02x09 - Iron Pipeline

[bunniefuu]

It's pretty exciting, huh.

It's just after-school
soccer camp.

It's your last soccer camp
before you're a freshman here.

High school?
Freshman?

Nothing.
Well, I'm excited.

Awesome for you.

Jeff?

Mom, I'm not nervous
about next year.

Well, obviously not,

'cause you're jumping down
my throat for no reason.

[ Sighs ]
Okay.

I guess I'm a little nervous.

Will you give this check
to Coach Ryan?

No, you can give it to him.

Aren't you mortified to be seen
with your mother?

When I was 10, maybe.

Oh!
[ Laughs ]

- Does Coach Ryan still teach biology?
- Yeah.

So maybe you'll have him
next year.

Sophomore biology.

Ah. Gotcha.

But he said his door
was always open

if I ever needed anything.

That was nice of him.

Yeah, he's a pretty good guy.
I mean, everybody loves him.

He's, like, the best teacher
at Palm Glade High.

Yeah, and he's not
usually late, either.

Um, will you give him this?
I got to get to work.

Yeah.

All right.
Later, mom.

- Bye.
- Bye.

Help! Hurry!
Someone call 911!

- Hey, what's going on?
- Oh, my God! Oh, my God!

Uh, I don't know.
Why don't you stay here, though.

Somebody call 911!

Hurry! My God!
Oh, my God! Hurry!

What's going on?!

The coach!
The coach has been shot!

- Jeff, stay here! Call 911!
- What?

Coach?

Coach, can you hear me?
Coach?

Damn it.

One, two, three.

Coach?

[ Breathing heavily ]

Coach!
Damn it! Coach!

[ Breathing heavily ]

[ Indistinct shouting ]

One, two, three, four,
five, six, seven.

[ Breathing heavily ]

Man: Everybody, stay where you
are for a second!

The Glades Season 02 Episode 09
Iron Pipeline
Original Air Date: August 7, 2011

[ Indistinct conversations ]

All right.

Hey.

Hey. Thanks.

Uh, what happened?

I don't know.

I was just dropping Jeff off
at soccer camp,

and these runners were waving
around like something was wrong.

- Did they see anything?
- They said they didn't.

They just found coach
underneath the bleachers.

[ Voice breaking ]
And I tried to resuscitate him,

but he was already dead.

Hey.
You all right?

I've know Coach Ryan
since Jeff was 8 years old.

I mean, he's a good guy.

He's one of the most
popular teachers here.

Is Jeff all right?

He's pretty upset.

I mean, he hasn't really
said anything.

That can't be good.

Coach Ryan kind of took him
under his wing

when his dad first went in,

and I know
that he was looking forward

to seeing a friendly face
once he started freshman year.

Guy took one right to the pump.
Single shot, close range.

Exit wound --
about this big.

What?

So he knew the victim.

Oh. [ Sighs ]
I'm sorry.

That's okay. I'm just --
I'm worried about Jeff.

Well, open field,
classes still in session.

Someone must have heard
or seen something.

Yeah, one of the parents did.

Uh, earlier in the day,

they said that some students
were talking

about a freshman
bringing a g*n to school.

- This freshman have a name?
- Shane Wyatt.

Honey. The police are here
to speak to you.

For what?
What's wrong?

I'm sure you've heard.

Coach Ryan was shot to death
on your campus today.

Yeah. Yeah, we heard.

Well, some of the kids said that
you brought a g*n with you today.

What? Shane!

Mom, no. I mean, I-it --
it wasn't real, okay?

It just --
it looked real.

What are you bringing any kind
of a g*n to school for?!

Mrs. Wyatt, I'm sorry.
Do you mind?

But you did bring a g*n.

I-it was just
a pellet g*n.

Can I see it?

Okay. There's another way
we can do this.

Dr. Sanchez is gonna
give you a GSR test.

That stands
for "g*nsh*t residue,"

and that'll tell us whether
or not you fired a g*n recently.

A real one.

Hey, guy. Don't you need,
like, a warrant

or something for this?

I'm sorry.
You are...?

- Blake. I'm Shane's cousin.
- Right.

Yeah, Blake, honey,
he does have a warrant.

Right- or left-handed?

- Left.
- Let's go with the right first.

Right hand, please.
[ Clears throat ]

Relax.

Oh, Shane.

When we finally got his hand
to stop shaking,

the GSR test
came back positive.

He's definitely fired a g*n.

Well, that's enough for me
to get a search warrant

to search his locker.

He may have stashed it
in there,

along with evidence suggesting
why he targeted Coach Ryan.

What caliber
are we looking for?

A .38 according to the slug
and casing

I recovered at the scene.

Okay.

Well?

Well, what?

Are you gonna stand out here
all day,

or are you gonna go in there
and get a confession?

Ohh, sometimes
I really hate my job.

How you doing?

Yeah, not good, I'm sure,

especially after the day
you've had, huh?

Look, Shane, I really don't
want to have to make this

any harder on you
than I have to,

but you're gonna have to
start telling me the truth

about what happened.

I-it wasn't even
a real g*n.

Starting with that.
We know you fired a g*n.

We know that you don't have
a g*n, any g*n, to show us

that will prove or disprove

that it was
or it wasn't a pellet g*n.

I threw it in the canal
behind the flood channels.

A .38?

Yeah.

What happened here?

I'm gonna go with bullying?

Like, a good reason
to take a g*n to a school,

show someone that you're not
to be messed with?

Okay.

That doesn't really tell us
how or why Coach Ryan got shot,

but it's a start.

Maybe I should be talking
to the kid who's bullying you.

No.

I mean, there --

there is...
no bully, per se.

Like, I mean, they --

they all just sort of pick
on me, like, all the time.

Yeah, look.
Oh, I get it.

Freshman year is hard enough,

and, you know, you're a little
small for your age.

It just hardly seems fair.

I just wanted them
to leave me alone.

I...I just wanted to show them
so they would stop.

Was there no one at the school
you could go to with this?

A teacher, maybe?

Coach Ryan?

He heard about the g*n.

He said...He knew
what I was going through,

but that he didn't want me
to do anything

that I would regret
for the rest of my life.

[ Voice breaking ]
He grabbed the backpack,

and we fought over the g*n.

It just went off.

I-I didn't mean
to sh**t him, okay?

I swear.

I liked Coach Ryan.

Where did you get the g*n,
Shane?

I bought it.

You bought it?

Yeah, at a...

Sporting-goods store.

Wait.

A sporting-goods store
sold you a g*n?

I got it at a flea market.

A flea market?

Clay: So, what do you say?
Two for $50.

Man:
I'm not sure about that.

$47.50.

Uh, no, thank you.

- I'm here all day. Take care.
- Okay.

Hey-de-hey.
Help you with something today?

Yeah.
And, uh, hey-de-hey to you.

And maybe. Yeah.

Beretta.
Nice piece.

Yeah. Nice-looking, anyway.
A little on the tiny side.

How not tiny
are you looking for?

Oh, you know.
Not tiny at all.

I don't usually
put this out front

for what should be
obvious reasons.

Uh-huh.

Something like this
not tiny enough for you?

Wow.

That is impressive.
Yeah.

Well, these are
from my personal collection.

You hearing me?

And, just so you know,
I'll need payment in cash.

You know, no offense,
but, um, I'm required by law

to ask you if you have
any kind of police record.

I do, actually.

Yeah, most closures
in a single year,

85% arrest-to-conviction
rate.

Or is it 84%?

No, no. 85%. Yeah.

Oh. You meant
criminal record.

No, Clay, that's all you.

Two petty theft convictions.
Big damn whoop.

And as you know, I'm allowed to sell
my personal collection of firearms.

Not to a minor.
I didn't sell to a minor.

Anyone who says otherwise
is a liar.

Well, how about the minor
you sold it to

who just accidentally shot
his teacher?

You think I sold a g*n to
this little munchkin? Mm-hmm.

I look like that big
a dummy to you?

You sell
semi-automatic weapons

at an abandoned drive-in --
so, yeah,

I'd say you look like
that big a dummy.

This sounds like a classic case
of his word against mine.

And seeing as I have no reason
to risk prison

by selling a g*n to what is
obviously a troubled kid,

I think I'll stick to my story.

Now, you want it or not?

The A.K.

You know what?

I think I'll just wait
till we seize it

when we arrest your a*s
for selling g*ns to a minor.

Manus: We searched Shane Wyatt's
locker and didn't find the g*n,

but we did find a box
of ammunition.

With a receipt from
Gerry's sporting goods store.

The receipt
was time-stamped,

so it made finding
the footage a breeze.

The b*ll*ts weren't sold
to Shane Wyatt.

Carlos: That's Blake Wyatt,
Shane's cousin.

All right. Call Jim and meet him
at the cousin's house.

Okay.

[ Indistinct shouting, g*nf*re ]

What is that?
Is that his television?

[ Scoffs ] I had a neighbor
like this once.

This is how you got to do it.

[ Shouting, g*nf*re continue ]

Yo! Let's go!
Open up!

[ Banging on door ]

Good, huh?

[ Shouting, g*nf*re continue ]

[ Sea gulls squawking ]

Stand back.
Yeah.

[ Explosions, g*nf*re ]

[ Indistinct shouting ]

Hey, so, um, I was thinking

maybe I could take tomorrow off

and we could rent some
waverunners, go up the coast.

We haven't done that
in a while.

Mom, I've got school.

Right.
I know, honey.

I was just thinking
we could take the day off.

I-I have
a huge test tomorrow.

Okay. Right.

I just want to make sure
you're okay, that's all.

I mean, it's pretty upsetting.

- I'm upset.
- Okay.

Mom, look, I'm fine.

Okay? I'm f--
I'm fine.

[ Sighs ]

[ Cellphone ringing ]

It's Kyle.

[ Cellphone beeps ]

Hey, man.
What's up?

Yeah.

No sign of forced entry,

so Blake probably knew
the k*ller.

Glass on the outside

means the attack
probably happened in there.

Took two b*ll*ts, center mass.

Neighbors didn't hear anything

because of the blaring movie
on the television.

Well, it didn't look like
any robbery to me.

Well, if it was,
the robber's an idiot.

I found this in a shoe box
at the back of his closet.

My best guess, all $50s?

I'd say in the neighborhood
of 60 grand.

A 21-year-old part-time
ticket-taker at the cineplex

with $60,000 cash?

Want to make a guess
where the money came from?

Shane bought that g*n
from the flea market, right?

Daniel,
our flea-market entrepreneur,

Clay Malone,
he's in the system, right?

Yeah. Check and see if his
prints are on that money.

You got it.
[ Cellphone rings ]

[ Cellphone beeps ] Colleen?

I ran a background check
on Shane's cousin, Blake Wyatt.

He's the registered owner
of over 100 g*ns.

Yeah, well, no g*ns here.
Just 60 grand in cash.

Here you go. Thanks.

Really?
Well, that makes sense.

I spoke to my contact at A*F

who said that Blake
is on their radar

as a new up-and-comer
in the black market.

Yeah, he's suspected of selling
new and stolen g*ns

to felons and g*ng members.

And flea-market
entrepreneurs?

Where'd he buy the 100 g*ns?

Same place he bought
the box of b*ll*ts --

Gerry's sporting goods.

Gerry Whitlock?

- FDLE?
- Yeah.

Can I help you?

You know a Blake Wyatt?

Blake? Yeah.
He's a customer.

Was a customer.

And apparently a very good one.

We just found him shot to death
in his apartment.

You want to tell me why you
recently sold him 100 g*ns?

Because he wanted 100 g*ns.

And I wasn't gonna turn down
that kind of an order,

not with the big chain stores
breathing down my neck.

So just free enterprise, huh?

Well, I'm just struggling to
keep my doors open as it is.

Well, unfortunately, one of
those g*ns may have ended up

in the hands
of a 15-year-old kid

who accidentally k*lled
his teacher.

What?

Well, now, that's terrible.

But it's got nothing to do
with me.

Or maybe it does.

According to the A*F,

Blake Wyatt was an up-and-comer
in the black-market iron trade.

We just found $60,000
in his apartment

but not one sign of those
100 g*ns that you sold him.

I don't know nothing
about no ill*gal iron trade.

People just like g*ns.
They collect them.

None of my business
why he wanted that many.

Or maybe it was
your business,

and you and Blake
were in it together.

Well, you can't sell
g*ns to felons

'cause the A*F monitors
your books, right?

But you could beat the system

by selling to a collector

who then, in turn,
could sell it on to the felons

at a huge mark-up.

If Blake was
re-selling the g*ns

he bought from me to felons,

then maybe he got
what he had coming to him.

Or maybe you made sure he did,

thinking that Blake might panic

with the whole teacher-sh**ting
thing and rat you out.

So you k*lled him.

[ Chuckles ] You got
the wrong guy, detective.

I run a legitimate business.

Who just so happens to sell
100 g*ns to a 21-year-old kid.

Legally.

[ Bell jingles ]

[ Cellphone beeps ]

Daniel.

I need you to run financials
on a Gerry Whitlock.

Yeah.
And his sporting-goods store.

Legally for now.

But if I find the g*n
that k*lled Coach Ryan

and forever changed the life
of Shane Wyatt

and I link it back to you,

I'll make putting you behind
bars for the rest of your life

the reason I get up
every morning.

You have yourself a good day.

Shane Wyatt was arraigned
in juvenile court an hour ago.

He's back home now
with his mother.

Well, with his cousin dead,

any change to the story
about where the g*n came from?

No. No, he's still saying
he got it at the flea market.

Eh, it's still just
a "he said, he said."

Yeah, well, look. Let's give
the boy a couple of days.

What, with the school sh**ting
and his cousin's m*rder,

no doubt he has a lot
of things to sort out.

Well...

Speaking of, I just finished
Blake Wyatt's autopsy.

Ooh. Time of death?

I'd say between
4:00 and 5:00 P.M.

- 4:00 and 5:00 P.M.
- Hey, hey, hey, hey.

I better not see
any new flat-screens

in your apartment
anytime soon, all right?

Or I'll know exactly
where you got the money.

What? Oh.
[ Chuckles ]

No, I'm, uh, checking this
into the evidence room.

And I need you to check
all the traffic cams

around Blake Wyatt's apartment.

See if any car registered
to store owner Gerry Whitlock

or our flea-market genius,
Clay Malone,

was in the vicinity
between 4:00 and 5:00 P.M.

Will do. And as you suspected,
the lab found

Clay Malone's fingerprints
all over this money.

Which means he had to be doing
business with Blake Wyatt.

But Blake Wyatt was buying
new, registered g*ns

at the sporting-goods store.

Clay Malone only sold used g*ns

from his private collection.

"Used" as in previously owned
by Blake Wyatt

for the time that it took him

to buy them
from Gerry's sporting goods,

then file off
the serial numbers,

and then sell them on to
Clay Malone as "stolen,"

because felons will pay
up to 10 times the retail price

for something that
they can't buy legally

and something that can't be
traced back to them.

But Blake's dead and Clay's
already shut you down.

Good luck proving
that little theory.

Hmm.

Uh, that's supposed to go
to the evidence room.

That's where I'm taking it.

Hey, Ed.

Hey... Detective.

I don't see you down here
in evidence much.

To what do I owe
the pleasure?

Just need you to, uh, put
this into evidence for me --

60 grand.

Oh. Okay.

And I need to check
something out.

Check something out?

Yeah.
Some stolen weapons.

- On whose authority?
- Mine.

You don't have authority.

Come on. I'll have them back
to you in a couple of hours.

No.
You don't understand.

I'm in charge of these weapons.

They don't leave my possession

until they're destroyed
by the state of Florida,

following
the successful conviction

of whoever used them
in the commission of a crime.

So what you're saying is
these g*ns,

under no circumstances, ever,
ever leave your possession?

Yes, sir.
That's what I'm saying.

I don't think I can do this.

Jim:
You're doing fine.

W-why'd you stop?
Don't stop.

What if I blow this?

If you blow it,

he'll probably put a b*llet
right between your eyes.

Ed, I'm kidding, okay?
Just -- you know what?

Walk. Just walk.

Hey.
I help you with something?

Well, actually,

I thought
that I might help you.

What the hell
are you talking about?

I heard that this was a place
where I might...

Lighten my load.

Lighten your load?

If you don't cut
the weird sh*t,

I'll do more
than lighten your load.

Yeah, well, I'm all stocked up
on firearms.

Jim:
He's negotiating, ed.

Just say "fine" and walk away.

Fine.

Now, wait up.
Wait up.

Might as well see
what you got, right?

Well, no.
Not here, dummy.

Now, remember,
you have to let him know

that the g*ns are stolen.

Yeah, I will.
Huh?

Add that all of my
merchandise is top-quality

and completely untraceable.

Whew.

Stolen?
I don't buy stolen.

Did I say stolen?

Yeah. Fair enough.

Okay, I'll take the GL*CK,

the sig,
and the two a.K. Shorties.

Give you three bills per.
That do you?

That's only $1,200.

Well, yeah.
I'm taking all the risk.

Ed.

Fine.

[ Groans ]

Aah!

- What the hell?
- Really?

You're gonna pull a g*n
on an officer of the court?

He drawed down on me first.

This is entrapment,
pure and simple.

Or you could realize you had
drawed down on FDLE's finest

and thank your lucky stars
you're not dead.

Head between your knees, Ed.

Don't forget to breathe.

Seriously?

Hey, Colleen!

You used Ed Vickers undercover?

I did. Yeah.

He did fine, by the way.

Does he look fine to you?

He looks okay to me.

Yeah. See,
Ed Vickers doesn't smoke.

Look, see? He's even
getting his color back.

And we did get Clay Malone.

Yeah, I had Daniel
look into Clay's finances.

He's involved in a number
of cash-only,

off-the-books businesses.

Like selling g*ns to anyone
with a fistful of dollars?

You think
he k*lled Blake Wyatt?

Well, he certainly
wanted to k*ll Ed Vickers,

so I think he would.

Did the FDLE divers
find the g*n

that Shane Wyatt
threw into the canals

behind the flood channels?

Not yet.
They're still looking.

Hey, Ed.

[ Gasps ]

Okay, can we agree now that
you are that big a dummy?

Holding an FDLE officer
at gunpoint?

A guy comes into my place
of business

with a duffel full of g*ns.

I'm well within my rights
to defend myself.

[ Laughs ]
That's very good.

Defending yourself
against Ed Vickers?

You saw his I.D.,
and you panicked.

I saw the murderous look
in his eye,

and I had no way of knowing
his intent.

That's my statement,

and that's what my attorney's
gonna argue at my bond hearing.

Is there anything else you'd like
to cover until he gets here?

I know what you're about, Clay.

You like
your businesses in cash

and your freedoms unfettered
from the long arm of the law,

a law that you skirt
by calling stolen weapons

your "private collection"

so you can skip all those
pesky background checks

that keeps weapons
out of the hands of felons

and violent offenders.

I've never sold a g*n
to a felon.

You can't prove that I have.

Yeah, but I'm working on it.

And as soon as I find the g*n
that Shane Wyatt used

to accidentally
k*ll his teacher

and prove that you're, uh,
buying stolen weapons

and selling them as
your "private collection,"

I'll make sure
you get 10 years for that

and 20 years for m*rder.

Accidental death ain't m*rder.

I'm not talking
about accidental death.

I'm talking about the m*rder
of Blake Wyatt.

[ Sighs ]

Whose $60,000 that we found
in his apartment

had your fingerprints
all over it.

I didn't k*ll Blake.

He was your straw man,

buying weapons for you
however he could --

legally, illegally --

until one of those weapons
ends up in the hands

of his cousin, Shane.

And rather than risk Blake
cutting a deal on you

when all that came to light,

you went with
your first instinct --

k*ll Blake,
keep your a*s out of jail.

First off, smart guy, I'd rather
blow a hole in my head

than see t inside of a prison cell.
[ Chuckles ]

And if I did k*ll Blake,

why didn't I just walk out
of there with $60,000, huh?

Because, "smart guy,"
as we've already established...

You are that big a dummy.

[ Scoffs ]

Hey.

I didn't know
you were working today.

Oh, 'cause I'm not.

I'm just dropping off a copy
of my nursing license

and filling out some paperwork.

Hmm.
How's Jeff holding up?

He's still not talking
about it.

Hmm.
That's not good.

No. He needs to.

He doesn't really
transition well,

and I know he was looking
forward to seeing Coach Ryan

when he started freshman year.

You know Addy, my oldest,

had her own issues
about starting high school.

Trust me,
there were a lot of nights

filled with tears --
mostly mine.

But it got easier
once she got in with friends

who were sophomores
and juniors,

kids who already knew
the ins and outs

of life at Palm Glade High.

Unfortunately, Jeff doesn't know
any sophomores or juniors.

Hmm.
Are you sure about that?

[ Doorbell rings ]

[ Dog barks in distance ]

[ Knock on door ]

I need to speak to your son.

Mrs. Wyatt,
I'm not the enemy here.

I'm trying to find out
who k*lled your nephew.

Unfortunately,
it may all be wrapped up

with how your son got ahold
of that g*n yesterday.

Thank you.

How's he doing?

How should he be doing?

He can't sleep, he won't eat.

Kids are tweeting
he's a m*rder*r.

Where is he?

He's alone in his room.

Can I talk to him?

Mrs. Wyatt,
this isn't your son's fault,

but he will have to live with
this for the rest of his life.

Getting to the truth
is an important first step...

No matter how painful it might
be for you and your family.

You know, Blake was
Shane's best friend,

his hero.

When my husband and I were
going through our divorce,

Blake was really there
for his cousin.

He looked after Shane.

Like when Shane started having
trouble at school,

like maybe with bullies?

Oh, Blake would never
d-do anything

to put Shane at risk,
detective.

I don't know anything
about any... g*n business.

You say he was into that.
I have to believe you.

But Blake loved my son.

And my son loved Blake.

Then help me find his k*ller.

[ Sighs ]

Shane?

Shane.

Honey?

Shane?

Shane?

Shane!

He's gone!

Jim: This won't bring
Coach Ryan back.

Leave me alone.

This isn't the answer, Shane.

Don't come any closer.
I mean it.

Okay. Yeah, yeah.
I know you do.

I'm sorry...
But I have to do this.

No, actually, you don't.

Look, what happened
was tragic, yeah,

but it was an accident.

You don't have to do this.

He and his wife
just had a baby.

He brought her in
to school one day.

She was really cute.

He was so proud of her.

Now she'll never
know her dad.

Listen, uh, I know you don't
believe this right now,

but you will
get through this.

I mean, you have your mom,
you have each other,

and she needs you now
more than ever.

She can't lose you, too.

Okay, fine. You don't want to
listen to me, that's fine.

That's cool.

Listen to Coach Ryan.

Would he want you to jump?

If he was here,
right here, right now,

would he say
that you deserve this,

you deserve to die?

I mean, he came here

totop you from making
a mistake, right?

'Cause he knew your life
was worth living.

He came here to stop you
from throwing away your life,

and he still can.

Shane...
Don't let Coach Ryan down.

It's okay.

[ Sobbing ]

The AK's less expensive, but it has
a lower muzzle velocity.

Now, the AR-15,
on the other hand,

is much more accurate.

It's built with
aircraft-grade aluminum.

And best of all,

it's built right here
in the good ol' U.S. of a.

You think this is a game?

I just talked a 15-year-old
out of taking his own life

because he k*lled a man with
b*ll*ts bought from your store

and fired, no doubt,
from one of your g*ns.

Really?
You need an AK-47?

Yeah.
I have a rabbit problem.

Call an exterminator, Billy.

You sold Blake Wyatt 100 g*ns,

which nobody
seems to be able to find.

So you tell me,
why shouldn't I believe

that one of those g*ns
wasn't used to k*ll Coach Ryan

and why I shouldn't believe
that you k*lled Blake Wyatt

so you could keep this little
g*n-running side business a secret?

Because maybe I don't have
a g*n-running side business.

Well, we ran your financials,
Gerry, and guess what.

You're right. This store
is circling the drain.

But apparently you can afford
a two-bedroom suite

at Paradise Island

and a high-stakes poker game,
all paid for with cash.

Okay, okay, okay.
But it's not what you think.

My store ain't
swirling the drain.

Business has actually
been pretty good.

Yeah, your g*n business
is booming.

But if I start showing
a profit like that,

one of these
major mega-stores

is gonna set up shop
across from me,

and I might as well
shut my doors.

Which would put
some serious hurt

on your ability to put together

those, uh, large
cash-only g*n orders

for people without
a felony record, huh?

No, no, no.
It's not like that, I swear it.

Okay, I cook the books
a little, okay?

You got me on that.

But I'm as upset as anybody
about Coach Ryan.

I sponsored the guy.
He was a friend.

Hell, he coached both my girls.

So you either
you were super pissed

or guilty as hell that one
of your g*ns took his life,

so you took it out on Blake.

I didn't k*ll Blake Wyatt!

And I heard the police
haven't found the g*n

that k*lled Coach Ryan, either.

So how do you know the g*n
came from my store?

I don't, not yet.

But I promise you
I will find that g*n.

And so help me God,

if I find out it came
from this store...

Don't even think about it.
You'll spoil your dinner.

Yeah, what's up with the,
uh, salad?

That's, like, enough to feed an army.
We're having guests.

Who?
Carlos.

Like, "Carlos from work"
Carlos?

Yeah, "Carlos from work"
Carlos.

- Why?
- Why not?

[ Doorbell rings ]

Can you get that?

Yeah.

Hey, Dr. Sanchez.

Hey, Jeff.

Uh, Addy, you remember Jeff
from your quinceañera?

Sure. Hey.

Hey. What's up?

Um...
Uh, yeah.

Hey, Carlos. Hi, addy.
You look amazing.

Oh, thank you.

Uh, wine?

Uh, thank you.
[ Chuckles ]

Come on in.

[ Sighs ]

Our flea-market entrepreneur,
Clay Malone, made bail.

Of course he did.

Daniel's going over footage
from the traffic cams

around Blake's apartment
from 4:00 to 5:00 P.M.,

time of death.

Gerry Whitlock is the registered
owner of two cars.

Clay Malone owns one.

None of their cars appear
in Blake Wyatt's neighborhood

around his time of death.

I did find one odd thing,
though.

This black van,
license plate number Q70-413.

Okay what about it?

Well, it was totaled and junked

by an insurance company
two years ago.

That van has no
current registration.

So it shouldn't be on the road.
Right.

You said Clay had a lot
of cash businesses?

Anything to turn a buck.

Well, he sold auto parts
at the flea market.

I wonder where
he got them from.

You think he built that van
out of parts from his junkyard?

Well, if he does own
a junkyard,

it's not listed under
his name -- I checked.

But the inventory of these
junkyards is all computerized.

If parts from this van were ever
listed as available for sale,

I can get an address.

Well, if the van
was put back together

and was put back together
by Clay,

that puts him
in the same vicinity

as Blake's apartment right
about the time of the m*rder.

Check all junkyards.

Find anyone that sells parts
belonging to that van.

Yeah, on it.

Oh, and call me
when you get something.

Yeah. Um...

Don't put that
in your mouth.

So, addy,

Jeff is gonna be starting
Palm Glade next year.

Any advice?

Dad.

Jeff, do you have anything
you want to ask Addy,

like favorite teachers,
best electives to take --

no.

No. Nothing.

Hmm.

Uh, dessert?

Great idea.
I'll help you clean up.

Thank you!

Okay.
You done, honey?

- Yeah.
- Okay.

Okay.

Look, I'm sorry.

This is completely lame
and embarrassing.

It's okay. I get it.

Xstation?

Yeah.

Do you have "Wicked Speed"?

You...
Like "Wicked Speed"?

Yeah.

That's awesome.
[ Chuckles ]

Here, come on.

[ Tires screeching ]

Made you mess up.
Look at that. Oh!

Jeff: So what?
I'm still going ahead of you.

- I'm gonna go over.
- No.

See, no rules.
It's all or nothing here.

I'm about to take the controller
out of your hand.

Oh. You can try.

[ Static ]
What? Daniel.

I-I can't hear
what you're saying.

Reception's really bad.

[ Static ]

It sounded like you said,
did I find the junkyard?

Can't hear you.

You know what?
Never mind.

And, yeah, I found it.

[ Cellphone beeps ]

[ Metal clangs ]

No junkyard dog.

[ Tools clatter ]

Oh, come on.

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

You don't have to do this,
you know!

[ g*n c*ck ]

You can turn yourself in.

I'd say that ship has sailed!

I will k*ll you,
you know that, right?

Yeah, I know.

But this ends tonight,
detective, right here.

For you or for me --
sh**t or be shot!

k*ll or be k*lled!

Well, that's nine.

18.

Just one.
Oh, that's just great.

[ g*n clicking ]

And that makes 20.

And my algebra teacher said I
would never amount to anything.

[ Air hisses, metal creaks ]

Drop it.

[ g*n clicks ]

Now.

Aah!

You idiot.

I don't want to go to jail.

Well, that's stating
the obvious.

You should have just k*lled me,
you know.

Yeah. But then I'd have
to live with that.

Trust me.
You're not worth the nightmare.

m*rder and g*n running.

For someone who hates
the idea of prison,

you sure have made
a lot of bad choices.

I'll cop participating in the
ill*gal g*n trade, detective.

Oh, well, that's big of you.

But m*rder, no way.

Blake Wyatt was a dummy,

evidenced by the fact
that he gave a firearm

to his
15-year-old cousin.

But to all that is holy,
I did not k*ll him!

We saw your van
in the neighborhood

around the time
of his m*rder, so...

I was buying
stolen firearms off him.

But when I left,
he was very much alive.

To that I'd swear
on my mother's grave!

Blake's k*ller is still
out there, detective!

- We're gonna need a bigger truck.
- Yeah.

Can you believe this?

I mean, we could arm
a small army with these weapons.

Or a whole bunch of bad guys.

And every single one
of the serial numbers

have been filed off of them.

Yeah, supplier's trying
to cover his tracks.

We do everything we can to
keep the g*ns off the street,

but how are you supposed to
keep up with this?

I mean, look at this.

A crate of HK-416s.

I mean, I don't even know

where you go to legally
buy one of these.

I confiscated a bunch of these

off of a drug bust
a couple years ago.

Oh and look at this.
A Browning Citori?

[ Scoffing ] Wow.

Do you know that A*F

took down an outlaw
motorcycle g*ng last year

who gave each one
of their new prospects

one of these for patching in?

[ g*n clicks ]
[ Exhales sharply ]

Clay Malone must have
one hell of a source

to get this much volume
and variety of weapons.

Yeah.

Daniel?

Daniel, I need you to look
into something for me.

[ Birds chirping ]

Hey.

- Hey.
- How you doing?

Yeah.

I have an idea who might have
k*lled your cousin, Shane.

But I'm gonna need your help.

My help?

I need the g*n he gave you.

You know,
the g*n that he gave you

to protect you from
those asswipes at school?

You didn't throw it in the canal
behind the flood channels.

We've had divers searching
the last couple of days, so...

You were just
trying to protect Blake,

weren't you, Shane?

Which, hey, look,
I totally get.

The guy's been there for you
your whole life.

You could be kind of a d*ck
not to, wouldn't you?

Well, this is your chance
to be there for Blake, Shane.

Tell me where the g*n is

so I can use it to nail the guy
that k*lled him.

[ Door opens ]

Hey, Ed. I've got another g*n
for you to log in.

[ Beeping ]

Is it...
From the junkyard, too?

No, but it is the g*n that set everything
into motion. What do you mean?

It's the g*n that k*lled
Coach Ryan.

The serial numbers have been filed
off just like all the others,

but you know the one thing
that the person

that filed off those numbers
didn't know?

Hydrochloric acid
can make them reappear.

[ Chuckles ] I know, right?
It's called chemical etching?

Ballistics will prove that this.
38 was the g*n that k*lled Coach Ryan,

and it also will prove that
it was used in another crime

and ended up in
this very evidence room.

Yeah, all the weapons
from the junkyard

actually have been
in this room before.

That HK-416s,
the Browning Citoris

that was confiscated
from that biker g*ng.

And what was it you said to me?

Um...

Under no circumstances

would any of those weapons
leave your possession

without being destroyed, right?

Well, they weren't destroyed,
were they, Ed?

You put them back out
onto the streets

as years of large cash deposits
into your bank prove.

You filed off
the serial number,

and you sold this g*n
to Blake Wyatt.

When you heard that Blake's
cousin had shot a teacher,

you knew that it was
going to come back to Blake

and he might squeal on you.

Hmm?

So you had to do something
about it, huh?

You had to k*ll him.

I'll take that idiotic look
on his face as a confession.

Turn around.

You know what working 14 years
in this room has taught me?

That you need to get out more?

That it doesn't matter!

No matter how many g*ns
you take off the street,

it doesn't matter.

That many more
will just find their way

back into the same hands!

So why not make a bit
of a profit? Is that it?

Well, while you were
figuring in this profit,

did you factor in the amount of
lives that you changed forever,

you greedy little prick?

Yeah.
I didn't think so.

You know what?
Take this guy away

- before I use one of these on him.
- All right, let's go.

Come on.

Ay-yi-yi-yi-yi.

That's the guy
who k*lled Blake?

Yeah.
Yeah, that's him.

What's gon happen to Shane?

Well, given that the sh**ting
was an accident

and he doesn't have
a juvenile record

and helped me find the k*ller,

I would say the thing
that's gonna happen next

is he's going to go home
with you,

and you guys can start putting
your lives back together.

And, Shane, there's nothing
anybody can say

that'll make sense
of what happened

or ease the pain
you must be going through,

but just... give it time,

and you and your mom
can put this behind you.

Come on, baby.

- Thank you.
- All right.

[ Sighs ]

How's Jeff doing?

Uh, he's better.

He's talking about it now.

- That's good.
- Yeah.

He and Addy bonded over

"the drama
of starting high school."

Ohh, the dramas of high school.

That can be pretty...
Dramatic.

I think he just needed to know

that there is somebody there
he can reach out to.

Yeah. Well, knowing that
there's someone there for you

makes all the difference
in the world.

You know what?
I could really go for a beer.

That sounds great.
[ Chuckles ]

Want to, uh, maybe do that?

Yeah.

That sounds great.

♪ Don't stop even
for the right thing ♪

♪ does it matter what I say? ♪

♪ ooh ♪

♪ my whole world
was by that river ♪

♪ flowing off to meet
the sea each day ♪

♪ I don't want to move away ♪

♪ mm, mm, mm ♪

♪ brighter days ♪

♪ where did they go? ♪

♪ yeah, Lord, I'll never see
brighter days ♪

♪ where did they go? ♪