In the criminal justice system,
sexually based offenses are considered especially heinous.
In New York City,
the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies
are members of an elite squad known as the Special Victims Unit.
These are their stories.
Dad, why are we doing this? It's going to rain.
Come on. We're having fun.
We're outside spending time together.
See? Your old man's pretty good...
Dad.
Vicki, help me.
Dad, are you okay?
I think so. Is it bad?
I don't see a cut.
Then where did this blood come from?
Stuckey. What's up?
Body in the bushes.
Female, early thirties. Just beaucoup lacerations.
Clothes are all slashed to hell. I'm going to go out on a limb
and say sexually assaulted, but we...
You go out too far, you might fall off.
Yeah. Anyways, I peeped a couple of deep stab wounds.
So, bet those are your COD.
All right. Thanks, Stuckey.
We'll see you later.
Kansas driver's license. Rachel Nauss, Topeka, 32 years old.
She's wearing a wedding ring. Probably not a robbery.
That is serious overkill for an unarmed woman, right?
Hey, what if it's a warning?
Like, she's in cahoots with the Mafia,
but double-crossed them, and now they're sending a message.
Someone's hearing zebras.
Sorry. Did I miss something?
Dale, did anybody ever tell you that if you hear hoof beats in Central Park,
don't think zebras?
Wait. You think that guy killed her?
She means the answer is usually the simplest explanation.
This, here. The odds are it's a garden-variety stranger rape.
She fought back, perp cut her up.
Right. Yeah. Yeah.
El, look at this. "Guilty. " Of what?
Your guess is as good as mine.
Oh, my God. It's a pacifier. She had a baby with her.
Liv! By the tunnel!
There's blood all over it.
He's alive.
And "Innocent. "
Maybe we are looking for a zebra.
Who did this?
We're hoping that you can tell us.
Mr. Nauss, was your wife having trouble with anyone?
We don't know a soul in New York. We just got here Friday night.
I went to a talk on hydroponics.
Rachel took Evan to Central Park to take pictures.
We didn't find a camera.
I took pictures of them all weekend.
I haven't downloaded those yet.
Please, I need those photos.
You've got to find my camera.
Crappy little point and shoot.
Cost more in overtime to recover the thing than it's actually worth.
Mr. Nauss doesn't care about the camera, Dale.
He cares about what's in it.
Memory card got a little banged up,
but I've recovered most of the photos.
Evan in the park.
These must be from this morning.
Time code on the last photo is 10:17.
Rollerbladers called 911 at 10:26.
Nine minutes after that picture was taken,
Rachel was bleeding out in the bushes.
Man. If only babies could talk, right?
I may have someone who can. Look, people in the tree line.
Orange vests. A Parks Department work crew.
They're not department employees, just public service grunts.
They're skells. Any of them violent?
No. Just petty fare beats, public intox.
I had a dozen of them this morning, picking up garbage.
People have no respect for our fragile ecosystem.
Or human life. You notice anybody
acting suspiciously over in that area?
There was a dog off leash digging up my aspidistras.
White boxer. I think her name was Minnie.
How about any offenders of the non-canine variety?
Sorry. Didn't notice anyone.
We're going to need to talk to those guys.
That's the second shift. The morning crew is over at the boathouse,
painting the railings. Except Peter Harrison. He left early.
Cut his thumb on a broken bottle in the ivy.
He was bleeding?
Like a stuck pig.
I told him he should have kept his gloves on.
Peter Harrison. He's doing 90 hours of community service for menacing.
Pretty good, considering he tried to push a woman off a subway platform.
We're going to need his address.
Police. Open up.
Do you have a warrant?
Mr. Harrison, you were injured
performing court-ordered community service.
We need to assess your line of duty injury.
I'm fine. See? Duct tape?
I didn't have any Band-Aids.
Of course, you know that already.
Don't pretend like you haven't been here before.
We've never met.
But you've seen the satellite surveillance,
listened to the wiretaps. I know all the NYPD's dirty tricks.
So, then you know Rule 10-63.
"Any subject of intrusive police monitoring
"has the right to a binding cease-and-desist order against the Department
"if he so chooses"?
Is that what you're doing right now, sir? Invoking that right?
Because if you are, you're going to have to come down to the station
and sign form DD-5.
Anything to stop this harassment.
The form? Let me have it.
We have to follow procedures here, Peter.
Now, you were arrested in the subway last October for menacing a woman?
An operative.
Right. An operative. What gave her away?
Headphones. I stood close to her,
but there was no music. Then, I knew.
Why did you try to push her off the platform?
She was trying to push me. I have every right to defend myself.
Today, in the park, did the woman with the baby threaten you?
No, she was taking my picture.
She was going to upload it into the database
and geotag me. I can't allow my location to be compromised.
The black helicopters, they can land in Central Park.
That's part of the UN's controlled airspace.
Okay. So, then you grabbed her?
I searched her for a wire.
They make transmitters that look like buttons.
That's why you cut her clothes off.
I ordered her to abort the mission.
And now, we'll abort this interrogation.
What have I told you about talking to the police without an attorney, Peter?
No, I just have to sign form DD-5.
Big T's Chicken Shack.
You tricked me? Who are you people?
My client has nothing further to say. Who are you?
We don't need him to say anything. We've got a warrant.
Come on. What evidence? The guy's got one plate, one cup, one fork.
And some pretty outré taste in websites. Porn?
For the paranoid. "Surviving Gang Stalking. Acoustic Attack Shielding.
"Jamming Directed Energy Assaults. "
So, no porn.
Just a couple of gigs on the 9-11 Truthers, the Bilderberg Group,
and the Vatican Secret Archives.
I got something. Five shirts, five pants, and six pairs of shoes.
The sixth outfit is missing
because that's probably what he was wearing when he killed Rachel.
But why not dump the shoes?
Because nobody would ever look inside.
And nobody would think he wore stilettos.
Warner tested the DNA. It's the victim's blood, all right.
Bing, bang...
Don't say it. Please.
I also found cast-off blood on the shoe.
Beautiful. Harrison is toast.
Hardly. You interrogated a mentally ill man incompetent to waive Miranda.
You came down here to soapbox me?
I just wanted to make sure
he didn't play as fast and loose
with the evidence as you did with the confession.
We don't play. I've got Rachel Nauss's DNA all over your client's knife.
Let me see the paperwork.
A diminished capacity argument can't exclude blood evidence.
But contamination will.
Our protocols prevent any contamination of evidence in the lab.
What about the crime scene? Evidence from the murder
and from my client's apartment
are both listed under the same voucher number.
That's a big no-no.
Stuckey.
Looks like he co-mingled the evidence.
Meaning the DNA on the knife could have come from cross-contamination.
Which means my client waltzes right out the door.
Sleep tight, gentlemen.
I'm going to kill him. I'll dump the body.
Before we add more toxic waste to the Gowanus Canal,
I'm going to try and save this case.
Do you know what time it is? Elliot.
My apologies, Judge Donnelly. This is not a social call.
Well, then this is highly improper. And a pity.
There's a case.
A hypothetical case.
Where the defense is going to twist an error in paperwork
to suggest DNA contamination at the lab.
And you want to know if I'd fall for it.
Hypothetically.
Your problem's much bigger than you think.
Your squad's work relies on DNA.
Along with half the felony cases in the city.
So, a credible argument that the results
are unreliable, backed up by the NYPD's
own shoddy paperwork, would be disastrous.
Overturned convictions?
Hundreds of them.
Hypothetically. Talk to Cabot before you go any further.
Ask yourselves if getting this perp
is worth setting a lot of guilty ones free.
I didn't. I didn't contaminate the evidence.
But you made a bonehead mistake
that lets the Defense argue you did. But I didn't.
Simmer down, people. Call the next case.
"Docket ending 1270,
"People of the State of New York v. Peter Harrison.
"One count Murder in the Second Degree. "
Julia Zimmer for the defendant.
A.D.A. Kristen Torres for the People.
Where's A.D.A. Cabot?
Stuck in traffic.
More like she didn't want to be roped into this career-ender.
The Defense moves to dismiss the complaint as facially insufficient.
The only connection between my client and the murder is a DNA result
based on contaminated evidence.
People have any objection? No, Your Honor.
A.D.A. Cabot just instructed me to ask for leave
to re-present when we develop new evidence.
Fine. The case is dismissed without prejudice.
You can't dismiss. He's guilty, Your Honor.
You must be Dale Stuckey.
I am good at my job, okay? And I'm...
Mr. Stuckey, you're out of order and seriously deluded.
If this is your idea of doing a good job, you're in the wrong line of work.
No. You don't know me...
I don't care to. Sit down and shut up.
Mr. Harrison, you're free to go.
Judge, you're a lone beacon of hope
in the struggle against global mind-control.
Save it. You're a murderer walking on a technicality.
And if it were up to me, you'd be in the nut house where you belong.
You're the nut for letting him go.
Is everyone crazy today?
Five minute recess. People, take your meds.
Thanks, Dale. Couldn't have done it without you.
Hey. We'll be watching you.
Who isn't?
Detectives. Look, Detectives. No time, Stuckey.
Hold up. Please. But I did everything right.
What you did was botch an open-and-shut case.
And now, that is walking out of here a free man.
Look, I didn't do anything wrong.
Everything with you is "I, I.
"Me, me. " You're selfish. I'm going to do everything I can
to get you run out of CSU and sent to the Motor Pool,
where the only thing you can do is screw up an oil change.
Look, I know I'm not supposed to say "I," okay?
I didn't mean for this to happen.
Dale, everyone screws up. So, we figure out a way to fix it, okay?
How? He's walking away.
Harrison has a shadow. Two of them, in fact.
Ah, this is great. The freak wants to disappear,
he picked the perfect place.
Can I get a soda?
Here you go.
NYPD, move! Out of the way! Out of the way!
I can't believe they lost him.
It's been an hour.
Half of Brooklyn South is looking for him. They're going to find him.
That may not be easy. Harrison's got a lot of practice shaking tails.
Yeah, imaginary ones.
They're real to Harrison. He's a paranoid.
He believes that all eyes are always on him, so he'll do whatever he can
to escape persecution.
Even murdering an innocent mother
like Rachel Nauss.
The tragedy of persecutory delusions
is that they're rarely limited to the life of the sufferer.
Right. All the more reason to find him before he flips out again.
Well, tailing this nut-job is not the answer.
We can't keep tabs on him 24l7, even if he thinks we can.
We could pick him up on a mental hygiene warrant
if we find a judge sympathetic enough to issue one.
I know a few. We can civilly commit him.
It's too late for that.
Munch and Fin find him?
No. They found another victim.
Annie May Lawson, age 29.
Clothes slashed and knifed to death.
Peter Harrison's exact MO.
How the hell did you lose him?
Well, in case you didn't notice,
there's a couple of thousand people around here.
Now, another one's dead, thanks to this psycho.
Coney Island isn't exactly a crime-free zone. Maybe there's somebody else...
What, there's someone else labeling people "Guilty" and cutting them up?
Come on.
Well, this ought to do it.
Nice, big, bloody thumbprint.
Harrison's your man. Bing, bang, boom.
Now, all we've got to do is find him.
Patrol says he didn't go home.
He ever speak about friends or family?
Oh, those are words this guy doesn't understand.
To Harrison, everybody else is the enemy.
Except online.
We searched his place, we found his computer logged on to this website.
"Persecute-U. Com. The Online University That Helps You Fight Back. "
Our guy got out of jail, offed his second victim,
went online and bragged to his friends about it.
"How I Finally Stopped NYPD Harassment. "
He tells how he neutralized the operative in Central Park.
Defeated our NYPD mind control.
And the rest of the wing-dings
are egging him on. "Hang tough, man!" "Fight the power!"
But how could Harrison post all this when he's on the run?
Well, he was on his phone at Coney Island. We thought he was texting.
Here's his last message that he posted before he lost you
and killed Annie May Lawson.
"Keep the faith. Going off grid. "
Yeah. But then, he pulled the sim card from his cell phone.
So, he isn't trackable.
Hold on.
Unless another board member knows where he is.
Look. Somebody named gwendolynoftheshadows wrote,
"Good luck, P.H. If you need anything, you know where to contact me. "
So do I.
You know Gwendolyn? From another site.
JFK assassination stuff. She has some great pictures
of the grassy knoll that I've shared with her.
So, hop on and chat her up.
See if she'll give us where Harrison went.
I'd rather talk to Gwen in person.
I know where she logs on to the Internet.
Farthest table from the door. Back to the wall.
Spot them before they spot you.
John. It's been a long time.
Doesn't feel like it, seeing you.
You're not on the JFK forum anymore.
What have you been doing?
Officially, I'm retired.
But between you and me, I'm working to expose the truth.
It's gotten bad, huh? Hmm.
Every day, I see another one of their antennas going up.
Cell towers. They think we're so stupid.
I hear they got to Peter Harrison.
You know Peter?
I met him last year in the Village
at a talk he was giving on Homeland Security's plans for our water supply.
Yeah. He knows too much.
That's why they're after him.
This is a private conversation.
You always made me feel safe, John.
Gwen, I really have to contact Peter.
Well, what makes you think I know where he is?
He trusts you.
He told me that whenever he posts on Persecute-U. Com,
you're one of the few people that really gets it.
He's running.
They want to silence him, but we're not going to let that happen.
We?
Yeah. Peter has followers.
So, tell me why you need to find him.
I can't give you any details without putting you in danger. Trust me.
You know me, Gwen. You know what we meant to each other.
Mmm.
There's an empty store at 88th and Broadway.
Peter rents the basement. Turned it into a safe room with everything he needs.
Thank you.
Hey, John? I was going to tell you.
I've been thinking about going back on my medication.
So, maybe we could be together again?
Goodbye, Gwen. I've got to go.
John. Please don't leave me, John.
I've got to go.
But everything's going so good.
Sly dog. Making moves on loony ladies.
She's my ex-wife.
NYPD! Peter Harrison, show yourself!
Harrison, you're cornered. Come on out.
Leave me alone. Leave me alone.
Freeze.
The judge told you to leave me alone.
That was before you killed that girl at Coney Island.
I didn't kill anyone there.
We've got your fingerprints, dumb-ass.
No. I didn't do it. And I didn't kill you. You did it to yourself.
You sure you're all right?
Ten years in the car with Munch.
I've smelled a lot worse.
You two are lucky to be alive.
Another couple seconds breathing that gas...
What was it?
Hydrogen sulfide.
Mix toilet bowl cleaner and a couple other household chemicals.
And bam! It's detergent suicide.
I mean, Harrison did his research.
"Make Ricin From Castor Beans.
Ten IEDs You Can Build In Your Basement. "
Please tell us you found him in the corner, stone cold.
I wish I could. But I did find his escape route.
There's a ladder that leads up to a sewer grate on the street.
Once again, our killer's in the wind.
Yeah. But I know someone who can tell us where he'll land.
Even if I knew where he was, which I don't, I couldn't tell you.
You really want to invoke your attorney-client privilege
to protect a man who's on a murder streak?
If Peter contacts me, I'll urge him to turn himself in.
In the meantime, you do your job, and I'll do mine.
Right. Well, doing our job nearly got me killed.
I'm sorry. He's never been this delusional before.
I've tried to get him on medication, but he refuses.
It sounds like you care about him.
I've known Peter since he was 17.
His parents were killed in a plane crash.
I represented him in the civil suit. Got him a good settlement.
I was his trustee until he turned 21.
So, you took care of him.
That stop when he came of age?
Playing on my maternal instincts, Detective?
Do you have any?
I want to help Peter.
Right now, he's a danger to himself and the community.
But as his lawyer, I can't betray his confidence.
Is there anyone that he might turn to for help?
Anyone whose hands aren't tied?
Before he got sick, Peter was at the Gotham School of Fine Arts.
He was close to a professor there... Edgar Radzinsky.
I haven't seen Peter in months.
He should come to me. The boy needs help.
He needs more than that. He's killed two people.
You don't seem surprised.
I could tell his illness was getting worse.
His work has often been dark, but this week, the shadows overwhelm the light.
Wait a minute. You just said you haven't seen him recently.
Peter, no. His paintings, yes. When he dropped out,
I encouraged him to keep working.
I thought he would exorcise his demons
through his art. Well, the demons won.
Where did you see his paintings?
I let him keep the keys to his studio.
He comes at night, when no one's around. Always gone by morning.
Wow.
Exceptional, aren't they?
Looks more like Dante's Inferno meets Newsweek.
Collage is not just for schoolchildren.
Picasso and Braque recognized the power of the medium for modernist art.
Peter would have pushed the boundaries further.
So, what stopped him?
9-11. After the towers fell,
Peter became obsessed. He would go on anti-government rants,
spout the most bizarre conspiracy theories. It took over his work.
El, look at this.
"Madman On The Loose"?
That's from yesterday's paper.
He's rendered his own persecution.
Even in madness, the creative impulse remains.
Gee, this is better than the confession
Liv and Elliot didn't get.
So, red paint, blood. That's obviously a knife.
And you're obviously in the wrong building.
Stuckey's solving our crime for us.
As usual. Yeah.
It's pretty clear, right? I mean,
the faces of the guys he's going to kill next.
Looks like he's just getting started.
Why don't you put it down before you contaminate more evidence?
Right. But, looks like Liv.
A little younger.
You are an obnoxious little jackhole.
Elliot, stop.
Let him go. Let him go.
Get out of here.
Captain, he just assaulted me. You have to write him up.
The only one getting a rip around here is you, Dale.
He just accosted me.
If Elliot puts your head through a wall,
I'm going to have to do a lot of tiresome paperwork.
Get out of my squad.
Captain, listen to this.
I know you're angry. I want to help you.
Sounds like Julia Zimmer.
Peter, don't. Peter Harrison's there.
Go. Help. Do you hear me?
Peter, I'm your friend.
Friends can't be trusted.
Everyone is compromised. There are traitors everywhere.
I can't see them, but they're here. They are always here.
I don't think he has a weapon.
CIA mind control.
They use ruby lasers to alter our thoughts.
No.
Peter, no. No. Stop.
Stand back. Stand back. Are you okay?
He showed up out of control. Threw this at me. It's what set him off.
Well, tomorrow it will say that the city's safe again.
I don't know what the Ethics Board will say about me calling you.
That you did the right thing.
No. No.
Traitor, deceiver. You'll pay.
All betrayers must pay.
Not Gitmo. Calm down.
Please, not a secret prison. Not the black hole.
We're just taking you to the precinct. That's all.
I'll meet you there.
You sure you still want to represent him?
I know how ill Peter is. I can use that to help him.
Help me! Help me!
I can't get the door open!
I tried to warn her! No one gets out alive!
The tentacles are everywhere.
Death to all betrayers! All of them!
Take Zombie Boy to the prison ward at Bellevue. Do not pass go.
Don't collect $200.
Could have been us.
Shouldn't have been her.
Check this out. Same setup.
A couple of two-liter bottles. One with ammonia, the other with sulfur,
hardwired to the ignition.
When she turned the key, the bottoms popped off.
Turning her car into a gas chamber.
Fried the door locks and the power windows.
She only had about five seconds.
Check this out.
"Guilty. " He wrote it on the mirror.
Because he couldn't write it on her forehead.
Let me flatbed this car back to the lab, process it fully.
If there's anything else, I'll buzz you.
Harrison must have rigged Zimmer's car
before he went up to her office.
He called her the betrayer, but she was his friend every step of the way.
Other friends of his betrayed him by helping us.
You don't think he left surprises for them, too?
Well, if he did, they're not going to get them.
I'll have Munch pick up Gwen. You and me, we'll go get Radzinsky.
Thank you for agreeing to come in, Professor.
I'm happy to, Detective.
Please. This is for your own safety.
Until you disappear me?
Gwen, you know me. I'm your friend.
John, friends do not lie to each other.
Or drag people off the streets and lock them up!
You're nothing to me anymore, John!
Do you hear me? You're nothing!
Cleanup on aisle 3.
She's scared.
Bomb Squad find any more booby traps?
Nothing in the Professor's office or Gwen's apartment.
Patrol's still checking cars, canvassing neighbors.
Detective Stabler. I feel sorry for her.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. So she married me.
No. For the nightmare she's trapped in. In here.
Does your sympathy extend to Peter Harrison?
If he didn't murder everyone who looked at him the wrong way.
O'Halloran says he wants to bug us.
Culex pipiens. Also known as your garden-variety mosquito.
I found it on the backseat of Julia Zimmer's car, gassed to death.
Harrison's tiny accomplice?
More like our star witness.
Its stomach was full of blood.
Since Julia had just gotten into the car,
there's no way it had time to feed on her.
So, it's Harrison's blood. It bit him when he was rigging the device.
I've already got the computer working to confirm his DNA.
Bastard isn't going to walk
because of any "T" left uncrossed in this lab. Not again.
So, we're going to nail this guy based on the blood from a bug's gut?
Cops in Finland did it last year.
But, our perp scribbled more than we thought.
I didn't see it until I pulled the rig from the car.
"One down, three to go. "
He's gunning for revenge against everyone who betrayed him.
"One down" is Zimmer. The next two would be Gwen and Radzinsky.
By his count, there's still one more.
Who else does he think humiliated him?
I can't believe that son of a bitch
had the nerve to come after me.
You pull him out of that jail cell.
You don't bother bringing him to court.
I want to kick his ass myself. You didn't hear any of that.
I was going to ask if you're okay,
but I can see that you're better than ever.
Detectives. Bomb Squad says it's clear.
Okay. Did you brief them on Harrison's dirty tricks?
All the research we found in his bunker? Oh, yeah.
We even flushed the HVAC system,
made sure he didn't screw with the air.
Dale, put everything back the way you found it.
I've got to get back to the lab, finish up on that bug.
Bug? Like a listening device?
No.
The mosquito we found in Zimmer's car that's going to nail Harrison.
I want to take you to a hotel.
Another thing you didn't hear.
Protective custody. Come on. I don't run.
Come on. It's not really running if you order room service.
How about the Waldorf? My house is safe.
I'm not leaving.
Something stuck me.
I don't feel well.
It's a syringe. She got the full dose.
Mercy's six blocks from here. It will be faster if we drive.
Liz. Stay with me. Liz?
She just stopped breathing.
She's coding.
She's sedated, but she'll be okay.
What was in the syringe?
Potassium chloride. The same drug used in lethal injection.
Harrison's got a sick sense of humor.
Captain, she's going to be all right. We're on our way.
O'Halloran's almost done with the DNA. He wants us down at the lab.
Why don't you go? I'm going to stay for a bit.
In here, Elliot.
O'Halloran? What you got for me?
O'Halloran?
Stuckey?
Hi, Liv.
Dale? Where's Elliot?
Oh, he and O'Halloran went out for a bite to eat.
Left his phone on the desk. What a dummy, right?
Weren't they waiting for the DNA?
Hasn't popped yet.
But they won't be long. Just ducked out for sushi.
Want me to tell him you called?
Yeah. Nothing urgent.
Thanks, Dale.
You bet. Bye, Liv.
Surprised, huh? Yeah, I bet you are.
You didn't think I could do anything right.
Stuckey, what have you done?
What, you can't figure that out, huh? Big Mr. Detective.
You tried to kill Judge Donnelly. You gassed Zimmer.
I killed O'Halloran, too.
And now... you.
You ready?
You shouldn't have been mean to me.
You were always making fun of what I did, what I said.
So, after Donnelly cut Harrison loose, that was all you.
Yes. I was trying to help. Harrison is a bad man.
He's supposed to be in jail.
And, yes, I screwed up a little bit.
You followed Munch and Fin all the way to Coney Island,
and you murdered that innocent girl under the boardwalk.
But then, I put the thumbprint on the soda can to get Harrison. Right?
So he'd go back to jail, and your mistake would be forgiven.
Yay!
See, now you're figuring it out. Now, you're a detective.
Stuckey, listen to me. Harrison's in jail.
You can't pin any of this mess on him.
Not him. One of his paranoid pals.
You see? There will be nothing that links me between any of this.
Once I get rid of that pesky little mosquito.
What makes you think that's the only evidence?
Every killer leaves something behind.
You should know that more than anybody, Stuckey.
You think I'm stupid. Right?
Just like everyone else.
Just like O'Halloran. That bitch in court, Zimmer.
Judge Donnelly, too. So, what are you going to do?
You going to kill everybody who ever hurt your feelings?
You know what?
I have been a very busy little zebra, haven't I?
Hmm?
And you didn't know because you are stupid.
Not me.
Elliot? El?
Elliot.
Don't move!
Dale?
Put your gun down.
Dale?
Put your gun down.
Okay, Dale. Okay.
What are you doing here, Liv?
I didn't want to have to hurt you, too.
Then, don't.
I don't have much of a choice now. You've seen a little much.
Let's all calm down. Okay, Dale?
Just relax. Because you did good.
Really good.
What?
Well, I think it's pretty clear what happened here. Right?
One of Harrison's crazy followers must have got in here.
He attacked these two. You found the bodies.
You secured the crime scene, and then you called me. Right?
I did?
That's what I'm going to tell Cragen.
And then, you can finagle the forensics
so everyone else believes it, too.
SVU hero is killed in the line of duty.
It's perfect.
You're lying. You're lying.
You think that you're the only one
whose life is hell because of this prick?
"Liv, do this. Liv, do that. " I'm sick of it.
No, don't. Don't.
Sick of it. I want to hear him scream!
Don't you touch me.
Did somebody say you could talk?
Both of you, shut up!
Hit him again.
Don't do it, bitch.
Don't hit me...
No more orders out of you, pal.
I don't believe you. I don't believe you.
If you knew half of what this prick has done.
Somebody needs to take him out.
I just didn't know you felt the same way as I did.
I have never had... Stuckey, don't listen to her.
Anybody that I could trust.
She'll turn on you the way she's turned on me.
Just shut up! We told you to shut up!
And when this son of a bitch is out of the picture,
I'm going to need a new partner.
What about Cragen?
I've got Cragen wrapped around my little finger.
The same goes with Munch and Fin.
Dale, if I say the word, you're it.
Think about it, Dale.
I like the sound of that.
You like it because we get each other. We're connected.
We're connected.
We are connected.
Yeah.
Let's take care of the third wheel.
Wait. Just wait one second.
I want him to watch.
Watch what?
Watch this.
You okay? Okay. All right.
Are you okay? Are you all right?
How did you know?
Stuckey said you went to get sushi.
You and raw fish?
What a way to end.