Previously on Your Honor...
The boy you hit is Jimmy Baxter's son.
I can keep you safe if no one ever hears about it.
Robin's car, I need it to disappear.
Drop the key behind the front left wheel.
- You alone, Little Mo? - Yeah.
Good. Listen up.
Got a job for you, Kofi.
Every morning, there's her car
just sitting there.
Like a bruise.
You want me to let it go?
No. Sorry.
Wrong cop.
- Against the wall. - We found the car.
Well, that's-that's great news.
What the hell is that?
I love Vivian Maier.
Yeah, I-I really love her.
Dark, suspenseful music
You can tell me what I want to know now
or you can tell me later.
Kofi Jones knocked Rocco Baxter
off his motorcycle and left him bleeding to death
- on the roadside. - I need a favor.
- Why him? - We both know the difference
between you and a public defender.
How does the accused plead?
Guilty.
Adam.
Ah, the fields are crying out
It's Jubilee
We sold ourselves for love
But now we're free
I'm so sorry for that ghost
I made you be
Only one of us was real
And that was me
I heard the snake
Was baffled by his sin
He shed his scales
To find the snake within
But born again is born
Without a skin
The poison enters
Into everything
And I wish there was a treaty we could sign
I do not care who takes
This bloody hill
I'm angry and I'm tired
All the time
I wish there was a treaty
Between your love and mine
I've seen you change the water into wine
I've seen you change it
Back to water, too
I sit at your table every night
He got better.
I try, but...
Closer to the end,
the better his voice.
You got that right.
Raging against the dying of the light.
I do not care who takes this bloody hill...
Who said that?
Somebody said that, right?
I'm tired all the time...
Don't think I've seen you in here before.
I wish there was a treaty
Between your love and mine...
Unhappy ending?
Hmm?
Your marriage?
In the street, it's Jubilee
Two more here.
You got it.
Dylan Thomas.
Leland Munroe.
Good to meet you.
Only one of us was real
Hit him!
What?
Hit him, motherfucker!
Hey! Hey! Hey, come on, stop!
- Stop! - Fucking hit him.
He does that shit every night.
He's in your fucking cell, so you fucking hit him.
I'm gonna lay some truth on you, Leland.
I didn't come here tonight to drink away my pain.
I came to do something about it.
You lost me, Dylan.
I went to your gas station tonight.
Wait...
I got there just as you were leaving.
And I followed you here.
You fucking followed me?
Yeah.
My wife is cheating on me.
Oh, shit.
And I've suspected it for a while.
You know, the little things that...
- I remember. - Mm.
I remember.
20 years we've been married.
And I'm reduced to snooping around in her fucking purse.
What'd you find?
Prepaid credit card.
So I tracked the charges.
There was a $32 charge at your gas station.
October 9, 9:30 in the morning.
So she came into my station,
bought some gas, filled up.
She didn't have her car that morning, Leland. I had it.
Oh, goddamn.
You know what the next charge was on the credit card?
Hmm?
The Destiny Inn Motel.
Oh, fuck me.
Shit.
That is not a classy place.
Hourly rates.
Well, so, she paid for the motel.
She paid for the bastard's gas at my station.
Do you know who this piece of shit is?
Well, that's where you come in.
You can't hide from us, pin dick.
Any second now... 8:30.
- 8:50. - N-No. Stop, stop.
Is that him?
- No. - Huh?
You okay, Dylan?
You know what it is, you know...
You know what I can't take?
What?
- You. - Huh?
The kindness of strangers and...
It's okay.
You're a good man.
You're a fucking honorable man.
Leland, would you give me a second?
I want to get this over.
Yeah. Sure.
Sure. Yeah.
Soft, somber music
Shit.
Leland.
This saved anywhere else besides the hard drive?
Some server in the sky, maybe?
There's only one server in my sky, Dylan.
That's the big man Himself.
Nope. Nope, what you see is what I got.
Dark, pulsing music
What the fuck are you doing?
I-I'm just...
I don't know.
What's your name, son?
Adam.
Desiato.
You're related?
Is that a tough question somehow?
- He's my dad. - You know it's not cool
taking pictures of a secure facility, right?
Yeah.
Sorry.
Don't let that happen again, a'ight?
I'm thinking probably the last thing you want
is a smart lawyer fucking with you.
You made a decision to plead guilty.
I respect that.
I'm here for one reason only:
to keep the number of years down.
The sentencing range is five to 30.
There's a hell of a lot of discretion built in there.
So what's said on your behalf really matters.
Your early guilty plea helps.
Having no criminal record really helps.
Leaving a kid your own age
bleeding to death in the road...
...and then stealing the cell phone
he was trying to call 911 on,
not so helpful.
Appearances matter. It shouldn't but it does.
A good haircut and a clean shave.
And how's that gonna happen?
You've got friends in here.
Little Mo paying for you?
I'm pro bono.
There's no such thing as a free lunch.
Not even in Latin.
Wait. You know Latin?
Lawyer Latin.
Ever since that mean-ass judge called me "doli incapax"
when I was ten years old.
Too young to know wrong from right.
- What were you charged with? - Usual shit.
Skateboarding while Black or whatever.
Whole courtroom laughing at me.
People still call me Dolly sometimes.
NOLA PD been good to you?
- So what am I looking at? - We play it straight, ten.
- And if we don't? - I go to the DA.
With what?
There's an urban myth.
Shreveport cops using an old beater car to put suspects in.
You heard that?
They lock the doors, hog-tie the poor bastards,
then they let in the gas.
- Stop. - Not a mark on them.
Only thing that shows?
The eyes.
Red, itchy.
Nothing for a smart lawyer to fuck with.
- Stop! - Sure.
Urban myth, right?
I ain't changin' my plea.
You do what you do, but I ain't flipping my plea.
It won't ever come to that.
Low, suspenseful music
music grows louder
I'm your boss, Michael.
It's my job to tell you you look terrible.
You know why you look terrible?
Field trips to the Lower Ninth.
Trials that shouldn't be trials.
Probation reports when nobody needs them.
- Too much justice? - Oh, don't you get
all moral high ground with me, Michael.
Neither of us has the energy for that thinned-out
fucking oxygen that you're living off up there.
It's basic math... we have an unbelievable case load,
and you are taking too long to get through your work.
I'm telling you this
because I love you.
Stop clearing your throat, Sarah, and say it.
A reporter from The Washington Post called me yesterday
to comment on his story.
- Know what that story's about? - No.
Murderers and rapists freed pretrial
because NOLA judges are backlogged.
Every judge in this building is about to take a massive hit
so that Michael Desiato can sleep at night.
We're good to go, Judge.
I'll see you later, Michael.
Well, thank you for joining us, Judge.
- Don't do it, Warden. - I thought judges
- were supposed to be impartial. - You are confusing impartiality
with something else.
Carlo Baxter is a vicious, dangerous racist.
Those are very loose terms you're bandying about, Judge.
With respect, those are terms
representing an impartial description of the truth.
The motion is for Mr. Baxter
to attend his brother's funeral.
We're not asking for any favors here,
just some basic human compassion.
Judge, do you have the court reporter's notes from the trial?
I don't need them.
Baxter's defense was that he wasn't there,
that it was someone else who snapped Justin James's spine
and put him in a wheelchair
and then somehow planted Carlo's DNA
all over the victim and the scene.
- Is she there? - Who?
- The mother. - Mrs. Baxter's present, yes.
- Why? - Gina Baxter said
that her son was with her all day.
Which makes him and his mother proven liars.
We object to the tone
and, frankly, the veracity of her characterization.
- Do you object to proven liars? - Why don't we get back
to some facts instead of slinging mud around?
Mr. Baxter has been an exemplary prisoner.
Exemplary.
Now, it would be just cruel not to let him be
with his family when they bury his brother.
And here's the thing.
There are only two weeks left on his sentence.
What kind of idiot would he be to mess things up now?
The kind of idiot who comes within an inch
of murdering a 15-year-old boy for no other reason
than he doesn't like the color of his skin.
The Baxter family is happy to meet the full cost
of transport and security for Carlo to attend
his brother's funeral... If, God willing,
you see fit to grant the motion.
Is that the best you can do, Mr. Zander?
The old combination punch of cash and God?
I'll retire to make my decision.
Man, what you up on?
Possession. Single wrap of diesel.
- Mm. - You?
Eh, some bullshit shoplifting.
Murder.
Okay, killer.
The New York Times, I'm thinking, would be
- my paper of choice for this. - For what?
I've been working at a white-shoe firm
- doing white-collar crime. - I heard.
Fifteen years ago, when I left the Public Defender's office,
police beat people up,
got what they wanted, nobody looking or caring.
Now? It doesn't exist, right?
He pleaded guilty.
- After he was gassed. - And he had legal advice.
45 seconds from an exhausted PD.
Advice is advice. It's done.
Seventeen-year-old who killed mob boss's son
faced mock execution
at a New Orleans Police Department black site.
- Headline writes itself. - So you're telling me
this Kofi Jones kid wants to change his plea to not guilty,
and invite the rest of the world to just watch what happens next?
You took the words right out of my mouth.
Flipping his plea, taking on the NOPD
and the Baxter family?
That's got to come from him, right?
Warden, I wanted to thank you.
For the religious instruction my son has received.
I know he'll leave here with a structure for his life
provided by Jesus Christ and his teachings.
May God bless you.
It's an unconditional gift.
If you grant my son permission...
if you allow him home
to be with us when we bury Rocco,
then take the costs out of this.
The remainder is for the refurbishment
of your beautiful chapel.
And if you don't let him home,
the whole amount is for the chapel.
Pulsing, atmospheric music
Kofi Jones.
You said he'd go down easy.
That's right.
He's got a lawyer now.
Fancy sister.
Big firm.
That's just some pro bono bullshit.
You know all the big firms do it.
It don't mean nothing.
She's up in the DA's face.
Threatening a trial.
Telling him your boy's ready to flip his plea.
I got eyes on him in O.P.P.
Your facts are backwards.
My boy's staying strong.
All right.
Hope so.
This is the coolest spot
in the coolest spot in New Orleans.
I suppose y'all think
what my man Deandre here has accomplished
is something to behold.
Black-owned business.
Giving back to the community.
Oh, no. See, see, see, that just a little appetizer.
I'm talking about Black-owned Gentilly.
St. Roch.
- St. Roch, too. - Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
- Marigny! - Oh, no, no, no, brother.
That ship done sailed.
Garden District.
- They gonna love me, too. - Yeah, them, too.
- Come on in, brother. - Uh-oh.
- It's all good. - Hey, all right.
All right. All right.
It's simple, folks.
Don't shop where you can't work.
Wait a minute, wait a minute.
Do I got to hand out Q-Tips? What I just say?
Don't shop where you can't work.
- Oh, yeah! - I heard that.
I'm punching one-handed as Congressman.
Make me mayor and see what happens.
Lee Delamere?
What the hell you thinking, Michael?
She'll get the case tossed,
and the whole thing dies, Charlie.
You sure?
Oh, Jesus Christ.
And if she doesn't,
you think she's just gonna up and walk away?
She's a Michael Desiato protégée, for God's sake.
Her next move? She gets the kid to open up on this,
explore his goddamn options.
He starts feeling loquacious.
- She starts digging up shit. - No, she's looking the DA
right in the eye, and my money's on the DA blinking.
- Now, if-if Kofi walks... - Your money's on it?
What the hell is this, a night at the fucking casino?
You playing roulette with my life?
- I've got this, Charlie. - I don't think you have.
What have you gotten me into here, Michael?
- This is a felony. - I'm sorry. Okay?
- Listen to me. - No, no, no, no. Michael.
- Listen to me. - Michael. No, no!
Fuck you!
Fuck you.
I'm sorry.
I'm very sorry.
And you're right.
I never should have...
Whatever happens, I can manage Lee Delamere.
You fucking her?
You better be.
You need to be fucking her to manage her.
Jesus, who are you? W-Why are you talking like that?
Because you give me no choice.
Because my career and everything I've worked for
could be over because my best friend
just threw me in the fucking deep end.
I got it.
I got all of it, Charlie.
They come here to die.
Just drop dead
off of the wall once a week.
And always on a Monday.
Just when my man Razim here is on "clean up the yard" duty.
- Take that. - Hmm.
Like a gift from heaven.
You know your bid yet?
Nah.
Well...
whatever they hand down,
hearing the number's gonna settle you.
Hmm.
Till you get there.
Where?
B.B. Rayburn. Wade, maybe.
Most likely Angola.
Meantime, we got your back.
You feel me?
Little Mo sent me word.
I got you.
Wow.
These are really good.
He's doing great. He's got such sensitivity
and a real eye for detail.
His mother would be proud of him.
Aw. That's nice.
It's what I think.
And very hardworking.
Yeah, he's...
he's really got something.
When routine bites hard
And ambitions are low
And resentment rides high
But emotions won't grow
And we're changing our ways
Taking different roads
Then love
Love will tear us apart again
Love
Love will tear us apart
Again
Does he seem... distracted to you?
Maybe a little.
Anything you could put your finger on?
Slow, suspenseful music
I mean, normally,
he would tell me, but...
Is he seeing anyone?
I mean, does he have a girlfriend?
Did he tell you that he has a girlfriend?
Because
if he didn't, it's not really appropriate for me to...
Oh, I'm sorry. You're right. Sorry.
What happened to his shoulder?
Oh, yeah. You saw it.
Well, uh, getting better.
We were wrestling.
Stupid, I know, but we've been doing it for years,
and, well, just happened.
Ms. Latimer, I've been meaning to speak to you.
When his mother died,
I know you stepped in.
I know you looked after him.
And that means a lot to me,
and I appreciate that.
So...
thank you.
So, how'd it go?
There's a word everybody's been too scared to use.
What's the word?
"Torture."
Jesus.
Okay.
- Okay. - He thought
they were gonna kill him.
Well, you can't just stand up in court and say,
"Your Honor, my client's been tortured.
Please reduce his sentence."
I mean, Harris is 100% pro-cop.
He spends half his drinking life drinking with cops,
so he's not gonna let anyone
assert anything like that in his own courtroom
without backing it up.
So, evidence.
What have you got?
Okay, so...
where does that leave you?
Well, the judge will hate you and hate your client
because you're besmirching the good name
of his drinking buddies in the NOPD.
So, end result,
possibly more years than less.
What... Why are you smiling?
I remember how you used to test my arguments
by taking the other side
and arguing the hell out of things.
- Mm-hmm. - Uh-huh.
You know, of all the clerks over all the years,
I got to say...
- Don't embarrass me. - Were in the top four.
- Five. - Four?
- Yeah. Well... - Thanks.
Okay. So,
how are you going to win?
The DA is in his office right now
asking himself one of those questions
that comes along roughly once in the career
of a man like him.
Does he want a police brutality scandal in the city,
or would he prefer it went away?
And the only way he can make it go away
is if he drops the charges.
Slow, somber music
- Southpaw. - What?
Thanks.
All right, just a couple more.
Left-handed. You've never heard that before?
No.
- Uh... - One more.
- Hey. - Hey. Uh...
She's gonna need yours, too.
Forensics.
So I can eliminate your prints from the car.
Yeah.
We can do the, uh, witness statements now, too.
One-stop police work.
The world needs more cops like you.
Never been easy around flattery, Judge.
Makes me think somebody wants something.
That's what I like about you.
There you go again.
Listen, uh, would you be breaking any rules
if I offered you a beer?
Well, only if I accepted it.
All right, well, I'll tell you what I'm doing here.
I am going to place this bottle onto the table...
...and what happens to it after that
is not my jurisdiction.
I like your style, Your Honor.
So, technically,
I'm... supposed to take you separately,
but...
you know.
So, um...
the date the car was stolen.
October 9.
And...
where was it parked? Who drove it last?
Um...
You know, truth is, I don't remember.
Do you?
Yeah, people don't remember stuff.
I mean, unless they... have a reason to.
I... Put a gun to my head, I couldn't swear
I locked the front door this morning.
I-I lied.
Sorry?
What do you... what do you mean?
Uh, t-to the cop.
Uh, the one who drove Dad home from the impound.
I-I told him I'd never driven Mom's car.
But I-I do drive it.
I mean...
I-I did drive it.
Why'd you lie to him?
Uh...
B-Because, um...
I used to drive it when I was underage.
At 15. Which is pretty illegal, I know.
A-And Dad being a judge and all, I just...
When the cop asked me if I drove it,
that popped into my head, and...
I lied to him.
I rode shotgun.
Nighttime loops around the Superdome parking lot.
I think the statute of limitations
has run out on that, Adam.
But... your dad,
I'm not so sure, being a judge and all.
Mea culpa.
Uh, Latin for "I'm sorry"?
No. Latin for "my fault."
All right.
If you want to take a look at these.
One job.
One fucking job.
Keep his family safe.
Boss.
I bought him the bike, Frank.
Wasn't the bike that killed him.
Tell that to Gina.
It was Desire payback.
For... a fight?
The kid was Desire-affiliated.
Part of the benefits package.
You get beat down,
they make sure the other guy gets it worse.
It wasn't a fight.
Carlo kicked the shit out of him.
But why would they wait all this time to come back at us?
Fuck knows how these people think.
What I do know is...
that if we do nothing,
we look weak.
They came for us,
we take it to them.
That's how it goes.
Then where does it end?
We go big.
We go big once,
and that ends it.
Soft, ominous music
She's pretty great.
You know?
Ms. Latimer.
Don't you think?
Hey.
Mom's Leica.
What about it?
I think it's terrific that you're using it.
And I-I agree with Ms. Latimer.
Stop calling her that.
Well, it's her name.
She lets us call her by her first name.
Which is...?
Frannie.
Frannie. Okay.
Frannie. I agree with Frannie.
I think your mom would be very proud of you.
Don't do that.
Don't do what?
Act like everything is normal.
W... Like where I'm gonna go to college
and how I'm doing in school matters.
Of course it matters, Adam.
Please, just...
can you not go down this road?
I-I have to.
I mean, I-I have to, 'cause you're not listening to me, Dad.
I mean...
Do you know what day it is tomorrow?
Yeah.
It's Saturday.
Yeah, Saturday.
And life will go on,
and Saturday will be Saturday,
except that they are burying Rocco Baxter, Dad.
Should I just pretend that isn't happening?
Yes!
That's what you do.
You have to move on.
Fuck.
He will be here.
I'm not burying my son without my son.
Mom.
Slow, percussive music
Please rise.
O God,
by whose mercy the faithful departed find rest,
bless this grave, and send your holy angel to watch over it.
As we bury here the body of our brother,
deliver his soul from every bond of sin,
that he may rejoice in you with your saints forever.
Through Christ our Lord.
Amen.
To you, O Lord, we commend the soul
of Rocco, your servant;
in the sight of this world he is now dead;
in your sight he may live forever.
Forgive whatever sins he committed through human weakness
and in your goodness grant him everlasting peace.
Through Christ our Lord.
O God, by whose mercy the faithful departed
find rest...
...bless this grave,
and send your holy angel to watch over it.
As we bury here the body of our brother,
deliver his soul from every bond of sin,
that he may rejoice in you with your saints forever.
Through Christ our Lord.
Amen.
To you, O Lord,
we commend the soul of Rocco, your servant...
In the sight of this world
he is now dead.
In your sight, he may live forever.
Forgive whatever sins he committed through human weakness
and in your goodness grant him everlasting peace.
Through Christ our Lord.
Shit.
Merciful Lord,
you know the anguish of the sorrowful;
you are attentive to the prayers of the humble.
Hear your people who cry out in their need.
Ma'am, we've got to keep at least 25 yards.
I'm his mother.
And his mother.
Let me hold my son.
Ma'am. Please.
If you don't move back, we're gonna have
to take Mr. Baxter away.
My boy.
That's my boy.
- Ma'am, I'm gonna need you to... - Don't touch her.
Don't you put your hands on me.
You have mothers.
Hmm?
You all have mothers.
- Royce here. - Uh, yes, sir.
Calling from the PD's office.
Ah, got you clerking on the weekends, huh?
Yes, sir. Anyway, we noticed
that you've got a prisoner headed your way.
Well, son of a bitch!
Uh, you get an aggressive defense...
- What happened? - Oh.
Yeah, hang on.
No, I don't have any transfers today.
Well, it-it...
must be last minute.
Got himself a compassionate release.
Anyway, he's headed your way now.
What the fuck is that?!
All right, the name is Baxter.
- What? - Carlo Baxter.
Will you do us a favor and move...
uh, Jones, Kofi Jones, into protective custody?
Oh, yeah, he's the hit-and-run perp, right?
Yeah, uh, he has to be separated
until Baxter goes back to Angola.
I got it. We'll "keep away" him.
Good, good. Great.
Uh, that name again is "Kofi Jones."
And thank you, Sheriff.
Damn!
It's Carlo Baxter.
What?
The sentencing hearing.
What about it?
The DA is coming.
Robinson, in person.
He blinked, Michael.
They're dropping the charges.
- Oh, my God. - We did it.
You did it.
Kofi goes free in the morning.
Jones, let's go.
What for?
The infirmary. Intake physical.
They stripped me down when I got here.
Looked up every hole. What else they want with me?
Your sheet says "intake physical,"
so away we fucking go.
Somber, haunting music
Hey!
Hey! Hey! Hey!
Hey! Stop!
Stop!
Suspenseful music
What's going on in here?
They're trying to kill me!
Kid's crazy as a shit-house rat.
We're just doing our jobs here.
Come back later.
These are amazing.
- You wanted honest. - Yes.
Are these honest?
Absolutely.
'Cause I'm a good liar.
Adam...
You know why my shoulder's like it is?
I hit someone.
- You got in a fight? - With my car. I...
- Wait. You... - Shut up. Shut up. Please.
- Let me do this. - Adam...
I can't know this.
You can't tell me this, because if you do...
That kid, the one that got killed...
- No, Adam... - It was me.
I was driving... I... and I had a stupid asthma attack, and...
and I couldn't breathe,
and I dropped my stupid inhaler, and...
And he was making this gurgling... sound.
My shoulder was all fucked up, and I...
He was alive?
He-he was, but then he just...
His eyes just went... you know?
I was looking at him, and he-he just couldn't...
He couldn't hang on.
And I left him.
I left him there.
Slow, haunting music
There's all different kinds
of juice in this world.
There's the juice we got in here
for getting small shit done.
There's the juice you need out on the streets.
And then, there's Baxter juice.
That shit plays everywhere.
Inside, outside.
And it plays on both sides of the law.
You can't go up against that juice and win.
Not you, not me, not Desire.
So what do I do?
You tell me why I shouldn't be in a cage or a fucking coffin.
It's okay.
Let's go.
I'm Kofi Jones.
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