Hey, how ya doin'! Frankie Cox.
Lookin' for a guy named Alan Shore. I think he works here in litigation.
Hey, how ya doin'? –Do you have an appointment?
No, I'm a walk-up, but I'm an attorney myself, so, you know.
Professional courtesy and all. There's my card.
Hey, how you doin'? –Um, may I tell him what it's regarding?
You may, if privilege extends to receptionists here.
–I would have to tell him something, sir. –Okay.
I killed somebody. That work for you?
I didn't kill anybody, I just, uh…
well, I embellished.
You know, trying to get myself in the door a little. You know what I'm saying.
You're a busy guy. I figured, “Hey, make it good.”
Well, homicide's a dandy.
What's the real reason you're taking up my busy time?
Well it is homicide, actually, but, uh, I didn't do it.
My brother did.
Your brother did?
Yeah, he killed his wife. But, if you know him, you'd be shocked,
because he's a very principled guy. I'm the black sheep.
Anyway, he killed her.
Uh, he bought murder two; he's doin' 8 to 20 at Cedars. He's already done 5.
Thing is: I tried to help him cover it up so he wouldn't get caught.
Obviously, not my best work, since he got convicted.
So. Anyho, Neil —uh, that's my brother—
he came up for a parole hearing a month ago,
where he had to tell the whole truth, which my involvement was
a part of that truth, so now the cops do have a case against me,
and I'm on the hook for obstruction of justice, concealing evidence, and, you know,
a laundry list of lesser charges; whatever.
Can I smoke? –No.
So, now I'm facing 15 years myself.
Your name come up. That's why I'm here,
takin' a shot.
And if I were to represent you, what exactly would be our defense?
I don't know.
Brotherly love.
They-they-they-they founded a nation on that idea, right? Or at least Philadelphia!
As you can plainly see, I got personality.
I testify good. Jurors love me.
You've been on trial before?
Little stuff. Not big like this.
Pretty please?
Boston Legal
Season 3
Episode 19
“Brotherly Love”
–Brad. –Hey, Paul, what's up?
I need you to read this, sign it, get it back to me by the end of the day, please.
–What is it? –It's a “Love Contract.”
–A what? –A “Love Contract.”
Basically, it's a document to limit our liability
when good relationships go bad.
Excuse me?
More and more corporations are using them as sexual harassment shields.
You and Denise are romantically or physically involved,
which is very nice, but should it turn ugly, we need to protect ourselves.
–You gotta be kidding me. –Brad…
I know it's silly, but it's policy.
I don't care; the policy is dumb, and I won't sign it.
–You have to sign. –I won't.
A “Love Contract”— are you kidding me, Paul?
Do you know how many billions of dollars are paid out on sexual harassment claims every year?
Did Shore sign one? Denny?
We only require it of those who have disclosed an interoffice relationship.
I'm not signing it. Forget it. It's dumb.
The managing partners unanimously agreed on this policy.
Paul, you can't validate stupidity
by unanimous consent. –I don't think you understand.
Failure to sign is grounds for termination of employment.
–This is getting dumber and dumber. –If you do not sign, you will be fired.
–I'm a partner. –I don't care.
–I'm not signing it. –You're not hearing me, Brad.
I'm hearing you, but you're not hearing me.
I am not signing this ridiculous document
You're fired.
What? I'm a partner!
You're fired, partner.
–You fired him? –I had to.
He just defied me— defied the entire partnership!
–So you just fired him? –He forced my hand.
I'm telling you I had no choice. –Well, of course you did!
You decide either to do it or not do it. –And had I not,
what authority would I— –Paul, Brad's a partner,
a pretty beloved one by a lot of a lot of people. You don't think this is a bit draconian?
No! He was flat-out insubordinate.
Look, I adore him too, but there is a rank and file here.
I'd like to be able to tell him that if he signs the contract,
he won't be fired. Can I do that?
Fine. But I need you to back me up here, Shirley.
Denny, I—
What are you doing?
Denny!
What are you doing? –The Secret.
Certainly you can tell me; I'm your flamingo.
No, no, no. The Secret. Haven't you heard?
The Law of Attraction. Get with the program, man.
What are you talking about?
If you think positively, you become a magnet
and pull in everything you want towards you.
–Really? –I figure if I
concentrate on world peace, maybe I can actually make it happen.
You're sitting here concentrating on world peace?
Oh, God, no. Gotta start smaller.
I'm thinking Raquel Welch.
Get her first, then go for peace.
Yes.
In the meantime, how about trying a case with me?
I've got a guy charged with trying to help his brother get away with murder.
–Is he guilty? –One hundred percent.
Count me in. But if Raquel Welch shows up—
You have an out.
I-I-I don't want the complaint actually filed. Just have it ready.
I plan to attach it to the demand letter so they know we're serious.
A straight drip, please.
I did review it. It's ready.
You just need to print it out, and I will sign it when I get in, so have a messenger—
$2.10, please.
Ma'am?
What?
Oh, um, uh, thanks.
I'll sue him. He can't just unilaterally fire me.
Brad, all he has to do is get partnership approval and—
I'll sue them all. Talk about a wrongful termination!
The grounds is my refusal to sign a “Love Contract”?
Would you sign that?
–Well, I did. –What?
Brad, they're becoming boilerplate in almost every major company.
–Which is even more insane. –Really?
Insanity would be settling sexual harassment claims
to the tune of high six figures every year.
–Come on, Shirley— –Moreover,
you've backed Paul into a corner.
That's just bad lawyering. Maybe we should fire you for that.
Don't think you're bigger than us, Brad.
Everybody's expendable, even though with Jeffrey Coho's departure
we know full-well we're down to our last Buzz Lightyear.
Sign the document, or clean out your office.
We knew almost immediately the crime scene had been staged.
How so?
Well, the victim had died from a blow to the back of the head.
The suspect maintained it was self-defense.
A knife conveniently lay at the floor next to the victim;
it had her prints on it, and yet portions of it had been wiped,
probably the parts that had the suspect's prints or the defendant's.
–Objection! –Overruled.
I could be wrong, judge, but when a witness says,
“Probably,” that's usually a sign that speculation is implied.
I know that. You don't have to object to every little thing that's objectionable.
I know what to ignore. –I see.
And not to be a nuisance, but how would the jury know to ignore it?
–Sustained. –There we go.
Detective?
As I was saying, the whole thing looked staged;
meticulously so, like he got help from a lawyer.
–Objection. –But we couldn't prove it.
Then, the brother testified before the parole board.
He admitted that they restaged the entire crime scene to make it look like self-defense.
He further said that it was all the defendant's idea.
And he said that everything the defendant had told us when we got to the crime scene was a complete lie.
So, now we got proof.
Thank you, Detective.
Your witness.
Totally beatable, right?
Sic 'im, Fido!
–Hello. –Hello.
I was wondering whether you'd like to get lunch.
–Oh…. no.
Anything else?
What—what's the matter?
Clarence, this is… not working out.
–What—what's not working out? –Us.
It's great in many ways, but, uh,
well, when I, um, consider long-term, it— I just don't see it.
So I was thinking maybe we should take a break.
Oh, uh, okay.
Can we, um, talk later, because I really need to get these documents filed.
Uh, oh— okay.
Oh, come on.
Clarence!
And whose idea was it, sir, to stage the scene,
to make it look like your wife attacked you?
–Well… –I remind you, sir, you're under oath.
–It… it was Frankie's. –Frankie's idea to plant the knife?
Yeah.
What do you mean, “No defense”? Are you kidding me!
–Frank— –I'm tellin' you— brotherly love,
Ben Franklin, the Liberty Bell! Make it work for ya!
What are your thoughts, big guy? –Raquel Welch.
Look, Frank, I thought maybe we could poke some holes on the elements,
but ultimately, we have no defense.
Go with The Secret.
I don't think Raquel Welch is coming to our rescue.
–Brotherly love, like he said. –That's not a defense.
Make it one. Are we not our brother's keeper?
Cain and Abel. Read the Bible, man. –Cain killed Abel.
Whatever. Cohen brothers— go with them; they're hot.
“Oh, Brother, Where Art Thou?” The jury will suck it up.
Denny Crane.
I've got to have your brother describe for the jury how and why he killed his wife.
What good would that do?
You helped a murderer, Frank.
Before I can get them to forgive you, I need them to forgive the murderer.
–Are you sure you're okay? –Yes.
No.
Why? –I told you.
It's just— I don't think it's meant to be.
You're covering. I know when you're covering.
What's going on, Claire?
I saw you this morning in the coffee shop with that woman.
–Oh. –Oh?
Well, that clears it up.
You picked the wrong girl to cheat on, Clarence.
Zero tolerance.
–It wasn't me. –It wasn't you?
–It was Clevant. –Okay. You know what?
I really don't care, because I expect loyalty from the whole team.
Clarice, Clevant, Oprah—
if any of them are seeing other women, I'm out.
Claire. Claire!
Please. –Clarence…
I can't do it.
I don't mean to punish you, but—
I am not strong enough. Okay?
I can't do it.
Now you need to leave.
Please leave.
I don't see any boxes, so…
I assume you have a signed document?
I do, actually.
This is a notice of appeal, which I'm entitled to file with the managing partners,
requesting a full hearing.
Assemble the ranks, Shirley.
–Brad, you can't win this. –I'm either going to win it here or in court later.
It's cheaper for you if I win it here.
I'm concerned. Not all of my ideas work.
Well, yours is the only one we've got. It's brotherly love, full-speed ahead.
Just as long as we're clear— this is your case.
We lose; I'm still undefeated.
–Clarice, where's Clarence? –Vacation. I'm just fillin' in.
–Where did he go? –Bora-Bora.
Any aging sex symbols show up looking for me?
I wouldn't know.
Clarice, may I have a word?
–Take two: I'm. Busy. –In my office, please.
–What's going on? –I told you.
Clarence took some time. I'm temping.
Clarice, what's going on with Clarence?
–I don't— –Don't tell me you don't know; you do.
What's happened?
He got dumped.
–Dumped? –Yes, dumped. By that bitch.
Claire? Why?
Because she saw Clevant with another woman.
What was Clevant doing with another woman?
He was with an escort.
–An escort. Call girl? –Yes.
Clarence is afraid of intimacy.
He thought maybe he could get more comfortable if Clevant just hung out with—
not for sex— but just maybe simple affection, some surrogate nonsense.
Stupid.
–Does Claire know this? –No.
I would like to talk to Clarence, please.
No.
–I really— –Clarence is gone!
Just forget Clarence! He's gone.
An escort?
As some sort of surrogate. They weren't having sex; they were just…
Clarence is trying to work
on his intimacy issues through Clevant.
It's not that I don't forgive him, Alan. I know what I'm dealing with.
But—?
I just don't think I can deal.
You know, I am not as rock solid as everybody cracks me up to be, and I think
I need to protect myself before I— love him.
Claire, you already love him.
At least talk to him. –Who? Clarence?
He's not even reachable.
I mean, Clarence has left the building, which is what he does whenever…
Look, I am not going through Clevant or Clarice or Oprah.
I am not going to be with a man I can't get in a room with.
Look, suppose a person were gay, in the closet.
Suddenly, under company policy, it's his duty
to declare his sexual orientation?
–That's it? You're gay? –Very classy, Paul,
trying to exploit my homophobia.
But in this country, we have a fundamental right to privacy
and, as a legal principle, one would expect it to be observed by a law firm.
I have a right to my private life.
It's not subject to your jurisdiction.
And if you're so afraid of exposure to harassment claims,
just have the lawyers sign indemnity agreements,
but the— the idea of a “Love Contract” is just stupid.
The very idea undermines our credibility as attorneys.
We're grown-ups, for God's sake!
The right to privacy loses some of its luster
once we start getting sued for the private acts of employees.
If we are to be held accountable, we have to at least
be apprised of what is going on.
Oh, balls; that'll just incur more exposure.
Better not to have notice. –May I finish?
What if it is adultery and the victimized spouse sues us for enabling?
Why create the paper trail?
–May I finish? –This policy isn't to give you notice;
it's to chill relationships, just nip them in the romantic bud.
–Let me speak. –Do you farts have any idea
how hard it is for someone who is single,
who works 60 hours a week, to meet someone?
The deck is already stacked against us
without you piling on these oppressive contracts!
–Brad! –I am sick and tired of being lonely!
Aren't you?
What if Denise, instead of signing this contract, she decided to just sever?
She's worried enough about making partner as it is.
I am sick of being lonely.
You can all go to hell, and you don't own me!
And another thing:
there's so much sleeping around that goes on in this firm,
you'd have to hire a whole army of lawyers just to draft the contracts!
He seemed upset.
I was in a very difficult marriage.
I was often verbally abused, extremely subordinated.
I'm sure it speaks to my own character,
as well as that of my late wife's.
And your wife became late after you hit her on the back of the head
with a rolling pin? –Yes.
Mr Cox, we've heard what happened after you hit her.
Could you please tell us what happened leading up to it?
Well, uh, we were having dinner.
I had finally summoned the strength to leave her, or so I thought.
We were sitting in the kitchen.
What's wrong with you?
–Nothing. –Why are you so damn quiet?
Usually, you blabber on, albeit about nothing.
Bad day at work?
Spill the boss's coffee while you were fetching it like a dog?
Lynnie, I think we've reached a point where… where you and I…
need to…
redo the living room.
I just chickened out.
That might have been the end of it, but—
Redo the living room? What is wrong with you?
Lynnie, I was just thinking: We've done the kitchen, bathroom.
We had the roof redone last year, but the house never changes, does it?
It remains m—my little destination of failure,
where I get to drive home to every night
to hear about how I'm not good enough or—
or—or how I don't measure up, or—
You mean you don't hear it at work?
–I hate you. –That's nice, Neil.
I almost lost the nerve again, but I refused to.
It's over.
–What's over? –Us. We're over.
I want out.
Where're you gonna go, Neil?
The only life you have is the one I've managed to manufacture for you,
and you know it. –I'm leaving.
You really think you're strong enough to live without me?
Yes.
Then the abuse started to escalate.
I remember getting up, moving away from the table.
But she wouldn't let up. She was so…
punishing.
Here's what you probably didn't think through.
Remember how years ago I was screwing your boss?
Well, it seems I didn't stop.
Upside, he and I still have a dialogue.
If I tell him to fire you…
gee, there's something we could have in common! He can screw both of us!
That's when I just reached for the rolling pin.
I don't remember actually deciding to swing it.
“He can screw both of us.”
She turned her head away and I struck her near the back,
and then she started falling.
The next thing, she was lying on the floor,
and blood was coming out.
She wasn't moving. She was…
–Late.
I didn't know what to do, so I called Frankie.
I have nothing further.
I have nothing, Judge.
All right. This would probably be a good time for a bowel movement.
Uh, uh, lunch. I—I mean, lunch.
Uh, uh, two o'clock. –Could we say 2:30 and make time for both?
Silence! I won't stand for your—your—
Poop?
Don't worry about me; I testify good.
That's exactly what I'm worried about.
Frank, you need to check all the personality at the door
and just be honest up there. –Honest?
The truth likely puts me in jail!
And lying will guarantee it.
If you never have another honest moment in your entire life, you need to have one now.
Am I right, Denny? –She's coming; I can feel it.
My love goddess is about to walk in right about now.
You all need to get to court.
Denny, Frankie, I'll meet you by the elevators.
I need a second with Clarice.
–Is that a guy? –It ain't Raquel Welch.
I won't bore you with a lecture on how life is hard.
All I'll say is: love's harder.
The odds are against us, and if you retreat inside Clarice
or anybody else every time it gets a little painful, you haven't got a chance.
If you really do love Claire,
Clarence better catch the next Flight out of Bora-Bora and get his ass back here.
It's official.
I popped. –Wow. Overnight?
Well, over the last week. I've been dressing around it.
–Do we need to go to the hospital or…? –Yeah, in a couple of months.
–Can I touch it? –Yes, Brad; it's your baby.
Sometimes you can actually feel him salute. –Wow.
We really need to start focusing on schools.
Yeah. Um…
I heard you sort of exploded yourself in front of the managing partners.
Some pretty intense feelings, I'm told.
Well, it's a stupid policy.
A lot of intense feelings about me.
How intense, exactly?
Denise, you are such an idiot.
Denise,
…I've been in love with you for the past three years. –Oh.
And I think you love me, too.
You don't want to. You think I'm this silly, right-wing conservative,
and you're horrified that you actually could love me,
but I think you do.
And you're what? Getting this from a psychic?
No, from you. Every time we make love.
You see, when people just have sex, their eyes
dart around all over the place like their hands
sometimes they're even close. But with you,
your eyes are just laser-locked, right onto mine.
So how much longer are you going to deny this?
Brad, we're dating. Really, what more do you want?
–I'd like to get married. –What?
I want to get married.
–But we—we— –You don't have to respond.
I just want you to know that the offer is on the table.
That's a “Love Contract” I'll actually sign.
It was maybe around seven o'clock. Uh, my phone rang. It was Neil;
he sounded hysterical, I—I guess. I—I dunno. I—I couldn't really hear him too good.
I—I was on my cell phone, and I was in a motel room
with a prostitute. She was licking my toes at the time. –Frank!
You said be honest.
Uh, she was licking your toes?
I got a few kinks, Judge. I ain't proud of 'em.
–Do they charge extra for that? –Judge!
What?
After you got the call from your brother—
I went over to his house, I went in his kitchen, and… I saw.
Neil,
what happened? –It's just… I told her I was gonna leave her.
And then she started in on me,
and I just swung it, but I didn't mean to kill her.
God, Frank, what am I gonna do?
Truth is, I was becoming as undone as he was.
You think you—you're prepared for these things,
bein' a lawyer, you know what I'm sayin'?
But when it's your very own brother
Neil, Neil— look, now, the police are gonna figure this out, okay?
It's gonna be pretty clear that you killed her. –I'm feeling nauseous.
But as clear as it may be that you did it,
proving it is gonna be a whole different thing.
I just kicked into survival mode
Neil's survival.
Forensics, fingerprints— they don't mean nothing, 'cause you live here.
All the physical evidence can be explained away with a lie.
I need a big kitchen knife.
What?
A kitchen knife. I need to get her prints on a kitchen knife, so it looks like she lunged at you.
–Is that legal? –You killed your wife!
Don't get hung up on the legals!
May—maybe I can say that I came home and—and found her like this.
Neil, listen to me. They always look at the husband. You got no alibi.
She's screwin' your boss! There has never been a bigger suspect!
You've gotta forget about erasing suspicion.
Our goal here is for you to get away with murder.
So that's what we did. We put the knife in her hand, and
made up the story about her attacking Neil.
Everybody knew she was abusive, so we thought that would fly.
What else?
And we put her blood on the edge of the counter,
so it would look like that's where she hit her head after Neil pushed her, and…
and then I got rid of the rolling pin.
You concealed evidence, obstructed justice,
did everything you could to help a person get away with murder?
Yes.
Mr Cox, you're a lawyer;
an officer of the court. –And that's my brother…
a brother I spent a lifetime probably embarrassing.
Neil's a very moral person.
I'm not.
I've been arrested a bunch of times, been busted with hookers.
But this is the first time I was ever really in a position to help him.
He, on the other hand, always supported and helped me.
I love him.
And I would rather go to prison than…
So, yes; I…
tried to help him get away with a murder
that I know, in his heart, he did not mean to commit.
The defendant admits to concealing evidence.
He admits to obstructing justice. You listened to him yourself.
Fact-finding isn't in play.
The only thing you have to do is uphold the law.
Now, clearly, defense doesn't want you to do that.
In fact, if they stand here and say,
“Hey, we admit that he disregarded the law,”
they are preying on your willingness to do the same.
When this trial began,
you took an oath not to do that.
An oath.
I think oaths are overrated.
An oath in this context is a sworn commitment to a set of absolute,
fixed ideas within rigidly narrow parameters.
The letter of the law is often framed in absolutes. It's stated in black and white,
but very often served in shades of gray.
Stop playing the race card in my courtroom!
Let's not forget, nobody got away with murder here.
The brother is in prison; he was convicted and put away.
But that's not enough, I guess. The police want to go after Frank. And for what?
He didn't hurt anybody.
All he did was try and help a loved one in desperate need.
I bet we've all asked ourselves, uh, uh, the question at some point in our lives:
“Would I help my brother, or my father, a friend, try to get away with a crime?
A murder, even?”
Have you ever wondered?
Have you?
I doubt the answer comes quickly, without a bit of a struggle.
Frank Cox was faced with that question.
He came down on the side of brotherly love.
Did that make him smart? Maybe not. But human…
In our weakest moments and perhaps our noblest, we're human.
The law is meant to be human as well.
That's why we temper all those written, black-and-white absolutes
with jurors, to humanize our judicial system,
to render the system fair, compassionate, imperfect.
Frankie Cox loves his brother very much.
That night, when he discovered him most desperately in need of his help…
he gave it to him…
as a loving brother would.
I'm sorry.
I got, uh…
I—I have certain fears I'm trying to work on, and uh—
If I am going to be with a man,
he needs to work on his fears with me, not with call girls.
Claire, I'm…
I'm working hard to become a better man
to the extent that you don't see the work in progress.
Clarence,
even in the wig, you are the best man I have ever known.
The point of a relationship is to see each other,
know each other— the warts, the work in progress.
For you to be who you are, what you are, all you are,
trusting that none of it will be rejected. –Huh—
What?
I've… uh… I've just never been able to trust like that before.
Please start.
Start with me.
They've kind of been out forever, haven't they?
They've been deliberating for less than an hour.
Well, in my trials, the jury's back half an hour— always.
Of course, I always lose.
Verdict?
Uh, no. But someone's out here looking for Mr Crane?
A celebrity?
–Well, yeah. How did you know? –Icon? Sexual predator?
–Actually, yeah. –Show her in, man. –Okay.
The Secret!
I heard you were here! Remember me? Phyllis Diller!
We had a moment during World War II.
The man's an animal— an animal, like a dog!
I can see The Secret has a few kinks to iron out.
Sorry. Now we do have a verdict.
The defendant will please rise.
All right. What say you?
Oh, uh, uh, what say you?
“In the matter of the Commonwealth vs Frank Cox,
on the charge of obstruction of justice,
and count two, concealing evidence—”
Members of the jury, this concludes your service.
–Judge! –What?
I believe there's more.
Oh, dear. Is—is there, uh, more?
We, the jury, find the defendant, Frank Cox,
not guilty.
What?
Didn't I tell ya? –You testify good.
Members of the jury, this concludes your service.
It's concluded.
It's adjourned.
Listen, Mr Shore, seriously…
I—I—I don't often speak from the heart, since, you know—
–You've been unable to locate it. –Good one. I gotta remember that.
Anyway, I'll never forget this. –Neither will I, Frank.
You don't have to—
hug me.
Brad,
your passion carried the day. The partners ruled in your favor.
We're ditching the “Love Contract” policy.
–Oh, good. –Congratulations!
Thanks. Shirley,
would you have really fired me?
Between you and me?
Yes.
Passion carried the day. No more “Love Contracts.”
Oh, well, then you're two-for-two.
–What do you mean? –The answer is, “Yes.”
I am not going to give birth to a litter of young Republicans,
but I don't suppose there's any harm in having one who's in charge of Homeland Security.
One who I'm horrified to admit I… love.
–World War II? –Yeah, I was in a bunker; she jumped me…
from behind. –Laws of Attraction, I guess.
I'm gonna sue those people.
I believe I spoke last. Are you gonna say anything at all?
Oh. Yes. Uh,
only that I promise you will never regret this.
I will wake up every morning and dedicate myself to making you happy.
I believe you.
–May I kiss the bride? –You may.
If I ever killed somebody, would you help me get away with it?
I might. Who you got in mind?
Nobody, really.
Oh, love can cause such a variety of insanities.
It can impel a man to risk his freedom for the sake of his brother.
It can drive one to commit murder.
And, I suppose, of course, in the absolute of height of madness, it can—
Get you frisky in a foxhole with Phyllis Diller.
I worry about Clarence being in love,
the pain that goes along with it.
When were you last in love, really?
Ohhh. Don't you long for it?
I do,
but I also fear it.
The idea of part of me
being controlled by somebody else.
Oh, that's the joy, the surrender.
–Have you ever cried with a woman, Denny? –Oh, many, many…
No. You?
Never.
Some men do that, you know. –Oh, I know. They're just weak men.
Not like us.
We're, ah— –Strong.
That's what makes us who we are.
–Kings. –Masters of our domain.
Alone.
You're never alone on my balcony.
I know that, Denny.
Sleep-over tonight? –Oh, damn it!
–Just asking. –And you wonder why
I resist these tender moments!
–Just forget it. –Oh, fine; now I'm the bad guy.
I said forget it. Can you do that?
We could have just ended it on “You're not alone on my balcony,” but, no.
You always have to push it.
Shut up.
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