02x11 - Family Ties

[bunniefuu]

"Lost in Space" by Aimee Mann
Lost in space
above all drifting
To a place

where planets shifting

The moon erased,

it's features lifting

The glare...


Hey, Carver,

what have we got?


Andrea Soriano and a g*n.

Car's registered to
a John Soriano.

We called him.
He's on his way.


sh*t to death, I take it.

Well, presumably.
We haven't looked yet.

Rule number one, don't move
anything 'til the M.E. arrives.

And we appreciate it.


At least two sh*ts
sometime in the night.

Nobody heard a damn thing.

Oh, of course.


No car doors open,
thirty-six degrees out.

Body would have cooled rapidly.

Well, the sooner
you can give me a time...

Eh, I know.


Cold as frozen broccoli.


- Oh, geez...
- Holy mother.


Oh my God.


Lauer, Peterson, bring a blanket.

- Roger.
[ font]
- Not sh*t.

Damn near frozen through, though.

Alright.
Paramedic!

On the way.


Oh.

Mercy General's six blocks away.


Go, go!


Never again do I worry about
rule number one.


Rule number two:
Expect the unexpected.


Well, uh, based on lividity,

I'd place time of death anywhere
between midnight and three a.m.

What was she doing out with a baby
at that time?

Is that my wife?!


That might be the husband.
Maybe he can tell us.


Mister Soriano.


Is that my wife?


Is it Andrea?


There's been a homicide.
We found this in the car.


I know this is hard.

Can you tell me
where she was going last night?

Oh, no-no-no-no-no-no, this...
She can't be dead.


What happened?

Now, we don't know yet.

But it would help to know
why she's here.


I don't know.


Mister Soriano.


Uh, you should know,
uh, your baby's alive.

I think she's gonna be fine.


We didn't have a baby.


May I help you?

Uh, Cavanaugh, M.E.'s office.


The baby alright?

She will be.
It was a close call.


I'm here for the clothes
she was wearing.


No doctor from the M.E.'s office ever came
in person for a victim's effects before.

Well, I just wanted to
check on her.

The officers told us
her mother's been k*lled.

Yeah.

We'll need to notify the father.


Well, so do we.

The only problem is,
we don't know who that is yet.


Thank you.

Welcome.


Sir, we're a little confused here.

How could you have not known
she had a baby?

My wife and I were separated.
I haven't seen her in a year.

Well, the baby is a few months old.
Technically, she could be yours.


No, technically, she couldn't.


I'm sterile.


She wanted a baby
more than anything.

That's why she left me.


Look, anyway,
it's not the first time she...


She had an affair?

Look, what the hell
was she doing there?

Wh... wh... what...
what was going on?!


Come on, Lily.
We can't go to Yang Chow's again.

It'll be like
the third time this week.

Oh.

Hi, may I help you?

You must be Miss Lebowski.

They told me at the front desk
to come speak to you.

Uh, sure.

Of course, have a seat.

Uh, couldn't help but notice.

Uh, what part of the East End
are you from?

Sidney Street.

My mum's sister's
on Sidney Street.

She's got a tea shop there.

What's her name?


Beatrice Pullam.


My wife worked in her tea shop.

No.

His wife worked with my Auntie Bea.


Fancy that.

Uh, wh... what can I
do for you, Mister...

Gibson.

I'm here about my son.


I think he's dead.


I think that you... you...
you've certainly come to the right place.


You busy?

Yeah, I'm running the prints
from your g*n.


Uh, baby clothes.

Can you go over this for me?


I can, I will.

Kid okay?

Yeah.
Yeah, she's lucky.

Yeah, lucky.

Except for lying in a pool of blood with
her mother's dead body lying on top of her.

Well, if it wasn't for that body heat,
she'd be dead, too.

Hey, you know, I've been thinking.
Maybe he's lying.

Who?

The husband, Soriano.


About what?


Maybe he didn't want the kid,
trying to deny it's his.

I don't know.
Too easy to verify.

If there really was a fertility problem,
we could check him out.

Yeah, you're right.

And what kind of creep would be
willing to give up his own baby?


They bring the body in yet?

Yeah, Detective Carver's
waiting for you.


I... I don't see
a Marty Gibson on the list.


This was taken nine years ago,

when he was eighteen,

in front my cab.

His mum wanted him to be a doctor.

Uh, he was smart, too.

But he was headed for
nothing but trouble, thanks to me.

Finally, I kicked him out of the house,


thinking that maybe he'd be able to
make something of himself.

He upped and left the country.


Uh, what makes you so sure
your son is dead, Mister Gibson?

Marty always called his mum
twice a year,

on her birthday
and Christmas morning.

Like clockwork every year.

Only this Christmas,
she never got a call.

That was when I knew
something was wrong.

Last she heard from him,
he was still in Boston.

I've been here a month.

Been to every hospital,
been to every shelter.

His mum said he'd fallen down on his luck,
that he was homeless.

I figured that this place might...


might be my last stop.


Truth be told, I've been a failure
at everything I've ever done.

I was just hoping to do
one last thing right in my life.


Um,


Mister Gibson, I can go through the
John Doe files and let you know what I find.

I... I'll run a uh,
Àú´Â... ¾î...

a check with missing persons and I'll do
an extensive internet search.

We ought to have an answer
within a day or two.


That'd be lovely, Miss.

I'm staying at the Hayworth Hotel,
just off Copely Square.

Sir,


you have my word, we'll do whatever
we can to help you find your son.

I appreciate it, mate.


A month at the Hayworth,
that's a lot of money for a cab driver.


You okay, Nigel?


Yeah, I'll get right on it.


Doctor Duchamps,


there's a Mister Soriano here.

Oh, that's Doctor Cavanaugh's case.

She's in Autopsy with the body.

I didn't want to interrupt her.


Mister Soriano, I'm uh,
I'm Doctor Duchamps.

How may I help you?

I want to see her, my wife.

I'm sorry, but it may be some time
before that's possible.

Is there anything else I can do for you
in the meantime?

Sure.


I haven't laid eyes on my wife in a year,
and when I finally do see her, she's dead,

has some other man's baby.


If you've got an explanation for that,
well, maybe we could start there.


Well,


let me see what I can do.


So how come nobody's asking
the obvious question here?

You mean how do we even know
if the baby was hers?

Exactly.

I already checked.


Aside from the fact that
her cervix is dilated...
Oh, thank you.

indicating that
she's already given birth,

she was also lactating.

So I think we can
put that theory to rest.


I can't seem to find
the second b*llet.

Thought you said
there was no exit wound.

There wasn't.

Well, where'd it go?

There's two b*llet holes
in the windshield.

There was no b*llet
found in the car.


Mister Soriano's here
and he wants to see his wife.

Why? He already ID'd her
at the crime scene.

I don't think that's why he's here,

and if you ask me,
I'm not sure he knows, either.

So, uh, what shall I tell him?

I can't close yet.
I'm not done.


Look, I'll cover her up

and we'll get her back to the crypt.

But just don't let him
pull back the sheet, okay?


You're thinking Soriano k*lled her,
aren't you?

And the problem is
his alibi checks out.

Well, maybe he hired
someone else to do it.

I don't know.
It's not adding up.

We've got one set of prints
on the g*n.

D'you get a match?

Yeah.


But it's not gonna help you.

They belong to your victim,
Andrea Soriano.

Did you run a ballistics match?

No need to.


We found the wrong g*n.

She had her own.

That's why we didn't find
another b*llet in her.

She defended herself, sh*t back.

Which would explain the second
b*llet hole in the windshield.

Maybe she hit him.

More than maybe.

The blood on the baby's clothes
belongs to two people.

One woman and one man.

No trail of blood
leading from the scene.

Well, just because we didn't see any,
doesn't mean it's not there.


Luminol?


I'm on it.


I thought if I saw her again,
I could forgive her.

I'm so sorry, Mister Soriano.

We have a grief counselor on staff.

Did they find him yet?

I'm sure the police won't stop until
they find the man who's m*rder*d your wife.


No, not him.


The father of her baby.


Nine years of marriage.


Nine years meant nothing to her.


I wasn't enough.


The car was here.


And he got blood on the baby, so he must
have been standing somewhere around here.

Okay.


Didn't bleed much.


He probably holed up somewhere
along here, licking his wounds.


Something tells me he's not
exactly holed up anywhere.


My people missed this?


Well, not necessarily.

The force of the fall could have
pushed him underneath the debris.

And the tide popped him back up.


Scott Fortino.

Jack Johnson.


David Blake.

Arthur Hunt.

Michael Farris.

Victor Glass.

Uh, none of the above.

He was one Jimmy Jack Logan.

Arrests in Connecticut, New Hampshire,
Delaware, Rhode Island and Massachusetts.

Well, he certainly was busy.

Uh, did you find any connection
with Mrs. Soriano?

Uh, just a ballistics match.
His g*n k*lled her.

Why?
Why'd he k*ll her?

Uh, well, let's see.

Uh, fraud, document forgery, no.

Ah, armed robbery
or attempted carjacking.

Take your pick.


There has to be a reason.

Single g*nsh*t, close range.

How can that be?

The only sh*ts were
through the windshield.

The only ones you know about.

Okay, maybe we can reconstruct
what happened out there.

And maybe you should have
gone into police work.


What?
Not interested in the big picture?


The big picture's a puzzle
with a million pieces.

This is my section of it.


So what do you think?
Is it him?

Yup, it's him.

Definitely him.

That's what I was afraid of.


He was a homeless man.

He was found barefoot and penniless
in Paul Revere Park.


Alright, well, let's exhume the body and
have Mister Gibson come down and get it.

I don't think that we can do that.

Why not?

Because he's gonna
want to see the body.

It's kinda hard to avoid, isn't it?

Exactly.


Lily, what are you talking about?


We shipped the body
to a med school.

They used it as a cadaver.

¾ÆÀÌÄí
Ouch.

Uh, I just got of
the phone with them.

They used it in
their gross anatomy class.


There's a joke there,
but I'll refrain.

Who knows what's left of him?
Probably nothing.

Oh, good.
I found you both.

Doctor Macy wants to see you guys
in the conference room.


You wanted to see us?

This is Inspector Glosser with Interpol.

He'd like to ask you
a few questions.

Someone here at this office

performed an extensive search
for the name "Norman Gibson."

That's right.
That was me.

Our computers flagged the search
at our headquarters in Lyon, France.


We want to know
what you were looking for.

Um, Mister Gibson came to the morgue
looking for his son.

His son.


Interesting.


Is this him?

Uh, eh, yeah, that's him.

Wh... what is this about?

Norman Gibson's a wanted man.

He and unknown accomplice
robbed an armored car
in Sussex, England
three years ago.
Got away with
five hundred thousand pounds.
We believe the accomplice fled
to the United States with the money.
Trail's been cold 'til now.
Did you find his son?
No.
So he just left, with no indication
where you might find him?
That's right.
Thanks.
Aren't you the least bit
curious about why people die?
A little more interested in how.
"Why" can get a bit existential.
Well, the circumstances matter.
The dynamics, the motivations.
This wound, for instance,
very similar to the one...
sustained by the Secret Service agent who
took a b*llet in the liver for Ronald Reagan.
He lived, this guy d*ed.
You see, the universe is
just filled with random acts.
Well, the agent received
immediate medical attention.
Okay, so what is it
that really caused his death?
I mean, what is the defining event?
You see, if we could answer that...
The defining event is
usually pretty clear.

I mean, in her case,
the b*llet that tore through her lung.

She was gone in a couple minutes
'cause she couldn't breathe anymore.

Uh, two unconnected people
sh**t each other dead.

No one knows why.


That's a question I want answered.


Eh, may I?

Sure.


Angle of the wound.


Yeah, a downward trajectory.

Yes.


Well, that doesn't make sense
if she sh*t him through the windshield.


Maybe he was climbing
up on her hood.


That's it, we gotta go back
and check out the car.



We?


Well, as in you and me,
grammar notwithstanding.


Wouldn't it be better to pose some
questions that actually have answers?


It's so much less frustrating.


Do you want to tell me
what was going on back there?

'Cause I'm pretty sure we just broke
about a dozen international laws.

Alright, I know how it looks.
I just...

I couldn't turn him in, that's all.

You barely met this man, Nigel.

I know, I know.

What is this about?


I know the man.

- You what?
- Not personally.

I mean, I'm...

I know him, blokes like him.


I've sat next to them in pubs
a thousand times.

We've... bought each other drinks,


told our life stories to each other.

He's a working class bloke
from the East End whose had...

nothing but hard knocks
his whole life,

and that's me, that's my dad,
my uncle, my brother.

The man is a criminal.

Yeah, maybe.


Probably. But one thing you learn
growing up where I did,

there's always two sides
to every story.

Wh... what are you talking about,
two sides?

There aren't two sides.
He robbed an armored truck.

Lily, you looked into his eyes.
You saw what I saw.

It's a man looking... it's a man
looking for redemption, for closure.

Now, that was real.

Why is this so important to you?


Now, we have to exhume that body,
see if it's him.

What?


I need to help this man
find his son.

Why?

Could you stop asking me to explain?


I don't even know myself.


Only one sh*t was fired
from inside the car... this one.

And that's not all.
Look at the pattern of cracks.

She sh*t first.

How can you tell?

The first sh*t cracks the glass
to the edge.

See the difference in the second sh*t?


Well, the first cr*ck stopped
the second one, so...

Exactly.

Nice.

And if he was stealing the car,
why did he open the passenger door?


I don't know.

We're not solving anything here.
It just gets more confusing.


You be Mrs. Soriano.


And I... will be Logan.

Excuse me?


We'll reenact it.


Hop in.

I don't think so.

Okay, then you can be Logan.

An intellectual inquiry
doesn't require role playing.

Look, if you feel uncomfortable,
we can stop.


I loom up out of the night.


Why'd I stop the car?

And where's my g*n?

If I'm the one who's supposed
to sh**t first,

I'm not gonna have the time to
get it out of the glove box.


Why am I driving around the docks
at two a.m.

with a baby in the car and a...
a g*n in my lap?

Well, that's the point of this, uh,
to answer all those questions.

By pretending to be someone we're not
and somewhere we aren't?

Yeah.

I guess not.

The police say that
it was an attempted robbery

and that this scum was just unlucky
that Andrea had a g*n.

Yes.

Well, how do we know that the father of
Andrea's baby didn't hire this guy to k*ll her?


You'll really have to ask them.

I did.


They say there's nothing to
indicate that's what happened.


Then I'm not sure
how I can help you.


I want to know who was
sleeping with my wife?!


Why?


Why?


Are you kidding?

NO.

Shouldn't you care more about
your wife's baby than who the father was?


You don't get it.

Your wife is dead.

She d*ed protecting her baby.

And you think this is
all about your wounded ego.


Doesn't sound like
a carjacking to me.

You don't approach
from the passenger side.

You want to put the g*n
right in the driver's face.


But he didn't do that.

Both sh*ts were fired
through the windshield.

Why'd she have a g*n?


Well, she was in a bad neighborhood,
it was late.

Why was she there?


No one's been able to answer that.


Okay, then let's go with
what we do know.

For some reason...
you pull your car over to the curb.


Maybe the baby was crying.


Could her sh*t through here
have missed him?


CSU never found another b*llet,

although one could have landed
in the water over there.


Alright, then let's try this again.


It's okay.


What now?

Well, if I missed you through the windshield,
now I have to sh**t you,

and the b*llet needs to hit you here
at a sixty degree angle.

Then I have to lean forward...


So Logan either wanted to get into the
glove compartment or he was after the baby.

But there's nothing in his record
that spells kidnapper.

Well, there are a lot of reasons he might
want the kid. I'd go with the most obvious.

You said Mrs. Soriano fell off the map
a year or so ago,

then reappeared with a baby,
not her husband's.


Oh my God.


It's a match.


Jimmy Logan was the baby's father.


So Mrs. Soriano took up
with Jimmy Logan.

She must have been nuts.

Well, she went off the rails.

Soriano said it wasn't
the first time, remember?

Yeah.
Well, it all ties in.

I haven't been able to
come up with a trace of her

from the time she left her husband
until about two weeks ago

when she moved into
an apartment in Wesley.

Hey, what about him, Logan?

Well, Bridgeport police say that he did
have a female accomplice with him

when he blew through there
about six weeks ago.

Nobody got a good look at her.

So she got tired of life with Logan,
took the baby and got out.

You find anything interesting
in the apartment?


This case is over, Jordan.

The dead will be buried,
child will be put up for adoption.

You and I will move on.

It's not good enough.
There's something we're missing.

We still don't even know
why she had the g*n.

No, I can answer that.

Her brother gave it to her
when she left Soriano.

But she sh*t at Logan
as he was approaching the car.

Why would she do that?

Maybe he was aiming at her.

Why would he do that?

There's nobody left
to answer that question, Jordan.

Except for us.


If we find five hundred
thousand pounds there, I swear I'll...


You'll what?

You know what I mean. What if
this turns out to be his accomplice?


For all we know, this is
all just about the money.


Oh, man.

Criminal or not,
we can't show him this.

Look at him.
What the hell are we gonna do now?


I've never heard
you curse before, Lily.


Oh, I'm sorry, but this is awful.


Okay, here's what we do.


We take a photo of this poor bloke,

and then we compare via facial recognition
software to the snap Mister Gibson gave us.


Aside from the religious stuff,
it's pretty impersonal.


Well, look at this.


Like it's never been used before.


Breast pump.


Yeah, there's several of those around,
all the same.

I didn't think the Catholic Church
used Latin anymore.


Oh, Sisters of Our Lady.

That's three blocks away
from where I grew up.


Yeah, they're kind of old-fashioned.

Well, with a new baby, she can't have been
thinking about joining the sisterhood.


Yeah, we need to speak to them.


I'm done, Jordan.


I got a heavy load of unsolved cases.

This is sad, it's sordid, I feel bad
for the kid, but there's no mystery here.

Someday, this little girl is gonna need
to know what happened to her mother.

Real answers,
not just who sh*t whom.

Well, there are some questions
that just don't have answers.


Andrea Soriano was a troubled woman.

I counseled her for months.
I'm not sure I helped.


How often did she come here
for counseling?

Every day.


Uh, where was she living
during this period?

She lived here.


She came last December
and left us three weeks ago.

So she wasn't actually
with Jimmy Logan?

I'm sorry, I have no idea
what you're talking about.

Well, he's the man
I was telling you about, uh,


the man who's dead.

He... he was
the father of her baby.


Andrea wanted a child
more than anything.

Her husband couldn't give her one.


She was trying to resolve
the conflict in her heart.

That's why she was here.


Uh, whose baby did you think it was?

Doctor Cavanaugh,
I don't think you're hearing me.


Andrea Soriano didn't have a baby.


She was obsessed with having a baby.

Maybe she kidnapped a kid and
Logan was just trying to get it back.

So Logan was out for a stroll
with his baby, two a.m.

at the docks on a freezing night,
and Mrs. Soriano just happened by?

Alright, so what do you think
this is about?

I have no idea.

Are we sure it wasn't her baby?

Your autopsy report indicated
she'd given birth.

Yeah, eleven years ago.

From a previous marriage.

The child was stillborn
according to the nun.


I feel like an idiot.
I should have checked the DNA.

You assumed she was
the baby's mother. We all did.

The woman was lactating.

She had a breast pump.

Simulates breast feeding.

Body doesn't know the difference.

While you're kicking yourself, you might ask
why you were blinded to the other possibilities.


What's that supposed to mean?

I just wanted this baby to know
what happened to her mother.

Now I don't even know
where the mother is.


That's my point.
Whose mother are we talking about?


You need to tell Detective Carver
about this.


And presumably, there's a woman out there
who must have noticed her baby's missing.

Why hasn't she surfaced yet?


Give it to the police, Jordan.


Yeah, I can do that.


Oh, well, couldn't we just use two?


This one and this one?

Well, we could, but then I'd miss out
on my chance to see how...

postmortem trauma affects the biometric
signature of the human face.

Well, we wouldn't want that.


I'm using the file photo
as the normalized signature.


We define the matrix


and then the computer normalizes the other
two pictures into the same format as the first.


Verification


Not a match

There's your answer
about postmortem trauma.


I don't think so, love.


I mean, look at what's not matching.

Width of the eyes, length of the nose.


I don't who Frankenstein here is,


but he sure as hell
isn't Marty Gibson.


Hey, what's goin' on?

All they told me was
to keep everybody out.


Except you.


Lois, what's happening?

The baby's been snatched.


Woman in a nurse's uniform..

had her paperwork to take the baby
to Radiology, never came back.

Parking lot attendant thinks she was
driving a beige Plymouth, no plates.

I thought this case was over.
Who the hell is this woman?


She might be the baby's mother.


Maybe Andrea Soriano went off
the deep end, snatched the baby,

Logan was just trying to get it back.

Then why wouldn't this woman
just come forward?

Outstanding warrants, probably.

So she risks a kidnapping charge?

Well, they always think
they can get away with it.

Uh, sometimes they do.

This may be one of those times.


Traffic Control command center
has cameras all over the city, right?

Well, most intersections, yeah.

I know 'cause I keep getting sent
pictures of myself running red lights.

Look, we string these photos
together block to block,

we might be able to trace her path.


I'm not sure what to make of this.
Records are all in order.
[font color=FFFFCC]University Medical School

Are you sure the mix-up
wasn't at the cemetery?

How could that be?
They buried the guy that you sent them.

Who was not John Doe
number one-oh-three-eight-four.

Like I said, I don't know
what to tell you.

I don't know anything about it.


See, I think you do, actually.

I beg your pardon.

So... so what is it?

You got some kind of scam going on,

you're selling body parts, making
a little extra on the side, huh?

- What?!
- Nigel.

See, I'm not sure what kind of crime
has gone on here,

but the thing is,
I really don't have to.

What are you talking about?

See, that's what the police do.


Alright.
Alright, please don't call the police.

There's no need for that.


It's an honest mistake.
It happens sometimes.


See, cadavers that are willed
to the school are cremated.

John Does aren't allowed to be
in case someone claims them.


It was a mix-up.


Wait a minute. Are you saying
that the body was cremated?


Can we zoom in on the parking lot?

We're looking at a tape
from two hours ago.

I can't adjust the angle
if it wasn't taped that way.


So what, we just wait 'til
she comes through the intersection?

Unless you got a better idea.

She should be leaving the hospital
any second now.


Is that her?


Wow, I've got to stop
talking to myself at red lights.


Alright, she made a left on Hightower.


Where'd she go, where'd she go?

She must have turned in
somewhere along this block.


Got her.


Wow, I never thought I'd say this,
but thank God for Big Brother.


May we come in?


That piece of paper makes it
a rhetorical question.


Oh, you going someplace?


It's none of your business.

What do you want?

We want to know why you just
kidnapped a baby from the hospital.


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

That baby's mine.
I can prove it.

Well, I'm sure you can.

And you can't prove that it's not.

You were caught
by the surveillance cameras.


This is all Jimmy's fault.


The son of a bitch sold my baby.

He found some lady who wanted a baby
and he sold her.

And then he sh*t the woman
he sold it to?

Why?


I don't know.


I don't know.

Okay, so you're just
an innocent victim in all this.

You had nothing to do with
selling this baby.

No, I told you, it was all him.

I'm just trying to get out of here,
start a new life for me and my baby.

Why don't you come down
to the station.

You can put it all down in writing.

Fine, let's just go, right now.


Why do you keep looking
at that clock?


Get the baby.


You are under arrest
for child endangerment.

You have the right
to remain silent...

No-no-no, she wants to talk,
tell us how innocent she is.

You got a pretty
good sh*t at it, too,

since there's no one left alive
who can contradict you.


Though I could be
wrong about that.


Well, I suppose you wouldn't have called
if you... hadn't had any luck, right?

Yes, Mister Gibson.
We found your son.


Well, I see.

These are Marty's ashes.


We're very sorry
it turned out this way.

Where did you find him?

Well, it wasn't easy, but we...

we finally tracked him to a medical school
about ten miles from here.

Medical school?

Yes.

Yeah, he'd gone there after...

My boy was in medical school?


He was gonna be a doctor?


That's right.


He did it.


Made something of himself.


I don't believe it.


I can go home now.


I want to thank you both for...
for everything you've done.


Uh, Mister Gibson,


there's one last thing, sir.


We know who you are,


what you've done.

We spoke to an inspector
from Interpol.


Did you now?

We're... we're gonna have to
tell them that we spoke to you.


That won't be necessary.


I'm gonna turn myself in.


Just needed to find my son.


Now that I know
he amounted to something, well,


I guess my life wasn't
all about nothing after all.


Doctor Duchamps?


Mister Soriano.


The police told me
it wasn't Andrea's baby.

Yes, I heard.


I made a complete ass of myself
and I'm sorry.

You don't have to apologize to me.


I talked to
the Costanza Funeral Home and

they'll be getting in touch with
you guys about...

picking up Andrea's body.


Thanks for kicking me in the butt.


I know this is a rough time for you.

Would you like to talk?


I mean, it's up to you,
but I'm a pretty good listener...

so long as I like the person.


Andrea...


was the only woman I ever loved.


Have you ever lost someone
you thought you couldn't live without?


Yes.


Husband?


Son.


How old?


Seven.


So you understand.


Yes.


I'm really sorry.


Thank you, John.


What happened?


What's that?

Oh, you okay?


I didn't hear from you, so
I got to wondering what happened.


As you see.


Yeah.


I talked to Detective Carver.
She filled me in.


You're not really
considering it, are you?


What, you can't picture me
with a baby?

I can't even see you
with a goldfish, Jordan.


I've had goldfish.


They all d*ed.


This is Emily.
Emily Logan.


She's a nice Irish girl.

Children's Services is here
for the baby.


What a case, huh?


Ever wonder what kind of mother
you'd make?


Of course, uh, maybe you're
the wrong person to ask.


Nobody ever knows what kind of parent
they'll make until it's too late to back out.


Leap of faith.

Yeah.


I think we should all do our best
to sort through our own demons

before we have children.


Did you?


Would have been better for Abby
if I did.


You want to grab some dinner?


Thanks.
But I'll grab a rain check.

Someone I need to see.


Have I ever told you about my father?


No, you never spoke of him,


which, I guess,
in my profession means yes.


I've hated him
for most of my life.


That's a long time to hate someone.

Joined the Navy when I was nineteen
just to get away from him.

Came all the way to America
for the same reason.


Come to think of it,


most things I've done...
are because of him.


I think it was wish fulfillment,


your connection to Mister Gibson.

The fact that he came here
looking for his son,

his last act to settle things,
to make it right.


That's something you wish
you had with your father.


We don't even have
a relationship anymore. I mean,


I've spoken to him
once in the last three years.


I don't know that
my father would do that for me.


Maybe he doesn't have to.


Maybe you took care of that today.


Hey, that's how
it works sometimes.


Goodnight, Nigel.

'Night, Lil.


Yes, I'd like
an international operator, please.


How much was she
selling the baby for?


Fifteen grand.

For the fifth or sixth time.


She was posing as
a financially strapped single mother

who only wanted the best
for her baby.

She was very good at seeming
waif-like and pathetic.

Then Logan would hijack the baby
so they could sell it again.

Plus the car the couple was driving.


You'd think it would have
made then news.

Yeah, except for one thing.

All the couples reported
their cars stolen,

but not one mentioned the baby.


What happens to the kid now?


There's already a mile long
list of people who want her.


I kept thinking about James.


I mean, growing up
not knowing your parents.


You trying to ask me something?


I don't think so.

'Cause if you are, I'm your father.


Now that you mention, actually, uh,
you have lied to me about a lot of stuff.

I've kept things from you.

No.

No, you lied to me.


You want to run the DNA?


Could I please have another beer...


Dad?


"Buckets of Rain" by Vic Chesnutt
Buckets of rain

Buckets of tears

Got all them buckets
coming out of my ears

Buckets of moonbeams

in my hand


You got all the love, honey baby
I can stand