01x06 - Cereal k*ller

[bunniefuu]

I'm a senior detective with the Battle Creek Police. We are forced to make do with substandard and out-of-date equipment.

Great news. We're getting help.

Our loss... Battle Creek's gain.

Good riddance, you miserable sack...

Big smile, big laugh, you love it here. Big smile, big laugh.

I love it here.

Detectives Russ Agnew...

Milt Chamberlain.

Hi.

He has asked to have someone team up with him.

Me.

Why me?

I think you get lucky.

Not because you trust people but because you're just really good-looking, man.

Oh, thank you.

In my experience, when you trust people, they-they trust you.

Have you actually met people?

You can't be a cop and be this naive. It's just not possible.

I agree.

♪ Who are you to be eating all my cereal? ♪
♪ Who are you to be eating all the cereal? ♪

(cheerleaders cheering)

♪ Oh-oh ♪
♪ You're awful ♪
♪ You're awful ♪
♪ You're awful... ♪

(groans)

Why do we do this?

Nobody likes this.

Milt: Are you kidding me?

I love this!

I mean, who would've thought of a citywide day of breakfast?

The people of Battle Creek did.

31 years ago.

Yeah, exactly! Celebrate what made this town great.

Everybody likes cereal.

Damn right!

And no one more than Mayor Hardy.

Agent Chamberlain?

I'm Darrel Hardy, Mayor Hardy's chief of staff.

The mayor was wondering...

Milt!

If you wouldn't mind taking...

Hey.

Hey!

Shook your hand when I hung that medal around your neck a few weeks back.

Right, right.

Yeah, uh, you've met my brother Darrel.

Yes, yes.

We are proud to have the FBI here helping out our local heroes.

And you and your tech means I get to cut a few bucks out of the law enforcement budget.

Well, I don't, I don't...

Oh!

Hey, get a picture! Get a picture.

Okay.

Oh! Go, go, TomCat! Ah...

Okay, got to keep moving. Lot of hands to shake.

Oh, hey! Okay, guys.

No, G man, come with me.

I'm gonna show you off. Hey!

Okay.

It's Milt the Stilt right here!

Hey, boys.

Look at Milt sucking up, pretending to laugh.

Where's he get off being so cheerful, huh?

No one's having fun.

Isn't this fun?!

This is my favorite day of the year.

Yeah, Russ was just saying the same thing.

You want to elaborate for Holly?

(bell ringing)

Come and get it!

Breakfast is officially served!

(crowd clamoring)

We lost the venue.

The venue you recommended.

Mayfield? I dropped off the deposit myself.

No. No, you didn't. Because they never got it.

Now it's booked for another happy couple.

You know where my wedding's gonna be, hmm?

In my lavish backyard.

With the endless view of my cement-block fence.

And live beautiful music playing from that little jerk next door banging on his drums thinking he's Neil freaking Peart!

There must be some mistake, okay?

I know the guy. I'll talk to him.

Shaylene is freaking out, man.

All right, I said I'll take care of it, man. I promise.

Hardy: Agent Chamberlain?

If you'd sit right here, we got a... seat of honor for Battle Creek's newest guest!

He's not a guest.

Guests leave.

(laughs)

Hear ye!

Hear ye! Cereal is what put Battle Creek on the map.

And kept it on the map.

And that is why I am damn proud to be pouring the opening bowl at our 31st Annual Breakfast Day!

(crowd cheering)

All right! All right!

You ready, TomCat? Here we go!

Good morning!

(laughs)

This guy's hungry!

(laughs)

Get that guy a big old bowl!

Oh!

(screams)

g*n!

Go! Get out of here!

Get out! Get out! Go!

(coughing)

Get out of here!

Go! Go!

Go!

Milt, come here!

The sh*ts came from somewhere up in this building.

Number 89, second floor, three units from the right.

What?

It's a g*nf*re locator system.

Uses auditory sensors to locate the source of the g*nsh*t. I had it installed after you got sh*t.

Come on, come on. Let's go.

Right here.

I got it.

Looks like it was remotely triggered.

Our suspects are... everyone who owns a cell phone.

♪ I might be gone right now ♪
♪ Check me out tomorrow ♪
♪ Eyes don't see when they're open ♪
♪ Please remind me to speak ♪
♪ I have fallen from the steepest mountain ♪
♪ Broken heart, you think ♪
♪ It's just you ♪
♪ So please forgive me ♪
♪ I'm lost to be found ♪
♪ I'm lost to be found ♪

(indistinct chatter)

Milt used his micro X-ray fluorescent fingerprint analyzer on the r*fle, the tripod and all its components.

No prints.

The entire contraption was made up of off-the-shelf items that you could buy at any hardware store.

Which makes it not traceable.

Okay, so the r*fle is a Ruger Mini-14, minimal wear and tear.

But someone took the time to file off the serial number.

Hey, yo, how are you doing this?

And can you stop?

Two people were sh*t. You're wasting time.

Yeah, they both survived.

You're wasting time, not me.

Look, whoever built this contraption knew that we'd find it.

So they made damn sure that there was nothing to find.

We're not gonna solve this using X-ray analyzers.

We're gonna solve this interviewing witnesses.

Starting with the mayor when he gets out of surgery.

You know, old-fashioned police work?

The FBI I.T. lab has offered to help.

Oh, well, your lab can't interrogate witnesses.

They can't...

That is true. That's true.

But they did trace the cell phone on the trigger.

It was a pre-paid burn phone.

The lab also traced the incoming call.

It was also a pre-paid burn phone.

We were also able to determine that the call came from approximately a 2,000-square-foot radius 32 degrees south, southeast of the breakfast table.

How the...?

How the hell do you know that?

Oh, we-we accessed the cell tower, pinged at it and triangulated the source of the call.

Approximately... 2,000-square-foot area.

It's kind of vague.

Are you sure it's accurate?

Well, are you concerned that it's too vague or too accurate?

Holly: In People v. Evans, the judge threw out the cell tower ping data, saying the technology was unproven and potentially unreliable.

I-I read, I read about that in The Economist.

Yeah, we're, uh, we're appealing that decision.

Oh.

So, when we combine this information with the video footage that we've collected from various businesses and personal cell phones, we'll be able to pinpoint the suspect with a high degree of certainty using our digital crime board.

Or we could just ask the mayor who wanted him dead.

Font, I'll see you in the parking lot.

Hey, why are you going through your recent files?

What are you looking for?

This.

It's the deposit check for Funkhauser's wedding venue.

I, I thought I dropped it off, but I must've accidentally left it in this file.

Oh.

What am I gonna do?

What are your options?

So far all I've come up with is lying.

That's kind of a short-term solution.

You got to tell him.

I mean, you'll feel better.

Just...

Font, did you talk to Mayfield?

Seriously, Funk?

The-the mayor was just sh*t.

But, look, it's important, all right?

It's your wedding, so-so I'm on it.

Hardy: Name a street, any street, and it's yours.

Well, it's, it's not like I saved you on purpose, so maybe I shouldn't get my own street.

What? No! Kid, have fun with it.

This is what we always say.

Pick your worst enemy. Like the bully in high school.

Tell us where he lives, every day he's got to walk home down Sam McPherson Street. How fun is that?

Excuse me?

Uh, I-I think you both need to get back to healing.

Yeah, yeah. Thank you again, son.

And go, go TomCat!

What the hell was going on out there?

Who's sh**ting at me?

Uh... we were kind of hoping you could help us figure that one out.

Well, I got 85% in the last election.

It was a very low turnout.

Well, I assume someone who's not gonna bother to vote for me is not gonna bother trying to sh**t me.

Like, it's local politics!

It's potholes, dead animals and snow removal.

And it matters. People care about that stuff because it's their home, it's their community, which is everything.

Okay, well, give them the crackpot file.

Crackpots?

Constituents... who are nuts.

Hate mail, threats, hysterical e-mails...

You want to find my sh**t, he's in that file.

Hey, we've got an entire file of...

What the hell is that?

Milt: It's a digital crime board.

Jacocks: The FBI synced up every clip from the 2,000-square-foot area to the exact time of the first sh*t.

9:02:13 a.m.

The people who are on cell phones are being run through facial recognition software.

That does... I don't know what it does.

I'm not allowed to know.

Yeah, we use a proprietary algorithm that pulls from all accessible databases.

A surveillance camera caught the sh**ting on tape.

The circle is the 2,000-square-foot area where the call originated.

Hey, check this out!

It's really cool.

Milt: Yeah.

Funkhauser: The software can merge footage from different cell phones.

That's awesome.

Yeah, and... the sh**t's one of these 15 people.

The machine's identified seven so far.

Well, that's very pretty, but the sh**t's one of these 12 people, the list that the mayor's brother gave me of his enemies.

Not random people that might have been in the wrong 2,000-square-foot area at the wrong millisecond.

Who, quite frankly, have done nothing to deserve us digging around through their personal lives.

Well, I'd venture the sh**t was on both of our lists.

And I'd venture that Steven Venson was on both of our lists.

What makes you say that?

Well, he was one of the faces we've already identified, and when we ran his name through the system, we found that he'd been arrested for as*ault.

Ooh.

Milt: And we caught this on surveillance.

Steven Venson is the registered owner of this red Firebird, license plate number XTR...

Font: "Extra Bad"?

That's a really stupid license plate, even for a criminal.

Especially for a criminal.

He att*cked the mayor?

Yeah, about a month ago.

And the mayor refused to press charges.

Steven Venson has a record for drug dealing.

He was busted for organizing a backyard cage fight and for drag racing through downtown Battle Creek.

Why the hell didn't he mention that?

How come this guy's name isn't on my list?

Yeah, yeah. Go ahead.

Russ, I want you to know that I agree with you.

That's very reassuring.

The Digital Crime Board is just a piece of technology and a tool, nothing more.

It's a piece of useless technology.

It's a crutch and you're a tool.

"Extra Bad."

The mayor's gone.

Ooh. Oh, no.

He's still breathing.

Get a doctor in here! Now!

(tires squealing)

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

Russ: He's got the mayor!

Hey, hey...

Go, go, go, go, go, go, go!

(engine stalls)

Not now...

(sputtering)

Not now!

Is a car that runs also useless technology?

I was sitting with the mayor, drinking coffee, and that's the last thing I remember.

Russ: Anyone else in here?

Just the staff; visiting hours were over.

(phone chimes)

Russ: Who brought you the coffee?

One of the orderlies.

I guess that was weird, an orderly bringing in coffee.

Oh, very.

Hey, Russ, I just got the hospital's surveillance video.

On your phone?

Yeah.

Melissa e-mailed it to me.

Who the hell is Melissa?

The receptionist.

With the gold hoops and the amethyst around her neck?

Did you flirt with her as you ran past the desk?

There we go.

That's the orderly who brought the coffee.

Let me see that.

That's not an orderly.

It's Steve Venson.

He's a felon and a drug dealer.

He probably stole the scrubs out of the laundry bin, drugged your coffee, and pushed the mayor right out the back door.

Mr. Venson went to a lot of trouble to build a remote control g*n.

Why not just sh**t the mayor in his hospital bed?

And why drug him and take him?

Why not just poison him and leave him?

Maybe because a hospital is a dumb place to poison someone and an even stupider place to sh**t 'em.

Unless this guy's on a su1c1de mission, which apparently he's not.

Wh... and why take his clothes?

Where's my brother?

What happened?

I've been trying to call.

Darrel, I'm afraid your brother's been kidnapped.

Russ: Did you try calling in the last five minutes?

What?

Why? Yes.

Oh, wait, how come we didn't hear the phone ring?

Is it possible that the phone is still in the mayor's pants?

It's always in his pocket.

Well, if it is still on him, we could use Stingray to locate it.

Oh, no, we don't need your I.T. department.

Darrel, you seem to be, like, a micromanaging control freak...

No offense...

But I'm sure that you've got a way to track the mayor's cell phone whenever you need to find him, right?

Yes. I use an app.

It's still technology.

It's 99 cents.

Well...

Hey!

Is there, uh, any news on the mayor?

Uh, no, not yet.

Is there any news on Funk's wedding venue?

Not yet.

I, um, I talked to my guy.

Mm-hmm.

He laughed at me.

Mumbled something about Bridezillas and then hung up.

Ah.

Well, I guess that really just leaves, uh, hmm... telling Funk the truth.

Yeah, I thought about that.

Instead, I've been avoiding him while I call other venues.

Every place from here to Detroit is booked.

I'm gonna call the bride and offer her $1,000 to back out of Mayfield.

(laughs)

Okay, this is a day that she's been dreaming about since she was six years old.

$1,000 isn't relevant.

$2,000?

She's about to spend $3,000 on a dress she will wear once and, like, $800 on a cake she's not even gonna eat.

I think your money's better spent elsewhere.

Did you call the Windsor Club?

No. Why would I?

You have to be a member.

The general manager, who also does the bookings, owes $975 in parking tickets.

I think he'll make an exception.

Next time, lead with that.

Go.

FBI!

Don't move!

Hands where I can see them now!

Hardy: Oh, my...

Oh, my goodness, that's a drug pipe.

I can't believe I voted for you!

Hey, my fiscal policies and commitment to reform...

You're an idiot!

Were... were you smoking a bong?

Uh, yes, I was singing a song, thank you!

Would you keep it down?

All right? And by the way, that is a pipe, not a bong.

(sniffs)

Yeah, because it's cr*ck.

You kidnapped yourself to smoke cr*ck?

Technically, Stevie kidnapped me.

Hey!

You asked me to, it's not like I really...

(sputtering)

Hardy: Yes, yes, yes, it was a mistake, okay?

It was a mistake, but I've never missed that game.

So I figured I would just slip out, slip back in before dawn, without anyone being the wiser.

Look, you guys didn't even know where I was.

How would the k*ller know, right?

It's not bad logic, huh?

Only a person high on cr*ck would find any of this logical.

Give me that, what is this?

Got OxyContin, Vicodin...

You got a pharmacy in here.

Russ: In front of a cop and a fed?

Are you kidding me?

Milt: Look, we know about the fight.

We know about Mr. Venson's history of drug dealing and as*ault.

You want to explain this?

I... I got my ass kicked.

I mean, I must have been wasted.

Russ: You know what I think?

I think this guy is your dealer.

And I think he took a sh*t at you over what I'm guessing happened to be a drug debt.

I also think that you're just stupid enough to ask the guy who tried to k*ll you to kidnap you.

Okay, all due respect, there is no possible way anybody could be trying to k*ll me over a drug debt.

Are you denying that you use dr*gs?

Okay, hey, you guys... you guys are obligated to protect me, all right?

That means you're protecting my personal life and my political career.

So anything that I say to you...

Just talk.

I'm not denying that I do dr*gs.

I am denying that I do not pay for dr*gs.

I'm their best customer; I always pay in full.

And I'll bet they're always just so thrilled to see you.

What, are you crazy?

No, I'm the mayor.

Nobody sees me. Okay?

Stevie handles all my finances.

Is all this true, Mr. Venson?

(clears throat)

Y-Yeah, it was.

"Was"?

My grandma, she-she got some unexpected bills.

She's been sick, her hip got infected.

Oh, wait, wait, wait. Grandma Edie or Grandma Inge?

Oh, yeah, Grandma Edie.

Oh, no!

So, yeah, actually, I've been buying on credit for you.

No!

But they know that... that you're good for it, man.

You moron, you got me sh*t!

Stop, stop!

DL's not gonna k*ll his best customer!

Hardy: Venson, he's a drug dealer!

They make examples out of people who stiff them!

Hold on a second. "DL"?

"DL" as in Dwayne Liden?

Dwayne Liden's a known drug dealer.

Meth, heroin, cr*ck, bath salts, Krokodil; is there anything this guy wasn't selling?

The DEA suspects Mr. Liden in two drug-related homicides.

And the mayor owes him over $19,000.

We've arrested, uh, Mr. Venson for drugging Officer Murdock; it's really the only charge that I think we can make stick.

Who cares? This is great news.

We know who the sh**t is.

I agree.

And even better news... Milt was wrong.

We know that Liden wasn't in the 2,000-square-foot area.

What? No. That's not necessarily true.

Oh, seriously? The guy in the blue hoodie?

There was no clear sh*t of his face, so facial recognition software can't confirm...

Well, I can confirm, using my brain's facial recognition software, that it wasn't Liden.

You'll be sure to let me know who wins this argument.

In the meantime, would you please get a warrant and a SWAT team and go and pick up Mr. Liden?

Yeah.

(insects trilling, dogs barking)

Milt (over radio): Suspect identified; all units take position.

Monocular?

I don't need to see him in green.

Russ, you ever thought about why you hate technology so much?

No, I haven't, because I don't.

I just think the human brain is so much better.

Maybe you don't like technology because I have it and you don't.

And maybe you like technology for the same reason.

Maybe that's why you're here.

You weren't demoted; you're in Battle Creek because everywhere else you go, you're just another guy with... fingerprint X-rays and thermal monoculars.

Hey, I took care of things.

You got the venue.

Thank God.

But, uh, you know, I was doing something thinking.

Mayfield is so last year.

So I made a couple calls.

You know the Windsor Club?

You got to be a member there, don't you?

Yeah, I know a guy.

Indoor/outdoor dance floor, chocolate fountain.

Whoa.

Man, you could surprise Shaylene with the nicest venue in Southern Michigan.

It is beautiful.

(chuckles)

I was a guest there for a dinner a few months ago.

Shaylene wouldn't talk to me for a week.

What?

The place was restricted until 1994.

She's still pissed.

Units 12 and 13 in position.

All right, on my signal.

(cell phone rings)

Hold on a second.

It's Guz.

Yeah, what is it?

What?

Yeah. Okay.

Milt, we got to stand down.

Right now.

Why?

Sam McPherson, the TomCat mascot, got discharged from the hospital ten minutes ago.

And on his way down into the parking lot, he got sh*t.

Mayor Hardy was never the target.

Man: Three, two...

Milt: Stand down, stand down.

We are outside Battle Creek Hospital, where latest hero and cool dude, Sam McPherson, has just been released.

One small step for a TomCat...

(g*n fires, woman screams)

Woman: Oh, my God!

Man: Get a doctor!

Woman: Oh, my God!

Sam is out of ICU, he's recovering nicely.

Uh, we have him under 24-hour protection.

Seems the sh**t chose the breakfast so that we would assume that the mayor was the target.

The official schedule had Sam standing right next the mayor, pouring the milk.

Schedule was online, so anyone who cared would know exactly where the kid was at the exact moment.

Funkhauser: And would know that that would send our investigation in the exact wrong direction.

Guziewicz: We all took the bait.

We all feel like crap.

Let's move on.

Two shell casings were found in a bush 50 feet away.

There were no witnesses, no surveillance footage, nothing to go on.

We started going through Sam's life, uh... his Facebook, social media, his texts, all very friendly... seems like a nice kid.

No enemies to speak of.

He's hiding something.

Let's check out his friends, his neighbors and his classmates.

No need... I had the FBI reconstruct the deleted posts from his Instagram account.

Someone does hate him...

"SadCat13."

Funkhauser: thr*at of hell?

Sounds like someone thought he was gay.

That's because he is.

Look.

His Facebook status says, "In a relationship," but where's the girlfriend?

No girls in any of the photos, but pictures all over place of him and this guy Joey.

Could he be any cuter?

We traced the I.P. address of the posts... to the high school robotics lab.

Let's go.

Come on.

I have no doubt you would have gotten to the same place using deductive reasoning.

Woman: And don't push it.

Just relax.

Mm-hmm.

(door opens)

(knocks on door)

Font: Excuse me, Kira Keneally?

Yes.

Jenn, can you take over the class for a minute?

Thanks. Yes.

Uh, Detective Jones with the county sheriff's office.

I wanted to ask you about Mayfield.

I understand you're getting married there.

Yes, is everything okay?

Well, no.

There was a crime at the venue.

We are assisting with the investigation by warning people that we have not apprehended the perpetrator.

Because we have reason to believe he was targeting the venue, not the people.

Thanks.

Hope you catch him.

Um, you may want to consider moving your wedding.

For your own safety.

Oh, I think we'll be okay.

And that of your guests.

I'm not changing it because I'm not worried.

Think of the guilt if something happened.

The blot on the memory of what should have been a perfect day.

Mayfield is perfect...

The vibes, the aura, the feng shui.

It's where we're meant to start our lives together.

Holly: Mayfield?

I love that place.

I got married there six years ago.

It was an absolutely beautiful day followed by four years of happiness.

Oh, am I doing this pose right?

Wait, did you say you were married six year ago?

Well, you know, two years of legal fees and tears... can't undo the four great years we spent together.

Oh, I'm sure it wasn't the venue.

Not like bad vibes can cause divorce, right?

Yeah, I'm sure you're right.

I am legally obligated to tell you that Mayfield is returning deposits until the end of the day today, but happily you don't need that.

I don't understand... I thought they were trying to k*ll Mayor Hardy; why would anybody want me dead?

That's why we're here.

We have a theory.

A working theory about the crime.

Based upon a possible theory.

You're gay, we get it.

Well, it's... it's not, like, a state secret.

I mean, my-my parents know, my two best friends know.

Everyone's been super-cool about it.

Well, somebody wasn't cool about something.

Uh, Sam, do you have any idea who drew this?

Calls himself "SadCat13""

No, but he kept commenting on my Instagram feed.

I thought I deleted them all.

We know he used the robotics lab to post some of the messages.

So he's most likely a student.

These are real straight arrows.

I-I can't imagine any of them doing this.

Well, someone did this.

Someone no one could imagine doing it did it.

No.

These kids all want to be the next Elon Musk or Mark Zuckerberg.

They're obsessed with the Ivy League and freak out if they get an A-minus.

They're ambitious workaholics who are too busy taking six classes and packing their résumés to have time to register a nanosecond of emotion, good or evil, toward a fellow human being.

Have any of them gotten a "B" lately?

Girl: Mr. Pate is right.

I mean, who has time to try to k*ll someone?

Especially someone as awesome as Sam.

You have any idea who drew this?

Calls himself "SadCat13."

No, but it's not like you need a password to get in here.

Anyone could have come in and posted that stuff at lunch or after school.

Tried to frame one of the robotics kids.

Can you take a look at these photos and see if you recognize anyone?

Maybe they've hung out here.

No. No, none of them.

That's your "digital crime board" from the 2,000-square-foot area?

Haven't we determined this thing is a bust?

What makes you say that?

Logic... you've now identified all 15 people, and if any of them had attended this high school, then you would have told me about it one, two, ten times by now.

(scoffs)

It's case closed, okay?

You know, this thing is pretty dope.

Oh, thanks.

Girl: I do know this kid.

It's JJ.

He comes in here after school to use computers.

JJ, I found this in your locker.

We also accessed your online history.

You like first-person sh**t games.

Some pretty violent stuff.

Anti-gay storylines...

Is that why you hated Sam?

I-I didn't hate him.

I don't even know him.

I know he got sh*t, but y-you can't think that I would... do that.

You were harassing him online.

I was jealous of him.

Of Sam?

He was the TomCat.

I've been doing cheerleading since freshman year so that, senior year, I could be the mascot.

Sam tried out as a joke, and he won because he's popular.

Uh, so why were you at the breakfast?

Two blocks from the mayor.

Outside the 2,000-square-foot area.

Ooh, close enough to be within the margin of error.

Margin of error that you just made up.

No, it's...

Why were you at the breakfast?

It's my favorite day of the year.

But then I saw Sam in the TomCat costume, acting like it was a big joke, and he ruined it for me.

Who were you calling, JJ?

Uh, I called my mom to pick me up.

We pulled your phone records, and you didn't make any calls from your phone.

Russ: The only logical conclusion, JJ, is that that phone isn't your phone.

You used a burn phone, and dialed a remote control g*n that sh*t Sam, the kid that you hated.

I was calling my mom.

I swear.

But the call wouldn't go through, so I kept dialing and dialing, and-and then I heard the sh*ts, and everyone ran, and...

I swear it wasn't me.

I know I shouldn't have posted that stuff.

My mom grounded me.

But I would never hurt anybody.

I believe him.

He's an oddball, he's obsessive, he may be even a creep, but I don't think he's our sh**t.

His alibi was, "I made a phone call, but I didn't make a phone call."

Yeah, well, someone who could put together that contraption could put together a better lie.

It is possible he's telling the truth.

Calls don't always go through right away.

You have to find a cell tower, and then sometimes they don't go through at all.

Damn it.

Hmm?

Milt... might, um... he might be right.

Sometimes calls don't always go through.

What if the sh**t dialed, and the call didn't go through?

I mean, he got the right 2,000 square feet.

He just got the wrong people in it.

You need to use my digital crime board?

Russ: If we go back 15 seconds...

Come on.

Russ: Right there. That guy with the phone.

Focus in on him.

Yeah, yeah.

Turn your head. Come on.

Turn your head.

The mayor's brother.

Hey, hey! What did you guys do?

You heard?

I heard? It's all over the Internet.

You guys were supposed to protect me.

And because of that mess you pulled at the poker game, my whole life has gone viral.

Anchor: WWMT has obtained exclusive footage of Battle Creek Mayor Scooter Hardy caught on tape intoxicated...

Whoa, that's you, Russ. and apparently admitting to drug use.

Yeah, of course it is.

But... as upsetting as this must be, that is not why we're here.

We've identified the sh**t and it was your brother, Darrel.

But... but it was the kid who was the target, not me.

We believe that Darrel sh*t Sam outside the hospital, not because he was trying to k*ll him, but just to take us off of you.

So that he could try to k*ll you again.

No, guys... no.

He wouldn't.

How could he? He...

Building that tripod thing...

It's... well, technically, yes, he could build that.

He... the idiot's always building crap.

He's practically a damn hobbyist.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God!

But-but he hasn't tried to k*ll me.

Your office, upstairs from a police department, is an even stupider place to try to k*ll you than a hospital.

Russ.

What?

Hey, Darrel!

There's nowhere else to go, Darrel.

Milt: Don't do it, Darrel.

My g*n is down.

It's just you and me, talking.

I know what you did.

But I also know why you did it.

You worked yourself to the bone while your brother partied and misbehaved and took all the credit, the credit that you deserved.

I-I know what it's like to try to save someone who doesn't want to be saved.

How thankless that can be.

And despite everything that he did, I know that you loved him.

Really?

I know you loved him because you could have k*lled him a thousand times.

But you couldn't pull the trigger.

The most you could do was dial a cell phone.

If he d*ed a hero, at least the town that loved him could hold on to that memory.

And maybe part of you did it for him... to preserve his memory.

Russ: Or... you hated him.

And I say that solely based on the fact that you tried to k*ll him.

He was a crackhead and he was going to take the both of you down.

So you took him down first, in a blaze of glory, and you were gonna rise back up through his ashes and replace him as mayor.

Go ahead and jump.

You can make it.

Honest.

Milt: After everything that he did to you, you shouldn't die for him, Darrel.

(phone ringing)

Yeah, we got him.

It's over.

No, it's not.

Medic: 41-year-old man, diabetic, has a history of chronic renal failure.

BP is 100/60; heart rate's 90.

EMTs say it was a heart att*ck.

Russ: He had a heart att*ck at the exact same time that we know Darrel was trying to k*ll him?

Nurse: EKG shows bursts of wide complex tachycardia.

I need a finger stick.

Need you to get out of here.

Why sh**t him, then give him a heart att*ck?

He had his public event; he just wanted to make sure that he got away with it.

You need to get out of here.

This patient has a life-threatening arrhythmia.

Someone gave him that heart att*ck.

Someone smart enough to know that he'd get treatment.

I'm not going to withhold treatment.

Glucose 340.

Give him ten units of insulin.

What could Darrel do to give him a heart att*ck?

Poison, recreational pharmaceuticals, adverse reaction to medication.

Where's that pill bottle?

The one with the Oxy and the Vicodin...

You know, the pharmacy.

I got it.

Russ: Darrel switched the pills.

(monitor beeping quickly)

He's Brady-ing down.

Stand back or I'm calling security.

Can you please tell me what this pill is?

Nurse: He's crashing. BP 60 over palp, heart rate 30.

If you knew that this pill caused his heart att*ck, would you still give him that treatment?

Look it up.

Come on, let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go.

Come on, come on, come on, come on.

(alarm beeping)

He's in V-tach.

We can't wait any longer.

Dr. Mayner?

Hmm?

It's digitalis.

Uh! Don't!

That'll k*ll him.

Give him 20 vials of digoxin immune fab.

Thank you, Officers.

Can you please leave now?

Okay.

(singsongy): Thank you, Agent Milt.

And there's Detective Russ.

Thank you, boys, thank both of you for saving my life and my career.

My Facebook page has 3,000 "likes."

They're calling me "Mayor Party."

Saying it makes me look "more human."

(laughing)

I guess I'm your mayor for life.

You sure you want to do this?

Nope.

(phone chimes)

Hey, Mayfield's yours.

They found the check.

Oh, thanks, man.

But Shaylene decided she wants to do the wedding at home now.

She can't.

Uh, well, her Pilates teacher heard from some yoga teacher that there was a badass m*rder up there.

I mean, the groom stabbed the bride like 17 times with a cake Kn*fe.

That could just be a rumor.

A m*rder like that, you'd think we would have heard about it.

Yeah. Absolutely.

Huh.

Either way, when Shaylene makes her mind up, it stays made up.

All right? We're gonna have it at the house.

The good news is, I save a few bucks.

Well, are you sure you can get a refund on the deposit?

With a m*rder like that, they gotta, right?

Since you know the guy, you mind handling the refund?

Cashier's check is fine.

No problem.

Hey, I'm on it!

Wh-Why?

We... we were Jack and Bobby.

I made you.

I did everything for you.

You were happy to smoke it all away.

I loved you.

Oh, give me a break.

You used me.

You treated me like crap.

It's never been fair.

You always get what you want.

Then you act like it's normal.

Like reality doesn't count.

And it never does.

You never pay the price.

Like the laws of gravity don't apply to you!

I hate you!

I hate being your brother!

(clears throat)

(clears throat)

No, you don't. No, you don't.

You got confused.

And...

I still love you. I still love you.

I love you.

I always will, bro.

Darrel: Oh, I'm sorry.

Wow.

All this because he couldn't get over his brother's success.

Success he should have shared.

Is that what you think this is about?

That's not success.

The guy's a phony, living a lie that almost caught up with him.

Well, sometimes lies help.

Sometimes white lies help us make a better reality.

What the hell does that even mean?

I mean, I guess you construct your own reality because the laws of gravity don't apply to you, either.

Yeah. You sure?

I ended up in Battle Creek, didn't I?