That's enough. Let's go.
I got it.
Hurry up! Let's go! Vamos!
How was this once our home?
It's hard to look at and not think about what happened.
I know.
But I like to remember the good things, too.
Come on, Rafa.
Did you know that this is where I saw you for the first time?
- No. You can't possibly know that. - How do you know?
Here, than?
Yes, here.
We'll have good memories again.
Get back everything we lost.
Have our own place.
A family.
Will you marry me, Sofia?
Yes.
- Yes. - Long live the newlyweds!
I love you.
Pick up.
- Get that? - No.
Perry.
What time are you due in court today?
About an hour.
- Perry. - Yeah?
What are you doing?
Have you ever been to Yosemite?
I haven't. Your trousers are on your toy train.
Thank you. It's an amazing place to ride horses.
I'm sure it is, especially riding to the sunset.
Best time.
We should go.
- Are you serious? - Yeah.
Right now.
I think others need us today.
I don't know how to fight this case. I don't.
Well, you have 58 minutes.
Figure it out.
Can't wait to hear all about it.
Stop calling, Della.
Ready?
Are you?
Do I have a choice?
- Good luck. - Thanks.
Thanks.
Join us now for another hour of truth and justice
with Fighting Frank Finnerty.
As the most important trial our city has seen in a great while commences
I ask you this:
why is it only the witnesses must swear to tell the whole truth?
Why isn't the same oath administered to the attorneys?
For what was exhibited in the opening statements
of the McCutcheon murder trial
was a display of the highest integrity on one hand
and utter deceit on the other.
Please be seated.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,
Rafael and Mateo Gallardo, the men you see before you today,
are guilty of murder in the first degree.
They killed Brooks McCutcheon, a beacon of hope for this city.
And for what? Couple of bucks and a gold coin?
And don't be fooled by their sob story of poverty and suffering
because in these times,
who here hasn't seen hardship of one sort or another?
But who among you has resorted to murder as the remedy?
None of you, of course. Except for these two men right here.
Weak of character, devoid of humanity, of innate decency, cold-blooded...
Ladies and gentlemen, this prosecution,
maintains that Brooks McCutcheon was our city's last great shining star.
And therefore, you do wonder who would want to harm such a fine man.
But when we introduce you to the real Brooks McCutcheon,
you won't be asking who in this town wanted him killed.
You'll be asking who in this town didn't?
And the punishment must serve as an example to the people of this city
that barbaric behavior of this magnitude will not be tolerated.
This prosecution is intent on manipulating,
swaying, influencing opinion in the worst possible way.
These proceedings have already become
nothing less than a racist witch hunt.
The jury in this case is not limited to 12.
For you, fellow citizens, are also on the jury.
And we must make sure
that no one is allowed to destroy the integrity of our laws,
our liberty, and our City of Angels!
District seven is becoming one of the finest in all of Los Angeles.
So, it is my great pleasure to dedicate this stunning gazebo
as a shining example of what can be achieved when we all work together.
Smile for the cameras, ladies.
There we are. Great job. Wonderful. Pleasure.
Now, where is this cake that I've heard so much about?
Thank you very much.
- Councilman Taylor. - Thank you.
- May I borrow a minute of your time? - I got my hands full at the moment.
Perhaps you can try my office.
I tried, but they told me your hands were pretty full down there too.
Well, my district has a lot of needs.
This one's outside your district, councilman.
Get to your point.
I'm just trying to find out how your sister Noreen ended up there.
It was a car accident.
And was Brooks McCutcheon driving?
I work for the attorneys representing the boys arrested in the case.
How does what happened to Noreen
have anything to do with Brooks's death?
No, I'm just trying to get a full picture of the man.
- Brooks knew Noreen in some capacity. - She worked for his company. So what?
And I'm also wondering how that stadium project of his fits into all this
since it's in your district.
I don't really like investigators.
Especially shadowy ones who step in places they aren't welcome.
It was a car accident. And it's a private family matter.
And it's gonna stay that way.
So your investigation?
It ends here.
This is everything I've wished for. Beautiful.
The people call Mr. Brian Walsh to the stand.
- Mr. Walsh, what is your occupation? - I'm a bus driver for the city.
And what is the route that you drive?
Across town along Santa Monica Boulevard
from Vermont Avenue to Ocean Avenue.
- What time of day do you drive? - Six PM to six AM.
And how long you been driving this route?
Five years.
So, you must know the route and the stops very well then?
Backwards and forwards.
Do you have a lot of regular passengers?
I know a fair amount of 'em by the way they look, sure.
And would say that if someone of another race were to get on your bus,
you would notice them more?
- Objection, leading. - Sustained.
I'll be more direct.
Do you remember seeing the defendants board your bus
on the evening of March 18th?
Yeah. At Santa Monica and Stanley.
How can I miss them? I always watch those types careful.
- Had you seen them before? - I have. Most Saturday nights.
- Where'd they get off? - All the way to the end of the line.
What time did you get to the end of your route?
I make four round trips in a shift.
This was the second one, and I got there, as always, at 12:05.
12:05. Now, according to the coroner's report,
the time of death, which was a short walk from the last bus stop I should add,
was 1:30 AM.
Clearly enough time
for Rafael and Mateo Gallardo to make their way down to the pier,
find a hiding spot,
and wait for an unsuspecting casino boat patron, like Brooks McCutcheon.
And seize upon him.
I'd like to thank you, Mr. Walsh, for your appearance here today
and for your work every day on behalf of this city.
You're welcome.
Jury bought what he said. Don't push too hard.
Mr. Walsh, when the boys got off the bus,
did you see which direction they walked?
Towards the ocean, I guess.
I'm sorry, you guess?
You guess? But you don't know?
Did you have any contact with them after they got off?
No.
Did you ask them where they were headed?
Did they just say, "We're off to kill Brooks McCutcheon."
- Objection, compound argumentative. - Sustained. Mr. Mason...
Apologies, rephrase.
Mr. Walsh, outside of seeing the boys get off the bus at a specific time,
what else can you tell us that you know they did or did not do that night?
- I guess nothing. - Right.
They could've gone a thousand different directions,
done a thousand different things.
You're currently in a very packed courtroom.
If a crime is committed a mile away from here in a couple hours,
you gonna testify one of us did it
'cause you see us here now, or are you going to guess?
Sure, if they look as shifty as you do, Mr. Maggot.
Look, don't start reading into anything.
- But they laughed at you. - No, they laughed at what he said.
And that guy was a prick, pardon my language.
I saw the way some of the jury was looking at the boys.
- Why didn't you object more? - There was nothing to object to.
My job now is to show the jury anyone else
that might be responsible for killing Brooks.
Like who?
I don't know. Just another suspect to focus on.
Mr. Mason.
What if there was someone else who wanted him dead?
I didn't know where else to keep it.
I thought if I kept it under here, maybe God would protect it.
- How much? - 2,000 dollars.
I think I should hold onto this.
- Sixth and Spring. - You got it, sir.
I couldn't tell when the women knew they were hired
either obviously before the murder,
or whether the boys confessed because they got caught.
Murder for hire? How are you not more upset about this?
Believe me, I am.
But that whole robbery gone wrong bullshit never sat right with me.
This makes sense.
Now all we have to do is find out who wanted Brooks dead.
Two Gs, that's not chicken feed.
Holcomb maybe. He's never been shy about taking payoffs.
What about Councilman Taylor?
A civil servant salary covering that? I don't know.
But with all the kickbacks those boys get?
And he did turn six shades of red when I brought up Brooks.
Right, so Brooks somehow wrongs Taylor's sister.
Hold on, speculative.
The councilman wants payback, has to make it look like anything but a hit
so the McCutcheons don't suspect him.
So, he hires two young guys, probably at arm's length.
They knock off Brooks. No one's the wiser.
- What? - It's conjecture, all of it.
I know! Della, we need something. We need a roadmap.
But first, we need to talk to our clients.
Well, then we better start walking. We're due in court in 25 minutes.
We'll have to ask for recess.
Then we'll need a damn good reason. The judge won't just grant us one.
- Make some shit up. - Well, isn't that your department?
Fair.
All rise.
- Be seated. - Your Honor...
Your Honor, the people would like to request a recess
so we may confer with defense counsel.
Life in prison for both with no chance for parole
regardless of which one admits to pulling the trigger.
The Gallardos will be placed in San Quentin,
no petitioning to be moved to a more lenient site
at any point during the entire length of the incarceration.
You mean their lifetimes?
The brothers must confess in open court to the events of the evening,
plead guilty to all charges,
and allow their elocution to be broadcast on the radio.
- It's a good offer. - Ms. Street's right.
I just wanna know why you're making it.
Yeah.
Cause you were right, Della, they're just kids.
We've had enough suffering.
The McCutcheon family, and yes, even the Gallardo family.
This trial is already putting the city on edge.
And you were right too, Mason. I don't want things getting ugly.
Compassion is also part of my job.
Then let them suffer a little less. 25, and they come up for parole in 15.
Not a chance. No, no, no. Anything less, I would get strung up along with 'em.
- 30, and they're eligible in... - Hamilton... What is all this?
Because up until today, you were the hang 'em high guy.
- Suddenly you're the prince of mercy? - You don't like the deal?
You can let the train go by and take your chances on foot.
I know you want me to. You gotta hate this deal.
Doesn't matter what he thinks.
What I'm offering gets the death penalty off the table, saves your clients' lives.
It's the best you're gonna do and as much as I am ever going to offer.
Take it to your clients. Get back to me by the end of the day.
Hamilton could barely look me in the eye.
- Who got to him? - I don't know.
Lydell, the councilman? Who else could it be?
- What do they know that we don't? - And why would Ham give in to them?
It wasn't just about getting some money.
Then what was it? Truth this time.
You know that big stadium they built a few years ago?
McCutcheon's Stadium? Sure.
That used to be our neighborhood. Our whole family lived there.
The police they came in.
Like stampeding bulls, not giving a shit what they stomped on.
LAPD, open up!
You're all trespassing on McCutcheon property!
Police!
Leave my brother alone!
- Get the fuck out of here! - Burn it to the ground!
Light it up!
And in all the confusion...
...we lost sight of our little sister.
- Where's Rossana? - Rossana! Rossana!
Rossana!
I could hear her screaming...
until I couldn't.
I'm sorry. I can't even imagine.
The DA has offered a deal.
You both plead guilty.
Life, no parole.
- What if we don't take it? - Rafa.
What would happen?
You can't escape justice. You killed a man.
Yes, but out of desperation. And out of hunger.
- I hated him. - We weren't the only ones.
You took a life, for whatever reason. There's no taking that back.
But like you just said, your finger wasn't the only one on that trigger.
Now, whoever's pressuring the DA has got clout.
And if they're pushing Burger with just what we know,
what happens when we dig in and get closer to who's really behind this?
It'll make the DA offer something better.
- Wouldn't you? - Yeah, I would.
- Well, we don't know anything more. - You know who hired you.
That's the first rung on the ladder.
All I need is a name.
I'm in.
- What about you, Mateo? - I don't know.
It's risky.
So? What, you want to take the deal?
At least Maria would still have a father she can come and see!
I won't die in here.
And it's like Mr. Mason said, we don't have to go down for this alone.
But he can't guarantee anything.
- Can you? - No.
If we lose, you go to the gallows. I go home.
So, you decide if you trust me.
- They're not taking it. - No?
This is good news. For both of us.
Tommy.
Mason passed the bar with only a few hours studying.
He's a lot craftier than you think.
Here he comes.
I'm sorry. Took a couple hours for the boys to give up a name.
Ozzie Jackson.
He has rackets up on Central.
Central? I don't figure a guy like that's got beef with somebody like Brooks.
- We looking at a middleman. - Right.
Now we have a real chance to get 'em a better deal.
Yesterday we would've killed for any deal.
Della... I know how to fight this now. I do.
Did you happen to get a description of this Ozzie Jackson fella?
Yeah. Said you'll recognize him by his feet.
He's always wearing Converse sneakers.
Hey.
You seen a grown man in sneakers working Central?
You figured my outta work ass hanging on the corners
with the hustlers and shit heels now?
Don't you worry, Mo.
Clara's been looking at apartments. We'll be outta here real soon.
Ain't no rush.
Let me see.
Yeah. Central and 43rd. He's part of Perkins' crew.
You sure you want to be sticking your nose in all that?
This case starting to feel bigger than me.
The guy ain't saying much, now is he? Let me see that bicep again, Paul.
Shut the fuck up.
Thank you, Mo.
Anytime.
- A fella in Converse sneakers? - No.
Mr. Perkins.
Where'd you get these?
I got those from the fella that took 'em.
Those and all the other ones
that's got you jammed up with them crackers downtown.
Never had one damn problem down here. Ran clean.
Now? I got eyes on me everywhere.
Just waiting for Old Perkins to act
like the gangster nigga they want me to be.
Mr. Perkins, word is Ozzie Jackson the one paid them Mexican boys
to push the button on that McCutcheon kid.
And Mr. Perkins, somebody paid Ozzie.
And I guess whatever he got, he must've forgot to cut Mr. Perkins in.
How much he get?
I won't know that 'til you help me find him.
However, if I know about Ozzie,
then it's only a matter of time 'til the DA know.
And if he connect that to you,
then, Mr. Perkins, we ain't just talking 'bout no years at San Quentin.
We talking 'bout a trip to the noose.
Now, I know you out on bail until the trial for those racketeering charges.
Only person that can testify to the authenticity of these photos
is him what took 'em.
And if he keep quiet, all the evidence they got against you get thrown out.
So you help me get with Ozzie, and I'm gonna help you get with Mr. Snaps.
That's a fairtrade.
The center ridges come from the right and exit the same side here.
And this you would say is a distinguishing characteristic
of Rafael Gallardo's fingerprint?
Yes.
Now, just so we're very clear for the jury,
it's basically impossible for two people
to have the exact same fingerprint pattern?
That is correct.
Now, Mr. Barston, there is a photograph just to the left of the jury
of the steering wheel of Mr. McCutcheon's car
where a fingerprint was found.
Now, you've compared that with Mr. Gallardo's, correct?
- Yes. - And what did you conclude?
The loop pattern and individual characteristics,
I've identified 12 of them, all match.
Meaning?
The print on the steering wheel is Rafael Gallardo's.
Thank you, Mr. Barston.
Mr. Barston. Would you mind if we did a little experiment?
- Experiment? - Yes. A fingerprint experiment.
Your Honor, this is a courtroom, not a grammar school science lesson.
What is the purpose of this, Mr. Mason?
I'm trying to establish not just what fingerprints look like
but how this whole process works.
And I do think it's necessary for the jury
to fully understand the evidence.
- Keep it brief. - Thank you, Your Honor. May I?
Thank you. Now, Mr. Barston.
Would you please choose a thumb and place it firmly on this ink blotter?
Thank you. Now, would you place that thumb down on this piece of paper?
Perfect. Take that same thumb, press it on the ink blotter once again.
Now, instead of placing it down on that piece of paper,
this time could you please place it on this piece of tape, sticky-side up?
Thank you. Now, Mr. Barston,
when you look at the two images of your own thumb, what do you notice?
One is slightly more smudged than the other.
Nothing else?
Well, because you used the tape, one is backwards.
One is backwards. Precisely. One is backwards.
Now, with that in mind,
would you please take a closer look
at this photograph of Rafael Gallardo's left forefinger
and the other, same finger, same fingerprint
but discovered on Brooks McCutcheon's steering wheel,
and tell me the difference?
I don't see any difference.
And you're right because they're a match. But there is one problem.
This image was developed with a backward negative.
Now, we know this
because the numbers and letters on the side of the negative are reversed.
Pretty hard to see, so I took the liberty of blowing them up.
This is the corrected image.
Now, with that corrected image in mind,
would you please, Mr. Barston,
take another look at these two images
and tell me the difference.
The fingerprint is backwards.
Mr. Barston, is it possible
that the defendant could place his own fingerprint
on the steering wheel backwards?
No. It's not possible naturally.
Only someone who had taken his fingerprint and tried to transfer it could
so that it would produce a mirror image, am I correct?
Yes.
Someone like the police or Mr. Milligan's investigators.
Objection, complete speculation!
No further questions, Your Honor. Thank you.
Sustained. The jury will disregard Mr. Mason's latest comment.
- Order! - No, they won't.
- I'm not sure I should be doing this. - Just trust me.
I'm going to meet some of my friends.
Are you enjoying it?
- Immensely. - Good.
You deserve it after your heroics in court today.
That was mostly Perry.
Was he in the courtroom? I hadn't noticed.
- I almost forgot. - What?
I love you too.
Hello.
Hi. Now, I know the dip you brought over didn't quite curl your toes,
but these are pickles from Canter Brothers on Brooklyn Avenue.
That's much more romantic than flowers. Thank you.
You're welcome.
You have a nice place.
Thank you.
- Is there anything you don't do? - Small talk.
Noted.
I heard on the radio things went well for you in court today.
Yeah. Yeah, I guess we might've turned a corner.
I guess you might have more of a case than you thought?
I guess.
- Do you want a hand? - I do.
Okay.
Take off your shirt. Might get dirty.
Yeah, yeah. I can get there.
How'd you find me? Okay.
I'll be back soon.
Sorry.
Right this way.
Our inquiring man.
- I don't know you. - You do now.
So, accommodate our guest. Go ahead.
You paid the Gallardo brothers to shoot Brooks McCutcheon?
What? Man, I'm not talking to this nigga.
You gonna answer every question this man's got. One way or the other.
Now, hold up, professor.
Before we get to the other side of this conversation,
I think you need to pay your admission.
So now, who's my Judas?
I'm afraid you lookin' at him.
Now, it wasn't supposed to go the way that it did,
but I ain't gonna testify against you. You got my word.
- Your word? That it? - That's all I got. What else you need?
I need you to understand whose kingdom you in.
I ain't mean no disrespect, Mr. Perkins.
- And yet disrespect lingers in the air. - Come on, now.
Now, whoa. Let's see what Mr. Word's really made of.
You want answers?
You gonna have to put a beat on the man 'til your first ache.
What... wait, what?
- Hey! Hey, hold on! - What if I don't?
Then I'mma cut your fist clean off to the fucking bone.
I ain't got nothing to do with this.
I don't even know what you talking about.
Mr. Perkins, please. I never disrespect you, man.
You known me since a kid. Mr. Perkins, please.
Look at me.
Did you pay the Gallardo brothers?
- Who paid you to do a hit? - I don't know his name.
Who? Who?
Some fancy cracker I had dealings with before.
- Wait, what you mean before? - He got a hophead for a wife.
Coming down for years to score.
Two, three times a week.
He found out and paid me to stop selling dope to her.
I ain't seen him since he came for the snuff job.
- How much you get then? - Oh, man.
10 Gs!
Okay, and then you gave two grand to the Gallardos off the top?
You brought all that heat down here and didn't kick nothing back to me?
- Nigga... - Wait, wait.
Okay, what about the deal? The deal. You stopped selling H to his wife.
She ain't been around in a while.
But if she ain't dead, they always come back.
Listen, look at me. What kinda car she drive?
I don't know the make. Lincoln maybe. Blue thing.
- That's all I can tell you. - Okay, okay, okay.
- Fuck! - Okay.
- I got everything I need now. - I don't think you did.
Look like this boy still holding out on you.
So, we ain't leaving until you get a full confession.
And he atone for his sin.
Come on man. Motherfucker, I told you everything I know! Please!
Hey, you ain't gotta do this! Please, man!
Please stop!
Stop, please! No!
You okay?
Yeah. Yeah.
What's wrong?
Clara...
Am I good?
You're good, baby.
You're good.
Rest.
- Rest, baby. - Okay.
- You wanted to see me, boss? - Give me a moment.
- How well do you know Mason? - I know him.
Do you two talk shop?
We used to.
When we had a few.
Shut the door.
Hey.
Where were you last night?
Perry and I were at the office all night preparing the files for today
and strategizing on how to cut through the jury's preconceived bias.
I'm confident on who we settled on, but still.
You weren't at the office, Della.
I called.
We must not have heard the phone ringing.
If something's going on, then just tell me.
I...
I was working.
You fucking coward.
Shit.
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