- Last season on Dexter... - The butchered bodies
were submerged inside these garbage bags.
Did you hear that? 30 bags! Know what that means?
There might be a new mass murderer worse than the Ice-Truck Killer.
8 confirmed victims of the Bay Harbor Butcher.
That's how the press calls whoever dumped these bodies offshore.
Last thing Miami needs is another serial killer.
- Any idea who the FBI is sending? - Some guy named Lundy.
We have positive IDs on all 18 of our complete bodies.
All 13 were either tried for murder or at least suspected of murder.
Bay Harbor Butcher. Give me one shot, I put a bullet in the fucker's head.
- You really feel that way? - Dad taught us the value of human life.
Yeah, but we had different homework assignments.
Tell me the truth.
Are you an addict?
Yes, I have an addiction. I'm Dexter.
- Hi, Dexter. - There's my sponsor.
So tell me. Exactly, how full of shit are you?
This woman sees me.
Somehow she's able to make me feel okay about what I am.
You're going to tell me all your deepest, darkest secrets.
Laura Moser, my mother. She was murdered.
I never told anyone that before.
Did you find what happened to the man responsible for your mother's murder?
Santos Jiminez.
He turned evidence, went into witness protection.
- Where are you? - Looking up someone from my past.
1973!
You slaughtered her 'cause she stole your cocaine.
She was a snitch for the cop. She was fucking him.
It seems that my foster father
and my biological mother were having an affair.
Did he blame himself for her death?
Is that why he took me in? Or was he using her? Was he using me?
No paper trail on the early years of Dexter Morgan.
Your past is a bigger mystery than Jimmy Hoffa.
Back... off.
If Dexter files a complaint,
- you'll be kicked out the force. - He's hiding something.
I need some blood analyzed.
I'm about to be found at work for what I really am.
- You don't understand. - Why don't you make me?
Who are you?
Pardon my tits.
How can you do this to Rita, not to mention her kids?
You and Lila stayed in a hotel together.
It's over, Dexter!
I'm sure you heard we have a suspect on the Bay Harbor Butcher case.
Sgt James Doakes.
- He had the slides. - Hidden in his car at the airport.
Jesus, Morgan. You're the Bay Harbor Butcher!
You might wanna check with Lundy.
What's it gonna be, Morgan? Kill me now or set me free!
Don't worry, I'll send the FBI your way soon enough.
- Still gonna frame me. - Mission accomplished.
After tomorrow, I'll be out of reach, permanently.
- You're going somewhere? - Good-bye, Lila.
Welcome. Previous destinations.
Starting route guidance.
- Anybody out there? - Who put you in there?
Dexter Morgan.
I found out he's the Butcher. Please, open the gate!
- Poor thing, all alone. - I'm okay.
Not you.
What are you doing? Turn that off!
This is murder!
What were you thinking? Are you insane?
I was trying to put us back together again.
The Lila experiment is officially over.
Could have had it all.
I never put much weight into the idea of a higher power.
But if I didn't know better, I'd have to believe that some force
wants me to keep doing what I'm doing.
You wanted to be close to me. This is the most I have to offer.
You told me to accept what I am.
Thank you.
The code is mine now. And mine alone.
So too are the relationships I cultivate.
My father might not approve, but I'm no longer his disciple.
I'm a master now.
An idea transcended into life.
Life...
Life is ritual,
routine,
control.
And an essential part of that routine:
regular oral hygiene.
Here we go.
A few minutes and then I'm right out.
So... how was your summer, Dexter?
I went to the carnival.
I even won a prize.
Hope you stayed away from all those sweets.
I usually am...
good, but sometimes, I indulge.
I also made it a point to meet new people.
Never have too many friends. This temporary crown
is gonna go way in the back, so there may be some blood.
Not a problem.
- So you still have your boat? - You bet!
That's the only place I can really let everything go.
That's great. Gonna have you up and out on that water in no time.
For someone who needs to spend his life pretending to be normal,
I've been able to finally...
settle in...
to a nice,
normal world.
And Rita is the scaffolding that holds that world in place.
What are you thinking?
Life is good.
There you go, buddy. Astor, you're up.
- Mickey Mouse, unicorns or starfish? - Just plain round pancakes, Dexter.
She's growing up.
Starts with pancakes?
It starts where its starts.
Can you come to Dad Day at my school tomorrow?
Just tell me what to do.
There's Charlotte.
Bye, mom. See you, Dexter.
Get your bag!
You hear that?
Hear what?
The calm.
Everything's falling into place for the first time in my life.
I got these terrific kids.
There's no more drama haunting me,
and I have this great,
generous, gentle guy.
Most normal people enjoy a secret pact with society.
Live a good life and society will take care of you.
But if society drops the ball, then someone else has to pick up the slack.
That's where I come in.
Fred Bowman, AKA "Freebo"
kills two college girls and escapes on a state police screw-up,
otherwise known as Florida's "catch and release program".
He does the deed, gets away with murder,
and falls off the radar.
Everyone's radar but mine.
You got a birthday coming up, dad.
What to get to the man who had everything?
How about
Freebo?
- Good morning, Dex. - Dexter, the donut guy.
Part of my routine.
But let the record show, I'm not the only one with a daily ritual.
Angel Batista:
bear claw.
Vince Masuka:
Lemon custard.
Better than sex.
Actually, no, it's not.
I need a favor. You think you could
proof an article I'm writing for FQ?
- Forensic Quarterly. - Right. Yeah.
O'Malley reached out 'cause I was the LFI.
- Lead Forensic Investigator. - On the BHB.
Bay Harbor Butcher.
No biggie, I've been published before.
Your Penthouse doesn't count.
Hey, that letter was famous!
Death by pastry.
You changed your hair.
- Makes you look younger. - I don't wanna look younger.
Bad call then.
By the way, nice work on the Renaldi case.
Yeah, well, murder suicide, pretty straight forward.
Still, I mean, your report was spot on, right?
Alright.
Quinn's been in homicide 2 weeks and he noticed.
- Notice what? - My hair.
I changed my hair style for the first time since I was eight.
Short...
... er, shorter.
And Quinn's just showing off his detective skills.
You think he thinks I'm a potential lay? That is not happening.
You also not noticed
that I've given up man liquor and smokes for the last 27 days.
This is you remembering dad's birthday, is that right?
Dad's birthday, right.
Blue Room, 07:30, like always.
I tried calling you last night.
I wasn't home.
I also tried your cell phone
You're wearing the same pants than yesterday.
- And that shirt's your back up one. - Ayuda-me aquí.
I though part of your restructuring our department
was you staying out of our personal lives.
Anything you want me to know?
Know this.
I went out and had a great time last night, and you should be happy for me.
Besides,
since when do you care?
Since this.
Follow me.
Okay guys, listen up.
I just got word
from upstairs that
Angel will no longer be detective Batista.
What?
In two days, he will be
detective sergeant
Batista.
Sorry all the red tape and the hoops, but...
nobody deserves it more than you, Angel.
When this is really official,
when I can trade this in for that gold badge,
drinks are on me.
Angel gets his wings, you know what this means?
Pay raise?
No, deal dope. It means he's my supervisor.
Which mean I'm in luck for my detective shield.
- Where are you going? - On a research.
Typos, grammar, something could be clearer, whatever.
Hair cut!
Yep.
Time to get the lay of the land on Freebo and his...
pink house.
Freebo. I need Freebo.
You know him how?
He sells the best shit anywhere around.
Come on, man. What? You googled him or something?
You know what? Fuck it.
- There are other dope spots. - Come here!
Don't walk away all fuck you on me.
- What? - Ding, ding!
I'm looking to hold some product.
Ordinarily, I don't accept new clientele,
but I've had a dissolutely third quarter.
Come on!
You need a little more hook before breaking into the pocket.
You know I bought this TV for 6 grand, but I'll let you have it for three.
I'm more interested in scoring some tar.
Another yuppie turns to the dark side.
- I need a hit. - Jeez, Teagan, I'm transacting here.
- One toot. - Did you hear what I said?
Fuck off, Teagan.
Fine, I guess your dick can suck itself from now on.
Stupid cunt is going to redefine short term relationship.
Catch my drift?
Yeah, I catch your drift.
And I'm entirely confident you've earned the privilege
of being re-purposed as fish food.
Narcotics raided this place at noon today.
The drug rats won't return to their nest for a while.
Plenty of time to...
do what I have to do.
Raw, you like it raw.
- Excuse me? - No sugar.
You like the raw stuff.
It's my job to notice things.
Morgan, right?
- Do I know you? - New hair cut, it's cute.
. Who the fuck are you?
Yuki Amado, internal affairs.
And?
Do you know a Joey Quinn?
- Why? - Well,
he started drawing our attention back when he was in narcotics.
He's in your orbit now.
I don't know the guy except he handle my paperwork.
It'd be really cool if you could get next to him, you know,
- do a little recon. - Are you high?
No. Never been.
Well...
Yuki, that's not gonna happen.
Cooperation with IA has its upside in the department.
- Yeah, maybe for rodents. - Okay.
Well, it was nice to finally meet you in person, you know.
Bye.
And what is it you think Quinn did exactly?
You don't get to blow me off and still ask questions.
Loud music, cover of darkness...
Perfect.
Freebo, get back here!
Who are you?
Shit!
Yo! Freebo, man?
What the fuck happened back there?
I went to kill Freebo and ended up killing a total stranger.
I've never killed anyone I didn't completely bet before
whose guilt I wasn't absolutely certain of.
I did something wholly inside the moment
and wholly outside the code.
Something...
spontaneous.
Who did I just kill?
Freebo's doorman...
I... am... fucked.
Just a matter of time before someone calls it in.
- Hey, you. - Dexter, hey.
I know it's not one of our regular nights, but...
- Can you come over? - Sure. Everything OK?
Yeah, I just...
Just missing you, that's all.
God, you're on fire lately.
Are you complaining?
I'm complying.
Hey, where are you?
On my dear.
A safe place.
God created pudding,
and then he rested.
Pudding of chocolate,
manna from heaven.
What are the kids gonna do for dessert tomorrow?
Tangerines.
Yes, I'm happy with my long distance provider.
What the hell ever happened to "Do not call, it's 3 in the morning?"
Not in India.
I have an insanely busy morning tomorrow,
so I'll be gone before you and the kids wake up.
Dexter, you've been working such killer hours lately.
Just hold me till you have to go.
Just a matter of time...
'Morning, Sergeant.
How long for you to get to 118 Countant?
Twenty, thirty minutes.
I got it, Dex.
Got what?
Only the case that's gonna get me my shield.
It's huge. Angel put me on it. Officially on it.
"Huge"?
Who the hell are you?
I bet your wondering who the hell he is.
Who he is is what makes this case huge.
It's Miguel Prado.
He's a ADA. He was put on a mission to put away as many bad guys as he can.
You know, "A safe Miami is the only Miami."
A safe Miami and we're all unemployed.
Why does he look so familiar?
'Cause he just made the cover of Florida Magazine.
Top prosecutor in the state three years in a row.
He and LaGuerta go way back, you know. The whole Cubano thing.
The other guy is Ramon Prado.
Miguel's middle brother. He's a Lt with the sheriff's department.
Made himself quite the reputation for being a law and order hardass.
And...
Oscar.
Prado?
As in baby brother.
So much for spontaneity.
What was he doing in a dump like this?
They're saying that he was a coach at a youth club.
He came here to confront this scumbag about selling shit to his kids.
Talk about wrong place at the wrong time.
Tell me about it.
Find anything?
A dead guy with a hole in his chest.
If this window was cracked since there's blood on the wall,
- who shut these drapes? - Probably the 1st on scene.
Some dipshit rookie who's still outside puking.
So what do we got?
Signs of a majorly big struggle here, there, everywhere.
Single stab wound to the chest. You read my article yet?
- Started it. So far it's really good. - Awesome.
Whoever did this...
He's already wishing he was dead.
Someone really stepped on his dick with this one.
There were so many lessons in the vaunted code of Harry.
Twisted commandments handed down from the only God I ever worshipped.
1 through 10.
Don't get caught.
That I got covered.
But killing someone without knowing if he's guilty...
I'd love some help on this one.
But my God is dead now.
Man's best friend. Hey, Dex?
Not today.
My sister said that LaGuerta knows this Miguel Prado pretty well?
Way back when,
when Mi...
Hey, what's up?
Way back when, when Miguel was in law school,
and Maria was just starting in law enforcement, they hooked up.
Hooked up?
Between us,
for Maria,
Miguel Prado will always be the one that got away.
♪♪ has the victim.
Oscar Prado.
26.
Dead.
Dead from a single stab wound to the chest.
The deceased's brother, A. D. A Miguel Prado,
informed me at the scene,
that Oscar went to confront one Fred Bowman, street name "Freebo"
for selling drugs to some youth club kids.
- Morgan? - This Freebo's the same guy
that killed those 2 coeds in the Everglades and got away with it.
So, the way it looks, Oscar Prado died a hero.
Also, our team found a shitload of...
substantial amount of drugs in the house.
Any leads on his whereabouts?
That part of the neighborhood isn't exactly police-friendly
- but I'm staying on it. - Talk to me about forensics.
Evidence indicates this was no hit and run.
It was a furious close-in battle. Whoever...
Or is it whomever?
Whoever's good.
Whoever did this got in a lucky shot or...
is really good at handling a blade.
According to the ME, the aorta was...
cleanly severed in one penetration.
- Not easy to do. - Any luck finding the weapon?
It's not on either premises.
We've checked roofs, sewers, trash bins in a 5-block radius.
Our conclusion: The assailant took it with him.
Dexter, what's the blood saying?
Pretty much what everyone else is.
I have some second-level on scene work to do. I'll get back to you ASAP.
Get it to Sergeant Batista.
Full disclosure.
I've had a personal relationship with the Prado family for many years.
And it goes a lot further than the whole Cubano thing.
Sergeant?
Stating the obvious, Lieutenant. I like Freebo for this.
Me too.
Morgan?
Yes, Ma'am.
Hit the streets harder. Learn what you can learn.
All due respect, Lieutenant,
if Freebo did this, he's not in Miami.
I mean, he's in the wind.
We can sit around on our asses
and speculate on where we think the prime suspect may or may not be
or we can actually go and look for him.
As a Miami prosecutor, I have dedicated
my career to fighting crime.
To making our streets safe for everyone.
Every family, White, Black, Latino, Asian,
deserves
the full measure of our devotion to their...
dignity.
And now that crime has touched
my family in the most profound way imaginable,
I grieve equally for every family
that has been visited with the same...
unimaginable news that we have received today.
Our beautiful city is a city of families.
And the...
untimely taking
of any of us
touches all of us.
My parents
brought my brother from...
Part of my ritual has always been getting to know my victims.
Confirming their guilt beyond all doubt.
Oscar Prado tried to kill Freebo.
Then he tried to kill me.
No way he was there on some noble youth club mission.
He's gotta be guilty of something.
Aren't we all?
So I ask again...
Who are you?
Two speeding tickets and an illegal U-turn.
Talk about outside the code of Harry.
Harry finds me in a pool of blood.
Turns me into his own personal vendetta machine.
And when he sees the monster he created in action...
He kills himself.
Deb can drink to his honor on her own.
Any luck in the land of reluctant witnesses?
One house I play good cop, the next one I play bad cop,
but I still can't get shit from anybody in the neighborhood.
You know what the problem is, right?
Wait, Quinn. Let me guess.
- The cop part. - Nope.
They don't owe you anything. There's no incentive,
which gives the balance of power weighing in their direction, right?
Here, let me do you a favor.
Call this guy.
Tell him you know me.
Tell him you wanna cash in one of my coupons.
Coupons?
Yeah. He's a CI from my days in narcotics.
You've gotta hook in him but it's not coming out anytime soon.
- What do you want in return? - Just remember that I did you a solid.
- What, not even a thank you? - Thank you.
Stop looking at my ass.
Detective.
Officer. You're Anton?
In the flesh.
You got something you wanna show me?
Yeah, I've seen him before.
- Really? Where? - In the news.
Isn't that the guy you let walk on those coed killings?
Now that there was a fine piece of police work.
- You know him from the newspaper? - Yeah, I think I saw him on CNN.
- That's all you got? - That's all you got?
If it's you and Quinn fucking with me, I'm really not in the mood.
If you need something for that temper, I got a man down the street
with real mellow weed that can take that edge right off.
Thank you, but I don't take advice from drug dealer, so...
Drug dealer?
No, never that.
A drug user.
Occasionally. Strictly weed thought, officer.
Then how did you become Quinn's snitch?
I got caught up in a drug bust.
Quinn said that if I blew the whistle on a bigger fish
I'd stay out of jail, so I listened.
Attentively.
Yeah, well...
It never hurts an occasional drug user to have more than 1 friend
- on the force, so... - That's the thing, officer.
I got enough friends.
- I'm outta here. - Well, you have a good one you here.
What about this Prado guy?
And to determine the impact site,
the exact point where force encounters a body,
you have to distinguish the geometric differences between
a back spatter, a satellite spatter,
- misting and arterial spurting. - Gross!
Shut up!
You remember how before, when Katie's dad
- was talking about being a surgeon. - Yeah.
And sometimes,
how he has to cut into bodies and there's blood?
But he saves lives.
Do you save lives?
You know there's good guys
- and bad guys? - So you catch bad guys?
Not directly, but I help.
Do you have a uniform?
A lab coat.
A gun?
He's got a badge.
It's a laminate.
Thank you so much for taking time from your busy schedule M. Morgan.
- To come and talk to the children. - It was a real learning experience.
Looks like I really got through to them?
It would have sucked even worse if I hadn't had a dad today.
Thanks for inviting me, buddy.
If anyone should have father issues, anger, rejection, abandonment,
it's Cody.
And what's does he do? He moves on.
How does that happen?
- I was so bad you're crying? - No.
No, it's just,
It's just something I always wanted.
You being here for the kids.
It's all so wonderfully uncomplicated.
M. Morgan, this is Miguel Prado. I need to see you.
Right away.
So much for uncomplicated.
They're almost just like a piece of art.
Thank you, sir,
but to me, it's more like a story.
Tell me that story M. Morgan.
The encounter started over here.
The scuff marks on the linoleum,
their crumpling, the throw rug, they all have a directional quality,
that leads to...
And this,
is where your brother and Freebo...
He's my lieutenant's prime suspect.
But, you know that.
There was a brutal struggle.
I gotta say, it looks like your brother
fought like a hero.
But he was overmatched,
and sustained a fatal stab wound to the chest.
Everything about the blood suggest that your brother
bled out almost instantly.
He didn't suffer?
Blood never lies.
So now I know how he died.
Question is why.
One more thing, M. Morgan.
Why would a blood spatter analyst
spend time searching the sheriff department's database for
information on my dead brother?
Like you sir, I wanted to understand what happened here.
I thought that...
knowing some details about your brother's life would help me
make sense out of his death.
In your line of work, M. Morgan,
is it usual for you to
get so involved?
I just sounded like a prosecutor there.
I'm sorry.
It's not a problem, sir, and no,
it's not usual for me to get so involved,
but this one, this death,
got to me.
It's just...
it seems so unreal...
He's gone.
Yeah, I know.
So a man dies, M. Morgan,
and what's left? A soul? And what is that exactly?
- I really couldn't tell you. - Cause some people say the soul
just lives on forever.
I hope not.
Which makes you a cynic.
Makes me a scientist.
So no one you've
ever loved hasn't died?
My father died when I was in my twenties.
And you don't believe that
that his soul,
or qualities of life force is still here somehow, it's...
living inside you?
Because I...
I should have been there for him.
- You can't blame yourself, sir. - It's easier said than done, M. Morgan.
Do me a favor.
You really wanna get to know my brother like you say?
Come to his wake tonight.
Come see how much and how...
how fully
he was loved.
I've taken up enough of your day.
Thank you.
These reports final?
The blood specimens I collected all came back belonging to Oscar Prado.
Trace prints all around the victim all point to Freebo.
- Anyone out there talking? - No officer Morgan was heading up
the usual firewall, clammed up witnesses and non-witnesses, so,
I put her in touch with an old CI of mine.
- Hopefully, should be... - Quinn?
That CI you put me on was totally useless for Freebo.
- Sadly, it's not a perfect world. - Yeah.
For all we know, Freebo is in like Nebraska by now.
I guess you don't owe me that favor then.
- How come he gets favors? - He doesn't.
But what the CI told me about the victim.
He wasn't some hero coach who went into the hood and took one for the team.
What do you mean?
Oscar Prado was into Freebo for some serious cash.
Why would someone be into, I don't know, a drug dealer for big bucks?
Because Oscar Prado, the pride of little Havana, was a fucking junkie.
Thanks, Maria.
Good one, Morgan.
She's been in better moods.
- I didn't exactly brighten her day. - No, you didn't.
Excuse me for doing my fucking job.
You've seen any other super cops coming in here with any leads?
No, Deb, you're definitely amazing,
- But you got to... - I know, I know.
Be aware of my surroundings, take the temperature of the room
before I open my mouth, I know it's a bad habit, I admit it.
Look on the bright side.
Now that you've given up men, booze and cigarettes
running your mouth is the only bad habit you have left.
That's right.
I'm a model of fucking perfection.
You remember what today is, right?
How can I forget?
7 h 30, I'll buy our first drink.
- You wanted to see me? - Sienta-te.
I need you to think about
Deborah Morgan's continued involvement on the Oscar Prado case.
You want me to throw her under the bus forbeing a little overzealous?
It's not about zeal.
It's about tact and sensitivity.
It's also about the real world. This case is as high profile as it gets.
- Listen... - No, oye-me, Angel. Morgan is
resourceful and tenacious, and usually the right amount of pain in the ass.
But there are political ramifications.
And my history with Miguel Prado aside, this case is just too big for her.
Just say the word Maria and I will follow your orders.
Becoming a homicide sergeant is more than just a bump in pay scale.
It's a quantum leap in responsibility.
All part of moving up the chain.
If I bounce her,
- she will hate me. - Your her boss, Angel. Not a friend.
That's up to you.
- Can I get another cranberry juice? - That makes three problems down under.
Jeez, I like the fucking taste, okay?
I miss you dad.
- My condolences. - Thank you for coming.
Losing my brother is gonna leave a pain in my heart that...
I don't think is ever going to heal.
You have a brother, Dexter?
No. Just a one loud sister.
What she said back at the station...
It's okay.
I know my brother was a good man.
But I can't say that he suffered from the tragedy of perfection.
Who does?
Who indeed.
Hey, brother. The mayor's here.
You attacked me with a knife in a dope dealer's house,
no Oscar, you certainly did not suffer from the tragedy of perfection.
Then why does this feel so wrong?
Why in your death are you still so alive in my life?
Did you know him well?
Not as well as I thought.
Sorry.
Cuervo Black.
Thanks.
Harry.
What the hell is that?
Cranberry juice. Is that gonna be a problem?
Not even close to a problem. But the taste?
Kind of funky.
You know by the time my dad was my age he already had his shield?
Kind of why I'm here.
I'm taking you off the Oscar Prado case.
I come up with grade-A intel on Oscar Prado
and I'm getting tossed off the case for being a little loud?
In a nutshell.
- LaGuerta put you up to this? - It was my decision.
I'll tell you one thing, Angel.
I'm not letting anyone get in the way of me getting my shield.
There's only one person in this department who will get in your way.
Who?
You.
Can I get a real fucking drink, please?
My sister still lives her life trying to please our father.
Me...
I'm following the lead of an 8 year old kid.
I'm moving on.
Thank you for last night.
It was a nice surprise.
This is where I wanted to be.
Again?
All I want is chocolate pudding
and you.
Not necessarily in that order.
Where the fuck were you last night?
- Rita's. - It wasn't Rita's night.
- Turns out it was. - I called you.
- I know. - And you ignored me?
Not you. Harry.
Deb...
I'm in a whole other place when it comes to Dad.
I'm working out some personal stuff.
You are such a fucking guy.
What is it? She-gotta-kill-your-father- so-you-can-become-your-own-man
kind of bullshit?
Dad wasn't perfect.
But he was there for you.
- Wait. - What?
I'm sorry I didn't notice your haircut.
So what is it? Is it too short, too young, too dorky, what?
It's beautiful.
Beautiful?
You just said "beautiful".
Yeah, I did, 'cause it is.
It's like you honored Dad for both of us, last night, anyway.
I had some help.
You're getting along with the new boss, ma'am?
Fuck him, he took me off the Oscar Prado case and put me on this.
Some dead end Jane Doe.
A couple of ladies of the night called this in.
Madre de dios.
Could you turn that thing off?
We'll work quietly.
I'm about half way through your article Vince. So far, very moving.
Yeah, I was trying to make second tier chromosome analysis sexy.
Glad you're picking up on it.
- Strangled. - No blood.
- I'm the blood guy. Why call me in? - Because of this.
Looks like our evil doer had an agenda.
- Maybe it was a tattoo or something. - Dex, I need to know if this was ante
or post mortem.
Teagan.
Freebo's girlfriend.
Looks like he's still in Miami.
- You talked to Morgan yet? - Yeah.
How did she take it?
- There were curse words involved. - You did good.
Sergeant.
Way to be.
Thank you.
There you go Dexter.
Good as new.
Hold the elevator. Hold!
Asshole.
Sorry.
Sergeant Asshole.
Vamos, Masuka, Quinn!
Vamos, we got some celebrating to do.
- You can still drink after last night? - A man has his needs.
You can go back to your cute little cranberry juice.
It tastes like shit. I'm gonna have a mojito.
Or ten, on you Sarge.
Morgan.
You so have the wrong person.
There's a good reason why Quinn's of interest to IA.
No, understand me. When I say you have the wrong person, I mean me.
These people are more than just badge numbers to me. They're my friends.
They're my family.
Listen.
It's the sound of your shield. Calling for help.
Harry said that what was inside me would be there forever.
And that I wouldn't be able to change.
He was half right.
Killing Oscar Prado is a bell I can't unring.
I have moved on from my father but I still need his code.
Now more than ever. But it has to evolve, become my own.
Change is good.
Hey, you.
Hey, yourself.
This music again.
Chocolate pudding again.
- Oh shit! - What?
I've done this before.
What do you mean?
I'm pregnant.