In the criminal justice system...
the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups:
The police who investigate crime...
and the district attorneys who prosecute the offenders.
These are their stories.
How many channels you have now? Your man here isn't too smart.
The illegal splice goes right through his window.
50? 60? Something like that? He pays for his cable like everybody else...
or we call the cops. Not one channel speaking Farsi.
In America, everybody supposed to got equal rights.
Mr. Williams?
Mr. Williams, we are coming in.
Mr. Williams?
Hey, Baba...
Nothing upstairs.
Mr. Sandler, 3-C, buzzed someone into the building last night.
I was expecting my girlfriend.
I thought it was her.
The lucky lady actually showed up half an hour later.
My intercom is broken.
I'm supposed to run down three flights every time I have company?
He might have appreciated it.
Stick around.
So the killer leaned on every doorbell until some moron buzzed him in.
Who said New York isn't a friendly town?
He was better-looking before the beating.
Broken nose, possibly fractured cheek...
Look at these cuts on his knuckles. Maybe he returned a few.
Hematoma.
My guess, a cranial fracture in the medullar region.
That's what put his lights out.
Blunt instrument? Or that radiator...
or a doorjamb. Somebody did some dancing around.
Footprints after the bleeding started.
Pat Williams.
He was damn near Rookie of the Year in, what, '91?
Well, that's Benny Williams.
These are all autographed.
His son, he give me a card...
said it was worth $20.
Well, this is identical handwriting.
Could be, he was gonna pick up a few bucks forging his son's signature.
Well, looks like he needed the cash.
"Order to appear and show cause for failure to pay alimony."
You know, I saw Pat Williams last summer. Hit for the cycle against Clemens.
He drops two balls in right field.
Yeah. All stick, no defense.
Maybe it runs in the family, huh?
Pat's in with the kids.
You have Pat's statement, right?
No, we're not scheduling a press conference.
You have the general manager's statement? Well, that's good, yeah.
Right, they're here now, yeah.
He just- He just called me last night, you know?
I don't want it handled that way at all.
He was just saying how he wanted to set up some time...
take the kids ice skating over at Rockefeller Center.
So, what, was he taking the day off?
No, Benny was Pat's business manager.
You know, you start making a lot of money...
you need somebody, you know? That you can trust.
Must have been nice having someone that close.
For the last few years, yeah.
But when I was a kid, he wasn't even around.
It was my mom's parents that actually raised me.
But then, when I was 19, he tracked me down.
It was good for Pat.
And it was great for the boys.
And when I'm on the road, he's here. Every day.
Looks like your mom tracked him down.
What do you mean? We saw some court papers...
she was pushing for alimony.
No, that's Jocelyn, my father's second wife.
My mother died when I was a baby.
That's why he left. He couldn't handle it.
Star athletes, they used to have ticker tape thrown at them.
Now it's knives and metal batons.
Well, they can afford to hire security, anyway.
The average salary's about a million.
When Mantle made $100,000, it was a big deal.
Yeah, there's only a couple of dozen guys...
in the world that can do what Pat Williams does. Why shouldn't he get paid?
I don't mind the Williams bringing in the big bucks. It's guys who are batting...
.190 and flying around in their private jets that get to me.
You ever get a look at a real major-league curve ball?
Hey, last year, Police Summer Finals...
five for five, four RBls.
Oh, yeah, Porky Pedowski and Dwight Gooden, they're a lot alike.
Hey, Porky had a hell of a curve, I hate to tell you, pal.
You try hitting one of those.
When we were married, Benny was a traveling salesman.
And that's not a joke.
No, but it can be kind of tough on a marriage, huh?
He had girlfriends in Cleveland, Dayton, Pittsburgh...
that I knew of.
You and Benny just recently divorced?
1982.
So you're suing him for the money now?
He has the money now.
Six months ago, I saw him doing a commercial on TV...
for a sporting goods store.
Benny Williams was an actor?
Celebrity. Secondhand, thanks to his son.
He never even told me he had a son.
His son says they're very close.
Oh, sure.
Since Pat's become a celebrity, I'll bet they're inseparable.
You get enough blood off the floor for a DNA match?
Yeah. And it proves that Benny Williams bled there.
What about the assailant?
Not unless he was beat to death by his identical twin.
Okay, so the footprints are his, too?
Any fingerprints?
All you want.
Take weeks to sort these out. That apartment had a lot of tenants.
Anyone check his computer?
Your victim bought a 486 machine...
state-of-the-art, and a shelf of the latest software...
but he never got around to putting the software on the computer.
You think that office stuff was just for show?
The desk was useful.
Blood, skin, and hair on the corner. It killed him.
He had a loaded. 45 in his bedroom?
Well, whoever came calling, Benny didn't greet him with a gun.
Someone he knew and liked?
He liked the ladies.
You see a lady slamming his head down against the desk?
They have husbands or boyfriends who would.
Who was Benny knocking boots with?
You think his son knew he was an ass man?
I don't care how close they were...
I don't see him bragging to his kid about his latest conquest.
But the guys down at the office are a different story.
Tell me about it.
What?
I wanted Pat to be my spokesman.
You know, I figured the kid's still on the way up.
What could it cost?
So the old man told you you couldn't afford him?
No, he says we'll work something out later. First I should give him a job.
Come here, I want to show you. The way he pitched me, I thought...
he could pitch my merchandise. But this...
This is as close as I ever came to the kid.
Did you get to meet any of Benny's friends?
No, I tried to.
Six times a day my kids ask me, "When am I gonna meet some ballplayers?"
Benny sent me a picture of Pat. Autographed.
So you never got beyond the hustle?
No.
Then one night he says, "Come on, let's go out, meet some of the crowd."
Where'd you go, a sports bar?
I wished. No, we went up to Harlem, The Blue Pelican.
You had a good time, huh?
Four girls, five bottles of champagne.
Benny stuck me with the check.
Worth every penny.
Yeah, I remember, a fat white guy.
Mr. Big-Time Sporting Goods.
Fell right there. I had to help him into a cab.
He and Benny had some female company?
Benny always had female company.
Any names?
Start with the letter "A."
Well, how about recent favorites?
Let me see. Last time I saw Benny was New Year's Eve.
Well, who was he ringing it in with?
Pat Williams is big stuff up here...
and I don't want to be playing the dozen with his old man.
You don't think Pat would want information about who killed his father?
Well, that little woman didn't kill him.
Yeah?
Vanessa Petrie. Makeup artist.
She did some of the models for Essence magazine...
and Benny showed me her name in the fine print.
I haven't seen Benny in a week.
Nice eye. You out of commission?
You could say that.
So what did you argue about, Hillary's health plan?
You don't think Benny... Benny had nothing to do with this.
Benny never raised a hand against me. He had a soft heart.
He was a lover, not a fighter, huh?
That's right.
After our last date, he sent me two dozen yellow roses.
A new girl at work called me at home to tell me they were there.
And you didn't answer the phone?
My husband didn't appreciate the gesture.
What, she called the cops?
She didn't think a black eye was a good way of expressing your affection.
Come on, man.
I'm a restrained individual.
She was doing the pole dance with the guy.
Tough luck.
This is not a game of chance.
Oh, you mean you didn't make anything on the break on purpose?
Cost you $100 to find out.
Can we make it $10?
Policeman's salary.
You must be honest.
Willie, go chill.
You ever meet Benny Williams?
Oh, that's what this is about.
Look, I ain't got time for this.
Looks like you got plenty of time.
We don't need a complaint from your wife to arrest you for assault.
Yeah, I seen him around.
He got around. That was the problem.
Oh, and you decided to solve that problem?
Look, I didn't have nothing to do with what happened to him...
but I might send flowers.
Where were you last night?
McReedy's. I work the door there.
Oh, a bouncer, huh?
So you had plenty of on-the-job training tossing people around.
Hey, look, there's no way I would've messed with him, all right?
Why, you such a big fan of his son?
No man, baseball ain't my game...
and stupid ain't my name.
The word was out.
Don't mess with Benny.
Whose word was that?
Papa Doc.
Dr. Donnell? Doynell?
What, fix your back, no money down?
Yeah, he cracks your back and takes your jack.
Especially when you don't cover your bets, right?
What you gonna do now, Minnesota? Look like you stuck.
Yeah, I can't see the eight. I guess I have to make something up.
Damn.
Hey, look, you didn't hear nothing about Papa's bookmaking from me, all right?
Thanks for the information.
Yeah, right.
Excuse me, can I help you gentlemen?
It's all right. We're friends of friends.
You have some serious subluxations here.
I don't think you're here for an adjustment.
Although you could use one. No, lie relaxed.
Actually, Dr. Doynell, we're here just to talk.
Doinel.
And I don't generally speak with you gentlemen unless my attorney is present.
It'll only take a moment. I have him on my speed dial.
Right, tell him to meet us at the precinct.
We've got a nice room set up for conferences.
Forty-three arrests for bookmaking and no convictions...
and still I have a positive attitude.
Is this something we can...
straighten out in my office?
We want to talk about Benny Williams.
I can't possibly remember every patient.
Pat Williams' father.
Yes.
I'm aware of that tragedy.
We heard you took a particular interest in Benny.
I would have to know a man before I had any interest in him...
and we haven't established that I know him.
Well, I'm just wondering if we took a look around here...
maybe we might find something with his name on it?
Now I'm back to my speed dial.
And these are your fans?
Well, you know, it comes with the territory.
Let's go in here and talk.
You guys find something?
Your father ever mention a Dr. Doinel?
No, the chiropractor? No, he didn't believe in that.
We're not asking if he got his bones bent, Pat.
We just want to know if he might have been involved in gambling.
My father's not even in the ground yet.
You know, I could really take offense to this.
Yeah. And the guy who killed your father...
is out there someplace walking his dog. That doesn't offend you?
My father had a problem, okay, when he came to work for me.
He had a gambling problem. He bet sports.
I told him that it could cost me my career.
And did he respect your opinion?
My father-in-law knew what could happen, so he stopped.
You sure about that?
Yes. And he got help from a support group...
and I took him to his first meeting.
A room full of gamblers? They must've loved meeting you.
My father had a problem, and he took care of it.
We've got to go now, okay?
Okay.
Support groups, huh? They got one for recovering detectives?
Well, after Pat laid down the law, it was in Benny's best interest to quit.
Yeah, I know how that goes. My mother was diagnosed with cirrhosis.
It was quit drinking or die.
I held her hand walking into the meeting, I saw her take the oath.
Yeah? What happened?
Well, you know, they team her up with a sponsor.
Two weeks later, the sponsor's daughter calls me.
Needs help scraping the two of them off a barroom floor.
It doesn't happen to all of us.
We appreciate your coming in, Mr. Stefansky.
Yeah, I feel funny talking about anyone in our group. Our members are anonymous.
That's our first principle. Here you go.
He's dead. Three-to-one he won't mind. It's no joke, Detective.
We deal with destroyed lives.
So do we.
You're the one he was supposed to call when he got the urge?
Yes. And he did call. He was working very hard to control his addiction.
Won a few battles but didn't win the war?
We never win the war. We settle for a draw.
Day by day. And Benny had some bad days?
He was very proud, and I was proud of him.
He used to bet baseball, but he stopped that cold for the sake of his son.
But he didn't stop everything.
We all have our bad days.
This is the news? Benny gambled?
It seems like he may have fallen down the 12 steps.
And we hear the biggest bookie in Harlem took an interest in Benny's health.
If you believe the bouncer, who's the only one we know with a motive.
Yeah, but his alibi checks.
Okay.
Why does a bookie protect somebody?
Generosity of spirit?
Somebody works for him.
Or somebody owes him some money, a lot of money.
Yeah, well, I doubt that Papa Doc's gonna let us...
peruse his employment records and accounts receivable.
I used to work a snitch on 110th.
He have a gambling habit? He carried bags for a couple of bookies.
You still got an address on him?
Voucher what you need out of petty cash.
I don't mind coming downtown by train, long as I know I'm going uptown by taxi.
Now, I usually lunch at this hour. What say we step over to the Café des Artistes?
Well, we're not gonna quite book your limo yet, till we find out what you got.
You know, I'm very disappointed Ms. Van Buren didn't come.
But I guess she got you white boys working for her now.
Yeah, and the Mayor's son shines her shoes.
What do you know about Benny Williams?
That man was a negative barometer. He bet red, you'd better bet black.
Being as he's dead, we figure his luck's not running too good.
He was wired to pro baseball. And he blows out on college baskets.
So who did he make his bad bets with?
Papa Doc.
Forty-three arrests, no convictions.
Well, he's a big supporter of the Harlem police charities.
How much did Benny owe Papa Doc?
Well, I hear 800.
Thousand?
I still haven't had my lunch.
Here, here's $50. That ought to cover des Artistes. Bon appétit!
And merci beaucoup.
Papa Doc wouldn't have let Benny run up an $800,000 tab...
unless he figured he was gonna get paid.
So who's got the deep pockets in the Williams family?
Pat.
Spring of '86, a team of high school all-stars traveled through Florida...
on an exhibition tour.
Pat had one at-bat, I'll never forget it.
Sid Fernandez threw everything he had, Pat kept on fouling them off.
Must've been 15 pitches. He saw one he liked, boom.
A rope down the line for three. He was 17 years old.
Yeah, and graduation day you were knocking on his door.
Me and every agent from here to LA.
I know the press makes us out to be scum-sucking vultures...
but I got that kid a hell of a deal.
Last year's All-Star Game, eight of the starters were mine.
This year's roster's missing one.
I signed the deal, I still get the commission.
Look, I've seen this movie a million times. I take in some kid with 12 cents...
in his pocket, help him sign a good contract, connect him with the right people.
These kids run, they catch, they hit, they don't handle money.
I invest their cash, I put them on an allowance.
A grown man with a family on an allowance?
He asked me to put his old man on one, too.
Only trouble was, Benny ran through his $3,000 by noon Monday...
and hit up Pat for most of his. He was gambling.
Did Pat know?
He had to be curious why his father was going through an extra $10,000 a week.
Sorry, guys, wheels up. I got an appointment.
Hey, the kid had to know.
Some people have an amazing ability to stay ignorant.
He came from nothing to a perfect life.
The old man tracks him down after he's headed to the bigs...
and then starts bleeding him?
So, what, he used his old man's head for batting practice?
Maybe.
You told us your father quit gambling.
Look, I'm not my father's keeper.
We're trying to find the guy who killed your father, and your lying doesn't help.
I'm just trying to protect what I have here, okay?
Now, you both know that if it gets into the paper that my father was gambling...
Maybe we'll arrest his murderer.
And maybe I'll just get a job as, what...
a member of the grounds crew?
Maybe you just wanted to make sure no one ever knew.
Okay, all right. Look...
I'm gonna need you guys' help anyway.
He's threatened my family.
Who has?
Papa Doc.
Your father owed him? He still wanted his money?
No, it was me. I owe him.
I was just placing bets through my father.
So killing him was a collection notice.
It's out of our hands, Edgar.
As it is, we're not charging him under the gambling statutes.
That's not enough.
I want it on record from your office...
he never bet a dime on a baseball game.
Well, we'll do what's necessary. Let's move on. Okay?
Mrs. Williams, Ben Stone. Hello.
And this is Miss Kincaid. Miss Kincaid.
Mrs. Williams, please be seated.
Sir, we can't proceed against Mr. Doinel...
unless we have more than your educated guess that he killed your father.
We got phone calls.
They said that if we didn't pay up, then they would hurt him.
Do you know who made those phone calls?
No, but I know who paid for them.
We need a direct link to Mr. Doinel.
He came to our house.
Why don't you tell them what happened?
I was coming back from the store with the kids.
This man, he was real big, came up to me.
He had some grease or something on his finger.
He put a smudge on my blouse, right here on the shoulder.
He said, "Tell him...
"I was this close."
Then he left.
Did you keep the blouse?
Why would I?
Would you recognize the man's face?
Oh, yes. I remember.
No. I'm sorry.
Just take your time.
There's so many faces. They all look so...
Well, they weren't exactly looking their best when those were taken.
Him. That's the man.
Joey Lang, a. k. a. Joey Dogs.
What you charging me with here, smudging up a woman's shirt?
Well, give me the cleaning bill and I'll take care of it.
You left your mark on a lot of people, Mr. Lang.
Nine arrests, two convictions.
And it's not hard to read the subtext of your remarks to Lucy Williams.
Well, remark on this subtext, Casper, I didn't threaten nobody...
and I sure as hell don't get paid enough to kill anybody.
Is there a surcharge for crushing heads?
Some heads I'd do for free.
So Benny Williams, he was a freebie?
Mr. Lang, we have eight sets of prints in his apartment.
Odds are, one of them has got to be yours.
If that's straight, you'd have hauled my black ass in here already.
No, not if we've had you under surveillance for two weeks.
Now what makes you think I'm stupid enough to believe you?
You were seen leaving Mr. Williams' building.
You rang 10 or 15 apartments...
and the person that buzzed you in saw you.
You one lying sack of dirt, Casper.
Nobody saw me because I wasn't there.
Mr. Lang, I get the feeling that you did this for hire.
Now, I can charge you with murder, and if you don't start talking...
you're the one who's going to be serving a life sentence.
Well, if I'm going for one, I might as well go for the deuce.
Is that a threat, sir?
I could be over this table and crack your head...
before that clown could do anything about it.
See, I'm not going down for something I didn't do.
Sir, you just threatened a man who could charge you with murder.
And right now, I don't give a damn about your innocence.
So what good did that do you?
Hey!
I won't give up nothing unless I float out of here.
Then we've got nothing to talk about.
Come on, Casper, hang with it, man.
Mr. Lang, you're sinking fast. Unless you start talking...
I don't think you're coming up for air.
Look, I was there, but I didn't do no killing.
That was Papa Doc.
One side, fat stuff. We got a warrant for Papa Doc.
He's busy. Not for long.
Detectives!
Out of the hot tub, Doc.
Sorry, ladies, the Doctor's wanted in surgery.
Henry Doinel, you're under arrest for the murder of Benny Williams.
You have the right to remain silent.
Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law...
Case number 456020. People vs. Henry Doinel.
Charges of Murder in the Second Degree...
Attempted Grand Larceny in the Second Degree...
and Promoting Gambling in the First Degree.
Plea? Not guilty.
To all counts, Your Honor. Of course. Miss Kincaid?
No bail, Your Honor.
My client is simply accused, not convicted, of these charges.
Charges that include a brutal killing.
Mr. Doinel is a bookmaker with a long record of arrests.
I say again, Your Honor, no convictions.
He made threats against the victim's family, Your Honor.
There is every indication, if he's freed on bail...
he will resume his illegal activities...
and present a clear danger to the community.
Dr. Doinel is a respected chiropractor.
The community should not be deprived of his services.
Well, as long as they remember to warm up before they exercise...
they can do without him. Remanded without bail.
My client has never been in Ben Williams' home.
He doesn't even know where he lives.
Oh, really? Well, I owe my credit union $4,500...
they certainly know where I live.
Dr. Doinel is not a bank. You deny he's a bookmaker?
Heartily and vigorously. What you call a bookmaking operation...
is simply the accounting department of a busy chiropractic office.
Nothing illegal about it.
Except the way it services delinquent accounts.
Joey Lang admitted that he worked for your client.
Well, it's tough to find work with a resume like Joey's.
Sometimes a job can change a man's outlook. Obviously...
Joey couldn't change his.
Mr. Lang is a brutal man.
If he lost control while trying to collect an overdue bill...
I don't see how Dr. Doinel is responsible.
He is if Joey Lang was working under his directions.
Now, sir, you're the only one who stood to benefit from this extortion.
Well, dead people can't settle up, Mr. Stone.
Doesn't make any sense to kill a man who owes you money.
But if you beat in his father's brains, it sends a very strong message.
Pat Williams admitted these were his gambling debts, not his father's.
I want a short date, Mr. Stone. The sooner I win number 44...
the sooner that I file a lawsuit for malicious prosecution.
I had some talks with Mr. Williams and with his son about paying off the debt...
or else somebody was going to get hurt.
Did you carry out that threat?
Yeah, I scuffed up Ben Williams a bit.
Next day, the kid came through with some money.
Who ordered you to scuff up Mr. Williams?
Henry Doinel.
Now what was the reason for your last meeting with Mr. Williams?
Well, there was about $800,000 owed. Nobody was paying up...
so me and Papa Doc fell in on Benny.
I scuffed him up some, then Papa Doc told me to wait in the car.
And what was the condition of Mr. Williams when you left him...
with the defendant, Mr. Doinel?
Well, he was sitting in a chair, crying.
Now, he was hurting, but it was all body work and no head hits.
He was alive.
What happened after that?
I waited five minutes, then Papa Doc came out and we booked.
It was about 9:30. I know because I looked at the clock in the car.
All right, thank you.
Before your last visit to Mr. Williams...
Dr. Doinel discussed his intention to kill Mr. Williams, did he not?
No, he didn't.
Oh, then he told you afterwards that he killed Mr. Williams, correct?
No, he never told me.
Oh, but it is common practice for Dr. Doinel...
to have people killed and not to collect a debt, isn't that right?
No. I never heard of him doing that.
He did the killings himself, is that the case?
I don't know nothing about that, either.
In other words, you have no personal knowledge of any kind that Dr. Doinel...
ever directly caused the death of any person in order to collect a debt.
Is that your testimony?
Yeah.
I never even met Papa Doc.
I would tell Daddy who to bet on.
He would make the call, and...
I guess I wasn't very good at picking winners.
Would you explain that, please?
I was losing some big money.
I mean, it was going out faster than it was coming in.
I was in the hole for $800,000.
So what happened then?
That's when the calls started.
"Pay up, or we're gonna hurt your family.
"Or we're gonna hurt your dad."
So, I paid up, after they broke his arm.
$50,000.
$50,000...
but, no, that wasn't enough. They wanted everything.
What did you do about that?
There was nothing that I could do. Everybody thinks that...
I have all of this cash laying around. It's not like that.
After everybody gets their little cut, I get an allowance.
Look, I'm...
I'm sorry, okay? I've...
I've got a gambling sickness.
If it wasn't for me, then my father would be alive right now...
and my kids would have a grandfather.
I'm sorry.
Thank you.
Let's talk about the bets that got you into this trouble, Mr. Williams.
Last January, Indiana vs. Michigan...
where'd your money go?
I don't...
Michigan, I don't know.
Win or a loss?
I don't remember.
Michigan lost by nine points. How much you lose?
I'm not sure.
I refer to the betting sheets found on Dr. Doinel's computers...
People's Exhibit 12.
They contain a record of all the bets placed on your behalf by your father.
According to these, you lost $10,000 on Michigan.
Yeah, maybe. I don't know. I went through a lot of money.
Oh, indeed you did. Same month, Iowa vs. Northwestern.
Who'd you bet on?
I don't remember. $15,000 on Iowa...
and you don't remember a dime of it, do you?
Look, I was making bets every day, okay? I don't remember every one of them.
Funny, I remember every nag that cost me $100 at the track.
Why is it you can't remember losing $15,000?
Your Honor, objection. I don't see the relevance to this line of questioning.
Overruled. I'd like to hear the answer.
The question is still pending, Mr. Williams.
Look, most of the time...
I'd give Daddy the money, and I'd let him make the call.
Discretionary gambling account?
Come on, Mr. Williams, where's the gamble in that?
Where's the thrill? Objection.
Withdrawn.
But isn't it in fact true, Mr. Williams...
that you never laid a bet with Dr. Doinel, either directly or through your father?
I don't know.
One last question, Mr. Williams.
Why did you lie?
A gambler who forgets who he bets on? I'd like to be his bookie.
It's not fatal. We convince the jury he got nervous.
He blanked out.
I got to arrange a conference in chambers, and we gotta ask for a continuance.
So you can find another incompetent witness?
We have Lang's testimony, and that alone ought to get us a conviction.
Wait a minute. What if Pat Williams didn't forget what he bet on?
What if he never bet at all?
He lied about that. There's no telling what else he lied about.
You think Pat killed his dad?
We're not talking about Father Flanagan here.
Do you have any idea of what my calendar looks like?
I understand, Your Honor, but I'm really...
I have three homicides ready to go to trial.
Seven child abuse, four assaults with intent...
not to mention double digits in assorted narcotic cases.
I haven't had a vacation in nine months.
But I'm only asking for a week, Your...
Problem is, while Mr. Stone goes fishing...
or whatever it is he does for fun, my client is sitting in a cell.
Vince, please, this could help your client.
You want to be charitable, give to the March of Dimes.
You want to save the state time and money...
I would not object to an immediate dismissal.
But that's premature. Your prime witness commits perjury.
I'd call it pragmatic. All right.
I'll give you two days, Ben.
And don't you come back with a suntan.
A continuance? What does that mean?
It means the jury will think our case is going to hell.
And there's a chance they'll be right.
Pat's a professional athlete, not a professional witness.
Edgar, you know as well as I do that any regular at the OTB...
knows what he bet on from 1960 on.
Pat has a lot more to think about.
Like keeping his lies straight.
Like mourning his father.
I hope that's the case, Mrs. Williams.
Sir, I have to ask you, where were you the night your father was killed?
I was at my old high school.
I was... The coach asked me to come down to talk to some kids for Career Night.
You wait your whole career for a kid like that to come along.
Who'd ever guess he'd come out of a toilet like this, huh?
So you like to show him off? You're damned straight, I do.
Irwin Izer had his Ernie Grunfeld, Cuss D'Amato had his Mike Tyson...
and I got my Pat Williams.
I guess he owes you a lot.
Hey, look, he might've made it without me. Who's to say?
But the fact is that most of the kids who graduated with him...
they're either dead or they're on the express train there.
The way these kids grow up...
A major league contract's a big incentive.
You want to know that when I was a kid...
I dreamed of making it to the bigs just so I could...
buy my old man a steak and a Caddy.
When Pat was drafted number two in the country...
his old man's name didn't even come up.
Then Pat gets drafted, he's all over him like tar on George Brett's bat.
Benny and his million-dollar smile.
They hugged, they kissed, the world's a great place to live.
The night Ben Williams was killed, Pat said he was here with you.
It's ironic, isn't it? You see, I figure that if the kids see Pat...
they'll think twice about shoving what's left of their lives up their noses.
And then what does Pat do? He brings Mr. First Baseman...
Drew Harding, one hell of a role model.
Pat is a good kid. He's the real deal.
I mean, it's certainly not genetics.
You're referring to his father?
Look, everybody knew that Ben had both hands in his pockets.
I mean, it's my guess next season his average is going to rise 20 points.
His father was getting to him?
Well, Pat wouldn't say anything bad about his father.
I mean, an example: He's in the club house, cutting up with the guys...
Ben walks in, pulls him aside, talks to him a few minutes...
Pat comes back, boom, instant iceman.
Did he complain recently?
The night we went up to his old high school together, I just sensed...
something was wrong with him. I assumed it was his father.
I mean, it's the logical choice, right?
It wasn't?
Well, we went up to Rachel's. That's a bar up on 96th.
We had a couple drinks, a couple more than Pat usually has.
He goes and makes a phone call, comes back all weirded out, says:
"We're out of here. " So I asked him, I said, "Your Dad?"
He said, no, it was his wife.
What time was that?
I'd say it was around 9:30.
But you know, those bookies that bumped off Ben...
they did Pat a big favor.
I mean, it's tough enough hitting sinkers and sliders...
without having that crap clouding your head.
You don't honestly think Pat killed him?
We just want to know if he's been lying to us.
Pat can't even walk down the street without a kid sticking a card...
or a ball in front of him to sign.
The fans, the agents, the lawyers, even his own father...
they all want a piece of him.
You know what I dream about, Miss Kincaid?
Being left alone.
Mrs. Williams, we just want to rule Pat out.
The night Ben was killed Pat was at his old school...
then he came right home. We were in bed before 10:00.
So the kid forgot his bets? What's the big deal?
I think there's a lot he's not telling us about his father.
Hey, I hope my kids follow his lead if you're ever asking about me.
Six calls from the bar phone between 9:00 and 9:30.
My guess, we got warrants out on four of them.
Take a look at the other two.
What about them?
9:18, Mrs. Pat Williams.
9:23, Benny Williams.
He left the bar at 9:30 after talking to his wife and his father.
His garage attendant says he got home at 11:30.
So you think that he went to his father's apartment?
Well, it doesn't take two hours to get from 125th to 78th.
And his wife is covering for him. She says they were in bed by 10:00.
I want them both in my office tomorrow morning.
Dismissal? What have you been sprinkling on your breakfast cereal?
Lang admitted that he beat up Williams.
Papa Doc may not have killed him, Adam.
Do you have anything more than your intuition implicating the kid?
Two unexplained hours.
Oh, that's great.
And so we let a suspected killer walk...
because a ballplayer didn't go straight home after a couple of beers.
Williams is terrified of Papa Doc.
He'll do whatever he can to keep that man in jail.
You just said you're dismissing.
Well, what I'd like is for Williams to consider this:
All the charges against Papa Doc are dismissed...
and the man's out on the street again.
If Williams is worried enough about his wife and his kids...
he'll tell us whatever he knows about that murder.
We've been waiting an hour.
Edgar, I understand your impatience, but why suddenly all this urgency?
Are you dismissing all the charges against Papa Doc?
The entire case depends upon your client's testimony, not just the murder count.
He'll kill her.
You can prevent that, sir.
Now, are you going to tell me the truth?
I'd pay off his debts...
and he would swear to me that it was going to stop.
And then a week or...
a month later it would start all over again, and I'd fall for it.
So it was your father that owed Papa Doc?
When I got to his apartment...
he was beat up pretty bad.
He wanted money?
You think it was money?
"You owe me," he said.
"We're blood."
I owe him?
What about me?
Yeah, I hit him.
That was it.
He hit his head on the desk.
Man two, Ben.
He does the max.
".289."
"My son hit. 289 in his rookie year."
You know, it would have been so nice...
to hear that one time without his hand being out.
It's okay.
Toughest thing in sports is to hit a major league slider.
Imagine trying to do it in front of 60,000 screaming fans.
Yeah, imagine trying to do it with a father like Benny Williams on your back.
Oh, Benny Williams, he wasn't Pat's father.
He just happened to be in the room when his son was conceived.