09x03 - The Dare

[bunniefuu]

Okay, let's go.

Get two, judge, get two.

Come on, judge!

All right!

Good arms. Good
arms. Good throw.

All right, that's
the way to sh**t!

Nice going, judge.

You okay, Ben?

You said you'd give
me a sh*t at third base.

Well, yeah, but that was before
Judge Edwards said he'd play.

He's played semi-pro, Ben.

You promised
you'd give me a sh*t.

Judge, trade places with
Ben for a minute. Okay?

- Okay?
- Thanks.

Come on, Bob, put
a little pepper on it.

Go, Ben. Whoo!

- Get one, Ben.
- Come on, Ben.

- That's okay, Ben!
- Come on, Ben. Stay low.

- Keep your eye on the ball. Okay?
- The sun was in my eyes.

Give me another one, Bob.

Ugh.

It was his ball.

Nick, get off that bike now!

Don't make me hurt you.

- Book him, Jim.
- Nice going, Bob. Let's go!

- Nice wheels, Bob.
- Yeah.

You all right?

Boy, I haven't moved that fast
since that buffet couple of weeks ago.

- You sure you're all right?
- Oh, yeah, I'm okay. I'm all right.

Second time I've
booked that kid this year.

Think he'd find a
game he'd be better at.

Hey, you mark my words, he'll
be back on the street tomorrow.

- You sure you're all right, Bob?
- Oh, it's just a cut, Ben. I'm fine.

Listen, I need to talk to you
about this third base position.

Me too. You're right.

If Wayne Edwards played
semi-pro, he should play third base.

- I'm glad you feel that way, Ben.
- I'll play right field.

You know, a right fielder
needs a really good arm.

- I've got a good arm.
- No, you don't, Ben.

You throw like a girl.

But you've got the best
mind on the team, Ben,

and you'd make a
great third base coach.

I'm sorry. I didn't mean
to hurt your feelings.

You didn't hurt my
feelings. It's just a game.

Well, back to business.

- No, see, that's what I mean.
- What?

Back to business. You've
got the best mind on the team.

Well... You know Malcolm Engle?

I've heard of him. He's the
millionaire philanthropist?

I guess he wants me to
do a little legal work for him.

Hope he doesn't find
out I throw like a girl.

Do you like DiCenzo,
Mr. Matlock?

You have expensive tastes.

Well, Mr. Engle, I'm
glad to finally meet you.

I wish we could've met earlier.

Well, the press calls me reclusive,
but I think of myself as private.

Oh, yeah. I was just reading
in the paper this morning

about that $2 million endowment

you gave the pediatric
hospital. That's a lot of money.

Well, it's easy to give to
others when you have money.

Well, yeah, but...

Your favorite charity is
the Legal Defense Fund.

Am I right?

How in the world
did you know that?

I've taken the liberty of writing a check
for $25,000 to that fund in your name.

Get out of town.

I hope I can do
something in return.

Well, for starters, you can agree to be
my guest here for dinner this evening.

Well...

I've had my chef
prepare your favorite dish,

which is venison stew,
two cloves of garlic.

Vidalia onions. I
hope you'll stay.

I love Vidalia onions.

Oh...

I could eat this stew every
night and die a happy man.

I'd be as big as a
house, but I'd die happy.

It's a pleasure to see a man
passionate about something.

Well...

Well, I don't want you to
do any legal work for me.

Say again?

I was going to, but then
my assistant showed me

the transcript from
the Galloway case.

- Fletcher Galloway?
- Yeah.

Boy, did you ever stink
up that case. Ha, ha, ha.

I don't get it.

You can't exactly blame
that one on age, can you?

I mean, that happened
what, 20 years ago?

What went wrong anyway?

You just didn't do your
homework or something?

Mr. Engle, I don't
find this very funny.

I was wondering how you actually
sleep at night knowing that your client,

James Johnson, is sitting on
death row because of your ineptness.

James Johnson
committed a m*rder.

He lied to me and
he lied to the jury.

Oh, well, I was wondering how
you rationalized bailing out on him.

I don't know what's going
on here or what this is about.

Thanks for dinner.

Open the door.

I haven't excused you yet.

You know, Ben, there are a lot of
people out there like James Johnson

who think that yours
is a great criminal mind.

But do you know what I
think? I think you're a fraud.

I think you couldn't get a guy off
even if the real k*ller described to you,

in advance, how
he planned to do it.

I've listened to all of this I can
handle. Now unlock that door.

A m*rder is gonna take place,
Ben. And I'm gonna give it all to you.

I'm gonna tell you where.
I'm gonna tell you when.

I'm even gonna tell
you who's gonna do it.

Me.

You're telling me you're
gonna k*ll somebody?

That's right.

You can go now.

Three-fifteen tomorrow.
Willow Springs Park.

Someone very close to you, Ben.

Catch me if you can.

Malcolm Engle is gonna
k*ll someone today?

- In six hours.
- Malcolm Engle?

A man who gave $20
million to charity last year,

was voted Humanitarian of
the Year for the state of Georgia

for the third consecutive year,
created the Be a Brother Foundation,

invited you to his house to tell you
that he'd decided to k*ll somebody?

- That's right.
- Why?

I don't know.

You must have misinterpreted.

All I know is he said
somebody's gonna die today.

Well, even if I believed
Malcolm Engle was some lunatic

who's gonna do what you
said, my hands are tied.

He hasn't committed a crime.

- Elizabeth?
- Yes, Mr. Engle.

I'm gonna call Mitchell
Goetz in New York

and I do not wanna be
disturbed, so hold all my calls.

Will do.

This is Mitchell Goetz. I'm
not in the office right now,

but you can leave your
message at the tone.

Mitchell, it's Malcolm.

It's a little before 3 here in
Georgia. I'm sorry I missed you.

I spoke with our friend in Chicago
about the mechanics of this deal.

I wanted you to hear the details
before you talk to him tomorrow.

It's a bit complicated.

I hope you have a lot of tape
on this answering machine.

Well, anyway, here goes.

Ziegler Industries had their initial
public offering two years ago in June.

The stock came on at
the market at $22 a share.

Over the course
of the first year

the stock's fluctuation
was negligible

in that the products
they were developing

were in stage one of testing...

Hey, think we should
start batting practice now?

- What?
- Well, Jim McCoy's gotta leave early.

And I don't know, should
we start batting practice?

Yeah, okay. Jerri,
you wanna hit?

Sure.

Hey, thanks a lot, Greg.
I appreciate it, buddy.

Testing.

His guess is that in the short
term, there is a strong likelihood

that we wouldn't see a
return on our investment.

Hey, wait, hang on a second.
I just remembered something.

- Elizabeth.
- Yes, sir.

I'm slipping the Frazier
deal under the door.

Could you execute my
revisions before you go home?

Un-huh.

Hey!

Detective, what brings you
to this neck of the woods?

- You're...
- I'm Malcolm Engle.

Why are you looking
at me like that?

- Well, what are you doing here?
- Oh.

Ha, ha, ha. It's
Matlock, isn't it?

I'll bet he's been telling you some
strange things about me, hasn't he?

- I said what are you doing here?
- Wait, wait, wait, let me guess.

Did he tell you that I was
gonna k*ll somebody today?

Yeah, as a matter of
fact, he said it'd be about...

Unh!

Come on, Jerri.
Come on, hit it. Whoa!

- Good hit!
- Where's Bob?

- Where is Bob?
- I don't know.

It's not like him to be late.

If you've got any
questions about any of this

and you wanna reach me
before you call Chicago,

I should be home
most of tonight.

Elizabeth knows my schedule
better than I do, so give her a buzz,

and she'll track me down.

I'll talk to you
soon, Larry. Bye.

Any messages while
I was on the phone?

Yes, sir.

- Thank you.
- Mm-hm.

- Hello?
- How was your day, Ben?

I hope it's not too late to call

but I heard about your
good friend, Detective Brooks.

Must be very painful for you.

- Why did you do it?
- I heard he d*ed at,

what, about 3:15 today
at Willow Springs Park.

- It's just a game!
- No, I don't play games, Ben.

I hear the police
picked up some punk.

Boy, kids. I just don't know
what's happened to them.

- You m*rder*d my friend!
- Ben, you sound so angry.

Just think.

Maybe if you'd have been smarter,
you could have protected him, Ben.

You should have protected him.

Are you all right? I must
have called you six times.

I didn't know it was you.

I don't know of a person in the
world that I butted heads with

more than Bob Brooks or
anybody I respected more.

I'm so sorry.

Malcolm Engle?

Yeah.

Malcolm Engle.

Charlie.

Who are you?

Your lawyer.

I don't want some stupid
public defender in a cheap suit.

Put that cigarette out.

You ever even tried
a m*rder case, huh?

Put the cigarette out!

Well, what are you gonna
do? You gonna throw me in jail?

Now, let me tell you, for a jerk
who'd have to improve his skills

to be called a thief,

you have no idea what kind
of lucky day you're having.

Now shut your mouth
and put that cigarette out.

Mr. Engle was in the
office all day yesterday.

He didn't go for a walk
or go down the hallway

for about half hour
or so around 3:00?

Um, 3:00. Well, it's
easy enough to check.

Mr. Engle has me keep a
log of all his daily activities. Oh.

Here it is.

Nope, he was on the phone to
New York with Mitchell Goetz.

See, right here.

He got on the phone at 2:55
and he stopped talking at 3:27.

- Are you...? May I take this?
- Oh, sure.

Are you sure these
times are right?

Yes.

Well, as a matter of fact, I remember
that during his phone call to Mr. Goetz,

Mr. Engle slid some papers
under the door for me to revise.

So you never saw him while
he on the phone to New York?

Hello.

Mr. Engle, this is Mr. Lewis
from Mr. Matlock's office.

- How do you do?
- Hi.

I hope that Elizabeth
has been helpful.

Yes, she's been fine.

I got a couple minutes. Do you
wanna come into my office and talk?

- All right.
- Okay.

Can I have Elizabeth get
you some refreshment?

- No.
- Sit down, please.

No thanks, I'm fine.

I was just writing a check to
start a new hospice here in Atlanta.

How could you do it? You
didn't even know Bob Brooks.

There are so many sick people.

You framed some other
guy you didn't even know.

He could end up
getting the electric chair.

Not to mention the homeless.

I wish more people
would care for them.

Your secretary said that you
were in here yesterday on the phone

with Mitchell Goetz
from 2:55 to 3:27.

- Hm?
- Mitchell Goetz, 2:55 to 3:27 yesterday.

I want his phone number.

Malcolm Engle never spoke
to Mitchell Goetz that day.

Well, who was he talking to
on the phone for that half hour?

Goetz's telephone
answering machine.

Are you sure?

As it turns out, Mitchell
Goetz was away on business

when Malcolm Engle called and
left a very complicated message.

So, what happened was
Goetz's secretary listened to it

and decided to
jet-air it to Goetz.

Well, how did you get it?

I told Goetz he should jet-air it to me
or I was gonna jet-air him a subpoena.

Now I've talked to cows and
horses that made more sense

than what's on
this tape right here,

but there's something
very interesting on it.

All right now, I've
cued it up to a point

where Engle's on the
phone for about 15 minutes,

and this is where
he supposedly got up

and slid a file under
the door for his secretary.

Just listen.

Hang on a second. I just
remembered something.

Elizabeth? I'm slipping the
Frazier deal under the door.

Could you execute my
revisions before you go home?

And... Now listen.

Sorry, Mitchell. Anyway...

We never heard him get
up and walk over to the door.

There was no chair creaking.
There were no footsteps.

It sounded like he was
yelling right into the phone.

Why didn't he move it around?

Do you suppose we
could hear the papers

as he slipped them
under the door?

We didn't. Know what I think?

I think he played a tape
of his voice into the phone

snuck out the back
door, and k*lled Bob.

Can you see it?

No.

That file could have been
sitting there for 20 minutes.

Unless his secretary got up out
of her desk and walked over here,

there's no way she
would've seen it.

He slid this file under the door
and then slipped out the back.

- That's exactly what he did.
- How did you get in here?

- Well, the door was open and...
- No, it wasn't. I locked it when I left.

Mr. Engle told me why
Mr. Lewis was asking me

all those questions
the other day.

What is wrong with you?

Do you know who this man is
who you're accusing of m*rder?

- We apologize, apologize...
- Mr. Matlock, do you know

where Mr. Engle was all morning?

This man who you're calling a
k*ller was feeding terminal patients

at a local hospice
that he funded.

What's going on here?

They broke into the office,
Mr. Engle. I'll call security.

No, that won't be necessary,
Elizabeth. Please leave.

I know how you did it.

You know how I did what?

You never spoke to
Mitchell Goetz directly.

You talked to his
answer machine.

You pre-taped that
call and phoned him

when you knew he'd
be out of his office.

Mr. Matlock, what have I done to you
to warrant this kind of personal att*ck?

You played that tape over
that phone, walked out that door,

went to the park, k*lled Bob and
came back here a half hour later.

My God.

I can prove to you right this
second that Mr. Engle was here

when he made that phone call.

We have motion
detectors in this office.

Elizabeth, it's all right.

Look, even if Mr. Engle
had just swiveled in his chair,

well, the red light
would have flashed.

I know this system.

Your security people
will have tapes of that day.

- Give me the tapes.
- Now, that is enough.

- You have tried my patience...
- I can subpoena them.

Give me the tapes!

This panel in our security room
records any movement in the office,

even when the alarm is off.

All right, that's it.

Any time the motion detector
picks up movement in this office,

why, the number one
flashes on the panel

and security knows
someone's here.

- Can you fast forward to about 3:05?
- Oh, sure.

This can't be.

Seen enough?

I don't know how you did
that, but you weren't here.

Could I ask you two ladies
to excuse us for a minute?

You keep trying, Ben.

What is it you old-timers say?

"Even a blind hog finds
an acorn once in a while."

Hello.

Let's call Ben, huh?

Let's call Ben.

Ben? Malcolm Engle.

I thought we should talk.

About what?

I hear you never talk
about your wife. Why is that?

Did you love her a lot?

Is her memory painful to you?

Maybe you think that there's
something you should've said

or done before she d*ed, huh?

How'd you get your
security system to activate

while you were
out murdering Bob?

Oh, Ben, that's so obvious.

Where is that cagey Southern
lawyer who's supposed to trip me up?

Why did you pick Bob, anyway?
You didn't even know him.

Why anyone, Ben? Life isn't
fair. You know that as well as I do.

Seems like life's been
more than fair to you.

Oh, is that so? Heh.

What do you know about me?

What do you know about the
price I paid to get where I am, huh?

I know you're evil.

- I know you hate me.
- I'm disappointed.

This isn't as much fun as
I thought it was gonna be.

Do you always eat this much?

Yeah.

Do you ever gain weight?

Why would I do that?

Did you find any connection
between Malcolm Engle and me?

Not in any of your
cases. At least not yet.

It could have been
either one of you.

- Hi.
- Good morning.

Well, I should be
back in about an hour.

- Take your time.
- Okay, I think everything's all set.

- Great.
- Okay.

- I brought a book.
- Oh, good.

See you soon.

You can't go in there.
He's in a meeting.

I'm sorry. I'm new. I'm just...
I'm filling in for the regular girl.

Would you look at that.

Oh, that poor little plant
looks like it's going into shock.

- Let me get out of your way.
- Let me take this...

- I can't believe you did that!
- Oh, my goodness!

- Oh, gosh.
- Elizabeth's going to go nuts!

Oh, dear. Well, let me
just take care of this.

How long?

Should be done in
a couple of minutes.

- Ooh. Careful there.
- I'm sorry.

Hey.

- What are you doing?
- Alarm system.

Oh.

- How much is this costing you?
- About 3500.

- You're spending $3500?
- Yeah, what...?

Nothing. It's, you know,
just that usually you're so...

Cheap? This is important.

What'd you find out?

Well, I got a good look at
Mr. Engle's appointment book.

He seems like a
creature of habit.

For the first three months
of the year he played squash

every Saturday at 3:00.

And then he went to Costa
Rica and when he came back,

- he stopped playing squash.
- Huh.

And he stopped getting his hair
cut every other Monday at 11:00.

Maybe he just got a new barber.

But they'd still write
down his appointments.

Oh, right. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

And so far I can't track any of
his movements in Costa Rica.

It's like he was never there.

We're done. Would you
like a little demonstration?

Yeah.

Yeah.

Even though the
system is turned off,

if someone's moving around
in the room, the light still blinks.

Uh-huh. Let me show you.

Jimmy, you stay in there.

Okay. Jimmy, move around.

See? Zone 1.

Don't move.

So somebody's got to be moving
around to make the lights blink.

That's right.

Hello!

What?

What? I can't hear you.

I don't know how to
turn the damn thing off.

What? What do I need a
code for? I'm Ben Matlock.

I live here. I didn't
break in here.

Well, wait a minute. Wait
a minute. Yeah, "hot dog."

That's right, "hot dog!"

The sensors are fine.
I'll check the connection.

This was no defect, sir.

Someone or something
set off this alarm.

Are you sure you didn't
walk through the living room?

I told you, I was asleep.

Bobby!

I think I found it. I think I
got the culprit right here.

This little guy was
crawling across our beam.

Your security
system was your alibi.

You brought the cat to the
office the day of the m*rder.

It was the movement of the cat
that set off the motion detector.

Well, that is very good, Ben.

I had Forensics go through
your office. They found cat hairs.

Well, you didn't have to
go to all that trouble, Ben.

I could've told you Mo was with
me. I take him to work all the time.

So let's see where we're at.

You know that the
cat was in the office,

but you can't prove that
I wasn't there with him.

- Can you?
- No.

Well, what's your point then?

I mean, you can always
tell the owner of the building

that I take my cat
to work with me,

but that's not gonna get me in much
trouble. I own the building. Ha, ha, ha.

You know, it never
ceases to amaze me

how people never live
up to their reputations.

Now here you are, one of the best
criminal lawyers that money can buy.

Uh-uh.

I don't get it. Why
are you doing this?

Did I do something to you?
Did I do something to hurt you?

There's got to be a reason.

Does there, Ben?

Malcolm Engle

controlled every
element of this m*rder.

He knew the guy
would be out of his office.

He could leave as long
a message as he wanted.

He knew his cat would keep moving
around, activate the motion detector.

He knew his secretary
wouldn't see the file

he slipped under the
door till she stood up.

- Know what I don't get?
- What?

Have you ever known Bob
Brooks to be late for anything?

No.

- He was often early.
- Right.

So how do you suppose
Malcolm Engle knew

Bob wasn't gonna get to
practice early like usual?

Yeah, I drove Bob
to the park that day.

Something was wrong
with his car. It wouldn't start.

Has anybody used it since?

The way things work around
here, I doubt it's been fixed.

Let's give it a sh*t.

Lift her up.

Mr. Matlock?

Defense calls Malcolm
Engle to the stand.

Remember the night I came to your
house and you invited me to dinner?

- Quite clearly.
- It was on that occasion

that you challenged
me to solve a m*rder

that you planned to
commit the next day.

Now, that's an outrageous thing
to say. I never said any such thing.

You didn't tell me that you were gonna
commit a m*rder at 3:15 the next day?

No, I did not. And I
don't find this amusing.

You m*rder*d my friend.

Sir. Your Honor, I have
dedicated most of my adult life

to helping those
less fortunate than I.

I resent this man
slandering me in public.

The witness has a
point, Mr. Matlock.

Let me reword the question.

Are you saying that you
did not m*rder Bob Brooks?

Yes, of course. That's
exactly what I'm saying.

- I didn't know the man.
- You're a creature of habit.

- You could say that, I guess.
- Let me guess.

- Mr. Matlock...
- Figure of speech, Your Honor.

He said "guess," I said
"guess." I'm on my way.

- Go on.
- I bet... A small supposition.

I bet you eat the same
breakfast every day,

buy your clothes at
the same men's store.

I bet you even have a
standing haircut appointment.

Your Honor, first he accuses
the witness of m*rder,

and now he wants to know
how often he gets his hair cut.

Where are we going with this?

Your Honor, this man
committed m*rder.

I need a certain
latitude to prove it.

Mr. Matlock...

If I don't prove it, I'll step
aside for the rest of my life.

Go ahead.

Now, I said I bet you have a
standing haircut appointment.

How about it?

I get my hair cut
every two weeks.

- Where?
- At the Don Ross Salon.

To be accurate, that used
to be true, till six months ago.

You haven't been in the Don Ross
Salon in almost half a year, have you?

I have the appointment
book from the salon right here.

The truth is

you don't get your hair
cut anymore, do you?

That's a hairpiece
you're wearing, isn't it?

You don't have any hair

because of your
chemotherapy treatments.

Isn't that correct?

Mr. Engle?

You have cancer and you're
terminally ill, aren't you?

Mr. Engle, I must ask you
to answer that question.

The doctors tell me I have
three to six months to live.

That seems so unfair.

A man like you who's devoted
his life to charity and doing good.

It must be infuriating
that others should live.

Life isn't fair.

I suppose at a time like this
one wishes to make peace

where one can and
close the book on a life.

I suppose so. Yeah. Mm-hm.

And I suppose it's a time when
one wishes to settle old scores.

I'm not sure I know
what you're referring to.

From the time I had dinner at
your house, this was personal

between you and me.

My associates searched
every case I ever tried

looking for a
connection between us.

They didn't find anything. They
went back to college, law school.

Nothing showed up.

I began to think there was
no connection between us.

But behind that
placid, quiet facade

there was so much hate and
anger towards me, we looked again.

Have you ever been
married, Mr. Engle?

No.

Do you have any children?

No.

Did you ever have children?

That's not a difficult question.

Please, did you
ever have children?

Yes, I had a son. His
name was Jason Lange.

You never married his mother.
Your son, what happened to him?

They were both k*lled
in a fast food restaurant

that some lunatic
decided to sh**t up.

The man whom you
describe as a lunatic

was an out-of-work w*r veteran
with severe emotional problems.

Until yesterday I did not know
it was your boy that he k*lled.

I defended that man and pled
him guilty by reason of insanity,

and he was institutionalized.

You never forgave
me for that, did you?

That's why you k*lled
someone so close to me.

You wanted me to feel helpless.

You wanted me to experience
what you had experienced, didn't you?

I had nothing to do with
the death of Bob Brooks.

You made it appear that
you were in your office

at the time he d*ed.

I was in my office.

Wasn't it your cat that
activated the motion detector?

- The cat was in my office. So was I.
- Now, you were on the phone

talking to an answer machine
of a business associate.

Yes, I was. You remember
saying to me, "Catch me if you can"?

You controlled every
aspect of Bob Brooks' m*rder.

That's why you had
the cat in the office.

That's why you used a tape of your
voice to talk to that answer machine.

You plotted every detail
of Bob Brooks' m*rder.

You were even aware
of one of his trademarks,

Bob Brooks was always
on time, often early,

for everything in his life.

But in order for you to
commit this m*rder at the time

and the place you
predicted to me,

he had to come late for
softball practice that day.

Are you aware that Bob
Brooks did not drive his car

to the park the day he d*ed?

No, I'm not.

Another officer, Greg
Charles, gave him a lift

because his car wouldn't start.

This distributor cap

was removed from Bob
Brooks' car yesterday afternoon.

One of the cables
had been disconnected.

Impossible to start it.

I must say, forgive my
profanity, you did a helluva job.

But the best laid
plans often go awry.

You did everything right.

Probably put on a mechanic's
uniform so you wouldn't stick out.

You knew you couldn't use gloves
in a police parking lot, conspicuous.

So you used a cloth to remove
the distributor cap and the cable.

Then when you were done, you
very carefully used that rag to wipe off

any prints you might have left
on the hood and on the parts.

You did a fine job.

But you missed one.

One print, the index finger.

Best laid plans...

You wanted Bob
Brooks to come late.

He had to come late for
you to commit this m*rder

at the place and the
time that you predicted.

And then you coldly and
brutally m*rder*d him.

A man you didn't even know.

All for revenge against me.

What are you gonna do, Ben?
Get me the death sentence?

I've already got it.