What time do you have?
Uh...
it's time.
**
* I got a feeling that I can't let go *
* I can't let go *
* I feel *
Good.
Come on, Maddie!
I got one!
*
Ah, boom!
She's good, your daughter.
Thanks. Yours, too.
So, uh, that thing we talked about?
Not an issue.
Appreciate it, guy.
- Really. - Don't mention it, sport.
Ah. What a dick.
Way to go, Mads.
**
Hi, Mom.
Didn't hear me honk?
Sorry. Music.
- Hey, Grace. - Hey, John.
How are you?
Can't complain.
Good. Have a good visit?
- Yeah. - Good.
Why don't you go get your stuff?
It's kind of early.
You got homework.
Okay.
She's got an SAT practice exam.
That's the first thing.
Burger while you wait?
No. I'm good.
Where's Ellen?
Here I am.
- Oh. Ellen. - Grace.
Iced tea?
No. It's good. I got to run.
Oh, come on. You have time for an iced tea.
Sit for a minute.
Okay.
Do I need a taster?
Why, you think I'd slip you a roofie?
Well, it crossed my mind.
Nah. You're not my type.
Cheers.
So, ladies, how's work?
- It's fine. - Fine.
I'm starving.
Yeah. Me, too.
That's why I like In-N-Out:
you're in, you're out.
Any luck?
I've left messages.
This is way better, Dad. Trust me.
You love In-N-Out.
The Animal Fries. What's better than that?
Yeah, I know, but--
But, Maddie, you've never even been here before.
It's true, but everyone at school keeps talking about it:
Danny Meyer, first Shake Shack in L.A.
Any relation to Oscar?
- Who? - Sorry.
I'm not up on my trendy eateries.
Philistine.
I'm a throwback. Check my fur.
I love that bracelet, Anita.
Oh, thanks, Maddie.
Thrift store catch. It's so retro.
Well, actually, it's not--
What are you going to get?
I don't know. A shake, I guess.
We should go in and look at the menu.
- Will you hold our place? - Yes, ma'am.
- She hates me. - No, not at all.
It's okay. I'll win her over.
You've been running a shadow investigation behind my back.
- I'm not. - Trying to protect your boy?
Not true.
He not only didn't tell me what he had,
he pumped my partner about the marks on Gunn's neck.
We were just talking, Jimmy. That's all, just talking.
Shit speaks for itself.
I ran the outburst, too.
You've been stalking Gunn for years,
and then the last six months, nothing. What's that?
I don't know, Jimmy. You tell me.
Well, you decided
the hell with making a case.
Punched Gunn's ticket yourself.
Are you saying I did that?
Hey, I'm still working it.
I want what they have, LT,
even if it points at your buddy here.
Hey, stop. Just stop.
This is blood under the bridge.
Can we move on?
I don't know. Can we?
I apologize for not looping you in sooner
as to what we were thinking.
Listening.
Holland had Gunn killed,
and then he staged it to implicate Bosch.
The glass with Harry's prints,
the owl, the quote.
That's a frame?
"God sees" in Latin?
Give me a break.
Fuck your owl. I'm not buying it.
- Motive? - To smear Bosch,
discredit his testimony before the trial.
And who hit Gunn?
Wasn't Holland. He's under house arrest.
Tafero.
Rudy was around when I caught the Gunn case.
He knows what it meant to me.
So they whacked Gunn to frame you.
That's a long drive, brother.
You know what? You don't need to buy it.
You just need to solve it. Can you do that?
- Gunn's murder? - Mm-hmm.
- Yes, ma'am. - All right.
And Anderson,
I don't care where he got the tip.
- You back him off. - Roger that.
I can tell you exactly where he got it.
Why don't you go to hell, Harry?
All right, great.
Now that we are all one big happy family again,
let's put the personal shit aside and get to it.
Hey, Harry, the kid that was killed the other night
by the Hollywood Bowl.
it's connected to the Meadows murder?
Be a coincidence if it's not.
Wounds indicate an expertise in killing,
knowledge of anatomy.
Looks military.
Stabbed in the neck here.
Hit the vagus nerve, immobilizes the victim.
Down stroke cuts the bleeders.
Two quick cuts. Precise.
Bled out in 30 seconds.
Wow. Jesus, Harry, where'd you learn that?
Q Corps, Special Forces.
Close Quarter Combat 101.
I think the killer had spec ops training.
Okay, but why? Why kill the kid?
Possible witness.
Was he?
- He didn't see a thing. - Uh.
I should have been more careful
and not talked to him in public.
- I put him at risk. - Okay, don't go there.
It goes where it goes.
Detective, join me.
No, thanks.
This won't take long.
How long you looking at a job
for the murder of Edward Gunn?
You've been told to shut it down.
I'm not shutting anything down.
It's a cover-up?
The suspect is not with the LAPD.
- You lied to me. - I was mistaken.
This is so fucked up.
- I apologize. - You apologize?
Fuck you.
This is my ass. What if I had run that story?
Lucky you didn't.
Ha.
If it comes out
that you falsely accused one of your own--
And how would that happen?
Word gets around.
Don't fuck with me, Anderson.
Veteran detective
points finger at a fellow officer
and then recants,
possibly under pressure.
What's really going on in the Gunn case?
LAPD cover-up?
That's my story.
Go ahead and write it.
And ever department source you ever had
will dry up like the L.A. River.
The Koreatown Killer, aka KTK,
first became active four years ago.
Half a dozen robbery assaults.
Four carjackings, three shootings, two murders.
Incidents occurring roughly every six months.
How do we know it's the same guy every time?
Same gun all three shootings.
Prints on one bike match prints
found on another victim's vehicle.
DNA from several scenes.
Eyewitness descriptions pretty consistent, too.
It's the same guy.
And we still don't have a suspect?
Not in the system.
Never been arrested
or served in the military
or worked for the Post Office or taught school.
I get it. Always on a bicycle?
It's his signature.
Well, why Koreatown?
Are these hate crimes?
Are they targeting Koreans?
We don't think so.
The victims have been white and black
as well as Korean.
He's an opportunist, not a racist.
He may just live in the neighborhood.
The latest carjacking victim
helped us develop a new sketch.
Let's get this out to the public.
Not a good idea, sir.
We'll be overwhelmed with false sightings.
We'll keep it close, circulate it internally.
It's your call.
Soon you won't have to sit through any more of these.
How's that?
The short list is getting shorter.
Bradley Walker wants Nestor Delgado.
No comment? You don't care?
I don't know where to start.
Delgado?
He's young. He's smart.
One of ours. Came up through the ranks.
A rising star in the department.
Thanks to friends in high places like Walker.
He's a climber, not a cop.
Plus he's green. He doesn't know what he doesn't know.
He's not my first choice,
- but-- - Besides, I thought
you couldn't appoint a Latino.
That was before the election.
Now I can do whatever the fuck I want.
And you want Delgado?
Walker does,
and the rest of the commission will go along.
You're playing me, Hector.
You know damn well Delgado is not a good choice.
I want you, Irv.
But if you won't take the job--
Grab those drinks for me, will you?
Sharkey's mother?
Blames herself.
Do me a favor. Let her know
about the Victims Assistance Fund
- for the funeral costs. - Done.
Gentlemen, this is Detective Bosch.
He wants to ask you a few questions.
Taco Supreme was Sharkey's jam.
Hey, respect, man.
Sorry about your friend.
Sure you are.
Last time you saw Sharkey,
you were running your flimflam, right?
Now we can cut you some slack on that,
but we need to know what happened that night.
Anything you can tell us?
Car he got into?
Black Beemer.
Fuck. What the fuck, man?
There you go. You do know something.
There's only about a million
of those douche-y cars around here.
Did you make the driver?
Couldn't really see him.
It was with tinted windows.
Tall? Short? Black? White? Anything?
This is how you do your friend?
Look at this.
Aw, shit.
I don't want to see that.
Look at this.
This is him,
killed like an animal,
and you play dumb?
I can kind of picture the dude in my head.
I'm not sure how to describe him.
Then don't, motherfucker.
Keep your fucking mouth shut.
Take this punk back to West Hollywood
and drop him on the street.
Our pleasure.
Give me that.
I'm going to show you some photos, okay?
Go ahead.
The driver may or may not be in the pictures.
I don't want you to feel like you got to pick one.
Maybe this one right here.
And him.
You sure?
Could have been.
I'll use a security guy
to establish when Donatella arrived
and when Holland left and came back that night.
The missing 20 minutes.
Which will contradict
his original statement to the detectives.
When he was staging the scene.
Mm-hmm. After the security guy, the DNA evidence.
Defense will say the sex was consensual.
And we'll say that Donatella thought
she was engaging in consensual sex,
but Holland had intended to kill her all along.
Intention. It's a high bar.
Annabelle Crowe will testify
how he choked her during sex until she passed out
and how his actions afterwards
indicate he thought she was dead.
He was prepared to get rid of her body.
Excellent.
That establishes his homicidal proclivities,
the premeditation--
Is there a problem?
She's nervous.
Shit.
How nervous?
Holland's people let her know
that they know she works as an escort.
Witness intimidation?
I don't think it rises to that.
As far as we know, they haven't threatened her.
When did you speak to her last?
Bosch is staying in touch with her.
It's not going to be a problem.
Word to the wise, Anita.
Anything other
than a professional relationship
with Detective Bosch...
is a bad idea.
And not my style.
Careful.
Might be an IA sting.
IA's after you, pal, not me.
Obviously this is mine.
Fell out of my pocket.
If you say so.
What you got there?
Autopsy notes on Sharkey.
Wounds indicate the weapon had a curved blade,
3 inches from tip to hilt.
And the car Sharkey got into on Saturday night,
one of his boys thinks maybe Xavi Moreno was driving.
Might not be enough for a warrant.
But enough to go rattle his cage.
Coming?
Am I invited?
You can thank Robertson.
Why Robertson?
For being an even bigger asshole than you are.
Follow me.
Looks like fun.
They explode without warning.
I wasn't talking about the board.
Neither was I.
Jerry.
No curved blades.
That would have been too easy.
You're in my backyard.
- You take it. - Got it.
LAPD. Xavier Moreno?
Sí, señor.
I wanted to ask you a question
about this photograph.
Hmm. Yeah? So?
Trevor Dobbs says you worked for him.
That was another life.
You don't work for him anymore?
Why would I want to work for him
when I got all this? When I got her?
Billy Meadows--
when did you see him last?
I don't know. Maybe when that picture was taken.
Too bad about Billy, huh?
What do you fish?
Shark. Mako, thresher.
I run charters.
Overnights with weekend warriors
out of Newport and Huntington.
That where you were Saturday night? Charter?
Nah. Date night.
Zankou Chicken
- and then-- - From when to when?
Eating or fucking?
6 p.m. until ai, papi.
So that's what, 6:15?
Ha-ha. Funny man. Midnight.
- Midnight? - Mm-hmm. She'll tell you.
About the same time the street kid
was stabbed to death in Hollywood.
Shit happens in Hollywood.
We've been talking to him about Billy Meadows' murder.
No shit. He was a suspect?
- Witness. - Ah.
He was there that night.
Bad luck for you, huh?
Killer knew his way around a blade.
Hit this kid's bleeders.
You must know the move--
two cuts across the neck down the shoulder.
Serious move, brother. Ever try it for real?
You?
That move, when it's done right--
Tell me.
No artery spray.
None of that movie bullshit.
You could be 5 feet away and not know what happened.
Turn around, guy's on the ground
bleeding out. Nothing you can do.
Exactly what happened to our witness.
You want to test my knives?
In time.
Get a warrant.
And have at it.
Mamacita.
- I like him for it. - No doubt.
Think he still has the weapon?
If he does, he bleached it.
Nah. Crate and Barrell are gone.
Clue the video. Maybe explain to Pop.
You sure you want all of it?
Happy to share.
Every frame. Put it on that.
I'll watch it tonight.
You understand what this is.
This is surveillance footage of a street corner,
hours and hours of it.
I got nothing but time.
Mmm.
Don't start.
And a thousand tiny violins
- begin to play. - Fuck your mother.
It's a sad, sad song, brother.
That the Gunn murder book?
Yeah. You need it?
No. Don't open it.
I'll look when I get home.
All right. Love you, Lis'.
Anderson?
Done.
That story's dead.
Fresh look.
Well, can't hurt.
Grace Billets.
Shit.
Your wife know you're here?
Oh, my wife knows everything.
That's too bad. What can I do for you?
I'm still trying to find that guy
who came here with Eddie Gunn.
Seems like a long time ago now.
Why don't you have a look-see in here?
That's that director, the one who killed that girl.
It wasn't him. I'd remember.
And what about this guy?
Ah, no.
He's hunky, though.
One more?
Three time's a charm.
No. Sorry.
That it?
For now.
Thanks, Janice.
You're welcome, detective.
What's your name?
Robertson.
Got a first name?
Santiago.
But everyone calls me Jimmy.
Okay, then, Santiago.
See you around.
Yep.
Coach says I'm good enough to play on the travel team.
Can you make it so I can see what they're doing?
Coach says it'll look good on my college apps.
Scholarships,
hello.
Your travel team, I heard you.
It's only on the weekends.
I won't miss any school. Don't worry.
You got that right.
- How's that? - Can you zoom in?
Sure.
Nice. Gracias.
De nada.
You really want to give up your weekends?
I'd miss you.
You mean when you and Anita aren't working?
Really? I'll discuss it with your mother.
Cool. Homework.
Xavi.
Captain.
I understand you had a visit.
Just chumming the waters.
And that's how shit surfaces.
If they had anything,
they'd have come with a warrant.
South Bay?
On my way.
Take Woody with you.
What?
Look, I'd rather solo, Captain.
He's baked all day every day.
Useless.
Less me, more we, Moreno.
Who was it took out
Abdul Ghazni in Kandahar?
We did.
- The three of us. - Yes, sir.
Thanksgiving's coming.
If we keep our shit together,
we're all gonna have a lot to be thankful for.
Hey, Pierce.
Hey.
What's all this?
Fresh eyes on Gunn.
Robertson's working some angle.
- Oh, yeah? Why? - I'm not sure.
He doesn't exactly keep me up to speed.
Any usable prints from Gunn's?
Just Gunn's.
So go back. Redo it.
Reprint Gunn's apartment.
I can do that?
Shit, yeah. It's your case, too.
Yeah, but shouldn't I--
But have Potter do it. He's the best.
Have him recheck everything at point of entry.
Look small, find big.
Better make sure that thing's waterproof.
That bitch Benitez.
I mean, I can't even use my own hot tub?
Cruel and unusual punishment.
You need to eat something, Mr. H.
Want me to make your protein shake?
Would you, Marissa? You're a lifesaver.
What about you, Mr. Fowkkes? Rudy?
Not for me.
No, thanks.
Feeling a little queasy.
I can get you something else.
Maybe a bigger towel.
Annabelle Crowe is not going to be a problem.
You're certain?
100%. She's been receptive to our inducements.
The offer didn't come from us directly.
Uh, a third party.
She has no idea.
Couldn't believe it.
Just a stroke of good fortune.
Excellent.
What about Bosch?
We're ready to go after him
in social media.
Level of interest in your case, Andrew,
is, uh, quite high.
My publicist could help.
Again, this cannot look like it came from us.
All right.
Tell me the story you came up with.
Just the slug line.
Movie-of-the-week detective becomes murder suspect.
Oh, come on, it's tired.
Don't you think?
A bit dull.
I'm open to suggestions, Andrew.
Oh, don't get your panties in a twist, J.R.
I don't expect you to be a creative.
What about...
hashtag down and dirty detective?
Now that's click bait.
Fucking perfect.
I always say you're a genius, Andrew.
One of the few directors
worthy of the appellation "auteur."
All right, now let's not overdo it, J.R.
What?
Mr. H.
Thank you, Marissa.
Mm.
Ah.
Anyone care to join me?
Maybe he's overcompensating.
You think?
Zankou Chicken.
I'm not hungry.
It's a peace offering.
Jerry, you can't bribe me with fast food.
What did the counter guy say?
Remembers the girl.
I get that. Xavi Moreno?
Not so much.
- Video? - No.
Some alibi.
Aye Papi. I was thinking.
How could he afford to live in that zip code
running weekend charters?
Maybe he's selling shark fins to Asia.
I had Sacciano do a financial workup
this past April to October-- Dobbs, Marino, and Woodrow
were on payroll of a company called A4 Dynamics.
A4 Dynamics. What is that?
I'm still working on that.
My bet, it's a shell company for Dobbs Corp.
Copies of Dobbs' credit card statements...
for April and October.
The highlighted charges.
DXB.
Dubai International.
Duty-free.
At your service, ladies.
You made it.
So move on over.
- Let me get in here. - Okay.
So here's what I got.
Sorry I'm late.
Like an idiot, I thought I would just nip onto the 405
and take the 10,
and La Brea was all backed up, of course.
What a nightmare.
Well, don't worry about it.
Connie's not here yet, either.
How are you, Irv?
Ready for this part to be over.
Almost there. Today should be simple.
It's a lot easier when there are no children involved.
Minor children, I meant.
I know.
Get my message about your pension?
Yeah.
Look, I just feel
that Connie's entitled to her fair share.
Your next wife might disagree.
Fat chance.
Life goes on, Irv.
A man like you--
especially for a man like you
in your position--
I don't see that happening.
Hello, Irv.
Craig.
Good to see you.
Where's Connie?
Uh, she's not coming.
Uh, she's given me power of attorney.
We still have things to discuss.
She said yes to everything you asked for.
She's not contesting anything.
All we need is your signature,
and, uh, this will be done.
We'll get it filed today.
Good?
Fine.
Irv.
Wait.
Look, I didn't mean to, uh, ambush you,
but Connie didn't want me to tell you ahead of time.
Why?
Uh, she's tired of talking about it.
She just wants to move on.
How is she?
She's good.
You know, doing well.
It helps to have family.
Yes, it does.
Are you in touch with yours?
I am.
That's good. Good.
All right, then.
Uh, best of luck.
Craig, uh...
Well, you have my number
if you ever want to play a round or catch a game.
Absolutely.
Uh, take care of yourself, all right?
I will. You, too.
Yeah.
Hey, Bosch.
Thanks for meeting me out here.
You're doing me a solid.
Anything to get out of that office
and loosen up the damn monkey suit.
I think I got what you need.
Captain Trevor Dobbs and company.
Right.
They arrived Dubai
April 20 of this year.
Nonstop flight Jet Blue out of LAX.
They returned back to the States
the same way October 7.
And in between?
A six-hour layover in which they visited
the Dubai international duty-free
and bought copious amounts of cigarettes and alcohol.
Then they jump on the Safi Airlines flight to Kabul.
Hot damn Afghanistan.
Turns out they're frequent flyers.
They were just there the year before.
And FYI, William Meadows was with them that time
but not this last one.
Meadows couldn't pass the physical, Dobbs said.
What's the attraction?
I mean, why go back so soon?
Ohh. Afghanistan does have its charms.
They were lost on me.
Copy that.
Detective.
Sorry.
- I know how they got in. - How?
There's a faint abrasion pattern
along the edge of the door.
Probably fishing line,
maybe monofilament.
Any prints?
Maybe tomorrow morning
I'll cruise by the Marina.
Can't hurt.
What do you think it is?
O'Shea thinks drugs or cash,
maybe antiquities.
A jeep full of gold.
You are hung up on that Jeep.
I just can't stop thinking about it.
In my mind it's a solid gold jeep.
Whatever it is,
this last time, they left Meadows behind.
Doing dope, running his mouth.
He'd gone to pieces, so they shut him up.
Sharkey, too.
Yeah. Sharkey.
Wrong place, wrong time.
Bad luck.
His whole life.
Well, good on Maddie.
The coach wants her to join the travel team.
Do a workup on him?
No.
Why not?
The coach is a woman.
So? Do it. Trust me.
So when do you hear about the captain's exam?
I heard.
Next to last band.
Gonna die on that list.
Shit. Sorry.
What happened?
Kiz.
I mean, I can't prove it, but--
Well, you can take it again in two years.
It'll be ancient history.
No, no, no, no. I'm done.
You know what? The truth is
I think I wanted to make captain
more than I wanted to actually be one.
But I'm happy where I am
with you assholes.
Where you belong.
That's right.
To my assholes.
I think that toast was probably a first.
It's been a rough one for you.
That tunnel vision you get
- when you work a case, right? - Sure.
I didn't pay attention.
I didn't protect my witness.
Now that boy's going home the wrong way.
I keep telling you.
It's not your fault, Harry.
I mean, it isn't.
- Wow. Look who it is. - Rhodes.
How's life in the fast lane?
Beats humping a shamu.
I'll bet. Nice murse.
Real Corinthian leather?
Who told you to reprint the scene?
My idea.
Your idea or Bosch's?
Son of a bitch.
Look, Jimmy, it's my case, too.
I needed to do something besides research bezels and watch bands.
- Fair enough. - So?
LT thinks it's a frame
and Andrew Holland's behind it.
What do you think?
Maybe. Or maybe
Bosch killed Gunn and designed this fucked up frame
to throw shit on Holland.
No way.
You don't know, young blood.
You don't know.
Never assume.
Why would Bosch do that?
He takes two assholes off the board
with one move.
He gets Gunn,
and Holland goes down, too.
But here's the thing.
I don't know who killed Gunn yet,
but I know Bosch is lying about something.
He's hiding something. I can smell it.
So what do we do?
We start over.
Look at everything again.
From the beginning?
Hey.
We're way ahead of the game.
Some smart ass already had the scene reprinted.
- Got some quality lifts, too. - Oh, yeah.
Hey, you know what?
Why don't you take this one?
Edward James Gunn.
You bailed him out of the Rampart drunk tank
about two weeks ago.
Girl said she needed to get this fella out.
Asked me to handle it, so I did.
Can you pull your copy of her I.D.?
Didn't make a copy.
So there are no papers on this?
Of course there is.
Been doing this job a long time.
We obey the law here.
I can't read this signature.
Tough titty.
Hey. Respect.
What can I tell you?
She showed me I.D. She signed the form.
She paid the bond.
How'd she pay?
Cash.
She paid cash on the barrel.
What did she look like?
Young, dark hair, dark eyes.
Hispanic.
Latina.
She was Spanish.
She speaks Spanish?
How would I know? We talk English in here.
Are you fucking with me, asshole?
Anybody else been in here asking about this?
As a matter of fact...
last week.
Bosch.
Here you go.
You have a good day, sir.
Abso-fucking-lutely, Popeye.
You seen this?
No. What?
Search Twitter.
Hashtag DDD or hashtag 3D.
Hashtag DDD?
What is that?
The Edward Gunn murder.
The story you backed off of
about an LAPD officer being a suspect.
"Down and dirty detective."
Blogger at Witness L.A. picked it up,
- Now it's everywhere. - Shit.
It's on the Huffington Post.
You said it was a nonstory.
It was. It is.
You got played.
Grace wants everybody
to bring a couple of sides.
I was thinking biscuits, mac and cheese.
Mac and cheese sounds good.
I'm kidding. It sounds horrible.
Sweet potatoes with marshmallow crust.
Sounds horrible.
Yeah, but it tastes good.
Annabelle, she's not returning my calls.
Maybe it's the holiday. She's gone home to Mama.
I told O'Shea she'd testify.
You what?
I more or less guaranteed it.
I thought you were going to tell him
she changed her mind.
I was hoping you'd take another crack at her.
You're very persuasive when you want to be.
Okay, I'll do it Friday.
If we lose her, at least we've got you.
Ahh.
Let's see it, boys, let's see it.
Fuck.
Shit.
Ohh.
Yeah, baby.
Oh, that is fucking pretty.
That's amore. Ha ha!