04x11 - Down Where the Dead Delight

[bunniefuu]

Previously on Elementary...

A police detective came to my house this morning and all her questions were about you.

Did she tell you her name?

Gina Cortes.

I take it you've never used a consultant.

Real cops do the job themselves.

That's how it works.

You don't belong.

I don't know what to tell you, Detective--

I'm not going anywhere.

You want to fight me?

That's how it's done, right, when two cops have a problem with each other and they can't resolve it? There's a ring right there.

Holmes: You, of course, need to work on your defense.

You allowed Cortes to land far too many punches.

But all that matters is that I landed the last one.

I was looking for that.

Looking for what?

Bob.

Yeah, well, I found him first.

What did Bob do to you?

Bob didn't do anything.

Someone did something.

Yeah, remember Detective Cortes?

Burglary Division, 6-4 squad, Coney Island, and your stalker for awhile.

Yeah, well she's back.

I thought you two already settled your differences in the ring.

Ah, so did I, but then Marcus said she came by the 11th, wouldn't say what she wanted, just said she was looking for me.

Oh, you're preparing for a rematch.

Just working out some frustration.

(sighs)

I'm gonna go by her precinct tomorrow.

See how she likes it...

(grunting): when someone pops in on her.

(elevator bell dings)

♪ I'm not saying my baby's a saint 'cause he ain't ♪
♪ And that he won't cat around with a kitty ♪
♪ I'm just a-telling you, gal, to lay off of my man... ♪

Don't play hard to get with me, Eugene.

Nicole: ♪ I'm just a-telling you, gal ♪
♪ To lay off of my man... ♪

If you don't want to go to Fist City.

Oh, correct answers must be sung, not recited.

What do you got, Nicki?

Omar Velez.

Homeless Latino man, age 51.

Nicole: five-foot-nine, 170 pounds.

Eyes green, hair brown. Was found on a trail in Idlewild Park around 6:00 this morning.

And what brings Mr. Velez to our fine establishment?

Blood loss, organ damage, multiple lacerations in the chest and torso area, Kn*fe wounds.

Homicide, no question.

Oh, we're a little backed up today, probably won't be able to get to this one till tomorrow... uh... we can park him in D3, but let's get a core temp first.

Way ahead of you.

The detectives asked for time of death, so I took care of that at the crime scene.

Mr. Velez drew his last breath around 5:15 this morning.

So, uh...

(grunting): I don't know if you're busy, but... I know you like hockey, uh, and, uh, I have an extra, uh, ticket to the Rangers game tonight.

Are you asking me out, Eugene?

Maybe.

Meet you here at six?

Deal.

♪ Well, I was born a coal miner's daughter ♪
♪ In a cabin on a hill in... ♪
♪ Elementary 4x11 ♪
Down Where the Dead Delight
Original Air Date on February 4, 2016

(indistinct radio transmissions)

Hawes: I-I was with Nicole and then-then there was this sound and then... she was gone.

Let's get him to the hospital.

No, no hospital.

I'm a witness. I want to help.

You sure it was a b*mb, not some gas line thing?

It was a b*mb. Based on the damage here, it was about the size of a loaf of bread.

D-Do you remember anything out of place? Anything out of the ordinary?

No, I was here all morning.

The only other person I saw was Nicole.

The blast pattern emanates from inside the body cooler.

It was either planted there...

Or someone hid it inside a body.

She was here to drop one off, was she not?

Homeless guy.

Omar... uh, Omar something.

Um, Velez. Uh, he had a lacerated torso.

Big enough for a loaf of bread?

If you removed a few organs, yeah.

Doesn't make any sense. Why blow up a morgue?

The best guess is the bomber wanted to hide the evidence of a homicide.

You know, blow up a few bodies, don't have to worry about what turns up in an autopsy.

Sombra Roja.

What?

Sombra Roja.

The cartel-- we got five Honduran g*ng members down here the other day.

That sh**t-out at Port Morris?

Narcotics are sure it was Sombra Roja.

They were hoping the autopsies could turn up something concrete. I'll pull the files, there's got to be some evidence we can... No, we can get it.

You need to go to the hospital.

Do me a favor.

Don't be too careful when you make the arrests.

People who did this...

...they belong down here.

How familiar are you two with Sombra Roja?

The Red Shadow are a recent arrival from Zacatecas.

This would not be the first time that they've used expl*sives, however, in their short tenure in New York.

Yeah, they were responsible for a car b*mb that k*lled a judge in Brooklyn.

Yeah, the FBI is still building their case, but, yeah, that's them.

I'm gonna call the Feds, see if they can point us to anyone specific.

While I endorse the cartel's candidacy for this crime, I don't think we should put all our eggs in one basket, so you assist the Captain.

I'll enlist Detective Bell to commandeer the Omar Velez case...

Because the person who k*lled him is probably the same one who put a b*mb in his gut.

So, this is where Omar Velez's body was discovered.

Apparently, the jogger who found it almost tripped, it was so close to the path.

Well, you don't go through the trouble of stuffing a body full of expl*sives and then risk it not being found, do you?

How's Hawes?

He's not good.

The woman who d*ed was important to him.

Nicole. Yeah, I worked with her a couple times.

She was nice.

What is it?

Hold this for me, would you?

♪ ♪

(phone ringing)

What the hell are you doing?

There's some police tape over here and footprints from police-issued boots.

At some point in the last 48 hours... this was an active crime scene.

A crime scene?

Just 30 yards from where Omar Velez was found this morning?

A coincidence, no?

I think it would behoove us to find out what happened here.

Detective Cortes, maybe you hadn't heard, but a b*mb went off in an OCME building today.

In about 15 minutes, I am meeting my captain, and an attorney for a drug cartel we think is responsible.

So, if you don't mind tabling this whole I-cost-your-friend-a-job thing, I will happily kick your ass at another time.

Actually, I came here to ask for your help.

I did hear about the b*mb, but I didn't know you were working it.

I guess I should have figured.

You and your partner get whatever you want, right?

Sorry I bothered you.

What do you want my help with?

Case.

I'm trying to get my hands on a suspect, only no one seems to know where he is.

It's been weeks now, and I actually got desperate enough to come see you.

I thought real cops didn't use consultants.

Like I said, I'm desperate.

This is my last stop before the psychic.

But, hey, you've got your hands full, so I'll let you know how it goes on the crystal ball circuit.

Leave the file.

I'll look at it when I can.

Why on Earth would you think my client would b*mb a morgue?

Because he is the head of Sombra Roja, and because the bodies of five m*rder*d Honduran gangsters were destroyed in that blast.

Bodies that his men put there.

We think autopsies would produce some evidence that your client didn't want revealed.

Gregson: Now, normally, he wouldn't care if any of his underlings went down.

They never talk when they're captured, and it's easy enough to rotate new sicarios into the country.

But the men that k*lled those Hondurans, they weren't just any underlings now, were they?

We know Mr. Barranco's nephews, Justino and Angel, arrived in town last week.

We also know that they have a few notches on their belts.

Watson: Your client might not blow up a morgue to protect his foot soldiers, but family is different.

My client and his nephews are businessmen.

Look at their bank statements, their tax returns.

It's all above board.

Oh, I'm sure there's not a comma out of place.

You're good at what you do.

And so is the FBI.

And they're pretty sure that Sombra Roja used a car b*mb to assassinate Judge Malthus in Park Slope last year right in front of a fund-raiser for the bar association.

One theory that occurred to us was that another guest distracted the judge while the b*mb was planted.

You were there that night, right?

Would you like the NYPD to publically investigate that theory, Mr. Rivera?

Let me ask you something about that car b*mb.

Was it made of commercial, plastic expl*sives, like this... device... that went off at your morgue?

No.

Maybe that's because commercial, plastic expl*sives are some of the most regulated substances in the country.

You need a license to get anywhere near them.

Records are kept.

It's all very traceable.

I imagine most cartels are smart enough to avoid the stuff.

Maybe.

Maybe scumbags make mistakes sometimes.

Let's assume, for a moment, your morgue hadn't exploded.

Imagine it turned out autopsies were completed on the dead Hondurans.

And imagine, it turned out that one of those men wasn't a Honduran at all.

Maybe he was a... rogue member of Sombra Roja.

A man who exchanged g*nf*re with the other four, then d*ed at the scene.

If that were true, this att*ck on the Hondurans would be a closed loop, and Sombra Roja certainly wouldn't have had any reason to b*mb a morgue.

(phone chirps)

That's an awfully specific hypothetical, not to mention, a convenient one.

Then let's not call it a hypothetical.

Let's call it a fact.

I can utilize certain resources to...

...help you identify the Sombra Roja soldier.

You'll see I'm telling the truth.

(phone chirping)

(sighs)

Will you excuse me a moment?

You know you pulled me out of a meeting, right?

On general principle you needn't worry about being rude to a cartel lawyer, and certainly not in this case.

I no longer believe that Sombra Roja was involved, or that the bombing was about the slain Hondurans.

Then who was it about?

This young woman.

Her remains were amongst those decimated this morning.

Detective Bell and I have just returned from...

Idlewild Park.

While standing here, at the site Omar Velez's body was discovered, I noticed police tape on the other side of this creek, here.

Imagine my surprise discovering a second crime scene.

It seems that this young woman was strangled, her body sunk, only to pop up two days ago.

I'm surprised we didn't hear about that.

Well, we probably would have, were it not for the fact that this creek separates Idlewild Park from North Woodmere Park.

It also happens to be the border between Queens County and Nassau County.

She and Omar Velez were discovered a stone's throw from one another, but their cases were not linked thanks to a cruel trick of municipal geography.

So, Omar Velez landed with the NYPD, while Nassau County handled her death, but if she was found outside our jurisdiction, what was she doing in our morgue?

Nassau County's small facility was full, thanks to a multi-car pile-up on the L.I.E. a few days ago.

The overflow had been going to Mr. Hawes.

Nassau police bagged her hands at the scene.

It appears she scratched her attacker before she d*ed.

So his DNA was under her nails?

Presumably.

He tried, and failed, to sink her body.

Once she was discovered, he had a problem.

So, he sliced up Velez, stuffed a b*mb inside him, and then dumped him at the same site.

He assumed the body of his second victim would go to the same morgue as the first.

The b*mb would destroy, or contaminate, any evidence that led back to him.

Whatever remained would be inadmissible.

He inadvertently calculated correctly.

Omar Velez was a dead end, but if we can figure out who wanted her dead, we'll have our bomber.

Precisely.

Okay, so who was she?

I have no idea. No one does.

That's the problem.

She's a Jane Doe.

Gregson: Okay, so we don't know her name.

What do we know about her?

She was strangled, b*at up pretty good before that.

Somebody was angry.

Severe bruising on the legs and hips.

Looks like she was repeatedly kicked or punched.

The water was frigid-- I can personally attest to that.

So exact time of death was difficult to ascertain.

But the best guess is she was k*lled somewhere in the 48 hours prior to being discovered.

And she doesn't turn up on any missing persons lists?

Her name remains unknown.

Her number, however, appears to be three.

You don't think this could be a serial?

Some creep numbering his victims before he dumps them.

That's a fear. Nassau detectives have been making lists of crimes with similar characteristics, looking for any overlap with what happened to Jane Doe, but I took a look.

Didn't see a pattern yet.

Her name was Janet of the Apes.

That's her.

It's got to be. How did you...

I treated a girl in the ER once who needed stitches after a roller derby match.

Her hips were covered in bruises like those.

I was about to call social services when she told me it was from all the “checking” she did on the track.

She had a number on her arm, too.

Players have to write them there so the refs can tell them apart.

This isn't some message from a serial k*ller, it's our Jane Doe's roller derby number.

Well, if she has a roller derby number, she'll have roller derby teammates.

We should go visit the Bombastic Brooklyn Bettys.

♪ Glory, glory ♪
♪ A change in the wind ♪
♪ Oh, hallelujah ♪
♪ We all insane... ♪

You can almost smell the estrogen, can't you?

Perhaps instead of a ring, you and Detective Cortes could settle your differences here, on wheels.

Actually, I don't think there's going to be a rematch.

She came by the station this morning.

Turns out she wants my help with a case.

What sort of a case?

There's been a rash of home invasion robberies in her precinct.

She thinks someone named Hector Mendoza is responsible.

She wants my help to find him.

Why your help?

I don't know, maybe because I'm good at what I do?

What?

Well, until this morning, she was your enemy.

She's not an enemy. I don't have enemies.

I'm not like you.

You think she's messing with me again?

I think, based on your description, she's the kind of woman who holds grudges.

She's also been known to employ unorthodox methods of harassment.

So, how is finding a criminal a method of harassment?

Your assuming Hector Mendoza is a criminal.

He might be an undercover policeman, or a very good friend of the mayor's.

I'm just saying, proceed with caution.

Woman: Oh, my God, that's Janet.

Janet Heffernan.

Someone k*lled her?

A few days ago.

Did you know her well?

No, none of us did.

She only joined the team a few weeks ago.

Did anything about her jump out at you, anything unusual?

Yes?

I tweaked my knee a few weeks ago.

Janet told me she could sell me some oxy for the pain.

So, she was a drug dealer?

I don't know.

I told her I was fine, but... yeah, maybe.

Would you have Ms. Heffernan's address, by any chance?

We've got medical releases for everybody.

Wait here and I'll get hers for you.

Thank you.

Holmes: What about Cyclone Joan?

Joan of Bark?

Janet left her computer signed in to an e-mail account, but it looks like it was just for work.

I see messages but... they're just from oxy clients, no one else.

Joan Cold k*ller, perhaps?

Will you stop it with the roller derby names for me?

Swat-son.

What is that?

A container of garlic salt, rather suspiciously hidden beneath the sink in the bathroom.

Oh.

Not the stash of a kingpin.

I would wager Ms. Heffernan was rather a small player in the oxycodone game.

I think you're right. It looks like she only had about a dozen customers.

In the case of m*rder*d drug dealers, drug buyers make excellent suspects.

I don't know. Most of these messages are just working out logistics for really small transactions.

I mean, it's possible that Janet was k*lled over a hundred bucks, but take a look at this.

This was sent six days ago to Toby Dannon.

Looks like one of her regulars.

“Dude, Dylan says he saw you leaving my parking lot last night. I swore you were never here, but he's super mad.”

So, since she doesn't only have multiple clients, she has multiple men.

Well, there aren't any e-mails to or from a Dylan in this account, but he sounds like a jealous boyfriend.

Perhaps Toby Dannon will know something about the night he was cuckolding.

That's if Mr. Dannon hasn't already been strangled and left in a creek.

You know, I saw his address... in one of his e-mails to Janet.

Here.

He lives in Morris Park.

I'll call Marcus.

Can I help you?

I'm Detective Marcus Bell.

I'm looking for Toby Dannon.

I'm his father. Is everything okay?

I'd just like to ask him a few questions.

Why? Did something happen?

I think it's better if I discuss it with Toby.

Is he here?

Well, he is, but this is my house, and he's my son. I think I have a right to know what you want to talk to him about.

I want to talk about the fact that his drug dealer was m*rder*d a few days ago.

Can I come in now?

I-I mean, uh, yeah, yeah, it's-it's true.

I was buying oxy off of-of Janet.

Toby, what the hell were you thinking?

Did you ever drive a truck onto one of my sites when you were on that stuff?

Did you ever run a saw?

Due respect, Mr. Dannon, I have a few questions of my own I'd like to ask.

Maybe you could give us a minute.

Listen, I'm not here for some kind of midnight raid, okay?

Nobody's getting dragged down to the station.

I just want to talk to you about what happened to Janet.

(stammers) What do you-what do you mean?

What-what happened?

She was strangled.

Three days ago.

A couple of my colleagues were at Janet's apartment today.

They found an e-mail she sent, warning you to be careful because someone named Dylan had seen you leaving her parking lot.

That name ring a bell?

Yeah, uh, Dylan is Dylan Hess.

He was a boyfriend of hers, on and off.

He was a jerk.

She seemed to think he might try to hurt you.

That because you and Janet had something on the side, he found out, got jealous?

No, no, nothing like that.

Then what was the problem?

Janet told me that Dylan didn't want her... around any dr*gs.

Using, selling, any of it. um, me and-and the people she sold it to, we were a part of the problem.

And Janet, she got tired of hearing it, so... that's one of the reasons why they broke up.

They weren't together anymore?

A-About a month ago they got in a fight.

Like a, like a fight fight.

Like h-he sent her to the hospital.

After that, they were done.

You ever meet this guy?

You think Dylan could have k*lled Janet?

Honestly, I don't know who else it could have been.

You said you had something for me?

What is this really about?

What's what really about?

You said you wanted my help finding Hector Mendoza.

I do.

The information you gave me was mostly about him.

Mug sh*t, rap sheet, list of known associates, but there was nothing in there about the home invasions you said he's been pulling off.

So?

There hasn't been a home invasion robbery in Coney Island since October, and that guy was caught by you.

Hector Mendoza has a record.

He's in a g*ng, but as far as I can tell, he's not wanted by anyone for anything.

So, I'll ask you again. What is this really about?

Figured I'd waste a little of your time, but hey, you're smarter than I thought.

Congrats.

You're lying.

About what?

All of it.

You want this guy found.

You just don't want to tell me why.

Good luck with the b*mb thing.

If you need a hand in Coney Island you know who to call.

I see you got Marcus' text.

“Dylan Hess en route to precinct.”

That's him in there.

Marcus is letting him stew for a moment, and then we'll begin.

I want to talk to you about Detective Cortes.

First, I'd like you to know, that you are completely alibied.

What? I overheard a familiar name a short while ago-- Hector Mendoza.

At approximately 3:00 a.m. he was viciously assaulted in Gravesend.

He was ambushed and then beaten by someone wearing a pair of weighted knuckle gloves.

According to a witness one block away, it was someone with long, dark hair and breasts.

You have both.

Or all three, depending on your maths.

Wait, are you saying that Cortes was trying to frame me?

She had you ask around about Mr. Mendoza, and then someone-- a woman-- viciously assaulted him.

You think that's coincidence?

Anyway, as I said, you have an alibi.

The cameras outside the brownstone have you arriving at 11:00 p.m. and you did not leave until...

47 minutes ago.

Whatever your enemy is up to, it will not work.

You guys ready?

I didn't k*ll Janet, okay?

I would never do something like that.

So, you'll break her nose, put her in the ER, but you draw the line at m*rder?

That's not what happened.

We have her hospital records.

Yes, I hit her. Once.

Okay? But it was self-defense.

You want to see my hospital records?

She slammed my hand in the door.

Are you under the impression that doesn't go towards motive?

We had a fight, okay?

And I'm sure for most couples it means hugging and crying and whatever, but Janet was a rowdy girl.

You know, when she got angry, she got physical.

You're the ex-boyfriend with no alibi, with a history of v*olence towards the victim.

Wait, what are you talking about ex-boyfriend?

Bell: We heard you and Janet broke up after the fight.

Yeah, for like three days, and then she forgave me like she always did, and we got back together.

Look, you can see.

These were taken last week.

Look.

Holmes: Well, it certainly proves you were spending a lot of time with Ms. Heffernan in the days before she disappeared.

What do I have to do to prove it to you that I didn't do this?

We have reason to believe Janet scratched her attacker before she d*ed, would you mind if we...

There, look.

See?

Not one scratch.

What, you want to see the rest?

I got nothing to hide.

Hey, where are you going with my phone, man?

Did he prove beyond all reasonable doubt that Janet Heffernan's last desperate act was not clawing at his private parts?

Let's just say he's not looking like our guy.

What did you see in that phone?

Oh, it's what I didn't see.

Yesterday, when we visited Janet Heffernan's apartment, there was a coaxial jack for cable above the counter in her kitchen.

Three weeks ago, however, when that photograph was taken...

No jack.

So, she got cable, so what?

So she doesn't own a television.

Unless you think the building management insisted on the jack, consider the placement.

Bad spot for a TV.

Good spot for a camera.

It's a spy cam.

I'm not familiar with this particular model, but it would serve the purposes of your average voyeur.

You really think a cable plug is gonna show up out of thin air and she's not gonna notice it?

How many outlets, plugs and jacks are there in your kitchen?

We really are living in a golden age for perverts.

Whoever planted this lacked the technical expertise to broadcast the feed, so everything is stored on this drive, which means they would have had to repeatedly break in to access the footage.

Here.

(sighs)

Hello.

Bell: That's the guy you sent me to talk to last night.

That's Toby Dannon.

How'd you feel about another trip to Morris Park, then?

Toby's not here-- he's at work.

Well, can you tell us when you expect him back?

What is this?

I need to speak to your son again, Mr. Dannon.

Is this about the woman you were asking about yesterday, the drug dealer?

Janet Heffernan, the m*rder victim.

Yeah, well, Toby's shift just started.

He won't be back for hours.

You think Toby k*lled her, don't you?

We didn't say that.

Are you worried he might have?

Of course, she isn't.

Toby's a good kid, just a little... different.

How so?

We had a tough time when he was in school, but we got him help.

His therapist said he's doing much better...

Beverly, I don't think we need to say anything else.

We're just here to talk to your son and take a look around his room.

Well, this is my house.

I don't consent to your search.

I don't give you permission.

All due respect, Mr. Dannon, this warrant means we don't need your permission.

Hey, could you not touch that, please?

It belonged to my father.

I can't stop you from observing, Mr. Dannon, but, please, don't interfere.

We have a job to do.

Toby always lived at home?

Yes.

Half the kids he went to high school with still live with their folks.

It's the economy.

Yeah...

And he has a job at your construction company, correct?

Yeah, he's saving money.

It's smart.

You know about this?

Wonder what was in here before I showed up last night.

When's trash day?

Tuesday.

Okay.

I'm gonna go have a look in the cans.

Mm-hmm.

Toby got many friends?

What the hell kind of a question is that?

I don't know, most of the pictures here are of the three of you.

Said he was “different.”

Look, Toby's not some kind of a loner creep.

No matter how badly you want to paint him as one.

You were saying?

Watson: Before.

After.

What is this?

You found Hector Mendoza?

No, you found Hector Mendoza last night.

I don't know what you're talking about.

I went to talk to him this morning, only he can't talk.

They had to wire his jaw shut.

When I showed him your picture he didn't recognize you, but who knows?

Maybe that's just the concussion?

You did this to him.

I want to know why.

Come with me.

There's something I want to show you.

Is it a pair of SAP gloves?

Just come.

Her name's Nyoka Carver.

That's her mom trying to feed her.

Why are you showing me this?

This was Nyoka 18 months ago.

She was on her school's varsity team since eighth grade.

In between seasons, she liked to play against the boys in the pickup games at Kaiser Park.

When he wasn't dealing dr*gs or running with his g*ng, Hector Mendoza liked to play there, too.

A little over a year ago, she embarrassed him on the court.

I mean, just... humiliated.

He went to his car.

He came back with his g*n, and he p*stol whipped her.

He didn't k*ll her, but he might as well have.

She has irreversible brain damage.

I ran his name yesterday.

I didn't see anything about that in the system.

Of course, you didn't.

The kids that were there were too afraid to give Hector up.

They knew if they did, they'd get the same from his crew.

End of the day, no one saw a thing.

How did you find out about it?

Sources.

Couple weeks later, Hector went after a member of a rival g*ng, the 86 Street Kings.

sh*t him in the stomach.

The guy lived, but Hector went to the top of the Kings' hit list, so he went into hiding.

I wasn't lying when I came to see you the other day.

I did everything I could to find Hector.

You were my last hope.

And then, last night out of nowhere, I found out that he was crashing at a friend's in Gravesend.

Then you gave him what you thought he deserved.

You think he deserved less?

You've done this before.

Back when I looked into you, I realized how good you are.

I could use help.

What makes you think I would help you?

I know about you and your partner, how you work.

I read the transcript from that disciplinary hearing.

We don't hurt people.

You don't hurt people, but your partner does sometimes.

He gets it.

I think you get it, too.

Otherwise, you wouldn't be with him.

Think about it.

It's all I'm asking.

Still no word on Toby Dannon?

Uniformed officers visited all three construction sites where he could have been working.

He seems to have taken a powder.

Think his parents tipped him off?

Wouldn't surprise me if they were packing his bags for Rio as we speak.

In the meantime, Finest Message has been issued.

A lot of oxy.

Toby must have had a serious habit if he was taking this much every week.

Actually, I think you're looking at every pill he ever bought from Janet Heffernan.

I don't think he used the drug.

I think he just liked buying it.

That makes sense.

He was obsessed with her.

Her job gave him an excuse to be around her.

So, how'd it go with your stalker?

Did you make it clear that the frame-up wouldn't work?

She wasn't framing me.

(phone chirps)

Then what was she doing?

It's complicated.

Well, it appears Toby Dannon hasn't fled the country, after all.

He's at the 11th.

Bell: The idea isn't for you to admire your work, Toby, you're supposed to answer for it.

I don't know what you want me to say.

Watson: We want you to tell the truth about Janet Heffernan and Omar Velez.

Who?

Did you not get his name before you gutted him and turned him into a b*mb?

I-I-I don't know what you're talking about.

I mean, I-I-I don't understand any of this.

You were obsessed with Janet Heffernan.

That's obvious.

All right, we also know you were familiar with the site of Omar Velez's m*rder--

Idlewild Park.

Your dad's crew helped build the visitor center there last year, and since you're in construction, you have access to plastic expl*sives, so... what am I missing?

There's the wound on his right arm.

You're attempting to conceal it, but you're nursing an injury just below your elbow.

Yeah, I, uh, I-I cut myself at work.

Or Janet scratched you while she fought for her life.

I would never hurt her.

Bell: Really? 'Cause it looks like you fantasized about k*lling her 50 different ways.

Uh, see, m-m-my therapist, uh, told me to-to write what I felt.

You know, just to-to get it all out.

You drew pictures of Janet getting her head cut off.

Yeah, but I loved her.

How is this love, Toby?

I wanted her... all right, but she-she didn't want me back.

I would go to see her, and she would just brush me off.

T-These journals, they were just a way for me to, like, work through that.

They weren't, like, plans or anything.

Okay, no-nobody was supposed to see those.

It's a terrible invasion of privacy, and you must feel very violated.

It's a shame that Janet's not here to commiserate with you.

Someone choked her to death Tuesday night.

Wait, Tu-Tuesday?

What time on Tuesday?

Bell: Specifically, we were hoping you could tell us.

All we know is she disappeared somewhere between the end of roller derby practice at 7:00, and dinner with a friend at 10:00.

She didn't show up.

Okay, well, Tuesday, I was riding the A train.

All night.

You know, the noise of-of the tracks a-and the-the sway of the train is-is so peaceful.

You don't believe me?

Check-Check the, check the surveillance footage, okay?

I'll be on there.

And what about the other guy?

The-The one that you said had the b*mb in his stomach... when-when did he die?

Yesterday, just after 5:00 a.m.

I-I was in Queens all day.

I-I was paving a parking lot.

I mean, y-you guys can-can ask anyone who I was working with, and they will tell you that I was there.

(sighs) I'm sorry (laughing): to disappoint you guys.

But I am not your man. (chuckles)

Watson: Spoiler alert: he gets on the A train and stays there all night.

Tech assist got through the footage from the other stations.

He wasn't lying. He could not have k*lled Janet Heffernan... or Omar Velez.

You heard from Marcus.

Yeah, he talked to Toby's other co-workers.

He confirmed that Toby was working the morning of Omar's death.

He'll get time for possession, and for putting a spy camera in Janet's apartment, but when it comes to m*rder indictments, we are oh for two.

I have to confess, I am very, very surprised.

I mean, he put a hidden camera in Janet's apartment, he wrote journals about her, took pictures of her... anyone looking at his deranged little scrapbooks would have sworn he did it.

An interesting question to consider, then, is who else might have been looking at them?

What do you mean?

You think he was sharing it with some other creep?

Not exactly.

You're pulling prints.

Searching Toby's apartment today, I was struck by the fact that he had two hiding places for his deviant treasures.

I couldn't help but wonder if the migration of his stash from one to the other was born out of necessity, rather than paranoia.

So, you think someone found what he was hiding, so he moved it.

All I know for certain, is that there are two unique right thumbprints on this journal.

Someone else knew Toby Dannon was a danger to Janet Heffernan.

Gregson: Neil Dannon?

You think the father's behind this?

We know how it sounds.

It sounds strange.

The last time I checked, Toby was peeping and plotting against Janet Heffernan, not his dad.

That's quite right, but the younger Dannon's obsession did not go unnoticed by Dannon, the elder.

You'll see, uh, there were two different thumbprints on one of Toby's journals.

One from the author, and one which matched the right thumb pad of former Air Force Officer Neil Dannon.

So, Neil got a taste of his son's crazy.

That kind of thing normally isn't contagious.

Imagine for one depressing moment, you are Toby Dannon's father.

You have a son that many say is troubled, disturbed.

He is quick to v*olence.

He's obsessive. He is unfeeling, but no matter how difficult he may be, he's still your son.

You still feel the need to protect him.

One day, you discover a series of journals.

To your dismay, they detail plans to hurt a woman named Janet Heffernan.

What do you do?

Get him help, lots of it.

Watson: He did get Toby help.

It wasn't working.

So he k*lled Janet Heffernan before his son could.

Holmes: If he did, he would have prevented his son from becoming a m*rder*r.

Bell: All the evidence we have that points to Toby, points to the dad.

They're both familiar with Idlewild Park, they both have access to commercial grade expl*sives...

Gregson: There's a problem.

Let's say you're right.

Let's say he's covered with scratches.

We won't find his DNA under Janet's fingernails.

Her remains were destroyed.

We have no proof.

Holmes: That's right, Captain.

And, now, I normally have a voracious appetite for proof, but in this case, I don't think we need any.

You sure about this? 100%?

I'm afraid so.

We interviewed three different guards at the MTA, and one of them admitted that Toby paid him to switch Wednesday's A train security footage with Tuesday's.

Bell: Your son tried to falsify an alibi for Janet Heffernan's death.

Now, as you can imagine, that's not going to look very good at his trial.

Holmes: Nor will the fact that one of his co-workers said he went missing at the time Omar Velez was k*lled in Idlewild Park.

Why are you telling us this?

Gregson: Because we'd like your help.

Right now, Toby is being surveilled by one of our units.

It's the standard procedure when you're suspected of being a bomber.

The tactical experts think the safest way to arrest Toby for Ms. Heffernan's m*rder is at his home.

His job site's too crowded.

So, when he gets back from work later, we'd like for you to help us keep him calm, make sure everything goes smoothly, so nobody else gets hurt.

You want us to help you put our son in prison.

Watson: You'll get to say good-bye.

Toby is looking at three counts of first degree m*rder.

He is never going to get bail or parole.

Today is it.

Okay, we'll do whatever you ask.

No.

No, we have to.

No, Toby is innocent.

Mr. Dannon, please consider the evidence...

No, you don't understand.

I did this.

I k*lled Janet.

What?

I never meant for it to happen.

I knew Toby liked Janet, I...

found his journals, and I confronted him.

I could tell that he wasn't gonna let it go.

He couldn't.

I went to Janet and I asked her to stop talking to Toby, stop selling him dr*gs.

I even offered her money to move, to disappear.

She wouldn't listen.

We started arguing, and... the next thing I knew, she came at me.

I don't know. We were fighting.

It was self-defense, I swear.

And the m*rder of Omar Velez?

And the b*mb which k*lled Nicole Slater at the morgue?

That was self-defense, too, I suppose.

Oh, God...

(sobbing): Oh, God...

You been out here long?

I went to see Nyoka Carver today.

I sat with her for a very long time.

I talked to her mother.

About me?

About Nyoka.

Did you know she was bullied in school because she was gay?

No.

The funny thing is, she never let it get to her.

Her attitude was turn the other cheek.

She even wrote an essay about it for a college application.

Let me guess, you don't think she would have wanted anyone going after Hector Mendoza.

I don't know what she would have wanted, but I don't think you did what you did for her.

I think you did it for yourself.

You needed to hurt him.

He needed to be hurt.

There's a difference.

I've decided I am gonna help you.

By warning you, don't do this again.

Or what?

Or I'll prove it was you.

I read the report on Hector's as*ault.

You were careful.

There's no evidence that you did it.

But next time...

You've been doing this four years, right?

And before that you were some kind of rehab expert, and before that you were a doctor.

Four years is nothing.

You think you've seen things, but you haven't.

Stay the course this time, Joan.

Stick this one out.

Eventually, I'll see things just like you.

You and your partner, you're already right on that edge.

Who knows?

Maybe I'll be the one putting you away.

Race you to the bottom.