(engine idling)
(engine shuts off)
(siren whoops)
(chuckles softly)
Couldn't stay away, huh?
-Gabriela Lincoln, Jerry Edgar. -Task force?
She's IA, so watch your step.
Didn't think you were coming back until next week.
He was shot, you know.
Yeah, I think I heard something like that.
The man's a freak of nature.
Apparently his brain is located in his left shoulder.
If it was me, man, I'd go visit
every Triple-A baseball park in the country,
then get a big bed in a big room up in Big Sur
and go to fucking sleep for about a year.
Jimmy ever let you out for fresh air, Pierce?
Tell me about it.
What are you doing here today?
Had this weird craving for K-Cup machine coffee.
That's scary.
ROBERTSON: Pierce.
Where the fuck is my briefcase warrant?
Shit.
Uh...
I've got it right here.
Can I help you?
-Guy looks just like J. Edgar. -No, can't be.
The real J. Edgar's on the beach somewhere.
-Piña coladas. -Mmm.
CRATE: Paid for with that fat medical pension
any sane individual would have jumped on.
EDGAR: Oh, man.
Billets is acting captain,
Bosch is running his own task force...
-Maybe it's opposite day. -Where's my chair?
CRATE: We missed you, too, Jerry.
J. Edgar?
We made the same mistake, Lieutenant.
-Where's my chair? -Wait.
You're not due back till Monday.
Figured I'd come in at least a day early
to find all my stuff.
You're the captain?
Oh, yeah.
Until Cooper comes back from his staycation.
New TV. It's a self-hostage situation.
I'm serious. Where's my chair?
(horn honks)
(door creaks)
♪ ♪
(phone ringing)
Yeah?
SNYDER (on phone): Special Master just showed up.
You better get back here.
(door opens)
(door shuts)
Detective.
Ms. Chandler.
When I got the call to be Special Master
and heard the lead detective was you,
-my heart leapt. -I'll bet.
-Can we get started? -Not yet.
Go get us some macchiatos.
I'll need a few more minutes to Bosch-proof the place.
See if you can find some of that coffee
made from ground cat shit.
♪ ♪
♪ I got a feeling that I can't let go ♪
-♪ Can't let go ♪ -♪ I got a feeling that I can't let go ♪
-♪ Can't let go, can't let go ♪ -♪ I got a feeling ♪
♪ That I can't let go ♪
♪ I got a feeling that I can't let go ♪
-♪ Can't let go, can't let go ♪ -♪ I got a feeling ♪
♪ That I can't let go ♪
♪ Can't let go ♪
♪ Like me. ♪
You can take that one with you-- low-hanging fruit.
His other files will require closer review.
I'd like to get to Black Guardian as soon as we can.
Work product from an active case?
I don't think so.
The very definition of attorney-client privilege,
and why I'm here.
No, you're here to help me catch a killer
without giving someone like yourself
an easy way to get him off.
So, what's your theory?
Oh, that's how I do it. I decide who's guilty,
then I find what I need to prove it.
Isn't that how we got here? Black Guardian?
That's the uncomplicated view.
Oh, educate me, please.
The case was an active kidnapping
when RHD caught it.
They were trying to save the life of a little girl.
Harris' print was lifted off a book
found in the Kincaid girl's room.
He had a record, and he ran.
You believe their story-- the man tortured himself?
A big payday from the city. People have done worse.
-Internal Affairs cleared them. -Oh.
So anyone but a cop?
This is productive.
Did you know him?
Howard? A bit.
Sharks passing in the night.
I respected him.
He was difficult to like.
Yeah? How so?
More mercenary than civil crusader.
Oh, so, kindred spirits.
Would it be fair to say that going to trial for Elias--
turning down a... a big settlement--
would be unusual?
Okay, I'll play.
Put it this way: I seriously doubt
he would go to trial unless he was confident
he was going to win.
So he had something.
A witness. Evidence.
Maybe he just has big brass balls.
I'm not asking what it is, just if it exists.
City attorney can show you the discovery.
That's as much as you're gonna get from me.
Where does Elias have Harris stashed?
That's a clever workaround.
Go straight to the client.
No confidentiality there.
Far as I know, he's at home.
Someday you'll surprise me.
(phone ringing in background)
That's my chair.
I don't think so.
-Stand, please. -(clears throat)
Well...
Whoa! How did that happen?
Barrel did it. Barrel did it.
Are you kidding? Robberies?
They're not gonna audit themselves.
Did you get everything back?
Except somebody ransacked my drawer.
Oh, Jesus wept.
-When do you meet with your IOD coordinator? -Monday.
Because that's when I'm back, officially.
Mm. Great, Well, in the meantime,
you can get started on these.
Fuck, I'm the house mouse now?
You are my favorite house mouse.
It's good to have you back, J. Edgar.
Did you work things out with Bosch?
-Nothing to work out. -Perfect.
BOSCH: So, you disagree with Ms. Chandler?
Black Guardian?
Sure you guys got it right?
We investigated, we found Harris' claim not sustained.
Read the report.
It's never going to work.
He's been dead for too long.
Give me that.
If you're gonna break the law, break it right.
Now, it won't lock up for another 12 hours.
-(music playing) -And you can use it to chill out.
If need be.
(Snyder clears throat)
(phone ringing)
AUTOMATED VOICE: The voicemail for this number
is unavailable or has not been set up.
I didn't ask for this.
Any of it.
Ask for what?
I'm a good cop, trying to get better.
I didn't ask to be assigned to your stupid conduct unbecoming.
I wrote you up because you deserved it,
and I'd do it again. Sometimes you're an asshole.
But I also think you're a good detective.
This going anywhere?
And I'm not Lincoln.
I'm no IA lifer.
I want to make detective and get the hell out of the oven.
I thought, working on this case, I could learn something
with you, but that's not gonna happen
if you treat me like a piece of shit.
Okay. Let's say, for the moment, I see your point.
Tell me about Black Guardian.
-I already said... -But not the yearbook answer.
Word of an ex-con against four veteran RHD-threes.
No witnesses, no cameras.
There's only one way that goes.
-You think they did it. -I think a child's life
was on the line, and they thought they had the guy
who knew where she was, and he wasn't talking.
I don't know if they did it.
Okay, if. Which one?
Drake, no question.
More than his fair share of citizen complaints.
Guys like him are the whole reason
for the Christopher Commission.
Look, bottom line, they got the killer.
Whatever works, right?
(siren wailing in distance)
Captain didn't say anything about it. If I had known,
-I would've... -(knocking on door)
Come in.
Uh, absolutely.
Next year.
I will.
Runyon Canyon homeowners had a fucking potluck,
Cooper promised to bring dessert.
I need the keys to the task force room.
Chief's putting you on lockdown?
-Worried about leaks. -Leaks.
Leaks are the least of it.
He takes you, Robertson, Pierce, leaves me shorthanded.
Everything falls on Crate and Barrel.
Weight of the world.
I asked Wilshire for help, but they're short
because Valley needed support for that gang thing.
Still processing the arrests.
You wanted to be a captain.
Just when I'm finally getting okay with not making captain,
I'm a fake captain,
on a lieutenant's pay, and it's worse.
When's the last time you slept?
Late '70s.
(unzips)
J. Edgar.
How's the shoulder?
Harry.
I thought that was you.
Shoulder's fine.
Good to hear.
By the way, Crate stole your chair.
Yeah.
I solved that.
-Hey. -Hey.
Commissioner Walker called.
Wants an update on our progress.
From me.
In person, end of watch.
Jesus. Hasn't even been a day yet.
And that address you texted, for Michael Harris?
Yeah, what about it?
Well, place was empty.
Neighbor said he hasn't seen him in a week.
Elias must've parked him somewhere for the trial.
I got to go back to Chandler.
Well, Special Master be special fucking with your head.
(chuckles) Yeah, that ain't fresh news.
Where's Pierce?
Warrant for Elias's Bunker Hill place.
I think there was a woman there last night, waiting for him.
ROBERTSON: Not his wife?
Bring a crim.
Files about our RHD friends on the dining table.
ROBERTSON: Special Master material.
Be sure not to look at them.
Almost like you've been there.
(sighs)
Sergeant Snyder.
That arrest report you found at the Bradbury for Martin Elias.
Why don't you bring that associate in
and ask him about it?
Absolutely. Yeah.
Arrested for what?
Possession.
Mm. And Lincoln,
call Central and Rampart and request
all the crime reports for last night.
(door opens)
BOSCH: Adios.
ROBERTSON: Adios.
DELGADO: Candlelight vigil,
they don't have a permit.
Social media buzz suggests it could be 500 people.
Or 50.
Has anybody tried to talk to the organizer?
STANWICK: Spontaneous thing.
No one we've been able to pinpoint yet.
Central Bureau provides squads for crowd control.
Metro will be on standby, and Juvenile will maintain
station security here at PAB.
We can put some UCs in the crowd.
And have more officers than actual citizens.
I want a minimal police presence.
-Chief, if this thing blows... -Be prepared to move with force.
But let's not create a scenario
where this becomes a referendum on LAPD.
People want to pay respects.
Let them do so.
It may help us down the line.
(knocking on door)
I only found out Harris was squirreled away
after you left.
My bad.
Must have missed your call.
Who's the detective here?
He checked in looking for Kaplan.
I'm pretty sure I'm only obligated
to provide you with what you ask for.
Where's Harris?
I'll go with.
Otherwise, you won't get him to open the door.
Scraping a sharp pencil across a man's temporal lobe
can cause serious mood swings.
Angling to take up his cause, Counselor?
It would be incredibly bad form
for me to leverage the advantage of my position.
When did that ever stop you before?
I did find that Black Guardian case notebook you asked about.
Yeah? Did you read it?
Enough to know that it is capital "P" privileged.
But if it helps, there's no smoking gun.
At least, nothing that would make me want
to take this case to a jury.
Oof. Some serious flappage there.
You leaving soon?
Well, in theory, I'm not here.
Why?
There's are a few more warrants I need to grind out,
-but me and Jimmy need to do a search... -Fine.
I got your back.
Harry doesn't trust the IA people.
No shit.
Go.
Thanks.
Oh, hey.
And don't you have that tech guy
who can help expedite phone stuff?
CHANDLER: We've been holed up here
since the beginning of voir dire.
Elias paid two weeks in advance.
So Elias thought the trial would be one and done.
(chuckles) Nice try.
LAPD. Car stays here.
VALET: Uh...
CHANDLER: Thank you.
Let him see you first.
Mr. Harris?
Mr. Harris, it's Honey Chandler, we spoke on the phone earlier.
And I said I ain't talking.
-HARRIS: The fuck, man? -Bosch. Homicide.
I especially don't talk to cops.
Not without a lawyer, and mine's fucking dead.
That's why I'm here, Mr. Harris.
You even touch him again, I'll call the judge.
She's a lawyer and an officer of the court.
-She'll protect you. -Yeah?
And when's she gonna start?
HARRIS: Man, cops killed Mr. Elias.
And probably now want to kill me, too.
They won't let anyone take this to trial.
BOSCH: Why?
Because my lawyer was gonna prove what they did.
Whole world was gonna know.
Your lawyer tell you how he was gonna do that?
You don't have to answer that, Mr. Harris.
You're looking at how he was gonna do it.
Me.
He was gonna put you on the stand.
Tell my tale.
He called it my testi-money.
You must be one hell of a storyteller.
The truth is always the best story, lawyerman said.
Truth is,
cops came in that junkyard like a pack of wolves.
Take me to that storage room, grill me hard, high heat.
"Where is she? What did you do with her?"
And I'm saying, "I ain't do it, I ain't do it."
I don't even know what they talking about.
Kidnap a little white girl?
Come on, man. That ain't me.
And they tortured you.
Counselor, whose story is this?
I have to piss, you know?
After all that while.
So they take me to the bathroom.
Okay.
I start in.
They come in after. Boom.
-Both of them? -The fuck would I know?
I'm down, I'm cut.
Blood in my eyes, and he's on me with, like, a choke hold.
Jamming my head into the bowl, deep.
I'm drowning in piss water.
Plastic bag time.
They sack my head like a melon,
but real tight, no air, no air at all.
(exhales)
Here it comes.
-A fucking nail in my ear. -(screaming)
Pressing, pressing. "You did it. Admit it.
Tell us where she is."
And then, the pain.
I would've said anything to stop it.
I told them I'd take them to her,
just let me take out that pencil,
and we'd go save that poor little girl.
They let you take it out.
Get my prints on it, you know.
(grunting, shouts)
Give me a wad of paper towel, and we drove.
And drove.
I said she was in the desert.
I knew Barstow was a couple hours.
They drove, and I prayed.
Then the call come in.
Someone found the girl's body, it'd just been dumped.
By her dad.
They released you.
Motherfuckers dropped me off at the urgent care on Fountain.
Bullshit doc in a box.
Band-Aid, couple of oxys, and now it's my word against theirs.
But Elias thought you could win.
He did.
When's the last time you talked to him?
Come by yesterday morning.
Said the city upped the number to 420.
I said, "Take it."
But Mr. Elias said that was chicken feed.
A jury could give me ten times that.
You believed him.
Mr. Elias believed me, man.
Like, really believed me.
Like he was there when it happened.
Now he's dead.
And cops did it, and I'm fucked.
You think you could still get me that 420?
(knock on door)
PIERCE: LAPD. Anyone home?
♪ ♪
(car locator chirps)
DOORMAN: Two spaces.
Him and his wife... and guest.
She comes and goes.
Can anyone come and go without you knowing it?
We got eyes on every egress.
Do you keep records of the license numbers
authorized to park down below?
Matter of fact, we do.
KAPLAN: He asked me to take care of it.
Meaning what?
-Make it go away? -No.
That was what he'd always done in the past.
Howard wanted his son to...
bleed a bit this time.
To learn a lesson.
How did Martin take the news?
Y-You know I can't answer that.
Why you?
What do you mean?
Your boss seemed to treat you like a messenger.
At least, from what I saw on your desk.
Glorified paralegal.
Howard was a...
was a one-man band.
But he wouldn't have hired me
if he didn't respect me as a lawyer.
He ever share strategy with you?
Because-- wondering aloud here--
if he was willing to turn down
the city's offer for Black Guardian,
maybe he had something he knew a jury would
give him a lot more money for if he took it to trial.
Magic bullet, you know.
No, see, that's the thing.
I don't know.
One-man band, like I said.
(phone ringing)
Hey.
What did you say to my client
when you showed the house?
EDGAR (on phone): Nothing. Why?
I thought he was gonna lowball me.
He came in full price.
You should do all my showings.
EDGAR: Can we meet at my place?
Uh, I've got some pizza.
We can stream something kid-friendly.
Where are you?
EDGAR: I had to come straighten out my desk.
Hollywood Station?
Yeah. They stole my chair.
Mm.
How much longer you think you'll be?
EDGAR: Well, Pierce asked if I can
help him with some paperwork on the Elias murder.
They got a task force going.
I'm not on it. They-- (sighs)
They're shorthanded, you know?
We'll meet you at 7:30.
They can do homework before.
-Pepperoni? -Hawaiian.
7:30, J.
Yeah.
(neighborhood dogs barking)
Pamela Duncan in?
-Santiago Robertson, LAPD. -Darling, I got it.
What's going on?
Uh, a few questions about Howard Elias.
MAN: She barely knew him.
It's okay, Ben.
Do you mind if we walk Monster?
PAMELA: I waited for him to join me,
and he just never showed up.
I had to get home, obviously.
And you went back and cleaned up when you heard the news.
The last thing Howard and his family needed
was to be dragged through the tabloid swamp.
Not to mention your career.
How long?
I've known Howard for years,
but we only started sleeping together
when I signed onto the case.
A man who loves to settle worries about jurors?
This one was different.
Howard wanted the world to know
what those detectives did to Michael Harris.
Wasn't gonna let the city bury this with a settlement,
but wasn't gonna turn down a fat check from the jury, either.
No. He changed.
The man got religion.
Decided it was time to do some good.
For me, an attractive quality.
Where was your husband last night?
On the red eye from New York.
Do you think his wife knew about you?
Me, yes. The fucking, no.
But his son found out.
How'd that go?
Anonymous texts,
vicious e-mails from phony senders.
The whole thing blew up last week.
Martin called his dad a hypocrite to his face.
The kid was pretty jacked up.
Jacked up enough to kill him?
How am I gonna keep this from destroying my marriage?
You're asking the wrong guy.
How did you know they had a secret menu?
Mom, even Dad knows.
I could make these.
-I don't think so. -(chuckles)
Who was that guy you were talking to?
Mm.
His daughter's on the Balboa Eighteens.
She's not playing very much,
so they're thinking of switching clubs.
You know.
Yeah, it's just, um... sliced potatoes,
onions, cheese.
Throw it in the microwave,
nuke it till it looks like this...
You should get a cooking show.
I could definitely make these.
You could definitely ask Reggie to do it
for you when he gets here.
If, in fact, he's coming at all.
Honey... (short chuckle)
Come on. What can I say?
How about the truth?
The truth would be nice.
Even a little bit of it.
See you tomorrow.
Tell Harry th...
So, does the mistress-slash- jury consultant have an alibi?
Well, security puts her in the apartment,
but I doubt a woman committed this crime.
-Why not? -Well, call it a hunch,
but bullet up the ass is tantamount to rape.
I don't think a female makes that statement.
-Don't sell us short. -BOSCH: Duncan's story
-about the son? -Prior arrests, but none stuck.
The associate claims dad always intervened.
Yeah, mistress seemed to think Elias had some
"come to Jesus" thing going on.
Came down hard on the kid.
-SNYDER: That's motive, isn't it? -Is it?
What else?
Wallet is a dead end. Credit cards, license,
receipts, pictures of his wife, loose change.
Eh, pull the purchase records anyway for the credit cards.
You never know.
J. Edgar's phone guy's gonna help with turnaround
on that number that left the text for Elias.
ROBERTSON: How are we doing on his old cases?
First batch, already got about a half a dozen cops
with plausible motive to kill him.
-BOSCH: Clients? -Nothing yet.
-Clients loved him. -Uh, we should keep our focus
on our Black Guardian detectives.
Francis Sheehan was involved in a OIS a few years back.
I remember it came up in our IA review.
Well, find it. And any others
for the cops you got on your short lists.
I'm pulling all Terry Drake's old use of force complaints.
Could be something there.
It goes where it goes.
Drake knows the score.
Okay. Everybody go home, get some sleep.
Tomorrow we pull in the RHD boys, verify their alibis,
cross 'em off the list.
Or not.
-(bicycle bell rings) -(gasps)
Jesus, watch where the fuck you're going!
(indistinct conversations)
WOMAN: Why am I even talking to the L.A. Times?
IA clears the RHD cops on Black Guardian,
it's page one, above the fold.
REPORTER: We report the news, Ms. Zealy.
ZEALY: Do you? Or do you just
print whatever press release the city hands out?
So, in other words, you're doing now exactly what you say
the city's doing-- making prejudicial assumptions,
-jumping to conclusions without the facts. -No.
It's just, if the police try to cover this up,
the community needs to respond, and we will.
Look, I'm here out of respect to Howard Elias,
-a man that dedicated his life to justice. -Thank you.
(doorbell rings)
Harry Bosch. I called ahead.
Sure. Come on in, Detective.
I'll tell Mr. Walker you're here.
Lakers up by 11, fourth quarter.
Follow basketball?
Not so much.
Well, I'm sorry to make your long day longer, Detective.
I really only have one question.
Same one everyone's asking.
I wanted to hear it from you.
Out of earshot of the department and City Hall,
in case that factors.
It doesn't.
What do you think?
Didn't you know him?
The photograph on his ego wall:
you, the mayor, Elias.
Well...
like all of us,
he had this city in his blood.
Like you, I think.
Like your father?
My father bulldozed Bunker Hill
so lawyers could have an ocean view.
His father destroyed Chavez Ravine
for low-cost housing he knew would never happen.
But you're better than that.
That's not for me to judge.
Was it a cop who killed Elias?
Logical assumption.
You have other suspects?
Following all the leads.
Ask the right questions,
I have to believe...
the answers will get me to the truth.
You know, that cold case
you're working on...
Can I be of any help?
When I think you can,
you can be sure I'll reach out to you.
Hello?
Anyone home?
Hello?
Come on. 15 minutes?
Guys?
-(shouting) -Hey!
Okay... Aah!
Ooh, Jesus, you scared the hell out of me.
That was the idea, I think.
You really thought we'd left?
Ah, plates,
napkins, chop-chop.
We wouldn't leave, Dad. Not with pineapple pizza.
(chuckling): Look at you.
A comedian.
-(chuckles) -(chuckles)
(music playing on earbuds)
Mom is an impossible human.
Talk or text, Mads.
We got third in our pool.
Liz kept setting Emma, who kept hitting it out.
We lost our first and last match.
Mads, please.
Thank you.
(sighs)
Sorry I couldn't be there.
Angel's Flight homicide.
Becca's mom saw you on TV.
#KilledByCops. It's trending.
Mmm. #Wrong. Beginning stages.
-Gathering information... -I know.
And then sifting.
I asked Mom about Reggie.
She won't talk about it.
Mmm.
Maybe she's trying to figure it out herself.
Did you eat?
Was she like this when you guys broke up?
(sighs) Wow, I... I don't remember.
I mean, when you're in it, it's...
it's kind of hard to see things clearly.
You think they are splitting up?
I know. Talk to her. I tried.
Then keep trying.
Keep trying. Obviously. I'm a Bosch, Dad.
-(laughs) -That's what we do.
-You want some double-double? -Oof. No.
-I'm too tired to chew. -It's still warm.
And, unlike sushi, still good.
There's fries inside.
(pats knee)
(car alarm chirps quietly)
(door buzzes, lock clicks)
Oh.
Game's this way.
(quiet, indistinct conversation)
Eleanor.
We were just about to start without you.
Good thing you didn't.
Can't win 'em all when you don't win the first one.
Blinds are 500 and 1,000. First ace deals.
(speaks Mandarin)
Beginner's luck.
(record needle idling)
(crickets chirping, sirens wail in distance)
5,000 to you.
Let's make it 20.
Good hand.
Game's over. I'm sorry.
Huh? (speaks Mandarin)
I'm sorry.
Please, please, come.
Come, please, this way. Cash them out.
Please. Let's go,
please, please, hurry. Hurry.
(hitting, grunting continues)
Please, you must leave now.
Uh... No, this way.
I won't be a second.
♪ ♪
Eleanor.
-Uh... -What are you doing?
You forgot your money.
Thanks.
♪ ♪