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.
Good morning.
They say the rain's finally over.
You know, this is great...
What the hell do you want from me?
Opening your eyes would be nice.
No answer, huh?
You didn't ask me anything.
Always the smart ass.
Where are you going? Away.
Looking for these.
Yeah. Yeah. Go ahead.
I can't believe this.
You think I can hit the dumpster?
Rob.
Cause of death, a whack to the head.
Gee. How could you tell? (CHUCKLES)
Time of death's hard to say.
She's kind of soaked through and through from the rain last night.
Not bad looking though, if you like that type.
What, the dead type?
Hey, I'm not sick. I'm talking about the stiletto heels.
My guess is she wasn't going to Mom's for breakfast.
Keep up the good work, Brody.
Found this open, tossed over there.
I guess he took the money and ran, huh?
No ID. Just a lipstick, Rosey Red if you're interested.
Oh, and an address book.
Oh, we can let our fingers do the walking.
Sat in a puddle all night long.
Also, one glove.
Well, didn't belong to the victim.
She's got both of hers.
Detectives.
This could belong to your guy.
It looks like oil.
Someone works on their car and leaves a spill.
The bad guy steps in it.
Leads directly to the body.
And back the way out.
Well, they say shoes are like fingerprints.
Yeah. And I got some shoes older than her.
Ah, you see how the left heel is eroded?
Ah, here.
Now that's caused by over pronation when he walks.
Uh, size twelves. Uh, he's not a small man, I can tell you that much.
Not large either.
Yeah, but, uh, when's his birthday?
You can do that? (LAUGHS)
What about the address book, Beck?
Oh, yeah.
Ah, with the help of the video spectral comparator,
I can use infrared light
to see writing not visible to the naked eye.
You oughta have your own talk show.
For what?
Can you help us? Yeah. Yeah. Uh...
Uh, the oblique light,
illuminates the indented impressions.
Uh, luckily she wrote with a heavy hand.
BRISCOE: Ain't science great?
It is if you want names and addresses.
Do you recognize her, Mr. Appel?
Sure, that's Rachel Cardwell.
Damn. What happened?
That's what we're trying to figure out.
And you think I know something?
Well, your name is the first one in her address book.
Well, I wish I could tell you that meant something
beside my name began with an "A".
I did ask her out a couple of times,
always got the "Sorry, got plans."
No, she really wasn't my type anyway.
Oh, why is that?
She read F. Scott Fitzgerald.
I just drink like him.
When was the last time you saw her?
A couple of weeks ago.
She designed a layout for me.
She worked here?
No. For Dreisner Design.
They're the best.
Oh, my God.
This is terrible.
Is there something I can do?
How close were you two?
Boss, worker.
We had lunch every now and then.
Talked about business.
Worked late sometimes.
And last night?
We rode the elevator down together at about 6:00.
I caught a cab downtown. I assumed she caught one uptown.
Why is that?
That's where she lives.
She said she was looking forward to a hot bath
and a good night's sleep.
I guess she didn't have either.
Can you give us her home address?
Yeah.
Looks like she was expecting company.
How do you figure?
There's no dishes in the sink. No trash in the can.
Papers are in a nice neat little pile.
That being said, I'm glad you never invite me over to your place for dinner.
Oh, come on. Real people don't live like this.
I was looking for Rachel.
Yeah. She's not here right now.
Well, I heard the door close.
I'm Tim Grayson from across the hall.
Anne Rice.
It's Rachel's. I borrowed it.
Why don't you come in and show me where she keeps it.
You're robbing the place. I knew it.
I should have called the cops.
You owe me a quarter.
Oh my God, something happened to her.
I knew it. She shouldn't have dressed the way she did.
When's the last time you saw her?
Last night.
I was coming up from the laundry room and she was going out, around,
uh, 9:00, something like that.
Did she say where she was going?
Uh, a party in Soho.
That's all I know.
Were you two? No. No. No.
We were friends. Neighbors.
She ever mention who she was seeing?
No. But I don't think she was seeing anyone.
A pretty girl like Rachel? Why would you say that?
Well, I would have seen him around here, wouldn't I?
Yeah. If you were looking.
I'm not like that.
Like what?
A weirdo. A Peeping Tom.
You know, the kind of people you guys normally run into.
We're homicide.
I don't really know her that well.
Well, anything comes back to you.
I gotta go.
Maybe he has to return some books to the library.
WOMAN: Oh my God, you were right.
That place is great.
I think Mark and I broke the bed in twelve places.
I didn't make it to work either.
Well, if your night ended up anything like mine,
you're out drinking gallons of coffee right now.
I want to hear all about it, okay?
I guess the M.E. Can tell us just how good a time she had.
I'm calling for LUDs.
Fresh bruises on her wrists and back,
defensive injuries on the outer sides of both arms.
Any evidence of sexual assault?
There's no signs of penetration.
But the bruise patterns are consistent with an attempted sexual assault.
So she won the battle but lost the war.
And I wouldn't get my hopes up about any DNA.
She was steeping like a teabag all night in that rain.
Thanks for the imagery.
I minored in poetry.
Tox screen showed a blood alcohol level of.08.
Cause of death, blunt force to the left temporal lobe.
What about this mark on her neck?
Yo. Looks like somebody tried to strangle her first.
If I'm not mistaken, that's a hickey.
Hey, Lennie.
The party girl that left the message, her name's Leanne Parks.
We were just together. This can't be real.
We're sorry, Leanne.
If you could tell us what happened last night.
I loved her, you know.
We were like sisters.
Take your time.
We met after work. Around 9:00.
At Maverick's Bar.
On 73rd?
We had a drink before,
you know, to get loosened up.
Before what?
Tart.
Is that some kind of club?
Yeah, I guess.
Where is it?
It moves around.
This is embarrassing.
Last night it was at the Revolving Door on Broome Street.
It's two blocks from where we found the body.
BRISCOE: What is it? Some kind of singles club?
Sort of. Um, your generation had Plato's Retreat.
Oh, you're talking about a sex club?
For women. Run by women.
Only the best guys are invited.
Well, it looks like a rotten apple slipped through the cracks.
Last night was my first time.
Rachel had been raving about it for months.
Who did Rachel hook up with?
He was tall. Dark, curly hair.
Well dressed. I didn't get his name.
I left with Mark around midnight.
BRISCOE: Mark's last name?
Rachel was still dancing.
Who's in charge of throwing these shindigs?
Adrienne Longmire. I have a card somewhere.
There's a whole generation of women
who came of age after Fear of Flying,
after The Joy of Sex and during the AIDS epidemic.
A whole generation of women who've lost touch with their sexuality.
We help to put them back in touch with it.
By staging floating orgies.
I prefer "empowerment parties", thank you.
What Hugh Hefner did for swinging guys back in the last century,
we do for women now.
And last night... ...was a killer.
Bad choice of words.
Anyway, we were packed.
Would you have a guest list?
We have a general membership of over seven hundred women.
Actually we're more interested in the men.
Word of mouth and referrals.
Sounds selective.
Why do I get the feeling you don't approve?
Hey, I'd be all for it if one of your members didn't wind up dead in an alley.
Does a tall guy with dark, curly hair ring a bell?
Ha! You're kidding, right?
I doubt it was one of our guys.
See for yourself.
We have nothing to hide.
There's a party tonight at El Teddy's.
I said not tonight.
We got money.
What part of "no" eludes you?
Time to go home and walk the dog, fellows.
You're gonna let these guys in?
We got passes.
Have a nice night.
Like he had any prayer of getting in.
Uh, we're interested in one of your members. A Rachel Cardwell.
Oh, long blonde hair, artist type, right?
Sounds good. Not here.
Oh, we're thinking about last night. Do you remember the guy she left with,
uh, tall, dark... Let me guess, handsome?
Last night Tina had the door, with Brooke and Susie.
And where can we find them?
Tina's at the bar until midnight.
Working?
Drinking. Grey Goose Gibson's.
You're Tina, right?
Well, it's a little early but if I can't break my own rules,
what's the point?
Sorry to spoil your good time.
Uh, we heard that you were working the door last night?
Yep. Eight till two and I swear I checked all IDs.
Uh, we want to ask you some questions about Rachel Cardwell.
Well, I'm sure she didn't do anything illegal.
Why would you say that?
Oh, well, you can just tell about people, you know.
Rachel's straight as an arrow
unless she gets a couple of martinis into her.
Hmm. Kind of like you?
Exactly like me.
Did you see who she left with?
No. My job's to watch who comes in.
And Rachel should, like, thank me for that.
There was this guy last night bothering me to try to get in.
He said that Rach had invited him.
You don't remember his name, do you?
Yeah. I kept his card.
Geoffrey with a "G", Viceroy.
Thank you. You're welcome.
That's Susie. She has a Daddy thing.
Detectives. What can I do for you?
Do you have a grandson who works here?
Oh, all girls.
The youngest is traveling through Europe with a bum and his bass guitar.
Well, this is going to sound stupid but, uh,
did you happen to be at a club down in Soho last night?
Would that be before or after I ran the marathon?
Uh, just to give you a heads up, Mr. Viceroy,
somebody has been handing out your business cards.
Oh, there's one thing I've learned about the practice of law, Detective,
you never have enough clients.
Too bad this card's garbage.
That is your name on it, isn't it?
Of course. But it's not my e-mail.
I'm Viceroy one.
They screwed up and left off the "one".
See?
Hmm. What'd you do with the misprints?
Word processing. Nineteenth floor.
Thanks.
Well, well, if it isn't the concerned neighbor.
Did you find something?
You know what?
I think we just did.
Looks like Rachel to me.
Do we have to do this here?
Funny. I was just about to say the same thing.
Come on.
You must have been pretty hard up, Timmy.
Waiting out in the rain all night
for Cinderella to come out of the ball.
What happened? She tell you to hit the road
and you smacked her. No.
Oh, come on. You know what I really want to know is
did you cop any before... No.
Or did you have to wait until after she was dead.
I mean, they don't fight back then...
Shut up!
That's disgusting.
Gee. Pretty testy there, aren't you, Timmy?
Rachel was my friend.
Of course she was.
You just gotta see it from our point of view, Tim.
I mean, first off you lied.
Then we come to find out you were outside the club
begging to get in so you could see her.
Okay, I tried to get in, but they wouldn't let me.
So I went home.
Yeah, and I got the Pick Six tomorrow at Belmont. Lennie...
Do I have to take this from him?
No. You don't.
My partner is going to keep his mouth shut from now on, ain't he?
Okay.
Let's start from the beginning. Sure.
Like I told you.
I ran into Rachel when she was going out.
That's when you told her that she shouldn't be wearing what she was wearing.
She was a good person, you know.
She read books. She drew pictures.
Why would she dress like that?
And that was around 8:00? Nine.
That's right.
And what time did you show up at the club?
About 11:00.
The girls at the door wouldn't let me in.
They were rude.
Oh, they hurt your feelings, Timmy?
I've dealt with people like that since high school.
So when I didn't hear her come in,
I knew something was wrong.
But it was just a party, Tim. I mean,
why would you think something was wrong?
I know you won't believe me.
Man, I've been doing this for a long time.
I had a sense. I don't know.
You had a sense?
What, you mean you had a hunch?
In my head...
I saw her lying dead in an alley.
Oh, I get it, Ed.
He sees dead people.
You see? I knew it.
You can't reason with imbeciles.
No, no. I've actually heard of this before.
You have... Psychic ability?
Yes.
Hey, Lennie,
you remember the dudes at the two-four used that psychic on that kidnapper?
Oh, yeah. Yeah.
Tell you what, Lennie. I'll bet you Tim can help us
find out who killed Rachel.
Think you can do that, Tim?
I don't know.
Oh! Oh! Wait.
I see a cup of coffee.
You make one hell of a bad cop.
Practice. Practice. Practice.
I give him about 10 minutes with Ed before he starts to sing.
Our luck, he sings as bad as he lies.
You got to admit the thing about being psychic is original.
Looks like you're about nine minutes off.
Well, being the good citizen that he is,
he's offered to walk me through the crime scene.
It was totally his idea.
I mean, who knows? Maybe it'll spark another vision.
What did you drink at lunch?
Hey, this dude wants to talk.
He just needs a little help.
Listen, while you're playing show and tell with him,
I'll see what I can do about getting a search warrant for his apartment.
You know, in my vision it was dark.
Well, just do your best, Tim, all right?
Of course.
It happened over there.
Damn. You're good.
They were kissing over here.
Rachel had her back against the wall.
What did he look like?
She wanted to stop. But he kept pushing and pushing.
She screamed and, uh...
He slapped her hard.
And then,
what did you do, Tim?
I mean the guy. What did he do?
He took a piece of metal off this.
Over here.
And, uh, he slammed her on the side of the head.
She collapsed.
And then he put the metal bar back in here.
So what are we looking for?
Something that proves he's a creep.
Feng Shui?
Ha! That convinces me.
And these might convince a jury.
Still wet.
Smells like motor oil to me.
I don't know how I do it, you know, it just happens.
If I were you, I would move to Atlantic City.
I mean, it was like you were there.
I wish I was.
I could have done something.
Well, you tried to warn her.
You had a thing for Rachel, didn't you?
I don't know. I guess.
Come on, man.
A girl like that...
Like what?
I'm just saying, she seemed all innocent.
But, if you saw the stuff that was goin' on at that club...
What?
Just things your mother wouldn't approve of.
Tim, make it easy on yourself, man.
Tell me you did it.
So how'd Mr. Cleo do?
Led me right to the murder weapon.
Well, he's just full of magic.
Only Cinderella, here, lost a glass slipper on the way home from the ball.
Forensics matched his shoes to the prints at the scene.
Well, get up you little freak.
You're under arrest for the murder of Rachel Cardwell.
You lied to me!
You have the right to remain silent.
Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law.
A psychic? Why not?
Hillary Clinton communed with the spirit of Eleanor Roosevelt.
Mary Todd Lincoln held séances at the White House.
I mean, not to mention police forces across the country...
With questionable results.
Oh, but even the CIA used psychics in their remote viewing unit.
Which they disbanded.
There certainly are "More things in heaven and earth
"than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
Very good, Virginia. And if we were going into a Shakespeare seminar
rather than a court of law, I might be very impressed.
SERENA: We know that your client stalked the victim.
We found his shoe prints at the scene.
He gave the cops the murder weapon.
Were his prints on it?
It rained all night.
Oh, yeah, that explains that.
But what it doesn't explain is, if he killed Rachel Cardwell,
why is he knowingly giving you the rope with which you are
so anxious to hang him?
A guilty conscience.
Possibly.
But this is all stuff of rumination
since we'll never actually get to discuss this in a courtroom.
An omnibus motion.
I just love saying that.
To exclude all your evidence
and then to dismiss this sucker before it gets out of the gate.
The world is changing, Jack.
But last I heard, Miranda's still alive and doing well.
Nobody bothered to inform my client of his rights.
If you read Detective Green's affidavit,
you'll see it was the defendant
who asked to leave his place of business to talk.
The police were merely being amenable.
Oh, so they locked him in an interrogation room?
Let's not get excited, Miss Masters.
I can't help myself.
I see the rights of honest, hard-working citizens
being whittled away in front of my eyes.
Mr. Grayson offered to walk through the crime scene with Detective Green.
And after that they dragged him back to the police station.
To eat dinner. He wasn't forced to do anything he didn't want to do.
No. The standard is whether a reasonable person in the defendant's position
would have felt free to go.
Now, I think after three or four hours,
a reasonable person would start to think his life's not his own.
So would I. Your Honor, this is...
Tough luck, Mr. McCoy.
Everything's out but the shoe prints.
This Grayson fellow has pushed JLO off the front page.
Well, for the next 25 years he might be able to make a few bucks
forecasting the results of parole hearings for his new friends.
Don't kid yourself.
Those psychic hotlines make millions of dollars.
Until the FTC sues them for deceptive practices.
All we need to make this case
is Grayson's shoe print at the scene
and testimony that he was stalking her.
All the rest was gravy.
Let me guess. Another gift from Ms. Masters?
It looks like she finally saw the light.
Her notice of intent to file
an affirmative defense of not guilty by reason of mental defect.
Now that's something the jury might sink its teeth into with this guy.
This wasn't my idea.
SKODA: You think you're okay?
Yes.
Different doesn't mean sick.
How are you different?
I'm not.
But other people.
They're quick to judge.
Was Rachel one of those people?
You think I killed her, too.
I consider psychiatry a science.
I have to admit, my training makes me
a bit skeptical about psychic communication.
Haven't you ever thought about a friend
you haven't spoken to in years
and then suddenly the phone rings and it's him?
Sure.
But I wrote it off as coincidence.
What if it happens over and over again?
When does coincidence become science?
You work with computers, don't you?
I type.
You don't sound like you enjoy it.
I majored in Math at Cornell.
I started graduate school.
Why didn't you finish?
What was the point?
I'm not the kind of person that gets the teaching jobs.
What kind of person are you?
The kind that doesn't get what he wants.
Like Rachel?
I'm the guy who has the answers but nobody thinks about asking the questions.
Nobody picked me for the softball team
or to be their lab partner.
Did Rachel notice you?
I should have been there for her.
He thinks he sees,
knows things other people don't.
It makes him feel superior.
He doesn't actually believe he had a "vision?"
He believes the ability is bestowed on him.
Everything in his life is fated,
so nothing negative is his fault.
It comes from the "other world?"
So to speak.
It could be a form of grandiose delusion.
It seems the visions appear when his world spins out of control.
Emil, is there anything you are sure of?
He feels guilty as hell about Rachel's death.
So he knows killing is wrong.
Then he's sane enough to suffer the consequences.
Yeah. Okay, tell her I'll call her back.
Masters left word she's willing to accept man two
with a recommendation.
Too bad I'm not willing to offer it.
Yeah. Well get this, she's withdrawing the insanity defense.
Maybe Grayson looked into his magic eight ball
and came up with the name of the real killer.
Or maybe his lawyer read my report.
He wouldn't leave me alone.
He said Rachel invited him.
But you didn't believe him?
Oh, no. Rachel knew the rules.
All guests' names are left at the door.
When you told Mr. Grayson he wasn't getting in,
what did he do?
He argued and then he sat on the hood of a car
parked across the street and waited.
Did you see the defendant leave the area?
Uh, no. I wasn't paying attention.
So he could have caught a cab, maybe, five minutes after you turned him away from the door?
It's possible.
That was the first time I'd ever gone to a Tart party.
Rachel said she always had fun.
She met some interesting men, got some phone numbers.
Anyway, I doubt any of the guys at the party are killers.
Why would you say that?
The women at the club are all professionals.
Doctors. Lawyers.
Rachel worked at the top graphic design firm in the city.
The men, are all invited guests.
I assume they're all of the same caliber.
Did Rachel meet anyone at the Tart party the night she was killed?
She was dancing with a guy. But it was nothing special.
How can you be so sure?
The way she was dancing.
We've been close for six years. I can read her like a book.
There's a lot of sex at these parties, isn't there?
It's not an orgy.
Yeah. But, if I'm not mistaken, women go there to get a little action.
If they want.
Bottom line, women don't go to Tart parties
for good conversation about Salman Rushdie's latest book.
Of course they don't, the music's too loud.
What did Rachel wear to the party?
A blouse and skirt.
A mini-skirt?
It was above the knee. Uh-huh.
And the blouse,
it was lace, wasn't it?
Black, see through lace.
Rachel wasn't a slut, if that's what you're getting at.
She wore what she did because it made her feel good.
She didn't dress like that when she went to work.
Well, no. Of course not.
She'd want to look conservative in the work place.
She was conservative.
Well, perhaps the fellow she was dancing with didn't know that.
What happened when they stopped dancing?
I don't know. I left.
Oh, got lucky did you?
Objection.
I left alone.
Hmmm.
BECK: Uh, manufacturers produce hundreds of shoes with identical treads,
but the prints become unique through the owner's use.
Could you explain that please?
Well, wear will vary depending on walking style and contact with different surfaces.
Any nick, scratch or cut results in points of comparison.
Did you compare the shoe print found at the scene
to the shoes found in the defendant's apartment?
Yes, and they matched.
But you have no way of knowing
exactly when the shoe print was left at the scene?
No.
Thank you.
I'm retained by several billion dollar companies
in Japan to predict market changes.
You have an MBA, do you?
No. I'm a psychic.
There's money in that, isn't there?
I earned over seven figures last year.
My typical fee is $5,000 an hour.
You're kidding.
That's more than a transplant surgeon.
My clients earn hundreds of millions based on my predictions.
Give us an example, please.
Three years ago I advised one client to sell stock
and buy 30-year government bonds.
Another shorted Enron shares two years prior to the fiasco.
Well, could it be you just got lucky?
Not according to the scientists at a leading university
that have tested me repeatedly.
And what specifically were the results of that testing?
Brain scans showed areas in my right temporal lobe were particularly active.
Uh-huh.
Can I assume that these companies
that paid you this seven figure income
are doing just fine despite the current global recession?
I really wouldn't know.
It just so happens, I do.
You indicated in your tax return
that Hayashi Micro-Computers paid you three hundred thousand dollars last year.
The Wall Street Journal says
their sales are off 50%.
Yoshi Industries
paid you two hundred thousand and their year-end shows
a five hundred million dollar loss.
I guess your temporal lobe was off that day.
Forgive me, Mr. Harrison,
but what leading university was it that performed these tests?
The Para-Psychic Institute in Taos, New Mexico.
New Mexico? That's where the aliens landed, isn't it?
Objection.
I'll have you know the University of Arizona also conducted tests
that are persuasive in establishing survival of consciousness after death.
Kind of like Ghostbusters?
Why must you ridicule what you can't understand?
Because if people like you could really predict the future,
that would pretty much negate the concept of free will.
Just because you can't see something, Mr. McCoy, doesn't mean it isn't there.
It doesn't mean it is either.
It happens now and then. I have visions.
And after you had this particular vision,
what did you do?
I tried to find Rachel. To warn her.
But they wouldn't let you in the door? That's right.
So I waited outside till around 1:00 a.m.
And then I remembered a number.
Two-seven-six.
So I went to 276 Broome Street.
And I saw her.
She was already dead.
So that would explain your shoe prints at the scene.
Why did you wait to tell all this to the police?
Because I knew what they would think.
How's this trial going to come out?
Oh, objection.
That's very funny, Counselor.
Don't do it again.
You went to the club to warn Rachel?
That's right.
It was very important that you got to her immediately?
Yes.
So why didn't you call her on her cell phone?
I didn't know the number.
I thought you were friends?
We saw each other usually every day.
She had you over for dinner, did she?
No. Drinks?
It wasn't like that.
So then you weren't close?
I considered her a friend.
What did she consider you?
Do you hang
pictures of all your friends on your office wall?
No.
Did you take these photos, Mr. Grayson?
Yes.
Rachel know you took 'em?
No. It's my hobby.
Hobby? Or obsession?
A hobby.
Taking photos of someone you weren't close to without her knowledge?
She wouldn't have minded.
But you just said that you weren't close.
How could you know?
We were close enough.
Not as close as you'd like.
You wanted her, didn't you?
But she wouldn't have you!
What do you want me to say?
That you killed her!
Fine. I did it.
Objection.
Are you happy now?
What can I say, Virginia.
In 20 years, I've never had anyone
confess just like that on the stand.
Yeah, yeah. You're Perry Mason brought back from the dead.
Now only he didn't mean it.
Then he shouldn't have said it.
No. You heard him on re-direct, Jack.
He took back everything he said on cross.
And I'm sure the jury believed him.
Give me man one and we'll call it a day.
Like I said, 20 years
and I've never had anyone confess that easily in open court.
Then I'm putting your shrink on the stand right after lunch.
For what? He already said Grayson is sane as the judge.
That's right. But now I need some evidence
that Tim didn't actually mean what you made him say in court.
Mr. Grayson honestly seemed to believe he had a vision, yes.
Is that rare?
I've had several patients who
honestly believed they communicated with dead relatives.
Some who believed they saw the future.
What do they have in common, Doctor?
They all felt a sense of helplessness.
That their lives were somehow predetermined.
That they had no control over their environment.
This helplessness typically leads to guilt
and inertia which leads to more guilt.
So, you wouldn't say these were strong individuals?
In the patients I've seen, no.
They typically try to act the way they think another wants them to act.
So these weak individuals
could be easily manipulated by others?
In certain cases, yes.
And if the other person is a person in a position of authority?
They would try to please them even more.
A person for instance, well,
like a District Attorney?
That's possible.
Would you call a homicide detective a "symbol of authority?"
Yes.
Wouldn't you think that a confession by Mr. Grayson
would make Detectives Briscoe and Green smile from ear to ear?
I would assume as much.
So Mr. Grayson isn't as easily manipulated
as his counsel would have us believe.
In my opinion, no.
I want you to listen to something.
Well, if it's a tape of a guilty verdict,
we should be hearing the live version soon enough.
PARKS: (ON TAPE) Oh, my God, you were right.
That place is great. I think Mark and I broke the bed in 12 places.
That was Leanne Parks, Rachel's friend.
She testified that she left the party alone. Why would she lie?
Maybe she didn't think the court was an appropriate place
to discuss her sex life.
Yeah, you're probably right.
But you'd like to get all the ducks in a row?
Sorry. Miss Parks is down at the University.
I called. They said she wasn't teaching today.
She doesn't usually on Tuesdays.
But a lot of time she sees students.
Do you work any nights?
Three a week.
Do you know Leanne's boyfriend, I think his name is Mark?
I'll tell you what. Miss Parks is discreet.
In all the years I've been here,
I've never once seen her bring a date home.
Thanks.
God. I didn't think anyone would notice.
So you intentionally lied?
A white lie. What difference does it make?
It's called perjury and I'll have to tell the defense.
I wouldn't be surprised if they want to re-examine you.
Wait.
You picked up a guy, Leanne. It's not a felony.
You don't understand.
Uh, I didn't lie in court. I lied to Rachel, to her machine.
Guys lie about their conquests all the time.
There wasn't any Mark.
Leanne Parks is smart, she's attractive.
She went to a sex party on more than one occasion,
but she's never brought a man home. I think that's weird.
Maybe she just doesn't like strange guys knowing where she lives.
Maybe she doesn't like guys.
She told the cops she loved Rachel.
I'd cancel my subscription to Mizz Magazine if I were you, Serena.
The wool glove they found at the scene was a size eight.
Is that big or small? What size do you wear?
No help. Large.
Everyone assumed that the glove they found was Grayson's.
It wasn't?
Men's sizes are small, medium, large. Woman's are five, six...
Leanne Parks?
They went to the party together.
It could be that they left together, too.
The glove was large enough to fit Grayson.
With the other evidence against him, the police didn't look any further.
So the only problem is, what were Grayson's shoe prints doing there?
Watching?
So he deluded himself into believing it was a vision?
Skoda said those visions could be
delusions or repressed memories.
What's in it for me?
Your client could be eating lunch tomorrow without chains on his wrists.
Yeah. And I could end up in front of the Bar Committee.
I won't tell if you won't.
I'll ask for a recess.
I don't understand.
The cops found a witness to the murder, Tim.
Good. She said it was you.
She's lying.
The fact is, I can't help you anymore.
You lied to me.
Ethically, I have to resign as counsel.
Mr. McCoy is not going to oppose my motion to be released.
You're on your own from here on out.
You can't.
I would never kill Rachel.
Why should I take your word over that of a college professor?
Especially someone that was really Rachel's friend,
not a wannabe like you.
VIRGINIA: It's over, Tim.
There's nothing anybody can do.
No. Leanne Parks was with her. She saw you!
No! No! She's lying.
It's better if you just confess, Tim.
Rachel didn't want her to...
Leanne was trying...
They were kissing...
But Rachel tried to get away...
Oh, my God! I saw it.
What did you see?
Leanne took the metal bar. She was angry.
Was anyone else there?
I was weak.
I watched Leanne kill Rachel.
And I did nothing to stop it.
It's okay.
Leanne Parks sang as soon as the cops slapped the chains on her.
Oh, by the way, her attorney left three messages.
I'm sure she wants a deal.
With this Grayson fellow as our prime witness, grab it up quick.
I'm thinking about it. You're kidding.
Well, Grayson may not be as crazy as we think he is.
You know, millions of people paid fifty bucks a head
to watch six psychics talking to the spirit of George Washington
on a Pay Per View.
What's the point? I hear the old boy wasn't such a good interview
when he was alive.
Take the deal. I already did.