(male announcer) In the criminal justice system,
sexually based offenses are considered especially heinous.
In New York City, the dedicated detectives
who investigate these vicious felonies
are members of an elite squad
known as the Special Victims Unit.
These are their stories.
[pipe organ music]
What name have you chosen?
Claire.
Claire, be sealed with the gift of the Holy Spirit.
Peace be with you.
(Claire) And also with you.
What name have you chosen?
Michael.
I thought Dickie chose "Peter"
as his confirmation name.
Saint Michael.
Patron saint of cops.
He's trying to please his father.
Like that's gonna get you guys back together.
Hey, what do you say we have lunch, huh?
P & G, get some burgers?
I'm a vegetarian.
Yeah? Since when?
Last summer.
Anyways, we're going to Grandma's.
That's all right.
Tell you what, we'll do something special
next weekend, okay?
Sure. Come on, let's go.
Bye, Dad.
I love you.
It's still hard for them.
I know.
Elliot. Father.
Could I speak to you for a moment? Of course, Father.
Hey, tell 'em I want to say good-bye to them
before they go, okay? Okay.
Nice service.
Elliot, I need a favor.
Name it.
I have a ministry at Haven House.
The hospice?
There's a dying man there.
Jud Tierney.
Lung cancer. End stage.
I'd like you to talk to him.
About what?
I can't say.
Did he confess something to you?
You know better than to ask me that.
Take it on faith.
[deep breath]
Okay, I'm working the next four days--how about Friday?
He won't last that long.
Please?
(Stabler) Mr. Tierney?
Yeah, yeah, I'm still breathing.
As long as you're here,
get me another dish of that yummy Jell-O.
Who are you?
Detective Elliot Stabler, NYPD.
30 years I've been waiting for this day.
[coughs]
You almost missed me.
Father Denis gave me up, eh?
In my day, priests could keep their mouths shut.
No pun intended.
Couple of Hail Marys,
good Act of Contrition, go and sin no more.
You want to confess now?
Oh, don't I get a lawyer?
Sure, if you want one.
Depends.
What are you charging me with?
You really need me to tell you?
You don't know, do you?
You had me there.
Not bad, flatfoot.
So, uh...
Tell me, what squad are you from?
Special Victims.
You mean all victims aren't special?
You want a beer? No.
We handle sex crimes.
Rape, kidnapping, child abuse, homicide.
Sounds like Father Denis sent me the right guy.
Well, look, if you want to talk,
I'm here to listen.
Don't rush me.
I'm not the one doing the rushing.
The way I hear it, the man downstairs
is rolling out the red carpet for your arrival.
I'd expect nothing less.
He and I are old friends.
[coughing]
I gotta see my daughter.
You can bring her here.
She know you're dying?
[scoffing laugh]
Yeah, the doctors had to call her.
She...hung up on me.
[sighs]
I got a lotta stuff I gotta get off my chest, all right?
She deserves to hear it from me.
[sighs] Please.
You bring her here, I'll--
I'll tell you everything.
Believe me, there's a lot to tell.
You run him through the system?
Yeah, there's no priors under the name Judson Tierney.
But without fingerprints, it could be an alias.
How about background?
He owns a house in Rego Park free and clear.
He opened a locksmith shop, 1971.
He's worked there every day since he got sick a year ago.
Financials?
Yeah, no credit card debt.
About $18,000 in his checking account.
Small IRA, but there's nothing to raise any red flags.
He ever been a suspect, or a target of an investigation?
Nope, I called my buddy over at Intel.
I checked. He's perfectly clean.
All right, you got that address for the daughter?
I do. Sheila Tierney DuMont.
Schoolteacher, married, two kids.
She's up on 83rd Street. Thanks.
You know what? I'll go with you.
You think he molested her, don't you?
No, I think
Father Denis chose you for a reason.
With my luck, if Tierney did abuse his daughter,
the statute of limitations ran out a long time ago.
It's never too late to help a victim.
(Sheila) My life is none of your business.
That's true, but your father doesn't have much time left.
Good.
Come back when the old bastard's dead.
I'll pop the champagne.
He's just trying to clear his conscience.
Well, that's not my problem.
(Benson) When's the last time you saw him?
After my mom died. 1989.
You just a kid?
I was 18.
Has he ever met your daughters?
Yeah, he went to their school.
Introduced himself on the playground.
When they told me...
I said if he ever came near them again,
they should scream and run to a teacher. Sheila,
did your father abuse you?
Uh...I'm not having this conversation.
I would like you to leave.
Okay.
If you change your mind...
And by the way, your daughters are beautiful.
(Sheila) Wait.
Um...there's a box in the basement.
By the boiler.
I want you to take it to him.
Bon voyage present.
Greeting cards. Looks like hundreds of them.
Return address is Rego Park.
These are all from Tierney.
"Sheila, please forgive me."
Hundred bucks.
Same message.
Another hundred.
Wow, postmarked '89.
'94...
This one's from 2003. Looks like one a week ever since she cut him off.
If all these have money in them,
there's gotta be thousands of dollars here.
I don't want them.
Give it to charity.
There are some things money can't buy.
Like forgiveness.
Give up, Detective.
I'm still not going to talk about it.
There are some cards addressed to your daughters.
They might want to read them someday.
Nope. Get them out of my house.
You know, you've kept them all these years.
How come you didn't throw them away or burn them?
I was saving them up for this very occasion.
I wanted to make sure he knew I never read a single one.
I think he molested her.
I don't know.
Sheila reacted like a classic abuse victim.
She cut off all contact,
won't let him see her daughters.
The guy's done something wrong,
but...he didn't seem like a perv.
Why is Tierney under your skin, El?
He's not.
Those greeting cards give us his prints and saliva.
If his DNA's in the file from unsolved crime,
we got him.
Why don't we drop the cards off at the lab
and grab some dinner?
How about the cafeteria at the Haven House?
You should meet Tierney.
[knocking on door]
Hey, did you find my daughter?
Come in.
Sheila.
This is Olivia.
Ah.
Kinda looks like my daughter.
I'm his partner.
What do you think, this is some kind of joke?
You tell us.
Sheila wouldn't come, eh?
No.
Yeah...she's a tough kid.
My girl.
Little thing like her old man dying
ain't gonna soften her up.
[starts to laugh]
[coughs]
[clicking] [machine beeps]
Damn thing never works when you need it.
Morphine drip.
I call it a pain in the ass.
Why doesn't he just knock me out?
Is that how you want to spend your last days?
In a drug-induced coma?
[laughs]
Kinda sounds like my little girl.
Feisty.
I'll take that as a compliment.
Take it any way you want to take it.
So tell me,
how's, uh... how's my baby girl look?
Good.
[laughs]
Can I get a little more here?
She's beautiful.
So are your two little granddaughters.
Ashley and Lindsay.
God only knows where she dug up those names.
One of them's got a birthday coming up.
I'll have to send her a card.
So tell me, Jud, what did you do?
What'd you do to Sheila?
I hurt her.
Yeah.
How'd you hurt her?
I'm sorry, baby.
I'm really sorry, I...
He's asleep.
[pager beeping]
Okay, that was the lab.
Must be finished processing the cards.
Why don't you go on?
I'll wait here.
Maybe he'll wake up and want to talk.
(O'Halloran) No shortage of evidence to sample from this time.
I got great DNA off the envelope flap,
but he's not in the database.
I also lifted some beautiful prints.
Everybody handles a greeting card the same way.
Like a book.
Fingers on the outside, thumbs on the inside.
Perfect way to get a full exemplar.
But we know who he is.
Did you know he had a record?
Liv ran Tierney's rap. He's clean.
Only under the name Judson Tierney.
Prints were filed under Jake Tierney
when he was arrested back in 1956.
Burglary in Peoria.
Attempted burglary, St. Paul, '57.
Breaking and entering, El Paso, '58.
So he never did more than six months.
Nothing in 50 years. That it?
No. Check out the money.
(Stabler) Yeah, they were old bills. So what?
Look at the dates.
(Stabler) '58, '62, '69.
Nothing newer than 1970.
There's no way those are in circulation. He must have a stash.
Which is why I ran them through the FBI currency watch list.
Got a hit.
Database gave us a case number.
Liv, I just found out something very interesting.
I'm gonna head over to the FBI.
Is Tierney awake yet?
He's still asleep.
No, I'm not.
[wheezing cough]
Call me if you get anything, okay?
Yeah.
Elliot putting in overtime trying to figure this thing out?
I already know.
This is about Sheila.
You abused her, didn't you?
Now, I've done some bad things in my time.
I love my daughter.
I'd never lay a hand on her.
Then why do you keep writing "Forgive me, Sheila?"
What kind of father molests his daughter
and then every year...
sends her a birthday card to remind her?
I don't know what your dad did to you, sweetie.
You need professional help.
I hope your partner's got more sense.
(woman) Detective Stabler?
I'm FBI Agent Peters.
Nice to meet you.
Are you assigned to case 71210?
Numbers starting with "71"
were opened in 1971.
That agent's fishing for marlin
in the Florida Keys by now.
So the case is closed?
I checked. It isn't.
If you've got a lead, I'll take it.
Well...nothing concrete,
but there may be a connection
to an investigation I'm working.
Can you tell me about yours?
Two men who committed one of the longest strings
of unsolved bank robberies.
They were known as the Fedora Bandits.
They've been on the Most Wanted List
for 47 years.
Beautiful morning, huh?
When you don't have many left,
you appreciate them more, I guess.
Like that storm we had last week.
You ever notice...
how clear the sky gets just before a big storm?
It's like God is warning us that good things don't last.
Sounds like a guilty conscience talking.
[chuckles] Probably the morphine.
Oh, it's cold.
Well, would you like a blanket?
Sure, thanks.
How about your fedora?
I'm impressed, you two are quick.
Not that you got much time here.
So you ready to confess to 21 armed robberies?
(Tierney) That's just the tip of the iceberg, Elliot.
Come on, you don't think that old story's
the only one I got.
I went straight back in the Stone Age.
1971, the year Sheila was born.
First time I held Sheila, everything was changed.
They were so small and so...fragile.
I knew I... I had to protect her.
And I couldn't protect her if I got myself locked up.
But Sheila found out what you did.
That's why she hates you.
You're wrong.
Sheila never knew anything about me.
(Stabler) So why won't she come here?
You know why I never got myself picked up in those days?
Because I never talked about me or my business to anybody.
And certainly never to a cop.
Even one as pretty as you, darlin'.
Okay, I'm done--I'm gonna turn this over to the feds. Let them waste their time.
The tip of the iceberg, Elliot.
Trust me on this.
Where are you going?
I'm tired.
The drugs kick my ass.
I gotta lay down.
Stick around, darlin'.
You never know when I might feel like talkin', eh?
[knock on door] Elliot.
How'd it go with Tierney?
He gave up the bank jobs.
I'm writing up the report for the feds.
That's all he told you?
You saying there's more?
Okay, Father, have a seat, please.
Now, maybe he spilled his guts to you,
but with me, this guy is a clam.
He's kept his silence a long time.
Old habits are hard to break.
With all due respect, I got 12 active cases
sitting on my desk-- I don't have time
to play 20 questions with Tierney.
His immortal soul is in danger.
Well, eternal damnation is not a police matter.
It's not solely a spiritual matter.
You'd be saving an entire family.
That's a nice story.
So you knew nothing about the robberies?
No, but I'm not surprised.
My dad's a pro at hiding things.
Like what?
My whole life.
You know, you're an awful lot like your father.
You hate him for keeping secrets?
You got plenty of your own.
[sighs]
When my mom died,
my dad, uh, wanted me to stay home.
Go to college in Queens.
But I had to get out of that house.
I decided to go to Europe.
I had money saved.
All I needed was a passport,
but he wouldn't give me my birth certificate.
So I picked the lock on the strongbox
where he kept all the family papers.
Right, but you don't hate your father this much
because of some summer vacation.
The birth certificate...
listed my father as Judson Tierney
and my mother as Suzanne Mollinax.
But my mother's name was Lenore.
[clears throat]
How'd he explain that?
He told me my mom couldn't have children.
And he'd had an affair with Suzanne.
And gotten her pregnant.
My parents...
never hugged me.
They never said they loved me.
Well, that was
the old-school Irish way.
My folks are the same.
Oh no--it was not the same thing.
That house was nothing but locked doors
and...silence.
It doesn't mean they didn't love you.
My father made my mother
raise his lover's child.
Every day, I was there to remind them
of his affair.
It's no wonder my parents didn't touch me.
My mother probably hated me.
Look, I'm sure that's not true.
Well, I'll never know now, will I?
(Huang) It's her choice, Elliot.
If Sheila doesn't want to see her father,
you can't make her.
Yeah, and after he dies,
you don't think she'll regret it?
Maybe, maybe not.
Look, all you shrinks talk about is closure.
"Every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."
Tolstoy, Anna Karenina.
Families are complicated.
Yeah, tell me about it.
[sighs]
All right, so Tierney.
How do we get him to talk? You don't.
He'll talk to you when he's ready. When he's ready?
Look, this guy is running out of time,
and quite frankly, I'm running out of patience.
You can't rush Scheherazade.
What's that?
You ever read 1,001 Arabian Nights?
Yeah, Ali Baba. The flying carpets.
Scheherazade is the narrator.
She made up the stories for a king
who married a new virgin every night
and then cut off the head of last night's bride.
When he married Scheherazade, she told him a story
so gripping that he couldn't kill her
until he heard the end of the story.
But the story never finished, it just went on and on.
Tierney's trying to stave off death like Scheherazade.
With a story of bank robberies and illegitimate children.
He's trying to hang on to make peace with his daughter.
But, since his daughter won't come,
he needs Olivia to take her place.
She has, she's glued to his side.
I mean, she spent last night watching him sleep.
No, that's his fantasy of a daughter.
In reality, Sheila's furious with him.
You saying Liv needs to get mad at him?
I'm saying that if she does, Tierney will do whatever he can to get her back.
Tierney, wake up. Let's go.
Come on, wake up. Let me sleep.
Oh, trust me, there'll be plenty of time for that soon enough.
Boy, you got a hell of a bedside manner, doctor.
Tell me about Suzanne Mollinax.
She died. Long time ago.
She's also Sheila's birth mother.
My wife, Lenore,
was Sheila's mother.
Like I told Sheila, "Blood doesn't matter.
Only love matters."
Love?
You had a funny way of showing it.
Making your wife raise another woman's kid?
I never made Lenore do anything.
She wanted a baby. She couldn't get pregnant.
So why not adopt?
Because I was a convicted felon.
Nobody gives a baby to an ex-con.
I was a good father.
Yeah, you're such a devoted father, why won't Sheila
take any of your calls?
You can't hide from this.
All your secrets
are coming out. I just wanted to protect her.
Don't give me that.
You were trying to protect yourself.
You didn't want to go to prison.
I gotta tell you, Tierney, this is getting really old.
Sheila doesn't want to hear your stories,
and quite frankly, neither do I.
I'm outta here.
You got a car?
This is where Lenore was born and raised.
So this is where she deserves to stay.
I guess, uh, Sheila's been here.
(Tierney) What, the roses? Nah.
I used to bring them myself,
and...eh, the florist does it now.
I don't think she minds.
I'll give you a minute.
Hey, no, no. It's all right.
I don't have to come up here
to talk to her.
Besides, you better start digging.
Dig up your wife's grave?
What are you, nuts?
Not the grave.
No, the...flowers.
Look under the flowers.
No better place
for burying a secret than a boneyard, eh?
I always figured Lenore would keep me
from being tempted.
Keys.
To what?
[creaking]
Liv, there's gotta be millions of dollars here.
Yep, Tierney's stash. I--
I found it.
Along with the other half of the Fedora Bandits.
See the scorching around the hole?
Close range, right in the heart.
Any idea how long he's been down there?
Could be months, or years.
Mummification can occur in a short period of time
if the body is maintained at a steady, low temperature
without the degrading effects of sunlight.
Well, he wasn't killed recently.
The wide collar, short tie?
Classic '70s look.
Brings back memories.
Of what? You in diapers?
Bless your heart.
I also found these coins in his pocket.
Nothing dated after 1971.
I'd say that's as close as we're gonna get
to a time of death.
Makes sense. 1971.
It's when the Fedora Bandits stopped robbing banks.
(Benson) So you said you went straight for Sheila's sake.
That's not true.
You killed your partner,
that's why you can't rob any more banks.
That I did.
What, no remorse? Not even a tear?
[coughs]
Jack had it coming.
So you stuff his body in a trunk,
and you let it rot in your backyard.
Now that I regret.
Stunk up the place something fierce.
Told the neighbors there must have been
a dead cat in the storm drain.
[coughing] What else was I gonna do?
Turn yourself in?
There were other people involved.
Innocent people.
Yeah, like Jack's family.
[coughing]
Jack didn't have any kids.
His wife was better off without him.
Besides...
Thanks.
I made sure she was taken care of.
You ever think that maybe she would want to know
that he's dead?
[coughing]
(Rita) Girls, I'm a widow.
Congratulations. You in this hand?
Deal me out.
I haven't even thought of that jackass in years.
Do you know how Jack earned his living?
I know it probably wasn't what he put on his income tax.
Whenever I got too curious,
he'd buy me another piece of jewelry.
Here, keep it.
Did you ever get curious about why he disappeared?
Figured he ran off with his mistress.
You knew he was cheating?
It was a different time.
Nice Catholic girls didn't get a divorce.
Although I considered it, for the sake of the baby.
I didn't know you had kids.
I didn't.
Jack knocked a girl up.
And she wanted him to divorce me.
He never even asked.
He had his affairs, he always came home to mama.
Well, if he never asked, how'd you know about the baby?
Because his little tramp
shows up on my doorstep with it.
Begged me to let him go.
You remember the tramp's name?
It rhymes with "hunt."
Oh, and her real name?
Suzanne...
Mollinax.
You and Jack Colino were both sleeping with Suzanne Mollinax.
So who's Sheila's biological father,
you or Jack?
Jack.
So why is your name on her birth certificate?
I forged it.
Do me a favor, would you?
Hand me a smoke.
Over in that drawer over there.
Top left.
Is that a joke?
What, is it gonna make me sick?
So if Sheila's not your kid,
how'd she wind up with you?
Eh, Sheila was about a month old, I guess.
Yeah, about a month.
Jack calls me up.
He says he ran out of gas.
Said he needed me to bring a can
over to Suzanne's house.
I get there, she's dead.
Jack killed her?
Why?
Apparently she told him she was gonna rat him out
about the bank jobs if he doesn't leave his wife.
Crazy son of a bitch.
He whacks her right there.
Way he sees it, the problem is solved, right?
All he's gotta do now is get rid of the body.
Can of gasoline.
He starts splashing the stuff around
all over the place-- I said, "Wait, Jack.
What about the baby?"
He says, "To hell with her.
To hell with her. Let her burn."
He makes a move towards the crib.
Got the gas can in his hand.
I shot him right through the pump.
So you took the baby.
What did you tell your wife?
I told her the truth.
Told her about Jack and Suzanne.
Bank jobs, the money, the whole thing.
She cried for about an hour, I...
Then she made me swear that part of my life was over.
I locked up Jack and the money in the bomb shelter.
I never looked back.
Why didn't you ever tell Sheila
that she was adopted?
What am I gonna tell her? Huh?
I'm gonna tell her her birth mother
is a blackmailing tramp,
her father was a murderous thief?
And me--me? I killed him.
You didn't want her to hate herself.
Everything I did, I did for Sheila.
And I'd do it again.
There's too many secrets, too many lies.
Look, I killed a man.
I stole his kid.
Now I gotta answer for that, at least.
So arrest me.
Please.
Come on.
Did you leave your handcuffs at home?
Judson Tierney, you're under arrest
for the murder of Jack Colino.
And the kidnapping of Sheila DuMont.
You have the right to remain silent.
Anything you say
can and will be used against you
in a court of law.
(Fin) 48 hours, you solve
21 bank jobs, a murder, and a kidnap?
What, are you trying to make us look bad?
Well, you know, for once,
Catholic guilt's a good thing.
I thought we Jews had a corner in that market.
What are you doing here?
Shouldn't you be down in Federal Plaza, gloating?
I gotta pull some paperwork on the old cases
so I can write up the charges on Tierney.
So what do you need?
Uh, 1971 arson/homicide
for Suzanne Mollinax.
Where's Olivia?
Guarding the prisoner.
Tierney insisted.
He wanted to go to Central Booking,
but his doctors wouldn't let him.
(Fin) Elliot, you need to see this.
What do you got?
The Mollinax case was closed in 1972.
The ex-husband was convicted.
Mike Mollinax, two counts
of Murder Two, Arson in the First?
(Mollinax) September 17, 1971,
I was sitting on a bar stool at McFadden's.
Cops came in and arrested me
for killing Suzanne and the baby.
I told them I didn't do it.
But nobody believed me.
Why?
I was a mean drunk back then.
I didn't take it well when Suzanne threw me out.
You mean you threatened her.
I'd get a load on, go by the house,
yell at her.
One time I said I'd burn the place down
if I ever caught her with another man.
When I heard she died in a fire, I knew the cops would be looking for me.
You ran.
I holed up with a girl I was bangin'.
We had a fight.
I beat her up.
She turned me in the next day.
So all they had you on was motive.
That's not much of a case.
I was a dirtbag boozehound
with a habit of beating on women.
It took the jury 20 minutes to convict.
Am I really gonna get out of here?
I'll get him out.
Wrongful convictions make the whole system look bad.
So what do we have to do?
I'll draft the 440 motion to set aside the conviction.
Get it put on the calendar in a day or two.
Will Tierney be able to testify at the hearing?
He's in pretty bad shape-- the doctors say he's not gonna last too long.
Then I'll need an affidavit
from his doctor,
testifying to his condition.
I can get a dying declaration admitted as hearsay.
So I'll take a sworn statement from Tierney.
Look, I gotta tell you, I don't think he knew
about Mollinax's conviction.
No, no, if I knew Mollinax was in prison
for her murder, I would've said something.
I checked-- the papers didn't cover
his arrest or trial.
I--what-- what do I gotta do to make this right, huh?
I will swear you in, and then we'll take
a recorded statement. All right.
Well, let's do it. Come on, come on, let's go.
Come on, come on, let's do it.
Raise your right hand. Yeah.
[violent coughing]
Do you swear that the statement you're about to make
is the truth?
[coughing] The whole truth...
[machine beeps] and nothing but the truth, so help you God?
I do.
Then let's begin.
Would you please state your name for the record?
My name is Judson Martin Tierney.
Mr. Tierney, I want to talk to you about
events that occurred on February 10th, 1971
at the home of Suzanne Mollinax.
Were you present at that location?
[coughing] I was, yeah.
Why?
Jack called me here.
Jack who?
[stuttering] My partner.
Jack Colino.
And why did Jack call you?
He--he wanted me to...
He wanted me to help him...
Help him...
Help him get rid of the body.
Mr. Tierney?
It's the morphine.
It makes him drift in and out.
You didn't tell me he was on pain medication.
Well, it doesn't affect his memory.
No, but it makes anything he says legally inadmissible.
Without this statement, I can't get Mike Mollinax
out of prison.
Mr. Tierney's in excruciating pain.
I increased his morphine this morning.
How long before he wakes up?
Frankly, I'm hoping he won't.
Is there any way you can bring him out of it?
Narcan would reverse the effects of morphine,
but I can't administer it without his consent.
There's no way he's doing that as long as he's doped up.
I know it's a catch-22,
but Mr. Tierney chose that treatment.
I can't go against his wishes.
What about his next of kin?
His family could request the Narcan.
Although it's my understanding he's estranged from his only child.
But if Sheila Tierney came in here,
you'd have to honor her request.
Yes.
My...real father...
killed my mother.
And wanted to kill me too.
Why didn't my dad tell me?
I think he was trying to protect you.
I will sign the papers.
I don't want an innocent man to have to pay for his crimes.
Just promise me one thing.
Okay.
You tell my dad
that I didn't do it for him.
And sign here.
Okay...
Is that it?
Yeah, I'll administer the Narcan now.
Your father will wake up right away,
if you want to see him.
What do you say?
Your choice.
I don't know.
Look, we both know your father screwed up,
but he hid the truth because he didn't want to hurt you.
I mean, all I can tell you
is I've done the same thing with my kids,
and it was always because I loved them.
He's coming out of it now.
Sheila?
I can't, I can't.
(Tierney) Hey, that's her.
That's my girl.
Yeah....that's okay.
She'll be back.
Gah.
Yeah, sure she will.
Where's that D.A.?
She never finished taking my statement.
She's ready whenever you are.
Well, she'd better make it quick.
Detective? Assistant Warden McFarland.
You hear about Mike Mollinax?
You got the statement exonerating him
and the 440 hearings tomorrow.
I'm afraid you're too late.
We got a sworn statement.
That's 20 years too late.
Back in '85, we had an incident in B Tier.
The Aryan Brotherhood mixed it up with the Crips.
One of my officers got shanked
breaking up a fight,
a couple inmates got killed.
Mollinax was involved?
He committed one of the murders.
Old case might get tossed out,
but we're gonna file on him for homicide.
(Mollinax) How can they book me now
after all these years?
No statute of limitations on murder.
Why didn't they charge me back then?
The way the warden explained it,
you were already doing life-- no need to clog up the courts.
Come on, man, there's gotta be something you can do.
[gasping and coughing]
Hey, hey, take it easy.
Is Mollinax out?
Not yet.
There's been a little... complication.
Ah!
(Stabler) Why don't we start with you telling me what happened?
I was coming back from chow,
and these Aryan freaks jump a black guy.
His friends pile on, all hell breaks loose.
I was just walking by,
and this black guy comes at me with a six-inch shank.
I didn't even know the dude.
I tackle him, we both go down,
and he drops the shiv.
He was choking me out when I grabbed the shiv
and stabbed him.
In self-defense, man! You gotta believe me.
Are you gonna help me?
If your story checks.
Just take it easy.
[sighs]
They better hurry.
My hands are tied.
Mike Mollinax committed murder.
I've got witness statements from six people,
including prison staff, all of them backing
the claim of self-defense.
I don't have jurisdiction over crimes committed
outside the city. You could talk to the D.A. upstate.
I already did--he's backing the warden's decision.
So Mollinax does 34 years for a murder he didn't commit,
and now he's gonna do more time for a murder
he never would've committed if he hadn't been locked up in the first place?
Do you understand how crazy that is?
I know, but legally, there's nothing I can do.
Do something, Casey.
We're still waiting on the word.
Ah.
Jud...
Jud, listen to me.
I promise you--
I promise you we're gonna get Mollinax out.
Okay.
You don't have to fight anymore.
Rest.
No.
No, not now. Because...
I gotta see this through, I gotta...
You want me to ask the governor for a pardon?
I'll make the request.
I just need you to get him on the phone.
He'll take your call;
you guys have been friends since law school.
And as a friend, I would have to advise him
against getting involved.
The upstate D.A. has every right
to try Mollinax for murder.
The governor can't circumvent his authority.
So we let an innocent man rot in prison?
That's not what I'm saying.
But there is a solution
that will satisfy everyone.
Mollinax has to serve time for the murder he committed.
Yeah, he's already done 35 years.
I'm not suggesting he stay in prison.
The governor pardons Mollinax on condition
that he pleads guilty to the prison murder,
and gets sentenced to time served.
So the upstate D.A. and the warden get what they want, and Mollinax goes home.
Well done.
I will get you in to see the governor.
The rest is up to you.
(Stabler) This is taking too long.
Tierney's not gonna make it.
(Novak) Maybe we should tell him Mollinax is out
so he can die in peace.
I'm not gonna lie to the guy.
He wouldn't know.
I would.
[door opens] (aide) Ms. Novak.
The governor's agreed to grant your request.
Thank you.
Liv, we got it. See you soon.
Jud.
Wake up.
Jud.
Is he out? Yeah.
[exhales] Good, that's good.
Hey, do me a favor, will you?
Stick around.
Not gonna be long.
I'm not going anywhere.
[sobbing]
[wolf howling]