01x06 - Hondo Field

Episode transcripts for the TV show, "Law & Order: LA". Aired: September 29, 2010 – July 11, 2011.*
Watch/Buy Amazon  Merchandise


American police procedural and legal drama television series set in Los Angeles.
Post Reply

01x06 - Hondo Field

Post by 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.

What if someone runs off
with our clothes?

It's 4:00 in the morning.

Yeah, but that's when
all the pervs come out.

Oh! Where'd you...

Ibby, no.
Ibby, stop it!

Ibby?

Stop what?

Kids today, huh?

Ah, we're blessed with an ocean.
Might as well use it.

We're also blessed with 26 million cars.
Backseat's more private.

Looks like
some head hits.

What's all over
his clothes?

Oil.

He must have been
swimming in it.

Meet

Freddy Ramirez.

He's got an account at
GoldShore Oil Credit Union.

An oil worker.

Whoa!

One of the perks of the job.
All the oil you can drink.

Body's minimally degraded.
In the water less than 24 hours.

There's severe cranial trauma,
some kind of blunt force.

And stomach contents,

peanuts and alcohol,
lots of it.

Don't forget
the crude oil chaser.

The oil company says
Freddy clocked in

at their Deep-sea Delta Two rig in
Hondo Field at 2:36 yesterday morning.

Ah, middle of the night,
belly full of booze,

no wonder he took a header
off the rig and drowned.

Mmm. Not supported
by the facts.

There's no water
in his lungs,

no hemorrhaging
in the sinuses.

He was dead when
he hit the water.

Whacked his head on the
railing on the way down?

Only if he was a pinball.

There are several depressed
fractures on all sides of his head.

Inconsistent
with an accident,

fully consistent
with a b*ating.

What do you think?
An oil rig five miles offshore?

Our beach, our case.

Good.

I wouldn't mind getting
a look at a working oil rig

before Al Gore
shuts 'em all down.

Oil rig accidents
are the purview

of the Bureau
of Ocean Energy Management.

It's a suspicious death,
Mr. Braden.

LAPD's taking jurisdiction.

We need to get on your rig
and talk to witnesses.

I'm not sure
I can authorize that.

Well, our warrant
says you can.

Mr. Ramirez's last known
whereabouts is on your rig.

I'm sure detectives show up
every time a drunken worker

trips and falls
on a construction site.

You say Mr. Ramirez
was drunk?

Let me tell you
how it goes.

Our guys do a 14-21.

That means they live and work
on the rig for two weeks,

and they recuperate onshore
for the next three.

We've a zero tolerance
for alcohol on board.

So our guys tend to party the
night before shipping out.

Ramirez showed up
drunk a lot?

I'll check his
personnel file.

While you're at it,
make us copy.

Check the warrant.

Oil companies, even when
they're innocent they look guilty.

Just a business
like any other.

Sure, if you like your fish sticks
dipped in California crude.

When you start riding a bike to work,
I'll start taking you seriously.

Man, this Ramirez sounds like
one lonesome roughneck.

No next of kin, last known
address is a motel in San Pedro.

Bad attitude might have had
something to do with it.

In the last three months, he's had
four suspensions for violations.

That must have
made him very popular.

Yeah. We're about
to find out.

We found it this morning in the
rigging under the gangway.

Ramirez was a big
Panthers fan.

I think
he slept in it.

Looks like blood, maybe,
or some kind of tar or gravel.

Could be drilling mud.

Ramirez worked on
the drilling floor.

Looks like a crime scene.

Captain, we're gonna need
to talk to anybody

who might have seen Ramirez
the night he came aboard.

First man's the one who signed him in.
This way.

Ramirez wasn't officially declared
missing, until 6:00 pm Wednesday.

Eighteen hours
after he punched in?

It took you that long to
notice you were a man short?

This is no small tin can.

I got 150 personnel
to keep track of.

Besides, Ramirez's buddies on the
drilling floor reported him on duty.

They were
covering for him?

Well, they figured he was
sleeping off his booze.

That drilling team's
been together five years.

They're pretty tight.

So Ramirez didn't have
a beef with anyone?

No more than
anybody else.

At the end of the day,
everyone's here for one reason,

to put food
on the table.

Four suspensions
in three months.

What was that about?

Mouthing off
to a supervisor,

showing up without
proper safety equipment.

That rates
a day's suspension?

You take your eye
off the ball out here,

you lose a leg,
if you're lucky.

Lucas checks in everybody
who comes aboard.

LAPD, they want to know
about Freddy.

Hi.
Hello.

You keep some
kind of logbook?

Yeah, on the computer
right here.

Guys come in, swipe their
employee ID cards.

See, Ramirez,
02:36 Wednesday.

You talk to Ramirez?
No.

He just swiped his card.
I never saw him again.

All this time we thought he
was bunked out in his berth.

Who knows how long he was
floating out there alive?

We worked together
five years.

We trusted Freddy
with our lives.

So when was the last
time you saw him?

The night before
we shipped out,

at O'Meghan's,
in San Pedro.

He was gonna walk back
to his motel down the road.

Yeah. Knowing Freddy, he was
hooking up with somebody.

Somebody have a name?

The guy got
a lot of clam.

How'd he get along
with everybody here?

Being cooped up
two weeks at a time,

gotta get on
each other's nerves.

Nothing a couple laps around the
deck and a cold shower won't cure.

Your friend had
four suspensions,

that says
he was no boy scout.

No, that says our supervisor's
a pain in the ass.

These guys have got more balls
than their brains can handle.

They think
they're invulnerable.

Best way to remind them
they're human

is to sit one of 'em down
every now and then.

Still, Freddy
gets suspended.

That's got to create
resentment.

You think someone
from his crew...

No way.

These guys are tighter than
Sister Mary Frances on a...

I'm sorry.
I've been out here too long.

I've watched these guys
work for 18 months.

If something was building up,
I would have noticed.

No offense,
Miss Roberts,

but sometimes there's only
so much an outsider can see.

You mean me?

I'm second-generation
roughneck.

My father was a derrick man.
He got me on a rig when I was 19.

They didn't make me Assistant
Driller just to fill some quota.

Point taken.
Excuse us.

We didn't find any blood
on the railings

or on any
of the gangways.

All right,
let's check his bunk.

All right.

Doesn't look like Freddy
ever hit the sack.

He never got around
to unpacking either.

Nothing like
traveling light.

Toiletries, razor
and a toothbrush.

We got 150 people working
here around the clock,

and not one of them
saw Freddy?

Except for Lucas
at check-in.

Other than that, no sign
of him, no blood. Nothing.

Just a hat
and a duffel bag.

I used to envy
Freddy, you know?

It's romantic out there
in the middle of the ocean

doing man's work.
But after this,

I'll get my romance at the
Red Lobster, thank you.

Sounds like you knew
him pretty well.

He rents his room
by the month,

always pays on time,

always good for
late night beer.

He used to buy comic books
for my kids.

Did you see him the
night he shipped out?

No, I tend to doze off
in my office after midnight.

Sorry.

Razor, toothpaste,
shaving cream.

The guy ships out every
three weeks for five years.

You'd think he could pack
with his eyes closed.

He had some sort of notebook
with numbers, dates, and...

A federal certificate
of inspection.

The rig passed
with flying colors.

What is that?

We paved the parking lot
out back last week.

Should've dried by now, but
people just keep tracking it in.

Hey.

Looks like the stuff
on Freddy's cap.

We're being played.

Like I said,
I swiped his ID at 2:36.

He said hi.
I said hi.

The thing is, Lucas,
you're the only one

who says he saw Freddy
on the rig.

The autopsy tells us his
death wasn't an accident.

One plus one means you're going
away for a very long time.

Come on, Lucas!

Okay. I didn't have
a break for another hour,

so I, like,
stepped out for a squirt.

I was gone
maybe 10 minutes,

and when I got back,
I saw on the computer

that Freddy had
swiped his card himself.

So you didn't
actually see him?

No.

If the captain found out
I left my post...

The lab matched the dirt
on Freddy's hat

to the tar in the back
of his motel.

It was mixed
with his blood,

so he was probably k*lled back
there and then dumped at sea.

The k*ller swiped him in here,
then planted his hat and duffel

just to make us think
he fell off the rig.

The good news is, we still
have the same 150 suspects.

The boys were
having a good time.

Everybody was
getting along.

Do you remember who
from the rig was here?

Just Freddy's
usual posse.

Right, those guys.
Buddy, Cal, Timmy.

And Valerie, she was
having dinner with Zack.

Zack?
Boyfriend.

He doesn't work
on the rig.

Freddy leave
the bar alone?

Didn't notice.

The last time I saw him
was about 11:00.

He was on the payphone.

Payphone? That's quaint.

Freddy had fancy friends.

Maybe they have a guesthouse
they can rent me.

You couldn't
afford the garage.

Mr. Kasdan.

Yes. Something wrong?

We're here about
Freddy Ramirez.

What did he do?

He called you three times
the other night.

That'll be the day.

You're looking for Lucy,
his mother.

She's our maid.

Mi Federico.

Who did this to him?

We're gonna find out,
Mrs. Ramirez.

Can you tell us what you and Freddy
talked about the last time he called?

He said he was to be away
for two weeks.

He always say, "I love
you," before he hang up,

just in case.

Oh, Lucy.

Daddy just told me.

They k*ll my Freddy.

I'm Stephanie Kasdan.

Lucy's been with us
since I was a little girl.

Freddy and I
grew up together.

Mrs. Ramirez...

When you said,
"Just in case."

Did Freddy think something
was gonna happen to him?

Freddy love his job,

but he said

he maybe have to quit because
it was getting dangerous.

When a guy like Freddy who ends
every call with "I love you",

tells mom he's
worried about work,

what he's really saying is,
"This job is freaking me out."

That notebook and the inspection
certificate in his room...

Maybe Freddy had a beef
against his own company.

Maybe the Feds
can be useful after all.

This certificate was found
in the house of a rig worker?

There'd be no reason for a
rig worker to have this.

Your bureau issued
the certificate.

Can you tell us
what it's about?

Worker on the drilling floor
called our hotline

to report a problem
with the safety valve

on the gas
pressurization pump.

As the certificate indicates,
it was fixed six months ago.

Freddy Ramirez
filed the complaint?

No, a Jason Callahan,
floor hand on the rig.

Tried to contact him, but he'd
already left GoldShore Oil.

That's convenient.

The numbers
on these pages,

any idea what they mean?

That looks like a record
of feet drilled per day.

Well, the numbers
keep going up.

Does that mean the crew was
drilling faster every day?

These companies were
staring down the barrel

of a federal moratorium
on offshore drilling.

Do you blame them?

Are you sure you work
for the government?

'Cause you sound like
you work for the oil company.

Mr. Wilcox, we're gonna
need a copy of that file,

if you don't mind.

I gave up rig work.

Can't say I don't miss
the paycheck,

but the wife sleeps a lot
better with me on dry land.

The complaint you filed,
anything to with why you quit?

I thought I was being
the good citizen.

My supervisor
didn't see it that way.

She made my life
a living hell.

She? You mean
Valerie Roberts?

I swear that woman
pissed standing up.

Well, if it's
a safety issue,

why would she ride you
about reporting it?

She didn't want to look
bad to her bosses.

Went to the rig captain,

but he tells me,
"Man up or pack your bags."

One of these days, someone'll
grow a set and take her on.

Someone like
Freddy Ramirez?

I don't know if Freddy was
the whistle-blower type.

Then again, Valerie rode his
ass harder than she rode mine.

Hey, Jason!

I got to get back
to work, okay?

Hell of a theory.

Valerie was
under pressure

because she was the
only woman on the rig,

so she overcompensates by pushing
her men past the breaking point.

Well, you're sexist
if you believe it,

and you're sexist
if you don't.

You ever consider that maybe women
have to hurdle a higher bar

just to be seen as equals
by pigs like us?

When I was riding
with Casey,

she always wanted to be
first through the door.

Oh, no, that was just
love, partner. Oh.

Her worst nightmare was someone
saying she couldn't hold her own.

What if it's the same
with Valerie?

She knew Freddy was building a
case against her to get her fired.

Sounds like
another boat ride.

I'm not sure
Valerie's here.

Captain sent Freddy's crew
home a couple of days early

for the funeral.
This is her berth here.

What can I do you?

Actually, we're here because of Valerie Roberts.
Is this not her berth?

Well, it was.

Just got in, got a call
to start my shift early.

Mind if we
look around?

Guess not.

Let me guess.
Retired jarhead, huh?

Yes, sir.
Just finished cleaning up.

Tell you what, there's nothing
worse than a female mess.

You're talking about
Valerie's mess.

Yeah, I think she leaves it
a sty just to annoy me.

I mean, blood?
Give me a break.

Blood? Where?

Right over there on the floor,
going into the latrine.

I mean, I don't envy the ladies
for having that monthly thing,

but a little hygiene
would not hurt.

Blood from her boot?

Maybe. Let's get SID
back out here.

It's not a good time.
We just buried a brother.

Our condolences.

Miss Roberts, you want
to step outside with us?

Why? What's going on?

We're placing you
under arrest for m*rder.

What? Get your hands off me.
I didn't do anything.

I swear to God,
it's a mistake.

The only mistake was not
cleaning your boots

after you kicked
Freddy to death.

Let's go.

People v. Roberts Valerie S.
Charge is one count m*rder.

Sarah Goodwin
for the defense.

Nice of you to squeeze us in between your
cable news appearances, Miss Goodwin.

How about a plea
from your client?

Not guilty, sir.

The people request
bail of $1 million.

Your Honor, my client
works on an oil rig.

She does not
own the well.

This is a brutal homicide
with an elaborate cover-up.

And as Miss Stanton knows, dead is dead.
The hows are irrelevant.

Not to me.
Bail's $1 million.

And Miss Goodwin, I'd prefer
I didn't hear my name

on Rachel Maddow
tonight.

How'd it go?

A friend of yours
sends her best.

Who?

Sarah Goodwin.

Sarah Goodwin is representing
Valerie Roberts?

My thoughts exactly.

She actually called me
Miss Stanton.

It's not funny.

Lawyers who do TV belong
in the seventh ring of hell.

I see Sarah's
already b*at you.

She's got your mind.

Now she's making you
play her game.

Law school should have toughened
you up a little more than that.

Family court did.

There was a judge there whose
mission in life was to make me cry.

I never gave him
the satisfaction.

In the stairwell
by myself,

buckets.

Don't let Goodwin
distract you.

This case is
about one thing,

a woman who k*lled
to save her job.

Well, Goodwin's already
made her first move.

A motion to exclude the blood
found in Valerie Robert's berth.

Joe Dekker.

Sarah Goodwin.

Imagine my thrill when I heard
we were gonna cross swords.

I didn't realize
you had one.

I am surprised you took a case
that had no front-page potential.

Men behaving badly always
bring out my better angels.

"Men behaving badly"?

Unless I'm mistaken, it's Freddy
Ramirez who's in the box.

Read your history.

The male ego is responsible
for all of society's ills.

Rehearsing your
opening statement?

I'm not gonna need one.

Yes, the rig may be
five miles offshore,

but it is still
the US of A.

And the Constitution,

specifically the Fourth
Amendment's right

to be free from an illegal
search, it still applies.

Nobody's claiming
it doesn't.

Did the police
have a warrant?

They didn't need one,
Your Honor.

They were given permission to
search by the defendant's roommate.

That's not quite correct.

My client and her coworker
are not roommates.

They share the room
on alternate shifts.

All the better. Miss Roberts had no
expectation of privacy in the room

during her
coworker's shift.

Sure. If she knew
it was his shift.

Miss Roberts went ashore
for a funeral,

fully expecting to come back to
the rig and her room that night.

But as this affidavit by her captain
states, her shift was cut short.

Believe me, Mr.
Dekker, I hate this more than you do,

but the police should
have gotten a warrant.

The blood evidence
is inadmissible.

The most incriminating thing
in Valerie's apartment

were her collectible
oven mitts.

I was hoping
for bloody boots.

My guess, they're at the
bottom of the ocean.

This looks like blood.

The lab says wine.

Valerie never heard
of club soda.

Check this out.

Freddy's body
was dumped at sea.

Dive boat would
have been a big help.

Valerie has a boyfriend
named Zack.

The DNA doesn't lie, Zack.

We found Freddy's hair
on your dive boat.

I took him diving once.
So what?

And this plastic bottle
full of crude oil,

you use that
as sunscreen?

I'm sure you know all about the
blood we found in Valerie's berth.

Yeah, I also know the DA
can't use that in court.

That's right,
against her.

Against you
as her accomplice,

that's a whole
other ballgame.

You think Valerie will
visit him in Pelican Bay?

And it is a long drive.

All right, screw this.

I was asleep, okay?

Val went back to the bar
to get her phone.

She called me an hour later,
all freaked out.

Tells me that the bastard was
too drunk to walk home alone.

She said he fell,
hit his head.

And crushed his skull?
Seriously, you believed her?

I was half-asleep, okay?

She said we had
to get rid of the body.

So then you helped her load
the body onto your boat

and dumped it
in the ocean.

You know what?
I'm getting a lawyer.

Today's motion to exclude.

As an accomplice
to the charge of felony,

Zack's statement
against my client

is inadmissible without
corroborating evidence.

And with the blood excluded,
your t*nk's on empty.

In People v. McRae,

the court allowed accomplice
testimony without corroboration.

In a preliminary
hearing, not at trial.

I'd love to debate the merits,
but I'm on camera in 20 minutes.

That was foolish,
to bring up McRae.

I know.

What's absurd is, with
Freddy's hair on Zack's boat

and his statement
to the police,

we have a better case against
Zack than against Valerie.

So what do you think
our problem is?

Charging Zack
as an accomplice.

Zack Kinney helped Valerie Roberts
cover up an alleged m*rder.

That makes him her accomplice,
and as Mr. Dekker well knows,

accomplice testimony is worth nothing
without corroborating evidence.

Except that
there's no evidence

Mr. Kinney is,
in fact, an accomplice.

Other than his own words,
you mean?

The transcript of Mr.
Kinney's statement to the police, Your Honor.

Quote.
"Detective Winters,

"'So then you helped her
load the body onto your boat

"'and dumped it
in the ocean.'

"Mr. Kinney, 'You know what?
I'm getting a lawyer."'

Unquote.

Mr. Kinney never admitted
to helping Miss Roberts.

There's no way my client disposed of
a 200-pound corpse all by herself.

Maybe yes, maybe no.

The fact is, there's no evidence Mr.
Kinney helped her.

We are not charging him
as an accomplice.

They're just gonna
let him walk?

The People's hands
are tied, Your Honor.

Well played, Mr. Dekker.
What do you say to that?

Counselor,
you make my job easy.

Your motion is denied.

I'll allow Mr.
Kinney to testify against Miss Roberts.

Your Honor, I ask leave to file a
notice of affirmative defense.

My client k*lled Freddy
Ramirez in self-defense

when he tried
to r*pe her

in a culminating act of a vicious
campaign of sexual harassment

perpetrated by the male
crew members of her oil rig

and abetted by their
employer, GoldShore Oil.

My dad's my hero.

He got me my first job
on a rig when I was 18.

I just loved it,
being outside,

using your wits
and your muscles.

My dad taught me that I shouldn't
let anything hold me back,

that I shouldn't make
excuses for myself.

He said I could be a girly
girl and a tomboy all in one,

and that was just fine.

Ms. Goodwin,
what does this case mean

to the young women
watching today?

Well, it means, despite the
gains of the last 40 years,

we've still got
a long way to go, baby.

Valerie's situation
isn't unique.

There's a whole class
of blue-collar women

who are working dangerous
jobs in hostile environments

as cops and firefighters,
construction workers, soldiers.

Women who never
feel safe because

they're surrounded by men
who resent their presence.

And this case is about them.
This case is for them.

Well, this is certainly a
trial we'll be keeping an eye on.

You look like you got
something you wanna say.

Seems to me
she has your mind now.

Good luck, Valerie.

By asserting self-defense,

Ms. Roberts is claiming
that she's the victim here,

that she k*lled Freddy Ramirez
when he tried to r*pe her.

The problem is,

there's no evidence
of an attempted r*pe.

There's no bruising
on her body,

no call to the police,
no visit to a doctor.

What we do have, and what
the People will show,

is that Valerie Roberts
staged evidence

to make Freddy's death
look like an accident.

You will hear how she
used Freddy's ID card

to create
a false work record.

How she planted his
bloody hat in the rigging

to make it appear he fell
off the oil platform.

How she asked
for her boyfriend's help

to dump Freddy's corpse
in the ocean.

And then I will ask you
a simple question,

is that how
a real victim acts?

I want you to picture someone
who works on an oil rig.

Got it?

You probably see some sweaty hulk
in a hard hat and work boots

with three or four day's
worth of growth

covering skin that's been
leathered by the sun.

You can probably smell him.

Now, look at my client.

Valerie Roberts worked with
those hulks for 18 months.

She laughed
at their dirty jokes,

she dismissed
their lewd comments.

Boys will be boys.
Right?

It's all good fun.

No. Actually, it's not.

It's sexual harassment.

"Yeah, baby. I'll lift that pipe
as soon as you lift this one."

"Sure, I'll hammer that,
right after I hammer you."

Funny? No.

Threatening? You bet.

Especially when
you're the lone woman

among 150 men
on a small steel platform

in the middle of the ocean,
five miles from the shore.

Especially when your complaints to
the oil company have gone ignored.

For 18 months,
Valerie endured.

Until one night

Freddy Ramirez attempted the
ultimate act of sexual oppression.

And this time, Valerie
didn't laugh it off.

She fought back.

You'll hear
this evidence,

and then I will
ask you a question.

What would you have done?

Alone, in the dark

with a drunk Mexican.
Objection.

I'm sorry, make that
a drunken illegal Mexican.

Your Honor!
Trying to r*pe...

In my chambers.

Freddy Ramirez's
employment application

complete with phony
Social Security Number.

He was born in Mexico.

His mother snuck him across
the border when he was five.

It's irrelevant.
He's the victim.

What's relevant is my
client's state of mind

when some animal is trying
to force himself on her.

And her fear increased
because she knew that animal

didn't have
proper documentation?

Your Honor,
I want a mistrial declared.

That's a bit drastic.

We can't un-ring this bell.

It's prejudicial, and a jury
cannot forget that Mr. Ramirez...

Is more dangerous because
he's here illegally?

Thank you
for proving my point.

I'm denying your request,
Mr. Dekker.

Hi, Joe.

Yeah, I used to eat here
every night during a trial.

And then my income and my
cholesterol started to go up.

But it still holds a
special place in my heart.

Look, Sarah,
we're not best friends,

so don't come in here
talking to me

like we're
a couple of best friends.

You can't really think
I'm a r*cist, Joe.

Okay.

Maybe I am.

Maybe we all are.
Maybe...

Maybe racism's in our DNA.

Maybe all the isms are.
Egotism, ageism, sexism.

Whatever.

There are five women
on the jury, Joe.

All I need is one.

I have an ism
for you, Sarah.

How about the truth?

That naive notion that a trial
could be about the law and facts

and not all that other BS.

Now you're reminding me of the
good old days in law school.

Right. You b*at me
in moot court?

Actually, it was
corporate taxation.

Yeah, the hell
with that class.

Because you sucked at it.

If Mike Lutton
hadn't tutored you...

Thank you. You just reminded
me I owe him a taco.

I always wondered why you didn't
ask me for help instead of Mike?

I was acing the class and it's funny,
we were in the same study group.

We'd go have beers, three
or four nights a week.

But when you wanted tutoring,
you didn't ask me.

You asked Mike.

Are you implying
I was being sexist?

Res ipsa loquitur, Counselor.

We just didn't click.

In July,
Valerie ordered Freddy

to use a 40-foot drill pipe
instead of a 30-footer.

Freddy warned her, but I guess she
figured fast is better than safe.

Long story short, the vibrations
nearly tossed us all overboard.

And then she balls out Freddy
like there's no tomorrow.

Did you ever talk about
taking action against her?

We talked about
getting her fired.

The company would
never do it, though.

They're too scared
of getting sued.

So we talked about taking
it to an outside agency.

Would it surprise you to
learn that Freddy Ramirez

was keeping a record of
events on the drilling floor?

No. Freddy was
like her whipping boy.

Whenever something went
wrong, she blamed him.

I mean,
if she only knew.

He was always saying
we should lay off her.

Freddy was a good guy.

Thank you.

Did you know Freddy Ramirez
was an illegal alien?

No. It wouldn't have
mattered to me.

So you have no problem
working alongside a criminal,

but you do have a problem
working with a woman?

No. It's all about
competence.

Last August,
a rig worker lost his leg

when a crane operator
made a mistake.

That crane operator
was a man, correct?

Yes.
Did you try to have him fired?

No. But you did try and get
my client off the rig.

Is that why you and your
buddies burst into her berth

while she was
taking a shower?

That was just a joke.

Oh, you were just treating
her like one of the boys?

Right.
So...

You burst in on your buddies
while they're taking showers?

No.

Okay.

Goodwin hit the trifecta.

A woman afraid of being
r*ped, an illegal alien,

and a big, bad oil company.

And her coworkers treating her like a
second-class citizen doesn't help.

She chose to compete
in that world.

It's a job,
not a competition.

You surprise me.

Because I don't sound like
a cookie-cutter feminist?

Some women make excuses when
they should be setting goals.

They worry about
what's wrong with men.

I worry about
what's right for me.

Amen. Well, what's right
for us is to find a witness

that can say something
good about Mr. Ramirez.

Have you reached out
to his mother yet?

I've left messages.
I've sent letters.

She's probably afraid
she'll be deported

if she goes anywhere
near a courthouse.

Let me have her number.

Maybe I can offer her
some reassurances.

You know, maybe the voice of a big,
strong man will change her mind.

This voice has changed
the minds of a lot of women.

Hello.

Is this the Kasdan house?

This is Deputy D.A. Dekker.

I'm looking
for Lucy Ramirez.

Hold on. Okay.

Three, one, zero...

I'm sorry.
Who am I speaking with?

Thank you for your help.

Where did you get
this number?

The police. Freddy called it
the night he d*ed. Why?

That was
Stephanie Kasdan.

The daughter.
She lives there.

So what?

That was her number.

He called me.
Big deal.

We were friends.
We grew up together.

He called to say
good-bye before he left.

Three times?

Maybe you'll have a little more to
say when we put you on the stand.

Please don't.

My parents, they don't
know about Freddy and me.

I never told them.

My father,

you know, "Once a w*tback.
" That's how he thinks.

He'd fire Lucy.

What did Freddy say to you
the night that he called?

He called to apologize for
not seeing me before he left.

He had other plans?

He was with his buddies.

Look, I know as much
as I know anything

that Freddy would never
try to r*pe that woman.

He didn't have it in him.

If anything, it was her.

She wouldn't
leave him alone.

How do you mean?

She'd call him
and text him nonstop.

It got so bad the day
before he d*ed,

he had to get a new phone and a new
number, so she couldn't reach him.

What did she
want from him?

He showed me
some of her texts.

"Freddy, wash my car."

"Freddy,
go to the store."

I told him to say something,
but I don't know,

I guess he thought
he'd lose his job.

From the minute
I stepped on the rig,

I was the chick,
the bitch.

They called women clams.

Right to my face,
like I wasn't even there.

And it wasn't just words.

One time I stepped out
of the shower,

and the guys were there
in my room.

I was naked.

I complained to
the rig captain,

but he said
it was just hazing,

that everyone
goes through it.

Had you gone through it
on other rigs you had worked?

It was never this bad.

On those other rigs I was
just a hand, same as the men.

This time, I was a boss.

The captain said if I didn't
like it, I could leave.

Why didn't you?
I liked the work.

It's a good-paying job.
I had to tough it out.

What happened next?

Last spring, after the
blowout in the gulf,

GoldShore Oil put out
new drilling targets.

That put more pressure
on me and the crew.

So the crew
took it out on me.

Could you give us
an example?

When we were
tripping pipe,

pulling pipe
from the hole,

they threw the chain
before I gave the okay.

A couple of times,
I nearly lost my hand.

They'd say sorry, but they
were trying to intimidate me.

What happened the night
Freddy d*ed?

I went back to the bar
to get my cell phone.

Freddy was outside drunk,

he needed help
back to his motel.

And you helped him, despite
everything that happened on the rig?

He was one of my guys.

I couldn't leave him drunk
by the side of the road.

When we got back
to the motel,

he tried to drag me
into his room.

He put his hand
down my pants.

I told him to stop,
that he'd go to jail.

But he said
nothing would happen.

He was an illegal.
He would just run away to Mexico.

He kept grabbing me.

I knocked him down,

he grabbed my leg and...

I was so scared.

The way he looked at me...

He was like an animal.

And I kicked him.

I kicked him
till he let go.

I saw he wasn't moving.
He was dead.

What did you do then?

I panicked.

I called my boyfriend,

and I made it look like
Freddy fell from the rig.

I'm sorry.

It was stupid.

I just felt like it was me
against all those men.

It must have been absolutely
terrifying for you,

alone in a dark parking lot
with a drunken man,

who'd just announced he had nothing
to fear from American law.

Yes.

Was that the first time
you learned

that Freddy was
an illegal alien?

Yes. Everyone on the rig
thought he was from Texas.

I wanna read
something to you.

People's
36 through 40.

Text messages sent by you
to Mr. Ramirez's cell phone.

"Need car detailed tomorrow.
Don't forget you work for me."

Was washing your car part of
Freddy's duties on the oil rig?

It was a joke.
He offered to wash it.

"Garage door not fixed.
Get on it."

Was that how Freddy spent his three weeks
off onshore, doing chores for you?

I paid him.
Wait a minute.

First it was a joke,
but now you paid him?

Fact of the matter is, you
coerced him, didn't you?

You were blackmailing him.

How could I do that?

Freddy was a big guy.
He wasn't afraid of me.

"Get with the program, or you and mama
will be on a bus back to Mexico."

Dated two months
before Freddy was k*lled.

Two months before you say you learned
that he was an illegal alien.

You knew all along.

That was your leverage
over him, wasn't it?

You don't understand.
Oh, I understand.

You needed somebody
on your side.

Freddy and his buddies
watched each other's back,

but there was no one to
watch your back, was there?

No. No, there wasn't.

So you found the one person more vulnerable
than you, and you threatened him.

No. I just wanted him to be
a friend, to protect me.

The more pressure, the more
harassment they subjected you to,

the more you put pressure
on Freddy, didn't you?

For favors, for chores.

It didn't start off
like that.

The more they
pushed down on you,

the more you
pushed down on Freddy.

Stop.
One humiliation

on top of another.

Handyman, errand boy,
mop-monkey, sex toy!

That's not true.

"My little brown man, you're
only here to make me feel good."

Sent two days
before Freddy was k*lled.

Was that one of
Freddy's chores?

To make you feel good?

That's not what it means.

Then what does it mean?

Well, maybe this will
refresh your memory.

People's 34,
a photograph.

A naked photo of you
in a provocative pose

sent to
Freddy Ramirez's phone

two days before
he was k*lled.

You were sexually
harassing him.

That's what
it came down to.

You don't understand.

Then explain it to us.

"Forget your girlfriend.
Out there you belong to me"

Sent the day
Freddy was k*lled.

Freddy was
resisting you.

He had a girlfriend.
He wasn't gonna betray her.

And you weren't going
back to that rig,

until you had completely
subjugated him.

That's why you went to see
him at his motel, isn't it?

But he wouldn't submit.
He defied you.

And he threatened you, that if
you didn't leave him alone,

he was going
to report you,

and that's when you
let him have it, isn't it?

You don't know
what it's like.

They just don't
want you there.

They could k*ll you.

Throw you off
the platform at night,

let a gas valve go,
and no one would care.

I had a right
to be there.

I sweated and I bled for
that job since high school.

But I'm still the chick.

And there is not a man on that
rig who ever let me forget it.

No more questions.

Have you reached a verdict?

Yes, Your Honor.

We find the defendant
guilty of m*rder.

She found the one guy on the
rig who couldn't fight back.

It rolls downhill.

The guys humiliated her.
She humiliated Freddy.

It's the nature
of oppression.

Unfortunately, Valerie's
like a lot of women I know.

They still haven't learned that
nobody's gonna give us power.

We just have to take it.

Gloria Steinem?

Roseanne Barr.
Post Reply