06x02 - Good People on Both Sides

[bunniefuu]

ex*cuted?

Close range, front seat.

Had to be two sh**t from the way they were found.

So, they just rolled up, two sh*ts, point-blank range?

Did anybody see anything?

50-something bangers at a wake next door.

No.

Back to square one.

Sorry, brother.

You gonna need a wingman out there?

Feds are in the shadows, I'm good.

One of us should get some sleep.

Call if you need me.

Go home.

It was sovereigns at the overlook.

Three Oh Eight Squadron.

You've been busy.

Working my m*rder.

Thanks for sharing. Bosch...

What's their target?

Can't let you go in there.

Why, you putting eyes inside?

Command post, couple streets over?

Video feed?

Popcorn and stadium seating?

Espresso machine.

Could be a long night.

Maxwell owes me a ten spot.

You bet him I'd be here?

I bet him you'd b*at us here.

Come on.

Professional hit.

Somebody got wind of Internal Affairs trying to catch them and flip them.

Or they did one shady deal too many.

Yeah.

Either way.

I was so sure they would get us to who pulled the trigger and k*lled your son.

Yeah.

In a different world, maybe.

In this one, they just got what they had coming.

You reap what you sow.

Look like you could use a drink.

Hey.

When did you get home?

Half hour ago.

He doesn't like his new kibble.

I know.

Battle of wills.

Same homicide case?

Yeah, on a clock.

Same. If the 101's a pack-a-snack, I'm already screwed.

You gonna be in the office all day?

I usually take a walk somewhere for lunch.

Feel the sun on me.

Order in.

Whatever you want... I'm buying.

So, it's not just a homicide case you've caught.

Just stay inside next couple of days.

Come home right after work, yeah?

You okay?

Tired.

Get going.

Love you. Love you.

Dad?

Yeah?

Be safe.

Always.

My detectives lost a day landing on sovereigns you've suspected from the start.

It's a fluid situation.

Flowing in one direction.

We're dealing with JTTF, NRC, HERT, NEST, the DOE...

Alphabet soup.

Federal pandemonium.

You want to add RHD to that?

No.

They caught a double-homicide.

Two of our own.

Jesus.

But Bosch and Edgar will continue their work.

Unimpeded.

Fine.

Our priority is radioactive material in the hands of extremists.

Find the K*llers, find the cesium.

Experience tells us it will move fast.

Hand to hand.

K*llers could be two steps back of it by now.

That's the reason for our velocity.

You can't afford to be slowed down by the local yokels.

By anyone... we're tripping over each other as it is.

Tell me about these Three Oh Eights.

Fringe players.

In the larger sovereign movement.

If it's them, this represents a serious escalation.

Reached out to some C.I.s, we'll see what bounces back.

Bosch?

What do you need to proceed?

Access... Three Oh Two reports and a follow-up with Kent's widow.

She's been behind a federal firewall.

For her own protection.

From us.

Make it happen.

And one of you go with them.

Yes, sir.

Whatever you've got... sovereign POIs, known associates, group hierarchy.

I'll have a full packet sent.

Just make sure you stay in your lane.

Now they're traffic cops.

Stepping up in rank.

Yeah, f*ck you both.

This ain't my first trip down the federal road, as you know.

Now, you chase the cesium however you want.

I'm gonna find the bastards who put two b*ll*ts in the back of Stanley Kent's head.

And my lane has no lines.

Yeah, all right.

I'll call you later.

Hey, L.T. Mank.

Hey, uh, any inside baseball on that thr*at advisory from the Feds?

Hazardous materials.

How hazardous?

Need to know, Mank.

Huh?

Need to know.

Minding my own business is all I'm saying.

Harassing tourists again.

Panhandling. While nude.

I get overheated some days.

It's man-opause.

Where are said clothes?

I stashed them with my tent behind a planter at the W.

Wait, you walked half a mile from the W Hotel full frontal?

Well, I had to air my bits out.

And I didn't get a second glance until I arrived here.

He'll be back out on the street before we finish doing the paperwork.

Perhaps I can convince our reporting citizen that relocation and a stern warning will suffice, hmm?

How we doing on those summaries?

Great.

Super. Uh, end of the day?

Um...

Kidding. Tomorrow's fine.

Anything new you can remember?

It's all a fog now.

I don't know.

Stray things the men who att*cked you said.

How they moved, how they acted.

They acted like they wanted to be soldiers, but they weren't.

What do you mean by that?

I don't know, it... it's just a feeling.

How long were you married?

12 years, October.

How'd you meet?

G-Grad school.

Uh... applied physics.

You're a scientist?

Was.

I never loved it like my husband did, so as soon as I was able, I got out.

Children were the plan, but my body had other ideas.

Did your husband seem worried about anything?

Change in his routine?

No.

He did buy a g*n about a year ago.

Really?

What kind?

Not big.

20-something?

D-Do you know where it is?

It's supposed to be in here.

Could he have had it with him?

He would've said something.

That was Cliff.

We may have caught a break.

I heard back from our C.I.

Ben Craver.

We nailed him for soliciting for a phony charity to fund border militias.

Wire fraud.

Yeah. Looking at five years, minimum.

Leverage is the name of the game, right?

Craver's been networking for us.

Sharing conspiracy theories, making friends on the dark web.

He thinks this guy, Travis Strout, may know who's behind the Kent extortion.

Knows 'cause he's part of it? Useful idiot, more like.

Newsletter, monthly podcasts.

You know, how to screw Uncle Sam.

Why is the informant so sure this guy would know anything?

Travis has been making noise about some brave citizens with a plan to paralyze the federal court system.

That's the guy from the bar.

This is Charlie Dax, brother-in-law.

Nothing on him yet, or Strout's wife Heather.

Got an address for them?

They're squatting on property Travis insists he legally owns now by adverse possession.

My son does that with his brother's video games.

Surveillance and wire taps?

Multiple teams on site, but we're light on probable cause for a T-3.

Go in too directly, you won't get anything.

I'm aware of that.

Brother Waylon has a federal warrant out.

Child support, failure to pay.

Not worth the hassle of pursuing till now.

Bait and switch.

Leverage, like I said.

If we can get big brother to help his little brother by helping us...

Let me and J. Edgar take the lead on this.

Local to local.

Waylon Strout? Who's asking?

LAPD. Detectives Edgar and Bosch.

Didn't want to trespass on your property.

Appreciated.

Who are they?

Feds. What the hell do they want?

That's why we're here.

Ah, sh*t.

You miss some payments?

Eh, that bitch won't let me see my own kid.

That's outrageous.

Yeah. Tell me about it.

Listen. Come with us, we can sort this out.

Probably take a couple hours. Otherwise, you're headed down the black hole of federal government.

Say I don't go anywhere?

Well, what the f*ck? You know how that goes.

What's going on, gentlemen?

f*cking warrant for not sending Amber her blood money.

You related? Brothers.

You have some I.D.?

I'm a freeman of the land, not some number on a card.

Oh, I hear you, but if you're family, maybe you could help us out, yeah?

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Travis? -Be cool.

Be cool. All right? We can handle this.

We need to take your brother to Hollywood, make the Feds happy, ask him a couple questions, then I promise we'll kick him loose.

Follow us out there, bring him back after.

All right.

Problem, Detectives?

No, there isn't. Yeah.

f*ck this. Here's what I think of your federal paper.

Hey. Hook him up.

Cliff... Hey, hey. Hey!

Hey, hey, hey. Easy now.

You need a search warrant to be on my property.

I thought we agreed you'd hang back.

Played your part perfect, Bosch. We got him right where we want him. Too fast, too f*cking hard.

Let me just... g*n!

Waylon, run!

9-Adam-65. Officer needs help.

sh*ts fired. Officer down.

9-65-0-security...

All units stand by.

9-Adam-31 in Van Nuys unit.

Officer needs help. sh*ts fired.

Officer down. 9-65-0...

LAPD. Anyone here?

Clear.

Clear.

Clear! Clear!

Clear.

Clear.

Clear.

Detective Bosch.

Yeah?

Maxwell, IED in the attic.

Edge, b*mb squad, g*n unit, evacuate the neighborhood, hundred-yard perimeter. Roger that.

Let's move him to a safe spot.

No sign of the cesium.

IED in the attic was something they pulled straight from the Internet.

Trace radiation? Nope.

And nothing to suggest they were building a dirty b*mb here.

Then why the hell did he go postal?

Clear this middle area. Clear this middle area, please.

Guys, please move.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Hey, uh, can you, can you tell me what's going on?

I want to get to my house. -Ma'am, please move your car to the curb.

No, I live right there.

And my husband is home, but he's not answering his phone.

Move your car, I'll bring my supervisor over to talk with you. Where's my husband?

You know, I have a right to know what you're doing.

I will bring my supervisor over to talk with you.

Please move your car.

Ma'am.

What?

Kent was k*lled with a small-caliber w*apon.

The one he owned is missing.

Director tore me a new one.

Why the hell didn't you bring more backup?

We just came to do an interview.

Dead source, no cesium.

Anything from the brother? Claims innocence.

Bosch sent him to Van Nuys, wanted first cr*ck, but Cliff interceded.

Waylon's headed downtown.

The officer who was hit?

Still no word.

Travis! -EDGEWOOD: Ma'am, hold on. Ma'am, ma'am.

I-I said you can't go there. I want to see my husband!

Ma'am, stop! -BRENNER: Oh, Jesus. I want to see my husband!

The wife. Travis! Baby!

Travis? Travis? Ma'am. Ma'am.

Ma'am, ma'am. Travis. No...

Ma'am, ma'am. Get off me!

And don't tell me to calm down!

Look, that's my private property.

I understand, ma'am.

What have you done with my husband?

We're going viral.

Like it or not.

Police officers went down to the property initially to serve a warrant.

A subsequent search allegedly found evidence of expl*sives and we are still trying to confirm early reports that one of the sh**t was k*lled at the scene.

Not surprisingly...

Hi, honey.

Hi, Coltrane.

Hey, honey. You get my texts? Yeah. Thanks.

I would have been worried.

KNX said officer-involved sh**ting.

Hollywood copper got hit.

Is he okay? -Ray Powers.

He's still in surgery, touch and go.

We were just there to serve a warrant.

I'm sorry.

You coming home?

Probably not. What's up?

That new case I told you I was working on?

Yeah, what about it?

Dante Crow, wrongful conviction. He's filing for restitution.

That's pocket change for Money Chandler.

Anyway, this key witness is a career criminal, Hadrian Paul.

He got convicted for an unrelated crime a couple months after giving his testimony.

Frequent offender. It happens.

The sentence he received seemed really, really low, Dad.

Might've cut a deal with the D.A.

A deal that I can't find mentioned in the Crow transcripts?

Yeah, that's odd. Right?

Tell Chandler.

What if it's nothing? I'm just the intern.

Let her make that decision.

Okay.

Yeah, Mads, I got to run. -Dad.

Yeah?

A couple people at my work were talking about a t*rror1st thr*at.

Is that what you can't tell me?

You're my first call if things go off the rails.

What to do, where to go, okay?

That's not comforting.

Full story later, yeah?

Please.

Love you.

Shop's not contaminated. If the cesium's here, at least it's still in the travel pig.

This Alicia Kent's car?

Plates match. We're sending it to the lab, but these guys have been meticulous so far.

Except when they aren't.

What does that mean? Why even bring her car here?

Short term? Get it off the street, dump it later.

If they're even concerned about a later.

Looks like the Strouts were getting ready to rock and roll.

Or Waylon's been collecting pipe scraps and pressure cookers are on sale at Costco.

It's a small, tight cell of fanatics.

The cesium's somewhere in their orbit.

Never assume, is all I'm saying.

L.A. County's almost 5,000 square miles.

Sensor airships, vans on the streets.

We've got the resources, we'll find it.

What if all this is is noise? Buying them extra time?

Then we're f*cked.

Okay.

g*ns in the attic.

Every one legal.

Go ahead, check.

Was it Travis rigged that IED?

For the record, I'd like to state that I am Waylon Strout, flesh and blood, not a fictitious person.

Okay, that's not really necessary, but... -Furthermore, I am expatriated from the United States of Banks and Slavers, and therefore, not subject to federal law or jurisdiction.

Still... here we are.

Two nights ago.

Brother and I hung out at my shop till about midnight, then he went home.

You know...

I can tell you weren't part of this, Waylon.

I'm good at reading people.

That mean I'm free to go?

You tell me where your brother stashed the cesium, see what I can do.

He's rushing it, huh? -The what?

That velocity, hard to slow down.

I give him five more questions before Waylon lawyers up.

I'll take the under.

Cesium.

What Stanley Kent traded to free his wife.

You're making this up.

Look, if even one of those radioactive rods gets breached, it'll k*ll everyone that comes into contact with it.

Your friends, your people.

Is that what you want?

Deep state did a false flag to assassinate my brother.

What I want is a lawyer.

Magic words.

f*ck. -Come on, Waylon.

Come on, don't do this.

Bosch.

I could use your help.

I was out with friends. What time did you get home?

I don't know, 2:00?

Your husband... Travis was with me, all night.

Stanley Kent.

We believe Travis had an interaction with him. An interaction?

So what are you accusing my husband of?

Never mentioned the name?

What have you done with his body?

The morgue.

There'll be an autopsy before he's released.

So is this man the reason why you k*lled him?

We went out to your house to ask for help with a crime involving Stanley Kent.

Travis opened fire, unprovoked. Yeah, 'cause my husband saw trespassing government agents and his brother on the lawn in handcuffs.

Maps in the back room, those pushpins.

They're props for one of his online talks.

Those are federal buildings.

Is it a crime to let people know where the tax man lives?

Targets? We are up against one of the most corrupt conspiracies this world has ever known, and you're part of it.

Waylon... says Travis was with him two nights ago, so either one of you is lying, or both of you are.

How did your husband know who to shake down for the cesium?

I don't know what that is.

Radioactive material.

It's used to treat certain cancers.

You people are unbelievable.

We're just trying to get to the truth.

No, we're the true ones!

Ah...

The bankers have eaten your souls.

Edgar. Jerry. Brad Conniff.

Brad Conniff, what's up?

So you and Bosch catch that overlook 187?

Yeah. We heard Feds muscled you out.

Homicide's still ours. Hmm.

Yeah. Well, reason why we called.

You know Dwight Wise pretty well, yeah?

I do. Why?

Well, we were going through the security cams we collected, checking the movements of Marcos and Arias. Guess what?

Uh, I'm too tired to guess.

Dwight Wise was tailing them.

On and off, going back as far as we looked.

He a suspect?

You want me to talk to him?

Well, personal connection, might be more productive.

I'll do it today.

We hoped you'd say that.

You been sleeping in your Hugo Boss, Jerry?

Surgery was successful. He's stable, family is with him.

Good. I'll drop in after EOW. Mm.

And yesterday's sh**ting? Feds drove that bus.

Way too fast, according to Bosch.

Still, falls on all of us.

Never good to have a blue suit down.

I agree.

I hear the chief came by the other day.

He did, yes. Huh.

Asked that Bosch report to him directly on the overlook. Hmm. Came to you, not to me?

He asked for you. Did he?

Yeah, you were out.

I was.

Latest polling.

Three police officers sh*t in the line of duty and my numbers go up.

I need to put my campaign on hold.

Okay. For a day?

For a week?

I'll let you know.

Scott Anderson says he saw Feds working a homicide in the Hollywood Hills.

Anderson called you?

He seems to think it connects to yesterday's sh**t-out.

What did you tell him? The truth:

I don't know. Should I?

We're chasing a credible thr*at to the city.

How credible?

Active. Domestic terrorism.

sh*t.

We've managed to keep this relatively quiet so far.

I'm counting on your discretion.

Anderson won't sit on what he has.

No, he won't.

But Laura Cooke just got bumped to city editor.

And there's something else I need to get in front of.

All right, that's all for now.

A*F e-mailed the trace report on the recovered .22.

b*llet that k*lled Kent came from his own g*n.

I'll forward you a copy. Any luck with the wife's car?

No foreign prints, just Alicia and Stanley.

Waiting on DNA. We're thin on Waylon.

Coincidence plus coincidence is no longer a coincidence.

How's your officer? Out of danger.

Thank God. That could've gone a lot worse.

Maxwell pushed too far. You know why.

I guess, but if we'd brought Travis Strout in alive, he'd be telling you where he put the cesium.

Cliff's still working the brother.

Waylon's lawyered up.

National security, different set of rules.

How long will it take you to close your m*rder?

Didn't know there was a rush on it.

This sh**ting is a PR nightmare.

I can't afford anything left hanging.

Make sure it all adds up. Even if it doesn't.

What?

Hey, I heard you saw Powers.

Just to say hey. Uh, his leg is f*cked.

Nerve damage.

Poor kid. Long haul ahead.

How'd your prelim go?

Crushed it. Wits hit every note.

Held over for trial on all charges filed.

And a couple that weren't.

Excellent.

RHD still giving you attitude?

No. They are very generous now.

Mm. Should be.

You caught a serial k*ller.

Solved their body parts case.

Girl's making you a rock star, Rondell.

Teacher's pet.

What?

Billets.

You're The One.

Everything points to the Strouts.

Why does it feel so shaky?

I don't know. g*ns. Tattoos.

Car in the shop.

Even the C.I.'s hot tip.

Work our homicide like a homicide.

See where it really goes.

Miller? Hmm?

Can I ask you a question about the Crow case?

Absolutely.

Okay. I think this key witness had a plea deal the D.A. didn't disclose.

You think.

I'm not a lawyer.

No, you're not.

Write it up... if I have time, I'll look into it.

Uh, rest of the summaries done?

Almost.

Eye on the ball, Maddie Bosch. Yes?

Over the next decade, the national debt will lead to...

That's helpful. Thanks.

Yeah.

Harry. Yeah?

GPS history on Travis Strout's mobile shows him nowhere near the overlook night of the m*rder.

Phone was home all night.

Yeah.

Waylon?

Shop. Then Glendale.

Booty call.

Wife's movement lines up with what she told us.

Bar and home.

Heather and Waylon both say Travis was with them.

Why lie, if that was the plan?

Something I've got to do.

Can you run solo for a bit?

Go.

Reece, it's Bosch.

I have a question for Waylon Strout.

You promised you'd stay clear.

11 months, Jerry.

One of your sons, what would you have done?

Told you we were close. Were you?

I saw your I.A. sting.

Marcos and Arias were wise to it.

They were wise to you.

Well, what else did you see?

Nothing useful.

I didn't see them get k*lled.

Night of, where were you?

Choir rehearsal.

You sing?

I don't. I turn pages for the organist.

Your wife.

About 30 other witnesses, if you need to ask.

I don't.

I'm sorry.

I took some pictures on my travels.

What we already mostly know.

Street work.

Informants.

Nothing out of line.

Looked to be on the job.

Kept circling back to your man here, though.

Jacques Avril.

Clubhouse.

That was my thought, yeah.

How'd you get his lawyer to agree with this?

I told him you think his client's innocent.

He's not coming. Sorry.

Give me a minute.

Maxwell. Did you get my message about the cell phone tracking?

I did. Waylon's been transferred from our custody.

COINTEL has him. Not even telling us where.

Tunnel vision. You've all got the blinders on.

The facts fit.

There's no trace of radiation... house, clothes, vehicles.

A half-assed collection of pipes and timers. No expl*sives.

They only have to be right once.

Don't be an assh*le, Cliff.

I'm not. I'm tired.

You have your K*llers, Bosch.

Type it up, hand it in. If the Strouts did do this, why weren't they prepared for us coming after them?

Why didn't they have their alibis locked down?

I don't know.

Maybe your C.I. does.

f*ck.

Let's ask him.

Detective Edgar.

How are you?

Getting by.

I spoke to my cousin about the death of my uncle Antoine.

And?

It was your father they called the Butcher of Pétionville.

Not you.

Not me. No.

He said the Butcher fled to Panama long before my uncle was m*rder*d.

Your father couldn't have done it.

We can talk inside if you like.

We can talk right here.

Do you still have family in Haiti?

Not since the earthquake.

I lost everything.

A heartbreaking tragedy.

Detectives Marcos and Arias were k*lled two nights ago.

I saw this on the news. Shocking.

They said you were a valuable source of information.

I try to be a good citizen.

Like you were in Port-au-Prince?

Yeah. I was police, like you.

And a CIA asset.

Whatever I could do to help my country in a troubled time.

But now you're here.

Hard work.

A little luck.

I'm finding my way.

In my city.

Where, should your hands get bloody again, your State Department friends won't help you.

I'm just a businessman.

Do you have any idea who would have wanted Marcos and Arias dead?

The world is filled with angry, vengeful men.

Yeah.

I'm one of them.

Not answering.

Call again.

Nothing.

You sure he's in there?

We have an ankle monitor on him for the wire fraud in case he had a change of heart.

Craver?

We pay the rent.

Do it.

Clear.

It's Craver.

6-William-22. Requesting two units and a supervisor, code 2.

Been here a while. -EDGAR: Kenmore Ave. and Clinton Street.

sh*t.