In New York City's war on crime,
the worst criminal offenders are pursued
by the detectives of the Major Case Squad.
These are their stories.
To our friend Taylor.
To Taylor. Taylor.
Who's leaving us for the New York City Fire Department.
FDNY!
Hey, Taylor, when were you going to tell us you passed?
You know me.
I like to keep things to myself.
Glad to hear it. To Taylor.
To Taylor!
Come back to bed.
In a minute.
You're gonna be all right, honey.
Just two more weeks and it'll be over.
I can't even get three hours a night.
You can bite these in half. It should do the job.
Don't want you falling off the fire truck.
Not a lot of secrets in here.
Gina.
This one's throwing up.
I'll be right there.
You're so lucky.
Come on.
All right, sweetie. Stay in touch. I'll talk to you soon.
So what'd she say about Taylor?
She's worried. He's not sleeping.
He's working out, running stairs.
She hopes he'll settle down once the new job starts.
Push it. Push it.
You dropped something!
Looks like a puncture wound to the throat.
Name's Taylor Kenna,
lives on the second floor with his wife and two kids.
And here he is on the fifth floor.
The fact you're here, we owe that to Kenna being a guard at Brooklyn Fed?
The Bureau of Prisons asked us in.
This was called in as a "police officer down. "
Yeah. By the patrolman who found Kenna.
We'd like to talk to him.
Ankle weights. I'd guess he was running the stairs.
This is Officer Liss.
Officer, on your radio call,
you made Kenna as a police officer?
The super said he was PD.
Anyone touch the body?
He was like that when I got here.
The reason why I ask is, you see these blood stains here?
It looks like the blood soaked into his pants from the inside.
You have any idea how blood got on the inside of Kenna's pants?
Maybe when you found the body, the pants were down.
Yeah, okay, his jingus was out.
I didn't think a brother officer needed his wife knowing
he got shivved getting hooker service.
Look, I thought he was a cop.
Next time, remember that you're a cop and do not disturb the crime scene.
Taylor? Oh, no! Taylor, no!
That would be the victim's wife.
He'd just passed his Fire Department exam.
He started in two weeks.
He carry ID when he went jogging?
His wallet.
They took his wallet?
He carried a picture of us, at the prom...
We'll try and get that picture back for you.
Now, you slept here?
It's a small place.
When the kids came, we wanted them to have their own room.
Okay. These scratches, they go from here, to here.
Is that because you moved the bed around?
Was one of you having trouble sleeping?
Taylor was. He even went and got pills from the infirmary at work.
He was worried about his new job?
He should've been walking on air.
He'd been wanting to leave his prison job for years.
Is that because he wasn't proud of working there?
Is that why he let the super think that he was a cop?
He never told anyone he was a correction officer.
Excuse me.
Smart. Lots of ex-cons with beefs around.
Kenna kept his wife's prom picture in his wallet,
trying to better himself.
They keep their home tidy.
No chaos. Good people live here.
So how did Kenna end up in a stairwell with his pants around his ankles?
No sign of saliva,
lubricant or other fluids on Mr. Kenna's genitals.
The pay date could've just been giving him a hand.
These lesions, one on each thigh...
We have a lesion 4 centimeters long by a half-centimeter wide.
Same on the right.
They go from pink at the top of the lesion to red at the bottom.
So, his pants were yanked down hard by the killer.
These marks were left by the killer's fingers.
Well, someone was anxious to get down to business.
Or maybe it was done after Kenna was stabbed.
The killer staged the scene to throw us off.
And humiliate him. A personal vendetta?
Jailhouse payback. Maybe that's what was keeping him up nights.
These are all the inmates released in the last year
who had contact with Kenna.
It doesn't seem like a lot. You got how many prisoners here? 2,000?
1,929.
Kenna worked C-Block, the Protective Custody Wing.
It's a small population, less than 100.
Unit Counselor Plumm, he's in charge of the COs on Kenna's shift.
Hi.
How would you rate Kenna as a correction officer?
The guy's good. No yellow cards for excessive force.
Do you think you could cherry-pick the inmates
that he had conflicts with?
Sure.
Somebody known for their knife work.
There's Lawrence Chulack.
He claimed that Kenna turned his back on him,
and that's a major diss in our world.
Paroled to Arizona. Long hike back to Brooklyn
for a little payback.
James Girunda. He was released six weeks ago.
Kenna busted him for "double clothes. " That's a shirt over a shirt.
An inmate can attack someone, then discard the top shirt to disguise himself.
Girunda was in for assaulting a mailman with a knife.
And is nicknamed "Chocolate Jimmy. " How'd he get that nickname?
Anything to do with the reason he was in the Protected Wing?
Yeah, his sexual activities caused disturbances in A-Block.
If Kenna harassed Chocolate Jimmy for being gay,
ending up dead with his pants down sounds like the appropriate payback.
Hmm.
Kenna, yeah, I remember him. Sure.
You had a dust-up with him for wearing double clothes.
He had me strip down to my kimono, so all the people in the galleries could see.
You probably liked that!
Shut up, Ma, they're talking to me!
Is your mom right, Jimmy, or did you feel humiliated?
I'm no Anna Nicole. I don't like being made a spectacle.
Then you'll be happy to know Guard Kenna was stabbed to death
in his building two days ago.
Do you know anything about that, Jimmy?
He doesn't know anything. He just sits around, eating biscuits.
"Get a hobby," I tell him.
I know things, Ma!
Ungrateful biscuit-eating son of a bitch.
You know, Jimmy, I think that your mother is right.
We mistook you for somebody who'd know something.
I do. I know they found Kenna with his pants down.
Sounds like you were there, Jimmy.
I was. I shivved him through the throat.
Music to our ears, Jimmy. You're under arrest.
This will teach you, Ma. Try living without me!
She's probably used to it.
You mind? I got my little bag there by the cot,
with my things I'm gonna need.
Yeah, sure. Hang on, guys.
Yeah, the kimono,
HIV meds, toiletries, makeup...
Everything for a long trip. Almost like he expected us.
Jimmy, when you were convicted, what'd they have on you?
Witnesses, fingerprints?
Nothing.
I couldn't live with the guilt.
I confessed. See you never, Ma!
Ingrate!
Maybe Jimmy does have a hobby. Confessing.
Yeah, I don't think we're the only ones that know that about him.
He was running up, I was running down,
I shivved him and that was that.
Which hand did you stab him with again?
The one I had to, to get the job done.
Jimmy, we think that someone put you up to taking the weight for this killing.
Maybe one of your prison pals called you, fed you some details.
You know they knew that you...
Well, you like taking credit for some things that you haven't done.
Jimmy, let's talk about this.
A compulsive confessor.
We had a lady at my old precinct
used to come in with a new confession every week,
just for the attention.
Can we find out who primed Mr. Girunda's pump?
We're tracking his comings and goings,
pulling his phone records, see who called him.
Maybe we'll find who put him up to this.
Are you sure that call came from my cell phone?
Because I got an unlocked phone and I paid cash for it.
Except every few weeks, Sami, when you load it up with more minutes,
you charge them on your credit card, which makes it traceable.
Wait, I'm all confused, because, like,
I lost the phone, and then I got a new one,
and this call's coming from the phone I lost.
Forget it, let's just talk to the other girl.
What other girl?
Well, there were a lot of calls on your... Was it lost phone?
To a girl in Queens.
Mostly late-night, long calls.
That sleaze.
Yeah.
Billy Duval. He's at the federal prison in Brooklyn.
He got me cash to give him a phone,
and I gave it to a guy who came by the office.
Who was the guy?
Some guy I don't know.
Well, you'd better tell your boss you're leaving early.
Cell phones in prison. I must've missed that commercial.
Yeah, the trick is, how do you get the cell phone
by the prison security?
It's impossible.
Except for a guard.
Yeah, I heard what happened about Guard Kenna.
Life's harsh in the free world.
Did you also hear Chocolate Jimmy's taking the rap?
I don't know him.
He was in the Protected Wing same time you were.
See that phone there, Billy?
Yeah.
They found it when they tossed your cell. Your prints are all over it.
Cell phones in here get passed around. Lots of fingers.
This one's your very own special cell phone, Billy.
Your girlfriend Sami admitted putting minutes on it.
Not for me. She likes cons. She's known here.
She like guards?
You know, guards who smuggle in cell phones?
Guards like Taylor Kenna?
Billy, five of those minutes were spent calling Chocolate Jimmy.
What'd you tell him?
I don't know him, he don't know me.
You can go.
You okay there, pal? Yeah.
Pain when he got up. Acne, not just on his face, but on his back.
Steroids. Wonder if he got them in the same place he got that cell phone.
Almost a third of the population of the Protected Wing are wise guys
from half a dozen families.
Kenna might've been in business with them, smuggling in contraband.
If he tried to rip them off...
Killing a guard, setting up a patsy,
projecting that kind of power in a prison,
nobody does it better than the Mob.
Agreed. But if you're saying he was killed to protect a criminal enterprise,
where's the criminal enterprise?
Well, you need proof of drug use?
Prisons do random drug-testing. Steroids would show up.
And the results of such tests would be a matter of public record.
Five percent of the population testing positive for drugs is standard for prisons.
The Protected Wing, they're getting less than 1%% positives.
It's a smaller unit, with stricter monitoring.
Who's doing the testing?
Nurse Lowe collects the samples.
She's been told you might have questions.
Check in with me when you're done.
Nurse Lowe?
I'm Detective Goren, this is Detective Eames.
Look, we were surprised by the good results on the drug tests in C-Block.
No surprise. Off the record?
Once a week, the computer generates a list of inmates to be tested.
It goes through a lot of hands.
The inmates get the heads-up, so they get to study for their tests.
They use masking agents to beat the tests.
If you say so.
Maybe the warden told you why we're here. Guard Kenna's murder?
He might've been involved in smuggling contraband into the prison.
If you think about anything and you want to talk to us...
Of his crew, Kenna was the good guy.
His "crew. " You mean his shift?
Paramedic science.
You studying to be a paramedic?
Six months to go.
You're counting the days. Just like Kenna.
His wife said he couldn't wait to get out of here.
I was happy for him.
You would think he would be happy, too.
But, instead, he wasn't sleeping.
He came in here for help. Do you know what was keeping him up?
No.
Was Kenna in a jam?
He was a good guy, he had a good heart.
Hey, Gina...
I don't have anything more to say.
She was rock-steady on the drug questions,
but as soon as we started in on Kenna, she got hinky.
She said he had a good heart,
said she was happy to see him getting out.
She wasn't talking about smuggling.
She was thinking about something else,
something she was terrified to talk about.
Kenna's nightmares,
I don't think they had anything to do with contraband.
Hey, our boy did okay with the cops.
He's sorry about the phone.
Carbonara?
Sleeping like babies, sir.
Maybe we should wake them for a feeding.
The guards on Taylor's shift...
I didn't know you could play Twister by yourself.
Last month, Brooklyn Fed says they tested 700 inmates,
or 36%% of the total population.
Now, if 700 is 36%%,
what is the total population?
1,946.
Their official manifest reports a population of 1,929.
They're off by 17 inmates.
Turnover could explain the discrepancy.
You know, there's 18 months here.
The total number of prisoners, it fluctuates,
but the discrepancy, it doesn't.
It's always 17 to 20 off.
Unofficial prisoners.
You know, the drug stats, they're broken down by cell block.
The discrepancy is in C-Block.
The Captain's a mathlete, he's gonna love this.
Captain, with all due respect, I'd like a word with this Detective Goren.
Now, look, I just want to know what all the questions were about.
Detective Mike Logan, meet Detective Eames and Detective Goren.
That nurse at Brooklyn Fed happens to be Detective Logan's girlfriend.
This yours?
Yeah.
You forgot it.
Detective Logan has a beef about the way she was treated.
She complained to you?
Well, not in so many words.
Well, that's not her style, right?
It takes a lot to get her to open up.
You telling me about my girlfriend?
I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way.
You're investigating the murder of a CO from her prison.
So, I'm gonna ask you again. Is she suspected of something?
You know we can't tell you that.
I've been a detective for 18 years.
I think I'd like to join this party.
As you said, we're Major Case.
Let me discuss it with my detectives.
No problem. Maybe I'll have some of your major coffee.
Please sit at my desk. It's one from the gun lockers.
So, this is the Logan that threw a punch at a city councilman 10 years ago.
Made him a hero to guys like my dad.
Not to the guys upstairs.
He's been buried in Staten Island ever since.
Say the word, I'll get rid of him.
No, I think that it would be good to have someone like him around,
you know, someone who Gina trusts.
Only if we can trust him.
Get me Lieutenant Van Buren at the 27.
You two have something for me?
Somebody's short-counting prisoners.
She says he's a hothead, he's honest,
and she's tried three times to get him back on her squad.
This short count. Correction officers never stop counting.
Counting is what COs always get right.
So secret prisoners?
If anybody'd know about secret prisoners,
it'd be the nurse who's treating them, but she won't talk to us.
Well, let's see how good Logan is.
Okay.
Logan.
Should I bring my toothbrush?
Your girlfriend Gina, you've been seeing her less than a year, six months?
Five months. I met her on the ferry to Staten Island, where she lives.
She ever mention to you the Protected Wing, C-Block?
It's where the dead guard worked.
Something's going on there.
Maybe your girlfriend knows, she's afraid to talk.
She didn't tell you that?
That's odd, you being her boyfriend.
Hey, I'm not resenting this at all.
Listen to yourself. You are too involved.
We don't gain anything adding you to the team.
Right. Okay.
No chance he'll stay out of it now.
I really wish you hadn't talked to them. Now can we just drop it?
I'm gonna take a shower and then we'll have dinner, all right?
Great.
Why's that open?
Were you snooping on me while I was out?
You gotta let me help you.
You want to help me? Just don't be here when I get out of the shower!
Okay. I'll get my stuff.
I'm leaving.
Come on, Gina. What are you...
It was an index card.
I left it in the book, so she wouldn't know I found it.
On one side was written, "Dear Mom, I'm fine,
"but I'm suffering from Uncle Harry's illness. " Signed, AZ.
On the other side was an address.
Jasmine Gabriel, Connecticut.
With an instruction, "Nurse, please mail. "
You figure a prisoner passed it to her?
Yeah, why the prisoner didn't use prison mail, I don't know.
Probably because he didn't have access to it.
One of the unofficial prisoners.
We think Brooklyn Fed is keeping prisoners off the books.
Why? We don't know.
Whatever's going on, your girlfriend, she feels conflicted about it.
She didn't mail the card, but she didn't throw it away, either.
If she's wrong, I'm gonna wanna know.
And if she's in trouble, I gotta help her.
We get it.
So, I figured I've earned my ride to see AZ's mom, right?
My son? He's fine.
He's at school, Tufts. Why?
Ma'am, we found a letter that your son wrote to you.
An employee of a federal prison had it.
So are you sure your son's been in school all this time?
Well, last summer, he was hitchhiking to a party in Boston.
He disappeared. Three months later, he called.
He said he met a girl and he decided to take time off from school.
Your son's name, AZ, now that's for Aziz?
Your family is Lebanese Christian.
Presbyterian since 1984. My son and daughter were born here.
Mrs. Gabriel, in the letter,
your son mentioned an Uncle Harry.
Now, he wrote that he had Uncle Harry's illness.
What was his illness, Mrs. Gabriel?
My late husband's uncle,
the Syrians imprisoned him
for drawing an anti-government cartoon.
He wasn't allowed to see anyone, not even family.
Eight years they kept him.
I got busted for hitchhiking on the interstate. I was totally in the wrong.
Hitchhiking doesn't get you three months in federal prison.
So, did you get accused of anything else? Anything?
They accuse you of being a terrorist?
No. I'm fine. Everything's fine.
Everything's fine, but you dropped out of Tufts.
I didn't drop out, sir. I took a leave of absence.
Aziz, come on, man. What happened to you?
Nothing. When you were in prison,
you passed a note to a nurse. It didn't read like nothing.
I just wanted to let my mother know I was okay, feeling great.
Great, like your Uncle Harry?
Here, let me give you a hand.
You all right? Is something wrong with your right arm?
No. No.
Look, in prison, do you remember a guard named Kenna?
Or Plumm, Unit Counselor Plumm?
I don't remember any names.
I have to get the fish back in the tank.
Okay.
His right arm, it's mostly immobile.
Maybe a radial nerve injury from being turned the wrong way.
What are you saying?
Maybe Uncle Harry's illness included torture.
There's also his body language.
You know, the way he reacted
when I mentioned the guards, even his choice of work.
He's re-enacting his trauma.
Oh, this sounds like a lot of guessing to me.
Prisoners are tortured for months on end, no one says anything,
no one sees anything?
We don't expect you to be objective.
I know this girl, and that's all you need to know.
Thanks for the ride. I'll take the train back.
The floors can get slippery. Next time, be careful where you step.
I'll get you a painkiller.
He doesn't need it.
Thank you, Cyrus. Call me next time you're in town.
Aziz Gabriel was held under a federal material witness warrant,
until it was determined he had no relevant testimony to offer.
A witness to what?
My contact at Justice couldn't tell me,
except to say it was terrorism-related.
Oh, the great catch-all.
They held this kid, this American citizen, for three months,
with no charges, no lawyer.
Didn't we fight a revolution against this kind of thing?
The other prisoners at Brooklyn Fed, the unofficial ones.
Same story?
Your guess is as good as mine.
The Feds aren't required to release the names of the detainees,
their whereabouts, even the reason for their detention.
Prisoners without names, without lawyers.
No wonder the guards see them as fair game for abuse.
If Kenna was having nightmares about it, enough to change jobs,
maybe the rest of his crew was worried he might blow the whistle on them.
If I'm going to present the federal government with allegations of torture
against prisoners that don't officially exist,
I want to be bulletproof.
Bring me armor.
Taylor's the one that got killed.
He didn't do anything wrong.
Carley, if you're worried about losing your survivor benefits over this,
we can help.
But anything Taylor told you, we need to know.
He wasn't comfortable with it.
The smuggling and the phones and the outside food.
For tip money!
Isn't that what you wanted to know?
There were other things about special prisoners.
Two years ago, he said they got these Arab prisoners in a special wing.
He said that Kurt Plumm, the unit counselor,
he said he did something stupid to one of them.
Anything since?
No.
Taylor stopped talking about it, and then he started not sleeping.
We need proof of what was going on, Carley.
Maybe you know one of the crew who might talk to us?
I've gotten no calls from any of them since Taylor died.
Except that somebody's been leaving an envelope, once a week,
stuffed under the door.
Fifty bucks. Taylor's tip money.
How was the train?
I prefer the ferry. Where you at with this?
Well, the kid was held on a federal material witness warrant
in a legal no-man's land.
And he had company, courtesy of the Patriot Act.
Oh, the Patriot Act. Yeah, well, I read that under its original title.
Nineteen Eighty-Four.
One of Kenna's crew has been slipping the widow some guilt money.
Somebody's grown a conscience. I wonder who.
Funny how bad apples always find each other.
Well, maybe it's the barrels that make the apples bad.
The Stanford Prison study,
when they divided the students into prisoners, guards...
Within six days, the guards had the prisoners stripped down naked, wearing hoods.
Sounds familiar.
Ordinary students turned into sadists
by giving them power over other human beings.
This one, Rollie Clay, wife, two kids, sings in the choir.
Started on the job same day as Taylor, lives in the same neighborhood.
You figure they were close?
Well, if he can't bring himself to stay in touch with the widow,
he's probably not slipping money under her door.
How about this guy? An ex-Navy man, Doug Hausman,
brags on his application that he worked to control his blinking
to stay alert during combat.
Oops!
Combat was four years in Navy Band.
Doesn't get my vote as a Good Samaritan.
Well, that leaves Hector De La Cruz. Criminology major,
started part-time at Brooklyn Fed, joined Plumm's crew in 2002,
quit school three months later.
Two months ago, he changed the beneficiary on his life insurance.
He named his church.
I see long hours in the confessional.
I don't have fifty bucks to give to anybody.
I got a student loan to pay off.
Come on, kid, I think you know what happened to Kenna
and I think you know why.
He was mugged for his wallet. That's what I know.
The prison said that today is your day off. Where you going?
I go dancing.
In your boots?
What do you mean? You got all these fancy shoes here.
You put your watch in here, even your Jesus-on-a-chain.
All your personal jewelry.
Come on, Hector. You're going to work on your day off, aren't you?
Yeah, Rollie... Rollie got an emergency with one of his kids,
he's running a couple of hours late. I'm just filling in.
Now I gotta go, okay?
We checked. Rollie Clay showed up for work on time.
Sounds like the crew's going to battle stations.
I couldn't get through to Gina, but I talked to her mother.
Gina told her she's having to stay late at work.
Well, if the guards are closing ranks,
they know that she can sink them.
Look, we gotta get her out of there.
First you gotta get in the prison.
Well, what might get us in the door is a material witness warrant.
For Nurse Lowe? I like your sense of irony, Detective.
Consider it done.
And maybe we can do something about the unofficial prisoners.
Let me have your weapons, phones. You know the drill.
I guess if we need one, we can always borrow from an inmate.
You expect me to issue writs of habeas corpus
for unnamed prisoners?
I've never heard of such a thing.
The writ is meant to protect the innocent, Your Honor.
If we can issue John Doe indictments to arrest unknown suspects,
why not issue writs to protect the unknown innocent?
But these are federal prisoners.
Being abused by citizens of the State of New York.
Our responsibility is the most immediate, Your Honor.
I don't want your protection, Mike.
You two don't belong here.
Gina, you can give me an argument when we're out. We're leaving.
I can't leave. They're bringing in a sick prisoner.
Who? Kurt and the gang?
That sounds like lockdown.
Double deuce. Something's really gone wrong.
We're out of here. Let's go.
We have a writ signed by a judge. You must let us in.
I said the facility is in lockdown, sir. Nobody in, nobody out.
Just straight this way?
Yeah. Through these gates to the staging area.
Locked out.
Gina, where you going?
We're in lockdown. And what are they doing here?
She's in custody. She's under our protection.
She's leaving with us. No. You're not leaving, Gina.
We got an inmate that needs medical attention.
He's spitting up blood, Gina.
Well, we'II...
We'll go with her.
I'm sorry, Detectives, you're not authorized to be in the galleries.
Gina, this guy might be dying.
There's no sick prisoner.
There's no sick prisoner, is there, Kurt?
What kind of party have you got planned for her?
Your buddies, the wise guys, are they going to take care of her?
Like they took care of Kenna?
You know, for being so far away from the free world, Detectives,
you're awful mouthy.
You know that people get caught out during lockdown,
they get lost, they go through a door that didn't lock,
and then like that, they're in with the animals.
They get eaten alive.
Okay, okay. We understand what you're saying,
but I guarantee that we're gonna take one of you with us.
And the ones we don't,
well, that's what the death penalty's for, gentlemen.
Gina, tell us what you saw.
Tell us what you saw this animal do to those prisoners.
Go on, Gina, tell him.
I saw prisoners with symptoms of malnutrition and vitamin deficiencies
from being denied food.
Those people were always going on hunger strikes.
What else, Gina?
They were suffering from exposure to cold.
They said their clothing and blankets had been taken away from them.
They had untreated cuts and burns,
injuries to their feet, dislocated shoulders.
One of them was bleeding from his rectum.
He said he'd been penetrated with a pencil during a cavity search.
A pencil?
Now, how does someone get to the point
where they do that to another person?
Huh? Hector?
You got a major in Criminology, right?
You know all about this stuff.
You don't talk to me, man.
The pathology of power, you know, you give power to a person over others,
they become addicted to it.
They like people doing what they tell them,
and they don't like people who have no power,
like prisoners.
No, I don't remember that stuff.
You don't remember yourself in college?
Studying the nature of evil?
You forget about that guy?
You remember him now? Come on, man.
Oh, man, what the hell?
Yeah, what the hell.
Get a grip, Hector!
How about you, Rollie?
You were close to Kenna.
All right, let's shut these guys up.
Close to him and his wife, right?
His wife said that you haven't called since Kurt...
Since Kurt had him killed.
Why is that? Is that because you feel remorse?
Because you're still a good man? Still a good man.
Rollie, let's go.
Look what he's turned you guys into, a bunch of errand boys
for wise guys, who are getting fat and happy,
while you guys are starving and beating prisoners
that haven't even been charged with a crime.
For what, Rollie?
I've read your personnel file.
You belong to your church choir.
What do you sing about?
It's about forgiveness, repentance.
What are you waiting for? This is our prison.
Kurt, they're cops. Cops.
I'm not down for this.
Pick that up. Pick it up.
They're gonna put you in prison
and you know what the animals are gonna do to us.
I'll do my time in solitary.
But I'm not killing cops.
Come on, man. What, man? You were in the Navy.
Why?
You wanted to be brave, you wanted to serve for your country, right?
How did this guy sell it to you? Some kind of payback?
Or patriotic duty? Is that what it was?
We were meting out justice. Doug knows that.
He knows what real bravery is!
He was in the service. He saw it there.
We saw it there.
You do the brave thing now.
Unlock that gate.
Doug, you do that, we're done.
I'll walk you out.
Good man, good man.
Logan.
Come on, we're all leaving.
I'll ride with her.
That guy?
He would've been worth another 10 years of Staten Island.
I'll see you when we file reports.
Our own citizens, on our very own soil.
At least sooner or later, everybody gets their day in court.