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.
Third time I've asked you to fix it, Mr. Ramos.
If I fall and break my hip, I swear I'll get my son after you.
He knows people.
Oye, mami, you're late today.
Your watch is always fast, George.
That's right. Like that, my days go quicker.
Maybe when you're done cleaning, we could party.
I don't party with married men.
Oh, didn't I tell you?
My wife, pobrecita, she had a heart attack this weekend.
Mr. Wells, it's me, Rosetta.
Mr. Wells?
Elliot Wells, 35. Hat trick in the chest.
Front door was still locked and the windows were closed.
The lucky person who found him?
Cleaning lady, Rosetta Salva.
She comes every Monday. She's got her own key.
You got the time of death?
36 to 48 hours.
Say some time Saturday afternoon or evening.
Mrs. Small next door said she was home till 6:00 on Saturday.
Didn't hear anything.
And then she went to her son's for dinner.
So between 6:00 and 9:00. Hey, did you call CSU?
Yeah, they're hung up on a bodega heist downtown,
will be a couple of hours.
Listen, I found a couple of dresses in the bedroom closet.
Ms. Salva, I'm Detective Curtis.
Did Mr. Wells have a girlfriend?
I don't know.
Her name's Liza, Detectives.
I live next door.
I told the officer that I was having dinner with my son Saturday night.
We have never had a murder in this building before.
Did you happen to catch Liza's last name?
No. She was a brunette, somewhat attractive.
He was a lawyer. I think he could have done better.
Maybe he thought so, too. How were they getting along?
Good, I suppose. He must be some lover.
I mean, he was always getting flowers delivered.
Did you see her around here this weekend?
No.
Did he have any other guests?
Not that I was counting.
I'll tell you one thing about Mr. Wells. He was being watched.
Watched? By who?
There was a man in a car across the street. I could see him from my window.
He was following Mr. Wells when he took a taxi in the morning.
I'm not making this up. It went on for a month.
I called the police and then the car disappeared.
Yeah, well, maybe if we had the license plate number...
I got the license plate. I wrote it down. I'll get it for you.
Wow. If she hadn't been away at dinner,
she'd probably come back with the guy who did it.
Ballistics has three. 22 slugs fired at close range.
The burn patterns on the wounds were very tight.
No forced entry, no struggle. Could be friendly fire. He had a girlfriend?
Liza, no last name, and she's not in his little black book.
You ask his next of kin?
They're in Minneapolis.
And there's nothing on his answering machine.
Latent's working on a dozen prints,
all belonging to people who've never been printed.
What about the neighborhood watch?
Could've been shots, could've been the TV.
License plate belongs to Wraytec Security.
They said they were hired by Wells' law firm to watch over him.
I hope they didn't put him down as a reference.
Elliot was a lateral hire from a firm in Chicago.
He'd been with us less than a year.
I can't believe he's dead.
Well, it's not like it's a bolt out of the blue.
You hired bodyguards for him, right?
Oh, yes. Well, that was during the Shuster Consolidated paper case.
Some environmentalists sued to keep Shuster
from harvesting some old-growth forests.
A bunch of bird-watchers file a lawsuit and you call out the Marines?
A case like this attracts the fringe element.
People who spike trees to injure woodcutters.
Elliot was the lead counsel for Shuster.
He got the limelight and the threats that go with it.
Death threats?
Not in so many words, but yes.
They even picketed our offices. They threw fake blood at Elliot.
We had to call the police. Some arrests were made.
The security company told us you pulled the plug on them a few weeks ago.
Well, yes, but that was after the judge threw out the lawsuit.
It was Elliot's idea. He was hoping things would cool down.
Did they?
Not for Elliot.
We started getting complaints from some of his clients.
He was making mistakes, not returning phone calls.
What was going on with him?
Battle fatigue. Who knows?
He said he wanted time away from the law. Friday was his last day.
We're all going to miss him terribly around here. Excuse me.
I read where sharks have feelings. Now I know better.
I got clicked for calling a lawyer a seven-letter word.
If I would've used 10, I'd probably still be in jail.
Hey, you also threw blood on his Armani.
Oh, no. Oh, not me, no. I was just there making a bunch of noise.
Now, the rough stuff, that's Larry Philbert, long as there's a TV crew around.
How rough does Larry get off camera?
I don't know. He only calls me for the protest.
He pays me for my car fare. See, it's because of the chair.
See, Larry says that it looks good on TV to have a guy in a wheelchair.
It isn't about hugging trees, Detectives, it's about enlightened self-interest.
You know how many species become extinct every hour?
After they're all gone, we're next.
What about dead lawyers? How do they affect the biosphere?
You mean Elliot Wells?
Thanks to him, Shuster's turning thousand-year-old trees into popsicle sticks.
That's what got him killed?
I wouldn't know.
But, whatever the reason, it was mother nature balancing the scales.
Maybe that's what you thought you were doing.
So now I killed Wells?
Hey, you got arrested last year on the way to a protest at Sterling Forest,
they found a.22 in your car.
Yeah, and now the Rockland County Police have it.
And as for Saturday,
I was chained to a fence outside a toxic waste dump in Patterson.
That was before I got arrested for trespassing.
First thing we did when the law firm hired us,
was get photos of these demonstrators,
but we never saw any of them near the residence.
How about anybody who didn't get their picture taken?
If anyone was staking out the place,
they'd have to be very good to escape detection.
What, you were sitting on Wells 24l7?
Round the clock.
And as far as you noticed, he never had any trouble with anyone?
Well, the girlfriend was a handful.
Brunette? Yeah.
Couple of days before we got pulled off surveillance,
they had a big blow-out in front of the building.
Do you have any idea where we can find her?
Yeah, he picked her up one night
from a building in Clinton, we noted the address.
Watch your step there, Lennie, that tile's coming loose.
You'd think a girl smart enough to go with a lawyer
would live in a building with a working elevator.
Which one first?
Well, last floor we started with the left side. Let's try the right side.
I'm Detective Curtis, this is Detective Briscoe.
We're looking for a young woman named Liza. She's a brunette.
Liza? Why? What's it about?
We'd rather discuss that with her. What's your name, sir?
Tony. Tony Conneca.
It's Elliot Wells, isn't it?
You mind if we come in, Mr. Conneca?
I read about it in The Post.
I want you to know I had absolutely nothing to do with it.
Well, that's good to know. So, what's your relationship with Liza?
I'm Liza. As in Minnelli. See the resemblance?
You're a drag queen.
A female impersonator.
I dress up for work just like you do, Detective.
Yeah, only I don't have to tuck in so much. So, you and Elliot Wells?
He was my boyfriend, up until a couple of weeks ago.
What happened?
I didn't enjoy life in Elliot's closet.
He was too low-key for you?
I'm gay. I don't set off sprinklers.
Elliot would never go out with me in public. He never came here.
When I went to his place, I had to dress female to fool the neighbors.
Even in bed, he would...
Yeah, we get the idea.
He was so uptight.
He wouldn't let me answer his phone,
he wouldn't give me his number at work, it was a charade.
When was the last time you saw him?
We haven't talked since I broke up with him.
Where were you Saturday night?
I was working at Max's Cabaret.
Tony was here Saturday night. He went on around 9:30.
What? Belting out New York, New York?
No, we already got two Lizas.
Tony is working on a new act. Audrey Hepburn's greatest hits.
A little Sabrina, a little Breakfast at Tiffany's.
It's a cute idea, if he keeps the weight off.
I can hardly wait to see it. So what time did he get here?
Just after 8:00, to do his makeup.
I talked to him in his dressing room.
How was his mood?
Nervous.
Tony is always nervous before his set. He's a real heave queen.
He ever talk about his boyfriend, the lawyer?
Talk about him? He bragged about him every chance he got.
His uptown sugar daddy.
We heard things were going sour.
Because of Tony's active imagination.
He was sure the guy was two-timing him.
Once he gets jealous, Tony could be a real bitch.
How real?
Last year, he found out his squeeze du jour was cheating on him.
The guy wasn't out yet.
So Tony puts on his Liza gear, you know, bowler hat, garter belt
and shows up at the guy's house in Scarsdale,
just as the family's sitting down to dinner.
Sounds like a million laughs.
That's our Tony.
It's a classic case of "he said, he said."
Tony cooks on a hot plate, Wells has an expense account.
Who's going to dump who?
Everybody's got his pride.
Yeah, especially a guy who shaves his chest.
Here we go. Three calls from Tony's place to Wells' the week before the murder.
He told us he hadn't talked to Wells since the break-up.
To Wells, not the answering machine.
Each call's less than a minute long.
Lieutenant, Latent pulled Tony's cabaret license.
They matched his prints to what they found in Wells' apartment.
Thanks. Well, they were lovers.
Tony said he hadn't been in the apartment in two weeks.
The cleaning lady comes in once a week.
And scrubs every surface with a toothbrush?
You got a fist full of straw, not much else here.
Well, maybe. But I still like Tony for it.
Would you like him as much if he wore three-piece suits
and crunched numbers for a living?
Hey, what do you make of this?
Saturday morning, Wells made a 30-minute phone call
to the law firm of Markham and Kessler.
So, he was applying for a job.
But his old firm said that he quit to take a break from the bar.
Markham and Kessler specialize in sexual harassment suits.
You got them on retainer?
No, PBA gave me their name last year when I was being hassled.
You got a beef with your boss, these are the people to call.
You had a beef with your boss?
His lady boss.
She was coming on to me. What?
That's why I transferred here.
So, can I transfer there?
Actually, Elliot Wells called me late Friday afternoon.
I was on my way to a deposition, so I told him I'd be in the office Saturday.
We need to know what you discussed.
Mr. Wells was very guarded.
He said he wanted to wait until we met on Monday.
But the gist of it was, he had a gay client who was fired and wanted to sue.
"Oh, Doctor, I have this friend who's got an itch."
Excuse me?
Did Wells tell you that he left his firm on Friday?
No. I had no idea.
They told us he resigned. Job-related stress.
You think they're lying? How long was he there?
A year.
And all of a sudden they fired him?
And all of a sudden they found out he was gay.
Gee, I wonder who told them.
Of course I didn't out Elliot. I didn't even know where he worked.
He was on CNN, he was in all the papers. Where were you? In a cave?
I would never do anything like that to Elliot, never. It's not in my nature.
Showing up in a push-up bra at one of his staff meetings,
that's more your style, right?
Yeah, we heard about that stunt you pulled in Scarsdale.
Okay, that was stupid. But I was pissed. The guy used me for sex.
And you used Wells for a meal ticket.
And you weren't too happy about it when he started chasing a new scent.
Elliot loved me. I'm the one who broke it off.
That's not the way they tell it down at the cabaret, my friend.
Hey, come on, Tony, the guy hurt you. We've all been there.
You just didn't want to tell us because of the way it would look, right?
He'd get calls at home. Late.
Take his phone into his room and close the door.
He'd whisper, so I couldn't hear.
And then he'd come out, all red-faced.
He said it was his parents or some other BS, but I knew better.
So you never actually saw him with this other guy?
I didn't dream this up.
There was somebody else. That's the guy you should be looking for.
All right, Tony, we're going to go get some sodas, you want one?
Just what he'd like, us off on a wild goose chase
after this mystery man.
Maybe you're on a wild goose chase right now.
He outed Wells, Wells found out, they got into it on Saturday night,
Wells ended up dead.
Plays for me.
Well, you prove he outed Wells, it'll play for me.
Talk to the law firm.
Hey, we already know the party line.
The clients complained, Wells resigned.
Then start with the clients.
The environmental suit was a can of worms.
If we emerged from it unscathed, it's because of Elliot Wells.
According to his firm, he burned out.
I didn't see any evidence of that.
Well, they said they had complaints from his clients, including your company.
No, not from us.
What we got was a call last week from the managing partner, Chuck Hanna.
He said they found some irregularities in Elliot's billing.
You sound skeptical.
Elliot was one of the most honest lawyers I've met.
He once brought a billing error in his firm's favor to our attention.
I wanted him to continue as our outside counsel.
So what did you do?
I called the senior partner, Jerry Dixon, to inquire,
and he told me there were some improprieties.
What kind?
Of a personal nature.
Mr. Nelson, we're not mind readers.
Let's just say Jerry explained that in the present climate,
our legal representation should be above all reproach.
He had a point.
It's a tragedy.
We were just talking about him the night it happened,
at a charity dinner at the University Club.
Elliot was the head of the firm's charities committee,
until he resigned.
Don't you mean until he was fired?
Where'd you get that idea?
From Shuster's general counsel.
And he got it from you.
I mean, he pretty much told us that Wells was kicked because he was gay.
That would be actionable.
Yeah, if he was still around to sue you.
We pulled his phone records.
On Saturday morning, he called the top sexual harassment firm in the city.
His next call was to you, at home.
And we're guessing that he threatened to sue unless he got his job back.
Are we in the ballpark?
Our biggest client distributes baby food in the Midwest.
If for any reason they become uncomfortable with us,
there are plenty of law firms in the phone book.
We understand he was pretty deep in the closet.
Which made him a security risk.
He was privy to our clients' most privileged information.
So in or out of the closet, you didn't want him.
Whatever happened to" don't ask, don't tell"?
We found out, so could anybody.
That's what we'd like to know, Mr. Dixon. Exactly how did you find out?
Excuse me.
Jerry, the sitter's here, we're going to be late.
In a minute, hon.
I called Elliot at home last week about a case, it was early in the morning.
A man answered, he had a British accent. He told me Elliot was in the shower.
And then what? He just let it slip?
He didn't have to.
You have male company at 6:00 a.m. , it's probably not your jogging partner.
I was concerned. I confronted Elliot on Friday, he admitted it.
Now, gentlemen, if you'll excuse me, Le Cirque at 8:00 is hard to come by.
A British accent?
Unless he was practicing his Audrey Hepburn, that can't be Tony.
So maybe Tony is not crazy after all. There was another guy.
Yeah, a secret lover of a secret homosexual?
Ought to be as easy as finding a needle in a haystack.
The neighbor said Wells was getting flowers delivered to his apartment.
Right, read the card.
I guess some people really do buy it for the articles.
Yeah, or to keep up appearances.
You know, I had some friends in college who were gay,
most of them hadn't even told their parents.
I mean, I couldn't deal with the lifestyle, but I got to say
I have an appreciation for what it must be like to be gay,
having to hide it all the time.
Yeah, from people who can't deal with the lifestyle. Bingo!
Florist's card from the Village, unsigned, addressed to "mon amour."
"Mon amour."
Our delivery guy thought it meant "Monday morning."
We're looking for the person who sent them.
As long as I'm not violating any florist-client confidentiality.
Monsieur has been ordering from us for a few months now,
spreading joy all over the city.
Among other things.
Here he is. Always pays cash.
Any name?
Stuart.
You got a phone number there?
Just a return address.
Hey! What's going on here?
We're looking for Mr. Stuart.
Who are you? The super. Is Mr. Stuart in trouble?
We're investigating a homicide. We thought maybe he could help us out.
Well, I haven't seen him in nearly a couple of weeks.
But I could let you in.
We can't. We don't have a warrant.
Well, if you wanted to look in and make sure Mr. Stuart's okay,
that would be fine with us.
You think maybe something happened to him?
He could be lying in there, dead of a heart attack, right, Rey?
Whatever you say, Lennie.
Just what I need.
I did him a favor in the first place, subletting to him.
Mr. Stuart?
Maybe you ought to go in and check, just to be sure, huh?
Remember, just what's in plain view.
It's what you don't see, Lennie. Cupboards look empty,
there's a couple of glasses in the sink, that's it.
Guy's not much of a cook.
Oh, he cooks, all right.
There's a family size box of condoms on the nightstand.
Plenty of booze, music, mood lighting.
Hey, which one of these is Mr. Stuart?
That's him in the leather jacket.
Jerold Dixon and friend.
If Wells was in the closet, Dixon's in a box on the top shelf.
He was having an affair with Wells.
Or trying to.
If you count all the flowers and the late-night phone calls,
he was dogging Wells pretty hard,
and I don't think he was getting with the program.
Maybe Dixon got mad and canned him.
Wells threatens to sue and blow Dixon's cover.
It's a pretty strong motive to shut him up.
Now try it not knowing that Dixon sent the flowers
or even that he was gay.
You had no business being in his apartment without a warrant.
Hey, the super was checking up on a tenant, we just tagged along.
Great, now we can all pile into the little clown car
and go tell it to the judge.
It doesn't pass the laugh test, guys.
Bring me probable cause, then we'll talk.
How about a confession?
That would be nice, too.
Elliot told me all about you, Mr. Dixon.
I saw the flowers you sent him.
Tell me, you speak French to your wife, too?
Hey, don't get pissy with me, Mr. Dixon.
I saw you leave his building the night he was killed.
I know what you look like.
Elliot showed me a picture from the Christmas party.
What I want is for you to meet me tomorrow at Bryant Park,
and we'll talk. Noonish.
Show up, or I'll go to the police. Bye, lover.
I don't think he bought it.
You had him breathing pretty hard. He bought it.
I have a bad feeling. What if he tries something tomorrow?
We'll be there, eyes and ears, nothing to worry about.
Are you sure this is even legal?
Yes, Tony, it is.
Look, we have two suspects here, Dixon and you.
If we don't get him, we'll take you.
Testing, one, two, three. Hope you can hear me.
Didn't I tell him to keep his hands off the jacket?
Testing, one, two...
Hey, Lennie, here comes Dixon.
Jerry Dixon? I'm Tony.
I don't have all day.
Always in a hurry, just like the other night.
You're imagining things.
I'm not imagining you right now.
You are here because you killed Elliot.
That's absolute crap.
Suit yourself, lover.
How come there's never a cop around when you need one?
Knock it off. No one's going to believe a sleazy little drag queen.
At least I don't lie next to my wife at night
and dream of doing the doorman.
Enough with the jacket.
What do you want from me?
A dozen of those roses you're so fond of sending.
And a lot of money.
You're crazy...
Flowers...
I'm going to kill him.
Fix it first.
Gonna cost me?
Ten grand's a nice round number.
Have it tomorrow.
Same time, at Framburg, for lunch.
No. I'll meet you here.
No. Lunch at Framburg.
In front of your lawyer pals. That way I'll be safe.
Besides, I always wanted to try their steak tartare.
Way to go, Tony.
... gonna cost me?
Ten grand's a nice round number.
Have it tomorrow.
What was said during the static?
According to Tony, they talked about a payoff.
Dixon's a lawyer. He's not dumb enough to fess up to a killing.
He agreed to pay hush money. It sounds like an admission of guilt to me.
If he comes through with the money.
And if he does?
Read him his rights.
It's flannel, do you like it? I borrowed it for the occasion.
What are we drinking?
We aren't drinking anything. Here.
Not even a farewell toast?
What the hell is this?
Well, looks like a payoff to me.
Jerold Dixon, you're under arrest for the murder of Elliot Wells.
I just got here.
And now you're leaving.
He was nowhere near Wells' place that night.
He was at the University Club with his wife.
They have their photo in The Post, for God sakes.
We saw it.
Cocktails were at 7:30, half an hour after Wells was shot.
Innocent people don't pay off witnesses, Peter.
A bogus witness who was extorting my client.
He should have reported it to the police.
It was the police who set him up.
Well, he didn't know that, did he?
Peter, I'm sorry, I have to go home.
Sela needs me around.
Please, just wait for me outside.
He's been on anti-depressants since his arrest.
His doctor thinks he's suicidal.
If it's all the same, I'd rather he stuck around for the trial.
Jack, his wife is going to alibi him.
You have no witnesses, no murder weapon.
What did he do, throw the bullets at Wells?
We found the victim's blood on the carpet of Dixon's apartment in the Village.
So you matched the blood type. Jerry couldn't keep it in his pants.
He brought home a lot of dates.
One of them cuts himself shaving.
Give us his name, we'll check him out.
In due course.
In the meantime, you can keep yourself busy with this.
Omnibus motion to suppress my client's so-called admission of guilt.
He was coerced.
You're in the fudge up to your chin, Jack. Counselor.
Standard defense hype?
Get Detectives Briscoe and Curtis on the phone.
You know what I said. You've got it on tape.
What we got was 12 seconds of static.
I'm not a technical person.
You can read, can't you?
I don't like his tone.
Just look at the transcript, Tony.
Before the glitch, Dixon was getting ready to leave.
After the glitch, he's talking price.
I want to know what changed his mind.
The thought of sharing his cell with Bubba the serial killer?
Mr. Conneca, I have an affidavit from the defendant,
spelling out what you told him.
He claims that you threatened to tell his family and his co-workers that he's gay,
and that's why he paid you off.
Well?
Suppose I did mention something like that? I just asked him, " What's worse?
"That people will know he's a fag or a murderer?"
Look, I had to tell him something.
He wasn't going for it, these guys were all over me.
It's the core of the Miranda decision,
any admission of guilt must be voluntary.
It cannot be elicited through coercion, whether overt or implicit.
There was no rubber hose, or even the shadow of one.
If he wasn't at the victim's home,
he had to know the informant couldn't have seen him there.
My client wasn't worried about that,
he was worried about his friends and family finding out he was gay.
Mr. McCoy, do you contest the defendant's affidavit?
The informant made ambiguous statements,
how the defendant interpreted them is for a jury to decide.
The threat of outing him was implicit.
It's no different than holding a gun to his head.
Mr. McCoy, your officers should have kept a tighter leash on their informant.
The defendant clearly was reacting to an improper threat,
and there was no admission of guilt.
Evidence seized is suppressed. Charges are dismissed.
Who the hell is running the police department? Anita Bryant?
Their informant ad-libbed.
If they hadn't threatened him, then he would have stuck to the script.
They sent the wrong man to catch the right one.
The preliminary DNA results on the blood in Dixon's apartment,
it belongs to Wells.
Dixon probably got it on his shoe and tracked it back to his place.
Wonderful, you can use it to train puppies.
Unless we can get it readmitted. We go after his alibi?
The wife, she sticking by him?
Well, she gave a statement to the police, but nobody's leaned on her.
How's your afternoon?
I saw the Dixons around 8:30, just as the entree was being served.
What time did they arrive?
I don't know.
I was on the phone to the Musicians' Union. Our cellist went into labor a month early.
Did you talk to Mr. Dixon?
Yes. He was the after-dinner speaker.
I had to finalize the arrangements with him.
Okay. How was he?
Relaxed.
You couldn't tell he'd just come from killing his gay lover.
You're not waiting for a verdict?
A man like that who leads a double life?
I feel sorry for his wife. Is there anything else?
Well, I'll just need the names of the people that were seated with them.
Jerry Dixon, a switch hitter.
"Caught between duty and desire," as my hairdresser would say. Amazing.
Olivia, dos cafe, por favor.
Cream, sugar?
Black is fine.
You remember what time you saw the Dixons?
Sela showed up just as we were getting seated,
so that'd be about 8:00.
What about Mr. Dixon?
She said he was in the washroom.
He turned up about 15 minutes later with a drink, a double. It had a short life.
He was drinking heavily that night?
Well, wouldn't you if you'd killed someone?
Which everyone I've talked to agrees he did.
Well, you'd have to know Jerry. I feel terrible for Sela.
I mean, after everything she's put up with over the years,
I'm sure she never expected Jerry to get in trouble over a man.
So how was it supposed to play out?
The usual scandal. Jerry Dixon was a philanderer.
Two years ago, he was appointed receiver of Dominion Charities,
they had some financial trouble.
His appointment was for a year. Jerry lasted three months.
He stuck his hand up the wrong skirt.
He's there a month, and he starts in on me.
I'm supposed to be helping him sort out the books,
he's breathing down my blouse.
What did you do?
This guy was appointed by a judge.
I just made sure I was never alone with him.
Then he started with the flowers.
Two dozen long stems every other day.
I would have been furious.
You know, I didn't want to make a stink.
I just told Dixon to back off, but nicely.
Did he get the message?
No. He started leaving gifts on my desk.
He even followed me home one night and rang my doorbell. I was terrified.
The next day, I talked to my superior.
He told me I wasn't the only one.
There were other women? Yes.
The man's sick.
You know, you could have sued him.
I know, I thought about that, but his wife talked me out of it.
Mrs. Dixon? What did she say?
Well, how it would be terrible for his family, you know, his kids.
That convinced you?
That and a check.
She told me to consider it a wedding present.
I told the police.
Jerry and I spent the day together, then we went to the dinner.
Mrs. Dixon, a man was murdered,
you can't make it go away by writing a check.
I know that.
I also know you have no evidence against my husband.
The DNA tests positively identified the blood in his hideaway
as belonging to Elliot Wells.
And a half a dozen expert witnesses later, who knows what a jury will make of it?
If it ever comes to that.
When it comes to that,
your husband will be facing 25-to-life unless he cooperates now.
We're not interested.
Perhaps the two of you should discuss it with his attorney.
There's nothing to discuss.
How can you protect him?
He was having affairs with other women, with men.
That is a damn lie. My husband is not a homosexual.
Mrs. Dixon... MRS. You know where Jerry is now?
He's with a psychiatrist.
He's been abandoned by his colleagues, abandoned by his friends.
He doesn't seem interested in participating in his own defense,
but I will not stand by and allow you to destroy my family.
I understand your reasons.
But if you take the stand and lie, I will prosecute you
for perjury, for obstruction, as an accessory after the fact.
Oh, please. There are so many lawyers in my family,
when I was a little girl I thought Esquire was our last name.
Your threats don't scare me, Mr. McCoy.
Aren't you double parked?
Well, behind every successful felon...
Is someone picking up the pieces.
Yeah, and her husband chases every skirt and three-piece suit in sight.
He commits murder, and she mans the barricades for him.
The love of my life must have skipped that vow.
I'm sure Sela Dixon can rationalize it.
Her husband kills Wells to protect a family secret.
The weekend doorman,
he's on holiday in Gainesville, I just talked to him.
The Dixons left separately just before 7:00, Saturday night.
First, Mrs. Dixon, then Mr. Dixon.
So much for the alibi.
Round two, bring him in.
"Case number 484193, People v. Jerold Dixon.
"Murder in the Second Degree."
What's the plea?
Not guilty.
Your Honor, at a previous arraignment on the same charge,
the bail was set at $1 million.
The People see no reason to ask for any less now.
The fact that they keep arresting my client doesn't make him any more guilty.
We ask for ROR.
He made bail once, he can make it again. $1 million.
Next case.
Jerry, Jerry. You be strong, we'll get you out of this.
Ms. Kincaid, when my husband is exonerated,
I'm coming after the district attorney's office.
And when I'm through with you,
you and Mr. McCoy won't even be prosecuting jaywalkers.
He killed Wells under extreme emotional disturbance,
he pleads man one, he serves 15, and that's as far as I can bend.
I can't sell it, Jack. He said he didn't do it, I happen to believe him.
If I had a dollar for every time
I've heard that... You'd still be chasing the bad guys.
Peter, at the end of the day, Jerold Dixon is going to prison.
For how long is up to him and his advisors.
What if he took a polygraph?
Whose idea is that?
Well, I wouldn't be crazy enough to suggest it.
He knows it's inadmissible?
Yes, I explained the risks.
He figures he's got nothing to lose, neither do you.
Our technician, our questions,
you don't hear them till the examiner asks them.
All right.
Are you 46?
Yes.
Do you live in Australia?
No.
Did you know Elliot Wells?
Yes.
Did you ask him to be your lover?
Yes.
Did he threaten to sue you?
Yes.
Did you shoot him?
No.
Were you with your wife when he was murdered?
Yes.
You're checking his alibi?
Did you think I'd pass up the chance?
Yes.
I don't know what makes him think this would change our minds.
His whole life's based on deceit, he should be good at it.
Wasn't he taking happy pills?
The examiner took that into account.
Even at his worst, Dixon's responses were inconclusive.
He's not sure that he's 46, but he definitely didn't kill Wells.
Or he convinced himself that he didn't.
Look at his answer to the alibi question.
He answered truthfully, at least according to the machine.
Science, Ouija boards.
Or he really was with his wife, at Wells' place.
They both have a lost hour before they got to the dinner.
She was with him when he shot Wells?
Or she shot Wells.
She left their apartment first. Dixon followed her.
I like it.
If I found out my man was cheating on me with another man,
it might push me over the deep end.
Well, before you turn this latest theory into an arrest, convince a grand jury,
because this time nobody moves without an indictment.
Who was at the Dixon's home that weekend?
The children, the babysitter.
I'm going to be late for class. I already talked to the police.
I don't know what else I can tell you.
Ms. Kobata, we just have to clarify your statement.
We'll make this as painless as possible.
I told the police. I took the Dixon kids to a movie Saturday afternoon.
We were home by 8:00, Mr. And Mrs. Dixon had already left.
You watch the kids every weekend?
Well, usually it's just Sundays,
but Mr. Dixon called me that Saturday afternoon,
practically begged me to come over.
What was the emergency?
I'm not really sure.
Well, when I got there, the kids were really upset.
Where was Mrs. Dixon?
I saw her go in her bedroom.
She looked like she'd been crying.
Mr. Dixon told me to take the kids to a movie.
So how were things when you went back Sunday?
It was like stepping into the Brady Bunch.
Mrs. Dixon was all smiles, real chatty.
Mr. Dixon was in his den all day, I hardly saw him.
Look, I really have to get to class. I'm sorry.
What a difference a day makes. Overnight, the Dixon's problems are solved.
That doesn't put the gun in Sela Dixon's hand.
It certainly implies she was upset about Wells before the murder.
The only evidence implicates Mr. Dixon.
If he keeps stonewalling us, she might get away with it.
We know that, she doesn't.
I don't know what to say.
Did this come to you in a dream, Mr. McCoy?
After the polygraph, we gave the evidence another look.
We're no longer convinced your husband killed Elliot Wells.
So you'll be dropping the charges?
Not just yet. The polygraph also indicates that he's protecting the real murderer.
And who would that be?
We don't know, but your husband does.
It's the only possible explanation
for the blood in his apartment and the polygraph results.
Oh, I doubt that. But even assuming that you're right,
don't you think after all you've put him through,
he would've told you by now?
Then we're wrong, but there are still a few inconsistencies to clear up.
Yes, your babysitter mentioned
that you and your husband had an argument Saturday.
Yes, concerning our children.
And she said that you were very upset.
I take my children's welfare to heart. Anything else?
The police need to examine the black dress you wore at the University Club.
What black dress?
The one you were photographed in.
I think that, that is at the cleaners.
Okay.
But let us know as soon as you find it, and thank you for talking to us.
Dixon's lawyer just called back, we're on for tomorrow morning.
Good. Dixon will be in the mood to talk by then.
You counting on his wife to soften him up for you?
We practically told her she was our prime suspect.
She'll come down on him like a ton of bricks to keep his mouth shut.
Unless you're wrong,
she was getting her nails done when Wells was shot.
Then why hasn't she handed over the dress?
'Cause the housekeeper stole it. Who knows? Doesn't prove a thing.
I don't think we're wrong.
You accuse an innocent person of murder, they'll raise holy hell, won't they?
Sela Dixon hardly dropped a stitch.
Why would she?
You told her your whole case consists of a babysitter's observations
and a dress you don't have.
And her husband's testimony.
If he breaks, which is not likely.
Thanks for the vote of confidence.
Don't mention it.
I heard a rumor, Jack. I hope you've called us in to confirm it.
You're going to dismiss the charges against my client?
We might.
We also might charge him as an accessory after the fact.
An accessory to who?
His wife, she killed Wells.
He helped her dispose of the evidence.
That's crazy.
What evidence are you talking about?
We asked Mrs. Dixon for this dress, the one she wore to the dinner.
So far, she hasn't turned it over.
That dress is in some landfill, isn't it, Mr. Dixon?
No. You got rid of it,
because it was stained with Elliot Wells' blood.
No, of course not. Then where is it?
Now, down, Jack. My client's here as a courtesy.
I know.
I appreciate it, considering the stress he must be under.
Sure. Now what do you want?
His testimony before the grand jury.
How he supposedly helped his wife avoid prosecution?
He'd take the Fifth.
I'll give him transactional immunity.
I don't care if you give me a presidential pardon.
What went on between me and my wife is protected by spousal privilege.
The privilege covers confidential communication.
Seeing your wife shoot Elliot Wells doesn't qualify.
If the only reason he was in Wells' apartment in the first place,
was because of privileged communication... Come on, Peter.
The privilege isn't made of taffy, it has limits.
Mr. Dixon, with or without you, I'm going to trial against your wife.
As of now, the charge is murder two.
You're bluffing.
Do you really want to wait for a verdict to find out?
Now, if you can make the grand jury understand
what your wife was going through,
I might be able to convince them to drop the charge to manslaughter.
You know the truth is the only way out.
For both of you.
You don't want to live a lie any more, isn't that right?
Why else did you offer to take the polygraph?
Your choice, Mr. Dixon.
She overheard me on the phone one night talking to Elliot.
She was angry, hurt, but she blamed Elliot.
Did she say why?
She accused him of encouraging me.
She wanted to believe that left to my own devices,
I could control my interest in men.
She told me to fire Elliot.
Is that what you did?
Yes. I couldn't deal with Sela.
On Friday, I told Elliot to clean out his desk.
The next day, he called me.
He said he was going to sue me and the law firm.
I was stunned.
Did you try to talk him out of it?
Yes, I offered him his job back, I offered to give him money.
He said he didn't want any of that.
He didn't care if everyone found out he was gay, he was going to punish me.
You told your wife? Yes.
She was hysterical, humiliated.
Our marriage, our family, was everything to her.
She demanded I find a way to stop Elliot.
There was nothing I could do.
Then I had this moment of clarity.
About what?
I thought maybe it was time
to end the lie, to come out of the closet.
If Elliot was prepared to do it, why not me?
What did your wife say?
Sela went crazy.
She said I wasn't man enough to take care of the problem.
What happened then?
I want some consideration for her, for what I put her through.
Yes, I know, Mr. Dixon.
Now would you please just answer the question?
I went to get a drink. When I came back, she was gone.
What else did you notice?
Was the gun you keep locked in the dresser missing?
Yes.
What did you do?
I followed her to Elliot's.
When I got there, he was already dead.
Where was your wife?
Please, I can't...
Was your wife still in Elliot Wells' apartment?
Yes.
Was she holding the gun?
Yes.
What did you do?
I took it from her.
I told her I'd meet up with her at the dinner.
Then I wiped down everything that was in sight.
Where is the gun now?
In the East River, off the seaport.
And you never told anyone about this?
No.
Even when you were charged with this murder, you still protected her?
Yes, of course. I'm her husband.
Rey.
Open it.
Mrs. Dixon, we have a warrant for your arrest.
Would you please stand up?
Sela Dixon, you're under arrest for the murder of Elliot Wells.
You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do say can...
Lennie.