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.
Look at it. Right there.
Please, Mark. Can we just go up?
Well, I gotta see how deep it is.
Okay, you're right. So the big, bad parking attendant
put a teeny, little scratch on your beautiful new car.
Now get over it.
I understand accidents happen.
I just wish they wouldn't lie about it.
I told you we should have taken a cab. Now come on.
What's that smell? Firecrackers?
That's Shelly's car. What's she doing parked there?
She probably has packages.
Yeah, but she knows she's not supposed to park there.
Why not? You park there when you have packages.
Mmm.
Oh, Mark, look. Oh, my God.
They found her around 8:45. They could still smell the gunpowder.
They know her? They live down the hall.
Shelly Ganz. 33. She's some kind of financial planner.
Is there a Mr. Ganz? She's divorced.
They said she lives with her parents.
They're in Connecticut for the week.
Find their number.
That's a hell of a way to treat a camel hair coat.
Shotgun. One round.
I make it from about a foot away
from the burn marks and the spread pattern.
What's in the trunk? Groceries.
Cash and credit cards are still in her purse.
So, she pulls in, pops the trunk, steps out... Hello.
The shot came from this direction.
The shooter might have been hiding behind those pipes.
We got shoe prints in the grease there and one here.
Size nine-and-a-half work boot.
Well, that rules out Shaquille. Thanks.
I took out the trash around 7:00.
It was the last time I came down here until Mr. Poletti buzzed me.
Have you noticed anyone hanging around the building?
No. Nobody.
Has anybody been working over by those pipes?
No. Who all parks down here?
Just the people who live in the co-op?
Yes. But there's not enough parking spaces.
Some of them have to park on the street.
What about that security gate over there? Is that usually closed?
Yes. You open it with a pass card. But any credit card will do.
It was like our little secret.
Not anymore. Okay, you take that,
you give me a call, you remember anything else, all right?
Yeah.
One shot to the back. No robbery, no sexual assault.
You know what this looks like.
Yeah. Looks like somebody gets a parking space.
I don't understand it.
Shelly didn't have an enemy in the world.
She volunteered at a food bank for the homeless.
She did walkathons for AIDS.
She was always helping people.
It just doesn't make any sense.
We were told she'd been married.
Yes. She was divorced almost a year and a half ago.
That's when she moved in with us.
We're gonna need her ex-husband's address.
He lives in Utah.
Any problems with him?
No. They spoke together once or twice, maybe, in the last year.
Was she seeing anyone recently?
Yes. There was someone she met at work,
Peter something. She said he was nice.
Peter Messina. They broke up a couple of weeks ago.
She was pretty hurt.
She was working up to telling you.
He doesn't work for that firm anymore.
Shelly said that he left after they broke up.
We're ready for the identification.
Maybe I should just go. No.
No, I want to see Shelly.
I haven't talked to Shelly since I left Danielson and Quirk.
You just stopped seeing each other cold turkey?
Right, that's how mature people handle it.
Getting yourself fired, that's very mature.
It was my decision to leave.
We're all ears.
Shelly found out I was sleeping with her mutual fund analyst.
You burn the midnight oil in my line of work. You date what's handy.
Anyway, it was time to get out of Dodge.
Yeah, well, just for drill, cowboy, where were you last night?
Home, with a cold.
I ordered some hot and sour from Szechwan Village.
So, it was just you, a bowl of soup and the mutual fund analyst?
No. She broke up with me after she heard about Shelly.
In his short, brilliant career here,
Peter cut a wide swath through the office pool.
He saw the writing on the wall.
Nobody had to nudge him toward the exit.
And after he left, it was one big happy family again?
Yes. Boy toys aren't worth fighting over, Detective.
Can you think of anyone who'd want to hurt Shelly?
No. Shelly was one of the nicest people who ever worked for me.
Nobody had a beef with her? Maybe she forgot
to say hello to the mail-room boy?
There was one thorn in her side. She was treasurer of her parents' co-op.
Every other week she got a nasty call from someone
about co-op business.
For example? You name it. Contractors, repairmen, owners,
people who would like to become owners.
How bad did the calls get?
She said she was threatened a few times.
It's the nineties. People play rough.
Our last treasurer, Mr. Fields, passed away about a year ago. He was 80.
It took Shelly, oh, a good month working with the auditors
to get the books back into shape.
What other kinds of things did she do?
Oh, she kept track of the maintenance, she paid the taxes,
she interviewed prospective buyers.
We relied on her for everything. She did a wonderful job.
She screened prospective buyers?
Yes, well, we can't let just anyone move in.
The board does vote on every prospect.
And she'd break the news to the people you turned down?
Yes. She said some people would not take no for an answer.
Do you happen to remember who any of those people were?
No, she never mentioned any...
Oh, my God. Oh, my God. You don't think that...
Are the applications still in the co-op records?
Yes, but those records are confidential.
Mrs. Keenan, they might help us to find Shelly's killer.
Well, I suppose it wouldn't do any harm.
The sad thing is, Detective, this is just the kind of thing
that I would have asked Shelly's advice about.
Profaci checked with the doorman at the boyfriend's building.
He logged in a Chinese delivery
at about 7:30 on the night of the murder.
Too bad. I would have loved nailing the boy toy. So to speak.
And Forensics ID'd the shoe print as coming
from a Danner work boot with Vibram soles.
So, unless somebody put down their shoe size on their application...
Yeah, they put down everything but.
You'd have to be a saint to get into this place.
Or at least not Puerto Rican.
They turned down the Vegas, the Lopezes, the Castillos...
Mmm-hmm. I get the idea.
We have a Mr. Hoffman
who claimed on his application that he was single,
but Shelly Ganz found out he had an ex-wife and two kids in New Jersey.
He was buying a co-op with undeclared marital property?
Not to mention the 50 grand he owes in child support.
Maybe Ganz threatened to report him.
I was turned down because I run this establishment.
Only 10 adult bookstores left in Times Square,
and I'm the only owner born in this country.
Well, I hate to burst your red, white and blue bubble, Mr. Hoffman,
but you were turned down because you lied on your application.
I told them I was in the entertainment business.
You see these videos? That's entertainment.
I don't see Hello, Dolly! Up there.
Shelly Ganz found out you were hiding money from your ex.
She did?
This is news to you? Yeah.
She must have called my ex-wife, that little bitch.
That application was confidential. I'm gonna sue.
Don't bother.
Goes to show, no good deed goes unpunished.
Yeah. One man's do-gooder is another man's busybody.
I mean, being treasurer, she knew everybody's business.
Maybe not everyone in the building is sorry to see she's gone.
Here we are. I hope I made it strong enough for you.
Now, is there anything else I can get for you?
Well, maybe just a blood pressure monitor. Oh, you.
Mrs. Keenan, I noticed the co-op
is a secondary lender on some of the units.
Well, yes. Our old treasurer, Mr. Fields,
approved mortgage loans for our residents.
But Shelly put a stop to that. She thought it was financially unsound.
I can see why. Some of your neighbors
are delinquent on their payments.
Yes. We told Shelly to do whatever she thought best.
Yeah. Looks like the people in 3-D are feeling the heat.
Ah, yes. The Tashjians.
They wanted Shelly's help getting a loan someplace.
Yeah. There's a letter here asking her approval
to use their co-op as collateral, but I don't see an answer.
Well, I don't know what Shelly decided.
Maybe the loan company does.
Mr. Russo will be back in the office this afternoon.
You should really talk to him.
Oh, we'll have more fun talking to you.
We just want to know about the Tashjian loan.
Loan information is confidential.
Yeah, you know, we hear that a lot.
But most of the time it's just not true.
If you could just pull their file.
You ask the questions. If I can answer them, I will.
Whoa! That's quite a brick. The Tashjians long-time customers?
Uh, they've had a loan with us since 1995.
For how much? 1.2 million.
Really? What did they do with all that money?
They own an ad agency. They pay employees, freelancers,
commercial production houses, anything as it pertains to their business.
We understand they were applying for a new loan?
Actually, they're renegotiating the terms of this loan.
They're behind on repaying it.
Seems to be their habit.
They wanted to use their co-op as collateral, is that right?
Yes, but they're waiting for approval from their co-op's treasurer.
Shelly Ganz? Uh, yes.
They were supposed to get it three weeks ago.
And if it doesn't come through? We call in the loan.
Shelly told us there was a problem because of the co-op bylaws,
but she said she'd run it by the board again.
Maybe you thought she was the problem.
The way we heard it, the board rubber-stamped everything she told them.
Okay, I confess. I killed Shelly.
Then I was going to kill everyone on the board,
get myself elected and rewrite the bylaws. Makes a lot of sense.
Very funny. Humor us some more, Mr. Tashjian.
Where were you Monday night? I got home about 6:30.
I was on the phone with clients
until I heard the sirens outside.
You were by yourself? Yes. My wife was at the gym.
What's going on, Steven?
These are New York City police detectives, Susan. I'll explain in the car.
Is this your parking space?
When someone's not using it. Why?
Shelly Ganz was shot right here.
We know.
It's been nice talking to you.
You thinking what I'm thinking? Those cars look alike.
She's got the same color hair, same age, same build.
Easy to mistake one for the other.
Hey, in this light I'm lucky I recognize you.
This is Susan Tashjian's driver's license photo,
and this is Shelly Ganz.
Hmm. There's a resemblance.
So somebody wanted Mrs. Tashjian dead
and hired somebody who'd never seen her to kill her.
Is this what I'm hearing?
The shooter sees a dark-colored luxury import
roll into Susan Tashjian's parking spot. A brunette gets out.
Now, he's not going to ask her for ID before pulling the trigger.
Well, what happened to Steven Tashjian killing the girl?
Well, LUDs confirms that he was on the phone when the shooting happened.
Anyway, killing Ganz doesn't get him the instant jackpot.
On the other hand, having his wife clipped might be the way to go.
If there's a nice, fat insurance policy at the end of the rainbow.
Well, if they have insurance, they have premiums.
The Tashjians use an outside bookkeeper to pay their bills.
They've been clients for the last seven years. It's been quite a ride.
Yeah, mostly downhill, from what we hear.
They won this big luxury car account a couple of years ago.
They took out a business loan, moved to a new building, buy new equipment.
So far, so good.
Yes, well, the bottom fell out of the luxury car market.
The company cut back on advertising. The Tashjians lost the account.
But they still have to pay back the loan.
Here we go. There are two yearly premiums to the Dominion Insurance Company.
One for Steven's policy and one for Susan's.
We're going to need those policy numbers, all right?
Yeah, they're on the check stubs.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but, um,
do you suspect Steven of wanting to hurt Susan?
You've known them longer than we have. Do you think it's possible?
Well, the last time they came in to do their quarterlies,
they barely spoke to each other. But I'm no marriage counselor.
Susan Tashjian's got a $300,000 policy payable to her husband.
He has got a $500,000 policy payable to her.
So she's got 200,000 better reasons to kill him.
Yeah, unless the shooter is Mr. Magoo,
I doubt he mistook Shelly Ganz for Steven Tashjian.
This whole notion that my husband killed Shelly Ganz is absurd.
Well, we happen to agree.
You admit you're wrong? That's refreshing, coming from a city employee.
So, you're here to apologize?
Oh, let's not get carried away.
No, the thing is, we think it's possible
that whoever killed Ms. Ganz really meant to kill you.
Why would anyone wanna kill me?
It's just a theory.
Your husband told us you were at the gym last Monday.
Is that a regular thing for you?
Yes. I work out with a personal trainer
three nights a week for the last year. I go from 7:00 to 8:30.
How long does it take you to get home?
Ten minutes. The gym's on 61st.
But Monday I gave a friend a lift home and went up for coffee.
So, normally you get home by 8:45.
Did you call your husband, tell him you were going to be late?
No. Wait, you think...
We're just covering all bases.
What a ridiculous idea.
Steven and I have been married 11 years. We love each other.
Well, if you can think of anybody else,
uh, an ex-employee, a client, a relative?
The last big argument I had was with my dry cleaner.
There's nobody out to kill me, Detective.
Well, maybe you remember somebody following you,
somebody waiting outside the building.
The only thing I can think of
is last week the super said a man tried to deliver an envelope to me.
Who was he? I don't know. I wasn't home.
I never heard about it again.
I'm sure you're wrong about this.
His hair wasn't that curly. More wavy. And he had a windbreaker.
Did it have a logo, like a uniform?
No. You know, come to think of it, it might have been a leather jacket.
Big difference.
Yeah, well, I wasn't paying attention to his clothes.
I was mopping the floor.
His eyes weren't that far apart. And his chin was fatter.
What about this envelope, what did it look like? I didn't see it.
It must have been in this little duffel bag he had.
I told him Mrs. Tashjian wasn't home, she was at her office,
then he went back to his car. Did you see his car?
Yeah. I went outside to dump the mop bucket, and he got into a Mercedes.
You see the license plate? No.
It was a newer Mercedes, though, dark green.
But the right front fender had that gray primer paint on it.
Did you tell him where Mrs. Tashjian worked?
Yeah.
His ears are too big.
He might have asked for Mrs. Tashjian from the ad agency.
You know, people come in and out of here all day. I don't focus on their faces.
This was last week. Look at the picture again.
He drives a green Mercedes with gray primer on it.
Maybe you saw it parked on the street.
No, that wasn't a Mercedes. It was a red Beemer.
Looked new except for the primer on the hood.
You saw this guy in the car?
Yeah, it could have been him.
He looked Hispanic. I saw him get out.
What did he do? Checked the street numbers, then he split.
Okay, thanks.
If it's the same guy, it sounds like he gets his cars from Rent-A-Wreck.
Or a body shop.
We don't do body work here. We farm it out.
Get in, Detective. See how it fits.
The body shops you use specialize in Mercedes?
They also do BMW's and Porsches. They all have the same requirements.
We use two places. One on the Upper East Side and one on Avenue C.
Well, how does it feel?
Like I can't afford it.
And those are the only two in Manhattan?
The only two places that I use.
There are about three more I don't.
What would it take to get you into this car, Detective?
Next week's lotto numbers.
Would you just take a look at the picture?
Yeah, one second.
People. They buy a German car, all of a sudden they think they're driving a tank.
What's this about?
It's about identifying the guy in the picture.
Well, I gotta know what you want with him.
Hey, you keep stalling us,
we're going to forget about this guy
and take a serious interest in you.
Okay, okay.
It kind of looks like Enrique Flores.
He's got a little shop out in Hunts Point.
He does some overflow work for us sometimes.
No.
Just tell him to call me back. Thanks.
He's still out in Brooklyn picking up a car.
Would you look at those girls, Rey?
Thirty degrees, freezing rain,
they haven't taken a break since we got here.
Politicians who complain about the vanishing work ethic
should meet these women.
I bet they have.
So, you find a place yet?
Still looking.
Might not need it. Yeah? Good.
Listen. You know, I've been down this road a couple of times. If you wanna talk.
Yeah, thanks. We're getting counseling.
Well, shrinks can be helpful.
It's a priest.
Whatever works.
Hey, Lennie, that looks like him.
Unit two, go in. Go in.
I don't know, man. We'll take a look at it inside.
Enrique Flores.
What's going on? What did I do?
You pissed me off, that's what.
Hey, man. I don't know you. Why you doing this to me?
Enrique Flores, you're under arrest for the murder of Shelly Ganz.
I don't know Shelly Ganz. I don't know these Tashjian people.
I don't even know what I'm doing here.
You heard him. He didn't do it.
Two witnesses have him sniffing around Susan Tashjian.
We have his boot print in her garage. He's the guy.
I was set up. It has to be.
It's because I'm a Latino. They have it in for Latinos.
Hey, the only people we got it in for are dirt-bag murderers.
Detective, there's no need for ad hominem attacks.
Screw your ad hominem.
This guy blew a hole the size of my fist through a girl's back.
Who put you up to it, Enrique?
You have to believe me. I didn't do it.
If you wanna stay alive, you better start talking.
No way. This interview is over.
It's number four.
No. No, maybe not.
You know, if I could get a closer look.
Can I go in there? It's against the rules.
I didn't know. Well, those two in the middle could be him.
Is that good enough?
Right now he's in Central Booking.
But if he goes to arraignment and makes bail, he's gonna run.
What do you have on him?
He was wearing nine-and-a-half Danner boots when we picked him up.
They're fairly new, so the wear pattern
is not unique enough for a conclusive match.
Fingerprints, murder weapon, anything?
No prints. We're still processing the body shop and his house.
Unless we get something conclusive to dazzle the arraignment judge,
don't count on high bail.
I'd just like to know we have the right man.
Hey, we didn't get Flores by mistake.
Somebody ID'd him from a sketch.
Yes?
It's for you.
They want us to lose his paperwork for a few days.
By then, we might have enough evidence to get him remanded.
Yeah.
Susan Tashjian.
She was shot dead a half an hour ago outside her gym.
I was at the front desk when I heard the shots.
By the time I got to Susan, she was dead.
Did you see anybody out on the street?
Not at first.
Then people started coming out of that bodega over there.
It's such a waste.
Yeah, well, if you remember anything else. Thanks.
She just wouldn't believe somebody was out to get her.
Times like these, I'd rather be wrong.
She was tapped three times in the back.
Nine millimeter. We have the casings.
Witnesses? Nothing yet.
Find the husband. Bring him in.
I would like to see her. I mean, can I at least do that?
Oh, don't worry, Steve. This time the job got done right.
I don't know what you're talking about.
We're saying you found somebody to finish off what Enrique Flores started.
I did not have my wife killed. You're crazy.
You're practical. You throw the insurance money at your creditors,
maybe they leave you alone for a while.
You think I had her killed for $300,000?
Look, forget I loved Susan. She was my partner.
She did all of the creative work.
Without her, the ad agency's just...
I can't believe that you're accusing me of this.
You're on the hook for two murders, Mr. Tashjian.
I didn't do it.
Damn you, I did not do it.
Now, I have answered your questions, and now I wanna see Susan.
You want us to put him up for the night?
There's no evidence to sustain an arrest.
Take him to the morgue, then let him go.
Do we know for certain how many policies Tashjian had on his wife?
The bookkeeper mentioned the one policy with Dominion Life.
You don't think Tashjian would kill her for 300,000.
I think he'd make it worth his while.
Well, he can't collect on any policy
without a copy of the death certificate.
I'll tell the Department of Health to notify us if they get any requests.
Meantime, let's connect him to Enrique Flores.
Well, if Flores ever did work on Tashjian's car, I can't find a record of it.
There's nothing in Tashjian's files, either.
They weren't Army buddies, they didn't go to the same school.
Who would you ask if you needed a hit man?
I'd find an old cop, preferably one with a lot of alimony.
Where did Tashjian get his business loan?
Uh...
From the Beachwood Loan Company in Brooklyn.
Flores borrowed $90,000 from them last year to buy a frame straightener.
How many red and how many green?
No, I don't want Santa on the roof.
Just give me the lights over the whole house.
Right. Fax me the contract.
You believe that? $15,000 for Christmas lights.
So, uh, who were you asking about?
Enrique Flores and Steven Tashjian.
They both borrowed money from you, Mr. Russo.
Call me Bunny.
Lynne, pull out the files, will you,
on Steven Tashjian and Enrique Flores.
You know, I put out between five and seven million dollars in loans every month,
so I don't know everybody by name.
Flores has a body shop in Hunts Point. He owes you $90,000.
And Tashjian has an ad agency. He owes you 1.2 million.
I see.
And I hear his wife was killed a couple of days ago.
Thank you, Lynne.
So why do you wanna know about these two?
We suspect Tashjian had his wife killed and Flores is involved.
They might have met through your company.
Well, it's not like I have socials for my borrowers.
Why would Tashjian kill his wife?
For the life insurance. He needed money.
Who doesn't?
Oh, look, I'm not defending the guy,
but a lot of people had a beef with the Tashjians.
How come?
They stiffed their clients, suppliers, freelancers.
Every time one of them sued, I'd get the call as the primary creditor.
There are two photo studios in Chapter 7 because of the Tashjians.
The Tashjians settled with one photo studio.
The other one went out of business when the photographer was sued
for sexually harassing his models.
What about their other creditors?
They either wrote off the debts
or they're waiting for their turn in court.
Doesn't look promising.
This does. The Department of Health called.
They got two requests for Susan Tashjian's death certificate.
One from Dominion Life
and one from an agent of the Champlain Insurance Company.
Mr. Tashjian doubled up. Mmm-hmm.
Steven Tashjian? Never heard of him.
You pulled his wife's death certificate.
He's the beneficiary on her life insurance policy.
Well, let me look here.
You have disability insurance?
Yes, with the city. Yeah, right.
The BOW policy. Better Off Working.
You should think about additional coverage.
Oh, here it is.
Susan Tashjian. Champlain Life. $600,000 payout.
That's nice for Mr. Tashjian.
Well, he's not the beneficiary.
No, the Beachwood Loan Company is. They own the policy.
Why would they have life insurance on her?
Well, didn't she co-sign for a loan with them?
Yes, she and her husband.
Well, Beachwood has policies on all their borrowers. Good thing, too.
Last year, they had four people die on them.
Four claims worth over three million dollars.
One of the borrowers died of a heart attack.
The other three were shot dead. The crimes are unsolved.
Coincidentally, all three were in default to Beachwood. Same as the Tashjians.
Susan Tashjian gets killed,
Beachwood gets back half the money it loaned them.
Loan companies seize assets, they don't kill people for insurance money.
Bunny Russo is not your friendly neighborhood lender.
In 1992, he got two years probation for aggravated harassment.
He took a baseball bat to a client's car
while the client was still in it.
And you think now that he uses Flores to murder his clients?
Flores and whatever accomplice shot Susan Tashjian.
We looked at Flores' bank records.
He hasn't made a payment to Russo in two months.
He's probably working off his debt by shooting people.
The mother of all loan sharks. Hell of a bedtime story.
Right now, that's all it is. A story.
Reopen the old cases. Find something on Mr. Russo.
My dad was supposed to meet me at the Garden for a hockey game.
He called to say that he was having a drink with a business acquaintance.
The next morning, they found his body near Battery Park.
Ten months, they still can't tell me what happened.
Your father borrowed money from Beachwood Loan?
Yes. For his dress-making business. $900,000.
But it was paid back by an insurance company after he died.
Why do you ask?
Did he ever discuss his dealings with Sam Russo?
Bunny? Sure.
They had shouting matches over the phone.
My dad was behind on his payments.
His business was in trouble. He owed money everywhere.
Did Mr. Russo ever threaten him?
Everybody threatened my dad. He threatened them back.
He ran a sweatshop, not a nursery school.
Wait. Is that bastard Russo a suspect?
Have you ever seen this man before or heard his name, Enrique Flores?
No. Who is he? Is he mixed up with Russo?
Do you know who your father had drinks with before he disappeared?
No. Look, my mother's been waiting 10 months. If you know something, tell me.
I can't discuss it, Mr. Kaiser. I'm sorry. Thank you for coming in.
And I advise you to stay away from Mr. Russo.
Waxman was a PI, specialized in matrimonial and missing persons.
You can imagine, I had suspects coming out of my ass.
Unfaithful spouses, bill skippers,
not to mention two ex-wives hawking him for alimony.
What about Beachwood Loan?
He owed them close to 450 grand.
They took a big bath on that puppy.
They did fine. They had life insurance on him.
I didn't know that.
His name's Enrique Flores.
He's a suspect in another murder involving Beachwood Loan.
I never heard of him.
What's his connection to Beachwood?
He borrowed money from them.
He owns a body shop in Hunts Point. That rings a bell.
We found license plate numbers in Waxman's notebook.
We figured it had something to do with his cases.
You traced the cars? Yeah.
One guy said he had an accident
and didn't even have his car the week Waxman was killed.
We thought Waxman got the plate number wrong.
Here. The car was getting fixed at a place in Hunts Point.
You used one of your customer's cars to follow him, Enrique.
But Waxman made you. He wrote down your plate.
No. No, it's a mistake. Doesn't make sense any other way.
That's two killings with your name on them.
It's a coincidence. I'm the wrong guy.
What do you want with him?
He knows what we want. Sam Russo.
But it's not me. No way I did it.
Enrique, listen to what they have to...
I don't want to listen. I want to go home.
Starting tonight, Mr. Flores, home is a four-by-ten cell.
You can't do that. I have bail.
We're re-arresting you for the murder of Jason Waxman.
This time I guarantee you won't get bail.
Please, I gotta go home!
You better listen to your lawyer, Enrique.
You don't talk, you're never gonna go home.
Oh, God. My God. What, what, what? Take it easy.
It hurts! Lay him down.
I can't breathe. Lay him down. Easy.
I'll call EMS. Who knows CPR?
After you.
Mr. Flores, can you hear me? Yes.
You've had a mild heart attack.
Please. I don't want to die.
You're gonna be fine, but your heartbeat is still irregular.
So we're gonna keep you overnight for observation.
I want to go home.
We'll talk about that later, Mr. Flores.
Now, we're going to give you a sedative to help you relax.
But I need to ask you a few things.
Where did you feel the pain first?
In my head. I felt a lot of pressure.
And what were you doing when it started?
The police were asking me questions. I see.
Because I killed two people, Doctor.
I killed them, and I'm going to jail.
Well, is he gonna live? Better than that.
He just fessed up to the two murders.
You heard him? I was standing three feet in front of him.
He didn't happen to say Russo put him up to it, did he?
No.
It's enough that he admitted to the murders.
It's bedtime for Mr. Russo.
You have the right to a lawyer.
If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you. You understand all that?
Nothing I haven't heard before. Lynne, call David Sheehan.
Where are you guys taking me? The 27th Precinct.
Tell him to meet me at the 27th Precinct,
and page him if you have to. Come on.
Hey, wait a minute. You mind swinging by my house?
They just put up the Christmas lights today.
I'd really like to see what they look like.
We'll have Santa bring you a picture.
Five murders? What are you doing, McCoy?
Cleaning out your desk for the new year?
I was hoping he might want to clear his conscience.
My conscience?
We know miracles don't happen without a little help.
We have the shooter for Ganz and Waxman.
You tell us who did the other three,
you plead to murder one, and I won't seek the death penalty.
You must be Saint Bernadette of Lourdes
if you think I'm gonna plead to anything.
Life without parole, Mr. Russo. Take it or lose it.
Enrique Flores has already confessed to two killings.
Honey, if you had the brains to go along with those looks,
you'd know you're being played.
Sam, let me handle this, will you, please?
Dave, shut up. Nobody's making cases against me.
I'm an honest businessman making an honest living.
By threatening people with a baseball bat?
Did you learn that at the Meyer Lansky School of Business?
People borrow money from me and they pay me back for one reason.
Because they have to. Not because they like to.
And if they don't pay, you kill them.
I never killed anyone in my life.
Dave, you deal with this. Guard!
I'm not going to testify against him. Forget about it.
Enrique, calm down. You know what the doctor said.
If I take the stand against Russo,
I might as well have a big heart attack.
If you don't testify, Mr. Flores, you'll be facing something
far more lethal than a heart attack.
Assuming he testifies, what do you propose?
Murder two, two counts, concurrent sentences.
That's not much of a break, considering your evidence.
A spontaneous admission in front of a police detective?
Isn't anybody listening to me?
I don't care if they kiss my ass, I'm not talking.
We have your statement from the hospital. We'll see you at trial.
You're not there yet, Mr. McCoy.
The statement's protected. You can't use it.
My client was responding to a question by the treating physician.
His answers are protected by the doctor-patient privilege.
The presence of a third party, in this case Detective Curtis,
shatters the privilege. It's black letter law.
Except where a police officer's presence
is required to guard the patient. People v. Sanders.
My client didn't have the option
of a private session with his doctor.
Flores knew the detective was there.
He knew to keep his mouth shut.
Mr. McCoy, I hope you're not suggesting
he had to give up his right against self-incrimination
in order to get medical treatment.
Your Honor, the information that he had killed two people
was not necessary to his medical treatment.
There's no privilege. I can cite People v. Bostic...
My client had a heart attack, he was hooked up to an ECG,
he didn't know if he would live or die.
He was in no condition to decide
what's necessary medical information.
I wouldn't expect him to.
Your Honor, this was an excited utterance,
it was voluntary and spontaneous.
And it's inadmissible.
The doctor-patient privilege was not waived by the detective's presence.
Defense motion is granted.
All we've got is a boot print
and a license plate number on a note pad.
Thanks to Judge Meathead, we couldn't convince Flores
to hold our hat, let alone testify.
Okay, forget the judge. How do you propose to convict Mr. Russo?
Flores confessed. We can't use it against him,
but maybe we can use it against Russo.
Yeah. He lent money to someone who killed two people.
Now, since when is that a crime?
It proves one element of the fact pattern.
The only pattern here is you have no facts.
Susan Tashjian shot dead right under your noses.
Two other murders unsolved.
Find those killers and connect them with the loan shark.
Maybe they were doing the same thing as Flores, working off a loan.
Check the company records, see who's been getting a break lately.
If you wanna go, go. I'm fine.
Don't you have a babysitter waiting at home?
She's a live-in.
I know you like working with people who can put in long hours.
You talked to Adam. What makes you think that?
Now, if you wanna go... I'm fine.
Don't you have a bar to visit?
Edward Kaiser. The one who didn't make it to the hockey game.
I don't know how he ever qualified for a loan.
He went through a Chapter 11 bankruptcy six years ago.
A lot of his accounts receivable
were more than 120 days overdue.
Kaiser had default written all over him.
Why would Russo lend him a dime?
Here's one reason.
Kaiser was referred to Beachwood by Steven Tashjian.
Strange how he never bothered telling us
one of his friends was murdered.
Is this Tashjian's file? Yeah.
Two weeks after Kaiser was killed,
Tashjian had five percentage points shaved off his loan,
retroactive to the first payment.
That was always in the cards. Once the loan reached a certain amount,
I got a rebate on the interest rate.
A rebate worth $200,000.
I don't understand, Mr. McCoy. Have you joined
some regulatory commission on interest rates?
I'd like to know what Mr. Tashjian did
to warrant such special treatment.
I didn't do anything. You're listed as a reference
on Edward Kaiser's loan application.
Why didn't you tell us you knew him?
You're wife is shot. Mr. Kaiser is shot.
You all owe money to Mr. Russo.
And you never say anything to us?
I met Kaiser once or twice at business functions.
I might have mentioned Beachwood. I didn't know he had taken out a loan.
You never talked to him? No.
Somebody in your office did.
Your ad agency's phone records
show three calls to him the week he died.
One was made the day he was murdered.
He told his son he was meeting somebody for drinks. Then he disappeared.
He was meeting you, wasn't he?
You killed him on Russo's orders.
No. Uh... Steven, let me talk here.
Unless he tells me what happened,
I'm having him arrested for first-degree murder.
Based on what?
Steven, let's go.
Russo had your wife killed, Mr. Tashjian. Don't you think he ought to pay for it?
In return for his testimony against Russo,
he gets full immunity.
Let's hear what he has to say.
I, uh...
I was having trouble paying Russo.
He said if I did him a favor, he would make things easier for me.
He asked me to arrange a meeting with Kaiser.
What happened at the meeting?
I don't know. I wasn't there. I was with my wife.
I swear, I didn't know they were gonna kill him.
You went through this subterfuge just to have a cup of coffee with him?
I thought they might rough him up.
I didn't think that they would kill him.
When you found out, why didn't you tell the police?
Russo's people would have loved that.
Where do you think he gets the money to give his loans?
Golden age investment clubs?
He puts the mob's money to work, Mr. McCoy.
Along with immunity, my client expects police protection. Do we have a deal?
You said you were with your wife when Mr. Kaiser was killed?
Yeah, that's right. Yeah.
He was killed on a Wednesday night.
Your wife told the police she had a session with her personal trainer
every Wednesday night.
Susan didn't go to the gym that night. She was with me.
Mr. McCoy, full immunity, or you don't have a witness.
Not unless he can prove he was with his wife that...
Deal. He has immunity.
My office will send you the paperwork.
What the hell was that?
What the hell was what?
His alibi doesn't hold up. In your opinion.
We can ask Susan Tashjian's trainer if she was at the gym.
You'd rather give immunity to a murderer.
Jack, he's gonna take the stand, he's going to lie,
and you don't care? What are you accusing me of?
Looks to me like you're about to suborn perjury.
Suppose you're right about Tashjian.
How would you make the case against him?
Only four people know for sure where he was that night 10 months ago.
Tashjian, his wife, Kaiser and Russo.
You'll never prove he was lying.
The choice is not convicting Russo or convicting Tashjian.
The choice is Russo or nothing. He's a five-time killer.
And Tashjian is telling enough truth to convict him.
If you're not comfortable with that,
someone else can fill the second chair on this one.
When I heard Kaiser was found dead, I was stunned. I was scared.
What did you do? Nothing.
I tried hard to keep up with our payments.
I didn't want to be next on Russo's list.
Objection. Is there a list in evidence? Sustained.
Did you discuss the status of your loan with Mr. Russo?
Yes. My wife and I tried to renegotiate it.
But Russo just wanted his money.
He said he was calling in the loan.
What did you think he meant by that?
It sounded like a death threat to me.
Objection. Sustained.
What did you say to Mr. Russo?
I begged him for more time.
Then Shelly Ganz was killed in our garage.
I warned my wife he's after us, but she didn't believe me.
So Russo killed her.
Objection. He's speculating.
Mr. Tashjian, what's the factual basis for your allegation?
I know how he ran his business.
That's what I'm trying to get to. How do you know any of this?
Kaiser is dead. Shelly Ganz is dead. My wife is dead. I just know.
Did you see or hear anything linking Mr. Russo to these crimes?
The objection is sustained.
The jury will disregard the witness' unfounded allegations...
No, it's true. That's enough, Mr. Tashjian.
May I, Your Honor?
How do you know it's true, sir?
You weren't with your wife on the night that Kaiser was killed, were you?
What did you do that night that was worth $200,000 to Mr. Russo,
the man you claim killed your wife?
Mr. McCoy, unless you have other questions...
I killed Kaiser.
Russo told me to.
I had to do it, or he was gonna kill Susan.
God forgive me.
I didn't know what I was getting myself into.
I didn't know who I was dealing with.
I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry.
No more questions, Your Honor.
So, that moron Flores,
he did Waxman and the girl in the garage,
and Ray Mayeri, he's in the carting business,
he did Susan Tashjian.
That's everybody.
Now, if you want to talk about your investors,
I could see to it that you're incarcerated in a medium-security facility.
Get out of here, will you?
I got a wife and a kid to worry about.
Just thought I'd ask.
You knew all along Tashjian killed Kaiser, didn't you?
Don't worry, I'm not gonna run to the Ethics Committee.
I didn't know with absolute certainty.
One way or another, I had to get Tashjian on the stand.
Well, hats off.
Sometimes you have to make deals with the devil.
Just as long as you don't get your eyebrows singed.
Anyway, Tashjian owes somebody half a million dollars.
I'm sure they'll be around to collect it one of these days.
And as for the Ethics Committee, you owe me one.