♪ ♪
(ringtone playing)
-Davila. -DAVILA (over phone): Hey, you find him?
I saw him, yeah.
-You need me to stick around? -I can handle things from here.
-Call it a day. -(phone vibrating)
Copy that.
(siren wailing in distance)
(lock clicks)
EDGAR (over phone): Hey, Maddie, hi. J. Edgar.
Uh, your dad and I are gonna be working late,
taking care of something, so, hey, don't wait up. Okay?
(man murmurs)
Where are we going?
Hell.
Buckle up.
(tires screeching)
♪ ♪
♪ 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. ♪
WALSH: Life.
So fucking random, right?
So many important things
determined seemingly by chance, you know?
There but for the grace of God, and so forth.
(gun clicks)
And you are a lucky man.
Best two out of three?
-Fuck you! -Not now.
Piece of shit, anyway.
It's a poor workman that blames his tools.
SHERIFF: I meant him.
I got it.
Special Forces? Hmm?
Another lifetime.
Hmm.
I flew a bunch of you lot around Central America.
Back when killing commies was the rage.
Contras.
"De oppresso liber."
That's right.
Hmm.
"From an oppressed man to a free one."
(laughs softly) It's a noble sentiment.
Until the cravings start, yeah?
(thunder crashes)
Then I guess you're just another fucking junkie.
Nothing special about you.
(rain falling)
Whatever you say.
Can I go?
You can get a piece of that for one of your 80s, gramps.
(dog barking)
(dog continues barking in distance)
(lock clicks)
(car door closes)
(engine starts)
♪ ♪
(clattering)
(sighing)
(line ringing)
EDGAR (over phone): You've reached Detective Jerry Edgar.
Leave your name and number.
(phone beeps)
(ringtone playing)
(sighs)
Hey, Maddie. What's up?
MADDIE: Where's my dad?
Jerry said he'd be done with this
stupid undercover case by last night.
He didn't come home last night?
Nope.
Well, um, best-laid plans, huh?
-What's that supposed to mean? -Just... it's taking them longer
than they expected, that's all.
I'm sure he will call you as soon as he gets a chance.
That's what Jerry says,
when he even bothers to pick up the calls.
(exhales)
(birds squawking)
(squawking continues)
(wind blowing)
You want something?
I owe you for the heads-up.
He come for you?
He tried. He's a fucking punk.
How about an extra 80?
No problem.
(grunts)
What do you want for it?
(sighs)
Just a couple answers.
Beats blowing you for it.
Shit. Fuck it.
Okay, clock's running.
Where are we?
South of nowhere.
Been here before?
Third time.
How long do we stay?
Couple of days. Fuck's it matter?
Do what you're told, you get your pills.
I mean, shit.
Has anyone ever just said, "Fuck it"?
Gotten the hell out of here?
One guy. They disappeared him.
Message received.
The VA.
You really want to quit?
You got a lot of questions for one little button.
Carpal tunnel.
Had a desk job when I left the service.
Oxy did the trick for a while,
until it didn't.
(sighs) Just normal bullshit.
Single mom, bad choices.
I have a daughter.
I don't.
I'd get fucked up.
She'd get bored, run off. Then one day...
...she went off and, uh, didn't come back.
The police found her body...
but not her killer.
I'm sorry.
I guess sometimes we...
blame the only one that's left, right?
Who else?
I think you got your money's worth.
I just don't want... the other...
I don't want people to get the wrong idea.
Yeah, yeah.
Thanks.
Thanks for the talk.
(grunts)
(door opens)
J. Edgar. My office.
Where the hell is Bosch?
I'm not sure.
What? Have you heard from him?
Harry had to make a split-second decision on the spot.
Chose to extend the operation.
-You lost him. -Separated.
-Okay. -For tactical reasons.
Don't tell me he got on that shill plane.
It was a judgment call, L.T.
-All right, I have to notify command. -What? Blow his cover?
-Blow up the whole operation? -If I don't, it's my ass.
Put his life at risk?
-(knocking on door) -Come in.
Uh, sorry, Lieutenant.
We've been trying to track down Oscar Pineto.
Yeah, I thought he was up in Bakersfield
-with his cousin. -So'd we.
Hollenbeck Homicide just called. Patrol found his body
this morning in a car in back of his shop.
All right, you and Pierce shadow Hollenbeck.
Make sure they're aware of the probable connection
-to the pharmacy homicides. -Pierce is stuck in gridlock.
J. Edgar, go with her until Pierce gets there.
Other thing we were talking about?
I will stall as long as I can.
Thanks, L.T.
CRONYN: This piece
-is about my client? -ANDERSON: Partly.
Ah, the real story is you, Mr. Cronyn,
taking on the LAPD and district attorney
to right a wrong, free an innocent man.
Don't blow smoke up my ass, kid.
(chuckles) Fair enough.
You mind if I record?
I'd mind if you didn't.
Let's start with the essential bedrock bottom-line fact
you just mentioned.
My client is innocent.
Oh, then he's also a victim.
Of a grotesque miscarriage of justice.
-Police malfeasance? -(laughs softly)
Obviously, rogue cops have no place on the force.
First and foremost, I want Preston Borders set free.
And once that happens?
What's 22 years of a man's life worth?
(Anderson scoffs)
You mentioned rogue cops.
Only one officer involved with this case hired a lawyer
before the DNA results came back.
-And that would be? -The same officer
who found the key piece of evidence
that convicted my client.
EDGAR: Looks like they broke 'em one by one.
Mother of God.
Sorry I'm late.
-What have we got? -They tortured him.
PIERCE: Think he gave up his cousin?
They only broke the fingers on one hand.
Got what they wanted and shot him.
I'll tell Billets you're headed north.
Pierce, text me your FAA contact's number.
-I'll follow up on the plane. -Roger that.
(footsteps approaching)
Adobe redacting tool.
Said no one who ever actually used it,
unless you want your writs rejected by Deputy D.A. Tribe.
21st century, just saying.
(phone ringing)
D.A.'s office. Madeline Bosch speaking. How may I help you?
Ms. Bosch, Scott Anderson, L.A. Times.
Let me transfer you.
I've been trying to reach your dad.
Left messages, no response.
I was hoping you could put us in touch.
Concerning?
If you could just have him call me.
I'm sorry, Mr. Anderson.
I'm not my father's secretary.
They should make Bakersfield by 1:00.
I'm still with Hollenbeck. Couple more hours.
-Any word from Bosch? -No.
FAA tracked the shill plane
from Whiteman Airport to the Imperial Valley.
Well, can they narrow that down a little?
Naval Air at El Centro has a longer distance radar.
Said they'd get back to us tomorrow.
Tomorrow is too late, all right?
Command is gonna shit a brick.
(click)
SOBEL: Oh, it's so good to see you.
-Mm. -Social call or a favor?
-Mm, little bit of both. -(chuckles)
The habeas hearing?
That's right.
So what dubious legal stratagem
will I have to slap down this time?
-Standing. -For?
My client, Detective Bosch.
(chuckles)
Too easy. Your client has none.
But if we did?
(inhales) Yeah?
We can show that the supposedly dispositive evidence
on offer from Mr. Cronyn is bogus.
Thank you for not springing that on me in court.
I assume you'd rather not reverse yourself.
(scoffs) Oh, I've got no problem with that.
If I screwed up at the first trial,
this is a chance to get it right.
That said...
I'd love to see what the hell you've got up your sleeve.
I appreciate that, Donna.
You'll need strong legal justification for your request.
-I'll have it. -Or I will slap it down.
I'd expect nothing less.
Your Honor.
(lock buzzes)
BORDERS: How in the hell
did they find my wife?
Public records.
A wonder it didn't come out before now.
Surprised the judge doesn't know.
Nobody knows!
She kept her maiden name.
Why didn't you use the knife?
Knife?
The confession!
Had I known, I would have.
Either your wife forgot to mention it,
or you forgot to tell her.
Yeah, well, Bosch and his lawyer
can drive a truck through that hole!
-Bosch has no say in this proceeding. -(chuckles): Yeah,
-well, he sure doesn't act like it. -Law is clear.
No seat at the table. He's a helpless spectator
watching his career crash and burn.
This time next year,
you'll be on a beach somewhere counting your money.
That's exactly what Rita said.
Did you tell her that, too?
Didn't have to. She's right.
The task force inventory of Skyler's jewelry.
Thanks.
Can I ask why you're interested?
Constructing a timeline.
The inventory was done after the family was interviewed
and before Borders was arrested.
Her apartment, her family's home, their safe deposit box.
No pendant.
Borders took it when he killed her.
That's the story.
(phone ringing)
-CIU. Henry. -ANDERSON: Ms. Henry.
Scott Anderson, Times.
-What can I do for you? -I'm working a story
on the Preston Borders habeas hearing.
You know I can't talk about it.
Off the record?
-Off the record? -Completely.
Off the record, I can't talk about it.
-You're no fun. -Sorry to disappoint.
Do you need the D.A.'s media relations number?
I know it by heart.
If you change your mind, call the Times' switchboard.
They'll connect you 24/7, off the rec...
Goodbye, Mr. Anderson.
(scoffs)
-What did Scott Anderson want? -MILLER: A sit-down,
face-to-face, in-depth interview with you.
-About? -Preston Borders.
Harry Bosch's name came up, too.
(sighs)
Tell the Times that we trust the process
and will have no comment until the court makes its decision.
Chief.
(door closes)
(ringtone playing)
-Yes, Chief. -Lieutenant,
where is Detective Bosch?
He's not returning my calls.
In the field.
This pharmacy homicide's got us stretched.
Don't dance with me, Lieutenant, I'm not in the mood.
Oh, no, sir. I wouldn't dream of it.
I need to speak with him.
I'll tell him the first chance I get.
As soon as possible.
Understood.
(whispers): Fuck.
(yawns)
Hey.
What the fuck?
-Get away from me! -What? Jesus.
Okay.
That lady with the short skirt,
she just put something in her backpack.
(sighs)
Whoa, whoa, miss. Hold on a second.
-What? -What do you got in your bag?
My stuff.
Mind if I take a look?
The fuck's going on? That's not mine.
Mrs. Monroe, you want to call the police, please?
-Whoa, whoa, whoa. -Let go of me!
-I didn't take anything! -This is, like,
$80 worth of Lancôme.
Hey, man. That Elizabeth chick
just got popped for boosting shit.
They're calling the cops.
Fuck.
Get in the van.
We're leaving.
Hey. Everyone? Van's leaving.
Let's go. Move it.
Let's go.
(engine starts)
On the corner.
Gray with white trim.
(sighs) Shall we do this?
Let's sit here for a few minutes,
get the lay of the land.
My old partner.
Lugs a milk crate to the scene,
sits on it...
and just looks.
VEGA: I get that with a murder victim
who's not going anywhere, but...
-Patience, Grasshopper. -(laughs)
He say that, too?
Those very words.
(dishes clattering)
-Who was that? -Street source.
Runs a chain of 7-Elevens in the South Bay.
-Legit? -Can't prove he isn't.
Long way to come for coffee.
MARCOS: Well, he comes for the café au lait
and the beignets-- reminds him of home.
-New Orleans? -Haiti.
-Haiti? -Not a lot of Haitians in L.A.
No, there aren't.
So, what's up?
Gary Wise.
RHD's still working the gang angle.
So we hear.
I think Bo Jonas was there when Gary was killed.
Witness saw him fleeing the scene.
You think Jonas did Gary Wise?
I don't know.
She said he was running scared.
She?
-Witness. -We talk to her?
-I'll text you her info. -You still watching
your girlish figure, or can we buy you a beignet?
Sure.
-Your source, what's his name? -ARIAS: Avril.
Jacques Avril. People call him Jackie April.
(French accent): Ah-vreel.
Ah-vreel. Whatever. Does it ring a bell or...?
No.
PIERCE: You have a husband
and a boyfriend?
I'm polyamorous.
I don't believe relationships have to be binary.
And your husband's okay with that?
Mm-hmm. He has a boyfriend, too.
(chuckles)
What do you think?
I think that's him.
If it's him, he'll be back.
Here's Johnny.
And it's definitely him.
PIERCE: Jam him now or after he gets out?
Either way we could lose Junior. Let's get some help.
This is Detective Christina Vega, LAPD.
Partner and I are on a 187 wit's house.
Suspicious vehicle occupied by a lone male white
watching target's residence.
Believe armed.
Need a unit at 5800 Goodman Street.
Appreciate it.
VEGA: Uh-oh.
Hoodie in this heat?
PIERCE: Bogie's out.
Go, go, go! Straight at him.
Police! Let me see your hands!
Let me see your fucking hands!
Drop the gun.
Not gonna tell you again.
Drop the gun. Get your fucking hands up.
Now!
Keep your hands up.
Slowly turn around. Face away from me.
(siren approaching in distance)
Back up. Away from the gun.
Now get down on your knees.
Get down on your stomach.
Head to the left and down flat.
We got a runner!
-I got him! -(tires squeal)
Who knew you were so ballsy?
I'm just getting started.
Officer Robson should have had a rep with him.
For a casual conversation
between an officer and his chief?
Robson took it to be more than that, a lot more.
You can understand our concern.
-It's unfounded. -GORDON: Chief,
anything Officer Robson said to you...
Will be held in strictest confidence.
Frankly, I don't see a problem here.
Two of the three members of the Board of Rights are captains.
Their careers are in your hands.
Hard for them to be impartial.
Look, once the D.A. reaches her decision,
the department will act accordingly.
There will be no rush to judgment.
Thank you, Chief.
Thank you.
-So, this is from CompStat? -Yeah.
Delgado was droning on about tracking clusters.
BFMVs, thefts,
-robberies... -Unique MOs, weapons used, time of day.
-Yeah. All right. -Know that lecture by heart.
So, we know where the numbers are down.
Pacific, Wilshire, Hollywood.
Know why they're down in Hollywood.
Yes. Well, I did a little digging
into Pacific and Wilshire, and guess what.
Same reason.
Somebody wants rosier stats.
Several somebodies.
Cooper?
No, not just Cooper.
How far up the chain?
Well, at least West Bureau or operations director.
That is a whole nother pay grade of shit to wade through.
Yeah.
I don't know that I have waders that are that high.
You fish?
-It's a figure of speech, Mank. -Oh.
-(knock on door) -Open.
-MANKIEWICZ: Madeline Bosch. -Hi.
-Hi. All right. -Thanks, Mank.
Keeping banker's hours down at the D.A.'s office?
Yeah. They sent me on a Westside run,
so I thought I'd stop in, see if I could catch my dad.
Yeah. He's still under, Mads.
I mean, sometimes this is the way it works.
Okay.
As soon as he checks in, I will...
-He's okay? -Yeah.
What if he doesn't check in?
We go Code Red. Every cop in the city is on the case.
If he's even in the city.
Why do you say that?
I have a hunch.
You are your father's daughter, huh?
Don't worry. He's fine.
(dog growling, barking)
Fuck away from me.
(barking continues)
-No, no, no! No, no, no. No. -(dog whimpering)
It's okay. It's okay. What the fuck?
You can't shoot a dog, man. It's bad luck.
-I'll shoot what the fuck I want. -I got it.
Fuck you looking at?
It's okay. It's okay.
Never heard of Jose Esquivel?
Father and son? Esquivel Farmacia?
Even though you drove all the way from L.A.
with a Glock and suppressor to their cousin's house?
We know a lot about you already.
Wilbur Hart.
Ex-con. Parolee.
About to be violated back to prison on a gun charge.
The least of his problems.
I've never seen him before.
You sure?
Yeah. Sorry.
We're taking you back to L.A.
-Reilly. -Yeah?
Boss man wants a word.
Be right there.
I don't fucking know. Says he's stuck in Sky Harbor.
You kidding me?
We are ready to move now, as in right fucking now!
And you recommended this asshole.
It's the fucking heat, man.
Can't take off when there's not enough thrust for thin air.
Does he have an idea when?
Tonight. Soon as the temp drops below 110.
Be in Glamis with the keys first thing.
(knock on door)
Fuck.
Now he's a dog whisperer.
You don't shoot the dog is all I'm saying.
Man's best friend.
And besides saving strays, what else have you been up to?
I have no idea what you're talking about.
Trey claims you engineered
the monkey business at the pharmacy.
Got the girl arrested.
You believe him?
Our skepticism is why you're here.
Listening.
He and the Clayton chick,
they're running a grift.
Then why set the girl up?
Fuck do I know? Ask him.
I am growing weary of you.
So send me home.
Get out.
Jesus Christ, man.
Glad we're moving away from all this shit.
No more shills.
Give Trey...
a final run bonus.
He can kill himself for us.
And Reilly?
Is he smart enough to be of some further use to us?
Or too smart to be of use to anyone?
Hmm?
(indistinct chatter)
-You all right? -Everyone's been really nice.
Well, why wouldn't they be?
You have a wonderful family.
I'm related to way too many lawyers.
Well, what's your family like?
You know, smaller.
Where's the, um...?
Oh, it's, uh, just right around the corner on the left.
(indistinct chatter)
(insects trilling)
(ringtone plays)
-Edgar. -MAN (over phone): Detective.
Officer John Zepponi, Tehachapi Police.
-What can I do for you? -We arrested a woman
for shoplifting. Elizabeth Clayton?
I don't know the name.
We found a note in her pocket.
-Uh, it says to call you. -Who's the note from?
No idea. Note says, "You'll know what to do.
Hold Fast."
I'm on my way.
You're coming to Tehachapi? Now? It's a two-hour drive.
Text me your location.
♪ ♪
(indistinct chatter)
(music playing)
-Cheers. -Yeah, cheers.
ANDERSON: He hasn't returned a call
in two days.
You're sure the rest of the story is solid?
-Like LeBron. -On a good night or a bad night?
LeBron doesn't have bad nights.
-And now that he's a Laker... -I'm a Clippers fan.
Ooh, I pity you.
(sighs) We gonna run it?
Since when do we not run a story because the principal subject
of that story is ducking our calls?
Of course.
We're gonna run it.
-With a photo. -Of Borders?
Of Bosch.