder.

Hey, Rog.

The answer is no, you can't come, Leo.

I wasn't going to.

Look, Riggs... he's in pain.

You don't do what he did...

Park his house on yours?

...unless you're in pain.

Okay? He's in pain.

Don't be so mad at him
that you can't see that.

Friendship is fleeting.

You know what I would give

for one more day with Howard?

Excuse me, Mr. Getz?

This came for you.
Howard Trotter's remains,

or cremains, actually.

Not sure why they came to the morgue.

No, no, I-I requested that.

That way they waive
the delivery fee, so...

Classy to the end, Leo.

So, what are you gonna do with him?

Oh, Howard left instructions.

Friends and family day here

at beautiful Santa Anita Park.

Hi. Hi.

Uh, table for one, please.

Maybe something with a
view of the finish line.

Right this way.

Final round.

How'd you sleep?

Good.

And how's my lawn?

That's a work in progress.

That's unusual on race day.

Mm-hmm.

What in God's name are you doing?

That better not be what I think it is.

So, this is your idea
of proactive policing?

Yeah, the window was broken.

We were concerned about
the establishment.

Huh. Well, wish all cops
could be as thoughtful as us.

What?

I just touched some gum
or human tissue or something.

Got to wash my hands.

What, are you serious?

Yes.

It's out of order.

Hey, Riggs.

You need to see this.

Bingo.

Not just any ashes,
this was Mr. Howard Trotter, okay?

Security, over here.

This man needs to be removed.

- Okay.
- I'll take him.

I'll see you in court. See
you in court with my bruises.

Shane.

Say one more word and you'll
join your friend Howard.

And so we come to
the penultimate race of the day.

Odds on favorite, Pogo Painter in yellow.

Sir Red in blue and
Running Mare in fuchsia pink

at seven to one.

It is estimated over $5 million

is weighted on this race,

including two million cash
right here in Santa Anita Park.

Here come the last horses,

Chubby Rose and Mustangus
entering their gates.

And they're off.

Get back! Get back!

Beautiful day for a race, folks.

Everyone, get on the floor now.

Bad guys and semiautomatics.

Perfect timing as usual.

Speak for yourself. My
will isn't done yet.

45 seconds.

35 seconds.

Don't be a hero.

Get your face on the floor.

We got 20 seconds left. Go, go, go!

What the hell are you
sh**ting at down there?!

Just a couple Girl Scouts!

All right, all right! New deal.

That wasn't too
sportsmanlike, now was it?

Come on, let's go.

Go out the front now!

Come on, let's go, let's go, let's go!

LAPD.

Thanks, buddy.

Let's go!

Move!

- You okay?
- Yeah.

Hey!

Leo!

Rog, you go with him. I'm going this way.

How much, huh?

Shut up and move, okay?

Howard was recording
conversations at the Jockey Club

and he heard about your robbery

and he asked you to pay him
to keep it quiet.

So, how much?

- Tell me.
- Ten grand.

You k*lled him.

He was not worth ten grand, huh?

You're worth a lot less.

Hold it.

Drop the g*n or I sh**t your friend.

He's an acquaintance.

Only worked with him twice.

We almost went to a movie, don't forget.

We don't have to do this!

Oh, great. I accept your surrender.

I got a million in each bag.

We could both walk out of here rich men.

Yeah. You know, I've just
never been good with handouts.

You know? Just ask anybody, really.

My partner, especially. He'll tell you.

g*n on the ground now.

Okay. I'm lowering it.

No, no, no, no. P-Please,
don't put the g*n down.

Don't think about me. Think about Howard.

- And it's time to let him go.
- Please don't put the g*n down.

He will sh**t you. He will
sh**t you. He will sh**t you.

Let Howard go.

Are you okay?

I got Howard in my mouth

and I don't know what part.

I got him all over.

Don't drive for a little bit.

I also want to thank
some of the little people.

The Robbery-Homicide Custodial Team,

who returned my suit to me,

both starched and blood-free.

And as we all know, you got to
look like money to make money

and it can't be money that's
covered in, uh, viscera.

How long has he been doing this?

Feels like a week.

And, lest we forget,

let's give a giant whoop-whoop
to two scrappy underdogs

that I think nobody

thought they had it in them at all.

I was more surprised than anyone.

Great work from the B-Team.

I think that just became a thing.

You're the worst.

And my penultimate thought...

I would like to honor
the life of a friend

by thanking another,

a man that was willing
to lay down his life for me.

Detective Roger Mayfield Murtaugh!

Okay, all right, Leo,
it's not the Oscars.

Everybody, go back to work.

There was a little...
I was oh, so close to done.

One more thing. There
he is, that's right.

Detective Roger Mayfield Murtaugh,

as selfless as he is humble,

but when you put down that g*n...

Leo, it's called following protocol

and I would've done it for anyone.

Okay.

You know and I know.

And that's what's important.

"Pain and suffering"?

You're suing the city, Detective?

N-No, I am not.

Yes, you are because he was
injured in the line of duty

by that tattoo needle, which has left him

irrevocably with an errant squiggle.

I did not file a lawsuit.

I did it pro bono.

And we are going to get you restitution

for emotional distress
and punitive damages.

This is not happening.

Mm-hmm, it is happening.

And guess what?
You and me are gonna spend

a lot of time together.

We're gonna be, uh, uh,
having strategy sessions

and late nights of Chinese food.

You and me, and we're gonna
be Skyping each other.

- Leo.
- Mm-hmm?

- I see what's happening here...
- Mm-hmm.

...and we do not need to have a lawsuit

- to hang out.
-

What does that mean?

No. This is about justice.

Look, Trish and I are going
to the movies on Saturday night.

I would love to come.

Drop the lawsuit.

- I'll see you Saturday.
- Yeah.

You wanted to see me?

I heard you found a place
to sleep last night.

So they tell me.

Well, I got you something.

Uh, toothbrush, pillow, blankets,

for the next time you're stuck.

Oh, I appreciate that, Doc, but I'm...

Proficient at getting by on your own?

Thing is, you're not.

What, not getting by?

You're not on your own.

- Oh.
- I hate to break this to you, Riggs,

but despite your best efforts,
people care about you.

I know, I know. It sucks for you.

Cold drink?

I better not.

I think that's what...

got me in trouble in the first place.

Doubt that.

I think it started long before that.

I didn't have this, growing up.

You know, a real home.

Closest I ever came
was with Miranda, you know.

So...

when they took my trailer, I, um...

...I guess it dug up some stuff.

I understand that, Martin.

But a home isn't a shell you climb into.

It's the people who are there for you,

that leave the door open
even when you're at your worst.

Finish up.

We are having

chicken cacciatore tonight for dinner.

- Hey, Trish.
- Hmm?

Tell Rog I'll be in his will.

Barbeque sauce.

You're bequeathing me barbeque sauce?

Barbeque marinade.

What's the difference?

There is no difference.

You would stipulate to being

the barbeque executor

until RJ is emotionally ready.

Do you accept?

- Yes.
- Yes.

Okay. So, the will is done.

Thank you, God.

Hmm.

Did you always use this much paprika?

Yes. Two teaspoons.

Have you thought about oregano?

What?

No, oregano, honey.

That might give it

the-the kick that it needs.

Little-little bit of a kick.

- Yeah.
- No, it needs no pop, no kick.

The sauce is the sauce.

I thought you said it was a...

Marinade.

All right.

I'm going to bed.

Oh, and, uh, Rog?

As the executor,

think about that oregano.

Oh. You better not.

Changing the will.

Oh, Roger.