(male announcer) 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.
Lips to God's ears.
I'm telling you, I don't know how I got by without it.
Are you with me here?
[whistles] Howie!
What? I'm fine.
Hey, pal, that's why you divorced her.
Now, there you go.
There's nothing a good sweat won't cure.
It's that time.
I don't want you to fire me.
And you should look into that TiVo thing.
It'll change your life.
We've been robbed!
[dialing]
You! Freeze!
[screams and gunshots]
No!
Better back off, Mr. Grant.
I'm gonna have to detain you.
Sir.
Yup.
We're definitely talking Deer Hunter.
One shot. Dead. Like that.
I'm impressed.
He shot first. I told him to freeze.
The guy pulled a gun in a bank. I have no problem with that.
I did my 20 over at the two-four.
But this is the first time--
That's all right. Take it easy.
Listen, did you see him with anyone else?
No, Mr. Farber screamed. I locked the doors by remote.
Okay, thanks.
Is he a customer?
I never saw him before.
This is nuts.
I mean, Howard said he never got hit that bad in his divorce.
He makes a good living--
Half of one anyway.
Listen, don't go anywhere, all right?
Yeah.
Bonnie's got no ID. How we doing on Clyde?
Well, his name's on the door.
Howard Grant. Bank Manager.
Now you know why I keep my money in my mattress.
[downbeat jazzy theme music]
*
I said I did it. What else do you want from me?
You can give us the name of your friend.
That would be nice.
He's dead, Howard! The guy's not gonna mind.
See, you know what that tells us?
That tells us that you're protecting somebody.
(Fontana) It's not easy for two guys to rob a bank nowadays
with trained security and cameras.
And the getaway?
Who's gonna let a guy with Fort Knox in a gym bag
walk outside and hail a cab?
Our guys are going through the bank video cameras
inside and out.
(Fontana) Our DA has a soft spot in his heart for guys
who give up their partners,
but if you dummy up, you're not helping him.
You're hurting yourself!
I mean, you don't look like the kind of dude
that wakes up in the morning
and decides to go out and commit a Class A felony.
Why is she here?
(woman) Imagine my surprise
when Mrs. Fogerty knocks on my door
and tells me that the man I married,
father of my only child, is being led away
from his place of employment
in handcuffs.
I wanna be there
when you explain to Julie why it is you won't be around
for the next 8 to 20.
Who's Julie?
Our six-year-old.
I can't believe I let you talk me into joint custody--
Damn it, Cheryl! I did it for Julie.
You think I want them to--
Them?
Who you talking about, Howard?
No. Nothing.
Howard. Julie's at school, right?
If anything happens to her, Howard, I swear to God...
Who's got her, Howard?
If these guys have Julie,
they're not gonna be messing around.
If they have your daughter, and they don't have the money--
You do the math!
It was so fast.
I was on my way to work.
I walked up from the subway and that man in the bank--
The dead one?
He came up to me.
I swear, I never saw him before.
He told me to call home.
So I did, on my cell.
A man answered.
He was there with Julie.
Oh, my God.
He said he was going to kill her
if I didn't do what they wanted.
The other one handed me the gym bag.
Did you recognize the voice?
I didn't know either of them. I swear.
I didn't know what to do.
You left a six-year-old at home by herself?
You have no idea how many times
I have begged him not to do that!
It was for 15 minutes!
Somebody's got to earn a living.
When Julie stays over, Joan Cathcart,
the mother of one of her classmates picks her up
and takes her to school.
What do you mean missing?
She's home in bed. That's what Howard told me.
When was that?
This morning at 8:45.
I buzzed and he was there.
He said she was running a fever
and he was keeping her home today.
Are you sure it was Mr. Grant on the other end of the intercom?
I said, "Howard," and he said, "Yeah?"
CSU is working on the apartment.
Bank Robbery Task Force says that there aren't any jobs
with similar MOs in the city.
Well, everyone has to start to somewhere.
There was one in Trenton, one in Philly,
and both of them were unsolved.
Is the Amber alert still in place?
Well, the Task Force says that the kid in Jersey was killed
after the locals went public.
What about Philly?
Well, that kid was never found,
but we're not sure that these are the same guys.
So, all we have is an unknown DOA in the morgue.
The Task Force is running his prints
through the national database now.
Talk to Mrs. Grant.
Maybe she has a better memory than Howard.
Bastard.
Did you ever--
Don't you think I would tell you?
All right, we're gonna have Officer Randall take you home,
all right? If you--
You'll be the first person I call.
All right?
[cell phone rings]
Fontana.
Please tell me this boy has his name tattooed on his ass.
I wish.
All I can tell you is his last meal was escargot.
You soak anything in butter, it slows the digestion.
(Fontana) Hey.
This guy's prints were in the system.
He got pinched three years ago in a fight in some swanky bar.
His name is Cyrus Lowell.
Cy with a six-year-old? I would have noticed.
Sorry.
Was he with anyone when he left this morning?
No one come into the lobby.
He got a whole lot of friends, I'll tell you that.
Did he have any regular visitors?
He's a player, you know.
A member of the Broad-a-Night club.
He's got pretty good taste too.
Château Gironde.
It's about three quarters done.
Hey.
It was bottled exclusively for the wine cellar
at the Perry Street restaurant.
[thick French accent] You are thinking he's a customer?
That is funny.
Non, Cyrus est un garcon.
A waiter.
C'est tres amusant.
Well, was he working last night?
Oui.
We're interested in any of his acquaintances
that you might know about.
Oh, I doubt they could afford to eat here.
Well, what about the other employees?
Was he close to anybody?
Oh, well, there's Mademoiselle Faye.
The sommelier.
Tres jolie, eh?
Cy, a man with a plan.
What plan is that?
A house in Cannes, Gulfstream V, you name it.
I told him he better start working lunch.
He ever talk about any of his friends?
You mean other than Donald Trump?
Did you spend more time at your place or his?
[sighs] I can't believe Marcel told you.
Okay.
A couple of times a month, I'd have my morning coffee
at his place. No big deal.
You were never curious about that fancy apartment?
Just figured his daddy took care of him.
(Green) Why? Is his daddy well-off?
Cy says he lives at the Winslet Hotel,
which makes him definitely not poor.
You'll have to forgive me for meeting you down here.
The housekeepers are in my apartment.
I was transferred from London six months ago.
What kind of work do you do, Mr. Lowell?
Mergers and acquisitions at Condell Hemmings.
What's that got to do with Cy?
Mr. Lowell, I'm afraid we have some, uh...
sad news for you.
Dead?
Trying to rob a bank.
That seem strange?
He was always--
Ever since he could talk, it's been a struggle.
In school, fights with friends.
I tried, but when he started with the drugs--
We were hoping that you knew some of the people
that he hung out with.
I'm sorry.
When I caught him forging my signature on checks--
The counselor said that I had to cut him loose.
I haven't talked to him in over two years.
Do I have to ID the body or something?
Task force has as much as we do.
Major Case Squad is running down
all the names in Cy's address book.
You know, I'm gonna talk to Howard again.
See if his memory got any better.
Don't you think this guy told us everything?
Look, I'd rather be pressing him than sitting around
waiting to find a dead six-year-old girl.
All right. Okay.
(Fontana) The computer geeks came up empty.
And the only Lowell to make the newspapers was his old man.
He was involved in some nasty divorce
from a high society dame at Sag Harbor last year.
When last year?
Uh, June.
Yeah, Manhattan. Business.
Condell Hemmings, please.
That's where the old man works.
(Green) He said he moved here six months ago.
Yeah, I'm looking for a Mitch Lowell.
Mm-hmm.
How about your London office?
Okay, thank you.
Condell Hemmings doesn't have a Mitch Lowell.
Never did.
Do you guys think that this could be a father/son thing?
How much you wanna bet the maid cleaning Mitchell Lowell's room
is a six-year-old named Julie Grant?
Are you sure this is kosher?
Do you know what "exigent circumstances" means?
No, not really.
It means don't ask any questions.
Hey, did Mr. Lowell have a six-year-old girl with him
earlier today?
Um, not that I know of.
But I'm in my office most of the day.
I don't really see much.
How do we get ahold of the maid?
I'll page her.
What about the phones?
Do his calls come through the switchboard?
Certainly.
The only girl I've seen with Mitch
is a lot older than six.
Physically, anyway.
Would you happen to know her name?
Who doesn't? Sara Essex.
Life's a bitch when Daddy owns casinos all over the world.
Have you ever seen this guy?
All the time.
Did Mitch-- Excuse me, ma'am.
Joe, check this out.
He gave Cyrus a wakeup call yesterday at 7:16 a.m.
Yeah, the kid shouldn't miss his own funeral.
Funeral, wait, what's-- Sh, sh, sh.
And the last call he made yesterday was at 11:03 a.m.,
and that must have been somebody he was close to
'cause he made the same phone call every day this week.
Well, that was right after the news showed his arrest,
and I have a pretty good idea
who this phone number belongs to.
Why would I know where Mitch is?
Look, girl, we know he called you yesterday around 11:00.
That's right.
To stand me up.
We were supposed to go to that new club, Sweat.
I went with Colin Farrell instead.
You just missed him.
Did he say why he cancelled?
After, "I can't go," who listens?
What's the big deal?
You know what? I had enough of this crap.
Come on, get up. You're under arrest.
What the hell?
Accessory to bank robbery and kidnapping.
What?
Michelle, call my father!
Oh, yeah, I'm sure your daddy gonna be real proud of you.
Okay, okay. Forget it, Michelle!
I don't know why Mitch bailed,
and I certainly don't know where he is.
Keep talking.
I let him borrow my SL.
You gave him a $100,000 car
and you didn't ask him where he was going?
Why would I?
It's not like it's the first time.
Mitch hates trains.
I let him take a car to go out to one of his houses.
Houses? How many does he have?
Two that I know of.
One in Sag Harbor and one in Westport.
He likes to get out of the city to chill.
Let me give you the short course on Mr. Lowell.
Please, sit down.
I met him about a month after Frank, my first husband, died.
I was in Bergdorf's knee-deep in shopping therapy
when the clerk refused all my credit cards.
Was that because they were in your late husband's name?
Mm.
I actually burst into tears.
That's when the great Mitchell Lowell rode up
on his white stallion and bailed me out.
Thank you, Rosa.
Six weeks later, we walked down the aisle.
So how'd you find out he was a crook?
Thank you.
My financial people.
They told me Mitch was slowly emptying my stock portfolio.
Why didn't you have him locked up?
Who needs the publicity?
I did, however, use the threat of arrest as leverage
in the divorce settlement.
Would you let him use your house when you weren't here?
I wouldn't let that SOB use my trash basket.
He's a bum.
Well, I kind of figured that one out on my own.
No, I haven't see him
since last summer when we signed the divorce papers.
And I've been in Paris the past three months.
Oh, how nice.
Thank you. Mm-hmm.
Oh.
How do you like that car?
What's better than a Bentley?
But I mean the other one.
The SL.
Where is he?
[whispers] I don't even know what he did.
He threatened me!
We'll talk.
Where is she?
Who?
The little girl. Where is she?
What little girl? I don't know what you're talking about.
You know what I'm talking about now?
You won't shoot.
Oh, won't I?
Where is she?
Screw you.
Before we leave this house,
you're gonna tell me where that girl is!
You understand?
Where's that little girl?
Get down! Get down!
Where's that girl?
Where's that little girl? Where is she?
[gurgles]
Where's that little girl?
Where's that little girl, you cheap con artist?
[coughs and gags] Where is she?
[struggles for air]
I can do this all day, Mitch. How about you, huh?
Where is she? Where is she? [coughs]
You gonna tell me where she is?
Are you gonna tell me? [coughs violently]
Where is she? Where's that little girl?
Where is she?
All right, I'll tell you!
[hoarsely] She's on the boat.
Get up.
Get up, you crum.
(man) That's her. Bring it up on the port side.
[television]
Julie?
It's okay, honey. I'm not gonna hurt you.
My name is Joe.
I'm a policeman.
I'm gonna take you home to your mother and dad.
(man) Docket number 069236.
People vs. Mitchell Lowell.
The charge is robbery in the first degree,
kidnapping in the first degree.
Randolph Dworkin for the defense.
Pleasure's mine.
Not bad, huh?
I beg your pardon?
"Squirt" Dworkin?
Oh, come on! It's me, Ms. Kurtzman.
Camp Well-Met.
I was in the bunk with Bugger. I mean, Benny.
(Borgia) The defendant held a six-year-old girl hostage
while his partner-- That thing with the latrine?
[imitates explosion] Me and Benny, we got booted.
Do you mind?
How do you plead?
Excuse me, Your Honor, I don't mean to be rude.
But because of our past social connection,
don't you think we're tiptoeing
ever so slightly into the gray area here?
The people waive any conflicts.
All due respect, but these people don't.
You actually want me to recuse myself from an arraignment?
Who knows?
Someday you may be sitting in a Senate hearing room
across from Messrs. Kennedy, Biden, and Leahy.
I'm just trying-- (Judge) Fine.
Judge Melon is down the hall.
I gotta ask, Judge.
Does Benny still play with matches?
Next.
So after all this,
I ask Judge Melon for a remand without bail,
and this clown lets it go without objection.
Does this clown have a name?
Squirt.
You're kidding.
Dworkin--Andy or something.
He's definitely not a clown, Alex.
You didn't see him.
I did on two prior occasions.
Randy Dworkin is very, very smart.
And cute as a button.
Ms. Borgia.
So I come in for a nosh, and imagine my surprise.
Okay, I'm lying.
Jack, you are such a creature of habit.
From what I hear about your show this morning,
so are you.
Everyone in the courtroom is always so gloomy.
Why not have some fun is what I say.
Because it's not moot court.
Res ipsa loquiter.
What Jack and I know quite well and what you will soon discover
is that whatever happens in court by day,
by night, we get to go home and sleep in our own beds.
Speaking of which--
How are you on sushi?
I know this little place--
No, thank you.
Don't even think about a deal, Randy.
Did I mention how predictable you are?
All right, enough shop talk.
Let me ask you, Jack, what is your thinking
about this Iraq thing?
I see it as a learning experience.
Before we started spreading democracy
to the four corners, whoever heard of IEDs or Tikrit,
or water boarding for that matter?
I think your soup's getting cold.
Detective Fontana's little trick
wasn't exactly water boarding,
but really, what's in a name?
No one can ever say his version doesn't work.
You sure about dinner?
Enjoy.
Bye.
It's a motion to dismiss.
Lowell claims he only told the cops
where they could find Julie Grant
after he was tortured.
Find out what the hell's going on.
Hi.
What a surprise.
Do you have a minute?
Yeah, do you mind if we walk and talk?
Not at all.
What can I do for you?
Well, I wanted to say
that I thought you did a hell of a job with Lowell.
Uh, huh. Well, thank you very much.
We got the girl. Yes, you did.
My question is how.
Well, maybe your question should be what would happen
if we didn't get her.
So you did threaten to shoot him and shoved his head in a toilet.
I'll make this very easy for you.
Whatever Lowell says I did...
I say just the opposite.
Is that all you're gonna say?
Peanut?
(Branch) So is Dworkin making coffee or just boiling water?
Fontana's a good cop.
Right now he's filled to the brim with moral indignation.
Yeah, well, sure, he is.
We're supposed to be on the same team.
You know, I know that when the dust settles
that this Lowell character is just gonna be the latest
in a long line of defendants claiming to be a victim
of an overzealous officer.
What?
Don't tell me you believe him.
Dworkin may be irreverent, Arthur, but he's not unethical.
I doubt he'd present an argument if he didn't believe it.
Which probably means he's got proof.
Who's the judge? Bradley.
Good fella.
He thinks jaywalkers ought to get life.
Okay, Mr. Dworkin.
Tell me just what kind of medal your client wants pinned
on his chest?
Let's see. He's already an Eagle Scout.
Uh, what do you get for holding your breath?
Okay.
Uh, now, if we take the 4th and 5th amendment seriously--
show of hands by those who don't.
Great.
All that's left is for Your Honor
to exclude all the evidence
both physical and testimonial obtained by said detective
after locating my client.
Which means the whole kit and caboodle.
Ergo my motion to dismiss.
It comes down to he said, he said, Your Honor.
You heard Detective Fontana and the defendant.
Credibility is a question for the finder of fact.
Far be for me to be contrary,
but as you can see from his Sag Harbor booking photo,
Mr. Lowell was either on the sideline
when the Gatorade went flying,
or he forgot to blow-dry after bobbing for evidence.
This could just have easily have been caused by water spraying
when Mr. Lowell was transported out to the yacht.
"A" for effort, Jack.
I'll have my office draft the dismissal papers.
Not so fast, Mr. Dworkin.
This Detective Fontana,
is this sort of roughhousing his usual M.O.?
There's no evidence of it.
Well, in that case, I find Mr. McCoy's explanation
perfect valid.
What about shoving the gun in his eye?
(McCoy) Without other proof,
admissibility still depends on the credibility of Mr. Lowell
versus that of Detective Fontana.
And I don't believe a word
out of your client's mouth, Mr. Dworkin.
Therefore I am denying the motion to dismiss.
Anything interesting?
There are a couple of cases
justifying the use of extreme physical force
to obtain a confession.
They're from Alabama in 1954.
I don't think you'll find anything in those books
to ease a guilty conscience, Alex.
If I knew for sure
that Fontana did what Lowell said he did...
Spray from the motorboat, Jack?
Give me a break.
Fine.
What if he did do it?
Even Alan Dershowitz, the Babe Ruth of civil rights,
said that under some circumstances
torture is not only justifiable, it's obligatory.
That's right.
To find a ticking nuclear device
hidden somewhere in New York City.
So it's okay to torture someone to save a million lives?
There's at least an argument for it.
What if the bomb wasn't in New York City?
What if it was in Rugby, North Dakota,
where only a couple of thousand people would be at risk?
That's a bogus argument.
I don't think the Grants would agree.
Let's not forget
that Mitchell Lowell kidnapped their little girl.
Let's also not forget that we have a Constitution.
Call me a stickler, but I think we should at least pretend
to follow it.
And I think that the Constitution should be used less
as a shield for the guilty
and more as a sword for their innocent victims.
Fontana do what they claim he did?
He said he didn't.
But you're not 100%?
Well, whatever happened, by judicial fiat,
it's no longer your problem.
Torture is morally wrong.
At least according to the petition I signed
condemning the fun and games at Guantanamo Bay.
Well, that's true, but your morality is not at issue here.
That won't help me sleep at night, Arthur.
You know, I was about,
oh, six the first time I went fishing with my old man.
Damned if I didn't catch one about like that.
I was just getting ready to plop him down into the bucket
when I started wondering some grown-up things.
You know, about right and wrong, good and bad.
That fish had never done anything to me.
Why should I kill him?
Well, I was getting ready to toss him back
and then it hit me.
If I do the right thing by the fish,
I'm left with nothing but a can of string beans
and a stale biscuit for dinner.
Well, there I stood, frozen as a popsicle,
till my dad looked me in the eye
and he said, "Son, there is nothing either good or bad,
but thinking makes it so."
And I wanna tell you,
no fish ever tasted better.
I hate to burst your bubble.
But your father borrowed that tidbit from Hamlet.
Say, isn't he that fella
who sat around thinking and talking to himself
while other people were going to hell in a hand basket?
So you're telling me to go ahead and use the evidence
most judges would have tossed?
I'm telling you to make a deal with the SOB.
I knew you were the best, Jack.
Show me one other D.A. this generous.
Good.
Alex will contact Judge Bradley.
Uh, here's the thing.
My nana set me straight a long time ago
when I was about to take that first step
down the road to the rest of my life.
"Kid," she said,
"One day a man'll tell you that for a mere hundred bucks,
"he'll sell you a diamond as big as the Ritz.
Now as sure as I ate my first bowl of borscht in Minsk,"
she said, "That diamond is gonna come on the back
"of a baseball card
and the Ritz'll taste great with a schmear."
Do we have a deal or not, Mr. Dworkin?
So cute but so serious.
After Judge Bradley's ruling, you should be too.
Ten years is a gift.
Why are you putting on the white beard, red coat,
and funny hat this time of year?
Hell, I'll talk to my guy,
but considering His Honor handed me
an appeal on a platinum platter,
I'm gonna have to recommend he pass.
I thought if I did what they wanted,
maybe they'd leave Julie alone.
(McCoy) How much did he ask you to steal?
He just said to fill up the bag.
I fit in--
A little over $700,000.
Why didn't you call the police?
Do you have any idea what it's like
having your daughter's life
rest on the whim of men without conscience?
Men who'll do anything for money?
I'm not a hero.
I'm just a father trying to do what's best for his daughter.
I was scared.
When you left your apartment that morning,
did you lock the door?
Of course.
And when Julie's there, I check it twice.
Good for you.
I'm just suggesting with Dworkin across the aisle,
that it's best to watch your back.
Thanks to the Honorable Judge Bradley,
his clowning may all be for naught.
And when Fontana takes the stand?
Dworkin didn't object to Green's hearsay testimony,
so I have no reason to call him.
Doesn't mean that Squirt won't invite him to testify.
Strange.
Dworkin didn't submit an affidavit for Lowell's ex-wife.
She was there when he confessed to Fontana.
She was downstairs.
Sure, but she would have noticed if his head was wet
when Fontana dragged him down the stairs and out the door.
And if she did see it, why didn't Dworkin use it
in his motion to dismiss?
It could mean that Fontana
didn't violate procedure after all.
After Dworkin's motion was denied,
it doesn't make any difference
one way or the other.
It does to me.
I should have called the cops the minute
the Harbor Master told me he was on the yacht.
(Borgia) Why didn't you?
'Cause I'm a jerk.
Hey, the man forged my signature, mortgaged my house,
and still, jerk that I am, I stayed married to him.
He's a con man. He's good at what he does.
But...
I don't think that I would have tried to protect him
when the cops showed up.
Why did you want to see me?
I just wanna know if you noticed anything unusual
when Detective Fontana brought Mitch downstairs?
Like his head dripping wet?
Don't worry.
If you want me to lie for you,
I am ready, willing, and very credible.
You've been thinking about that offer.
Every second of every day.
Too bad the Canons won't let me accept it.
I don't wanna hear about Nazis or plantation owners, Randy.
The truth is, I'm in no mood for your games at all.
So.
I spent my day listing appropriate four-letter epithets
for Judge Bradley.
Off the record, so did I.
If you haven't noticed,
I only bring out the rack on special occasions.
Bradley's ruling gives society's imprimatur to barbaric behavior.
Which will just lead to more brutal behavior by the cops.
That'll force the innocent to lie and guarantee punishment
whether a suspect is guilty or not.
It's globally rejected.
Morally deplorable.
Amen.
On the other hand, I wouldn't be totally pissed
if Lowell spent the rest of his life in Attica.
Just like your rack, Jack.
I only dust off my high horse in dire circumstances.
Off the record.
Man to man.
Whatever he did, Fontana found the girl.
The slippery slope argument is a bunch of crap.
We sanction the death penalty.
If killing's okay,
how can a little physical persuasion be wrong?
It all comes down to weighing the life of an innocent girl
against the momentary discomfort of a felon.
Three cheers for Fontana is what I say.
So why do we both feel like taking a hot shower?
Because deep down I'm thrilled to have won
the motion to dismiss,
even though it's morally wrong.
And in my heart of hearts, I'm ecstatic about losing,
even though I know that's a legal taboo.
He knocked on the door.
I said, "Who is it?"
He said he was Daddy's friend,
so I unlocked the door and let him in.
Did he scare you?
No, he gave me candy
and asked me if I wanted to go on a boat ride.
I said yes.
Of course you did.
Did he ever touch you?
He held my hand.
Did that hurt?
No. He was nice.
On the boat, he gave me pizza and let me watch movies.
Tell me, Julie.
How'd you get so damn cute?
Did you hear what Mr. Lowell
said to your father on the phone?
He said he was going to kill me.
(McCoy) And that didn't scare you?
(Julie) At first it did, but then he winked at me
and said it was just a joke on Daddy.
(McCoy) Thank you.
Nothing further.
The defense calls Detective Joseph Fontana.
I found the defendant hiding in a corner.
The door to the room in which Mr. Lowell was hiding--
Was it open?
No.
(Dworkin) Was it unlocked?
No.
So, uh, how did you get in?
I forced it open.
(Dworkin) You kicked it in?
(Fontana) That's right.
And then once you were in, what, you shook his hand?
I detained him.
Did you grab him by the neck?
I detained him.
Nothing like a good old juicy euphemism.
Objection.
(Dworkin) Withdrawn.
Did you get physical with Mr. Lowell?
I don't know what you mean by physical.
But he told me where he hid the little girl
and then agreed to take me there.
Did you ever give him an old-fashioned kick in the rump?
A smack in the kisser, maybe?
No.
Did you shove your gun into his eye?
(McCoy) Objection.
Did you shove his head into the toilet bowl?
(McCoy) Approach, Your Honor?
Your Honor has already ruled the defendant's claims
weren't credible.
And the witness is merely confirming
Your Honor's finding of fact.
No harm, no foul.
You can proceed, Mr. Dworkin.
But no mention of the fact that I already ruled on this.
Did you shove your gun in Mr. Lowell's eye?
I was in hot pursuit of a felon, so naturally,
I had my weapon drawn.
(Dworkin) So, that's a yes?
Objection! Withdrawn.
Did you shove his head into the toilet not once, not twice,
but three times?
I was trying to save a little girl's life.
(Dworkin) Please, direct the witness to answer the question!
(McCoy) Objection, Your Honor!
This is prejudicial.
You're damn straight it is!
Your Honor, I move for an immediate dismissal.
[gavel bangs] My chambers. Now!
That was a clear admission.
I didn't hear him admit anything.
Okay, it was a tacit admission
of an illegally obtained confession making,
as Your Honor opined earlier,
the whole kit and caboodle inadmissible.
It's irrelevant.
We've got the girl's testimony
connecting the defendant--
(Dworkin) Only you wouldn't have the girl
if Fontana didn't get medieval on him.
Plums of the poisonous tree, Your Honor.
Without Fontana's abuse, my client wouldn't have told him
that the girl was on the boat,
Fontana wouldn't have located her,
and she certainly wouldn't have been in the courtroom
to connect him to anything!
Please tell me you got something to link him
to the robbery, Mr. McCoy.
In that case, Your Honor, I move for a complete dismissal
of all charges.
(Borgia) Wait.
If we can establish that the police would have discovered
Julie Grant's location separate and apart
from the defendant's coerced confession--
It would make my day, Ms. Borgia.
(Borgia) The Harbor Master informed Mrs. Lowell
that the defendant was on her boat
before he showed up at her house.
I'm sure she'll sign an affidavit to that effect.
(McCoy) Once the defendant refused to cooperate,
Detective Fontana surely would have interrogated Mrs. Lowell
about everything concerning his visit.
She certainly would have mentioned
the Harbor Master's phone call.
Detective Fontana would have followed up
and he would have found the kidnapped child.
This establishes inevitable discovery
and makes all of the evidence admissible.
Thank you, Ms. Borgia.
Motion denied.
Very good, Alex.
I don't wanna talk about it.
Detective Fontana extracted from my client
what we in the legal biz call a coerced confession.
How do we know this? He told us so himself.
That's how.
What, you don't remember that?
No, no, no, no.
You didn't doze off during his testimony.
Let me, as they say, refresh your recollections.
Detective Fontana was sitting right there.
And I asked him directly
if he used certain specific abusive acts
to encourage Mr. Lowell to talk.
Of course you remember.
That's when Mr. McCoy
got all red in the face and screamed something
about prejudicial testimony.
My question is...
do you remember Detective Fontana ever saying,
"No, I did not commit those brutal acts"?
I sure don't.
Where I come from, if someone accuses you
of something barbaric and you don't deny it,
well...
Do we as good citizens of this great state really want to give
our stamp of approval to such conduct
by our cops?
When you talk about it amongst yourselves,
what I want you to do is weigh, on the one hand,
Detective Fontana kicking in a door,
and on the other, Mr. Lowell knocking politely
on Julie Grant's door and asking if he could come in.
On one hand, grabbing Mitchell Lowell's neck,
on the other,
giving Julie a piece of candy.
Shoving a gun in his eye. Taking her on a boat ride.
Dragging him across the room by his neck.
Holding her hand so she wouldn't be scared.
Shoving his head in a toilet three times.
Giving her pizza and letting her watch movies.
Legal.
Illegal.
How can that be?
Like it or not,
in evaluating the case against Mitchell Lowell,
Detective Fontana's actions are irrelevant
and must be ignored.
Like it or not,
the law says you must focus only on what the defendant did.
I'm realistic.
I know you're good people, and as such,
it's next to impossible that you could ignore what you heard
or didn't hear in this courtroom.
And I also know that by asking you to weigh
the defendant's actions against the police officer's,
Mr. Dworkin is in effect appealing
to your fundamental sense of fair play.
Is that a bad thing?
Heck, what's good for the goose is good for the gander.
We all know that.
Fairness is all.
Or is it?
Does Mr. Dworkin's fairness leave any room for justice?
That fairness exists in a vacuum.
While justice, on the other hand, cannot.
In Mr. Dworkin's vacuum world,
we'd have to treat a rapist the same as we treat a man
who made love to his wife.
After all,
they've both performed the same physical act.
It's only fair.
In Mr. Dworkin's vacuum world,
the terrorists must be treated the same as the soldier
who tracks him down and kills him.
Of course he does.
Each of them has taken a human life
and what's fair is only fair.
In Mr. Dworkin's vacuum world,
the man who takes a little girl hostage
while attempting to rob a bank,
as long as he feeds her well, must be treated
better than a cop who used excessive force
in trying to save the life of that innocent child.
It's only fair.
But is it just?
The benchmark of a civilized society
is the quality of its justice.
In this society, we put kidnappers
and bank robbers behind bars.
(Judge Bradley) Have you reached a verdict?
We have.
On the count of robbery in the first degree,
how do you find?
We find the defendant, Mitchell Lowell, guilty.
On the charge of kidnapping in the first degree,
how do you find?
We find the defendant guilty.
Moral righteousness be damned.
I'm fine with the result.
Hey, me and you, Jack. Same page.
Not to worry. Secrets are my specialty.
Are you ever serious?
Dead serious.
Suppose Lowell wasn't the one who was tortured.
Suppose Fontana got Lowell to talk
by dunking his mother or his daughter
or his poodle in the toilet.
Are we fine with that one too?
Yeah, I don't know either.
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