Hello?
Hi, daddy!
Mom!
Huh! What's wrong? What's wrong?
It's dad.
He said to wake you up.
All right.
Go get dressed, okay? We've got to go.
Okay.
One of the rules of divorce is you no longer get to wake me up.
Oh, my God.
No, I get paid on Fridays. Always have, always will.
I will write you a check on Saturday.
That's the best I can do, okay?
Goodbye.
We're out of food again!
I'm going to get groceries after work!
Got it.
Eat your toast.
We're late!
We're out the door!
Got a second?
Yeah.
All right, what about that clinical trial at Hopkins?
It's no longer an option.
We crossed that bridge two months ago.
But she's a fighter so I can't give up, ok?
- She has stage four pancreatic cancer, Terry. - I know that.
It's spread to her liver and her lungs.
She can't eat. Her weight loss alone is unsustainable.
She's already lived much longer than we ever thought she would.
Whatever treatment we do now
will just be postponing the inevitable.
Your wife is dying, Terry. And she knows it.
She's putting on a brave face. She's doing it for you.
Take her home
for hospice.
Let her last days be about her.
Not about you.
Can't do it right now, brother.
Don't dick me around, Jack.
A gunshot in your building.
"Jack"? Who's Jack?
You're Jack. Talk, Jack.
I don't hear nothing.
That's a .44 caliber hole in his head.
You would've heard that bullet.
This is the tenderloin!
Have fun.
Hey, hey.
Relax, bang.
I'm not going to touch nothing.
Guy's got more groceries than I do.
Enough Fentanyl to kill an elephant.
- Hey. - Hey, what's up?
You good?
Yeah, I'm good.
Does this guy have a name?
Kevin Neyers. Age 50.
Dry patterns puts the time of death
between midnight and 2:00.
The splatter marks puts the shooter close range,
two to three feet.
Shot him dead in the face.
Some serious artwork, huh?
The neighbor across the street.
Terry?
Yeah? Let's go.
So it's around 2:30 A.M.,
and I'm always watching that door.
I see 'em sneak in there, and then they come running
right back out, down the street,
like they seen a ghost.
And they couldn't have been in there
more than two or three minutes, tops.
Them boys rip copper from buildings, power lines.
They sell it for a buck a pound.
You got any names, ages?
Uh, maybe 12, 13.
D-Hop is the younger one and his buddy is called Franklin.
Any idea where we could track 'em down?
Uh, try the blacktop of upper Cameron.
- Thanks. - Thank you.
All right.
We found it under the body.
I was going to book it,
but you want it.
Check out this email.
God, I love email!
People never learn.
Wait, this was sent to Erich Blunt?
How the hell does this guy know Erich Blunt?
Who's Erich Blunt?
Seriously?
Yeah.
We all had
dream worlds as kids...
Places where we would go to escape.
For me, it was inside this view-master.
Belonged to my grandmother.
Then my mom.
See, our apps are more than games.
They are destinations where users go to get lost
in alternate utopian realities.
But the experience is limited by the delivery system.
The future will be dominated
by the first company able to eliminate the device...
An immersive 4-D experience
allowing people to travel inside our virtual worlds.
Applsn has the most talented engineers in the business.
Because of them, we are gonna be that company.
David, we really have
to get the Jeremy Leonard lawsuit behind us.
It's time to settle.
Erich, we let you drag this out until the 11th hour
to see if he would crack.
- Oh, you let me? Thanks. - It was always established
that we would wrap this up before the I.P.O.
And not settling is a mistake.
It puts at risk everything we've built.
You haven't built anything, Sue. Let's be clear.
This is your company, erich.
We're just here to advise you.
And we advise that you pay him off.
Give us a clean I.P.O. and in a week you will be worth
$3 billion, $4 billion.
I could give a shit about my net worth.
This is about a dream.
It's about trying to make a dent in the universe.
Leonard's lawsuit...
Accuses me of stealing his code,
his ideas.
He's attacking my integrity and the integrity of this company.
He's attacking this.
And this
is all we've got.
All good?
Suits... they don't get it.
No, they don't.
They're not like you.
You're special. Hmm?
Hey.
God.
And you're crazy.
Yeah, well, if I wasn't crazy,
think I'd go insane.
What's this guy's name?
- Erich... - Erich Blunt.
Yeah, he's one of these Silicon Valley whiz kids.
What?
I know who he is, Terry.
- Thanks. - Oh, all right.
Well, uh, the victim apparently sent him a threatening email
the night before he was killed.
Blackmail. Found it on this.
Wow, junkies with iPads,
and we're still using palm pilots.
It implies an existing relationship.
That's pretty vague.
We can't confirm if he replied or received it yet.
Is there an obvious connection between Blunt and the victim?
Well, we're looking into it.
Right.
Those are Fentanyl pops... A hardcore opiate
used by stage four cancer... Cancer patients.
Street value on that's probably around a G.
Yeah.
Should narrow down the dealers.
Yeah, the neighbor said she saw two boys enter and exit
the building around the time of death.
Copper thieves. She'd seen them before.
Good. Find them.
I'll track down Blunt, see if he actually received that email.
Sounds good.
Last I heard, Jimmy Salter was running Blunt's security.
- Salter? - Uh-huh.
That prick was my first boss.
Reach out.
All right, will do.
You holding up?
Oh, yeah. I'm good.
I'm good. Thank you.
All right.
Oh, Cupid calls, huh?
Don't start.
I think it's sad that you feel
the need to pimp yourself out on the Internet.
You're a decent catch.
Are you kidding me right now?
I'm "decent"?
Lighten up. Let me see.
All right, so you put in your preferences,
and then it comes back with possible matches.
I have four people.
Okay. "Attractive, athletic.
Graduate degree, high income bracket."
All right, that's enough.
"Tight and firm buttocks."
Oh, you're so funny!
Any luck?
Nope.
Well, can I make a friendly suggestion?
No.
Maybe try lowering your standards just a little.
Hey, maybe Erich Blunt's single.
What do you think?
Okay.
Not bad, Captain Salter.
It's just "Jimmy," now, Terry.
How'd you get this gig?
Got a grandkid that works here or something?
Only got two minutes. Make it snappy.
Visitors.
Excuse me, Mr. Blunt.
I'm Inspector English.
This is inspector Mulligan.
Could we step into your office for a minute?
This is my office.
Okay.
It's hard to say. I meet a lot of people.
Why? Who is he?
His name's Kevin Neyers.
He was killed last night in the tenderloin.
We found an iPad in his apartment.
His last email was sent to you.
What?
Nothing. I don't see a lot of paper.
Do you remember getting that message?
Uh... no.
But I am way behind on emails.
I've been out of town all week
at a conference in L.A., so...
So, you have no idea
who this guy is or what he's referencing when he says
- he'll "go public"? - I get 3,000 emails a day.
Do they all involve blackmail?
When you're in my position, even friends
start to view you as a cash register.
Kind of comes with the territory.
Anyway,
we have digital records of every email.
Jimmy can show you. Okay?
Hey?
Um, I'm just curious.
How do you... how do you think he got your email address?
On our website, erich@applesn.com.
I try to stay accessible.
Transparent.
Man of the people.
If he remembers anything.
Good to see you, Captain.
Yo!
Who's D-Hop and Franklin?!
- Uh-oh. - Wow.
You guys are in trouble.
Y'all are in big trouble, for real, for real trouble.
For ripping copper?
No, let's try murder. Hotel on Eddy Street?
Yeah, we caught you on the security cameras.
That's prison for you. What, San Quentin?
- Yep. - Yeah.
You know, they kill little boys in San Quentin?
Especially pretty ones like you.
You hear me? They kill 'em dead.
No, D-Hop, what are you doing?
He's pissing his pants. That's what he's doing.
He's scared.
'Cause he knows something about that murder, right?
I didn't kill nobody.
All right. Then tell me who did.
Okay. We saw someone in there.
He freaked us out.
What did he look like?
Skinny, white.
You know, like a junkie.
You ever seen him before?
No.
Did you guys get his name?
No.
Anything different about him? Scars, tattoos?
Yeah, he had a bird inked on his neck.
What kind of bird?
I don't know. I mean, it was a bird-bird.
Okay. Anything else you want to tell us?
Look at me. Anything else?
All right, get out of here. Go change your pants.
Let's go! Let's go!
- They kill little kids in there? - Yeah. It worked.
It worked.
All right, want me to drop you?
No, this is okay. Go.
Thanks.
Mr. English?
Yeah.
I'm the nurse, Josefina.
Right. Okay.
She's all moved in. I'll call Dr. Shrake.
Okay. Thank you.
I'm not contagious.
Hey.
I...I met the nurse.
Oh? My new best friend.
She seems nice.
She's helping me die. She'd better be nice.
You've got to stop that, Em.
Stop what?
The...
The jokes.
It's... um, it's just too much.
And, um, I'm going to take some time off work.
No, no, no, no.
We discussed this.
- I know. - No.
You'd go crazy.
Go to work.
Go... to work.
Okay.
What you're going through,
everyone understands.
What do they understand?
'Cause I don't understand any of it.
Okay, so bag it and go home.
Go be with her.
I can't.
I can't just go home and watch her die.
I'm not going to do that.
Just let me be.
How many bird tattoos?
215.
Freaking audubon society out there, huh?
Only 34 white males, though.
What else do we have?
Not much.
Neyers doesn't appear to have any living relatives.
Nobody claimed his body at the morgue.
I looked back through his record,
he had a regular accomplice early on... Sarah Harbach.
Junkie prostitute.
She worth talking to?
She's dead... Oakland P.D. found her body
in an alley 22 years ago.
Routine O.D., though. No foul play.
But Neyers and this girl
got into a shit-load of trouble together.
Yeah, her folks are still around.
James and Betty Harbach.
We have an address for them in Oakland.
Other than the tattoo, that's all we've got.
No, we've got the email to Blunt, remember?
We checked that out. It's a dead end.
Blunt was in Los Angeles the night of the murder.
And we're not even clear that he received that email.
Uh, excuse me? F.Y.I.
Uh, I've gone on the master cleanse.
The master cleanse... Detoxification?
Please just don't touch my juice in the fridge.
Thank you for consideration.
Okay, Navarro.
Take over the search for bird tattoo.
Query the database.
And call your pal with the feds.
You guys, I want you to take a field trip to Oakland.
Talk to the dead girlfriend's parents.
Maybe we'll get lucky, okay?
Molk, will you get that juice out of the fridge?
It looks like piss.
Tastes like piss.
Mr. Harbach?
I'm inspector English.
This is inspector Mulligan.
It's for you.
Uh, come in. Come in.
Thanks.
Excuse me.
Uh, can I... can I offer you a cup of coffee?
Uh, no, thanks. We'll just be a few minutes.
Yeah, will you be quick about it?
I'm trying to watch golf here. So, who died, huh?
Uh, we'd like to talk to you about your daughter, sir.
Sarah Harbach.
She died 22 years ago. You people are a little late.
She was friends with a Kevin Neyers.
He was murdered two nights ago.
Found his body in the tenderloin.
Well, if you find out who killed him,
you give him my congratulations, okay?
We're trying to determine if he had any enemies.
You know, anyone who may have wanted to harm him.
There's a whole list of 'em right there.
He killed our daughter, you understand?
The coroner said it was an overdose.
No, he fed her those drugs.
That's how he controlled her.
He was an addict,
and a pimp.
And he turned her out, knocked her up,
and then watched her die.
This was the last email he sent before he was killed.
Erich Blunt.
Do you know him?
Yeah.
He's our grandson. Kevin's son.
They found Sarah's body right here.
Family graveyard.
We come here every day.
For 22 years.
This ain't a great time, guys. He's on his way to L.A. for a meeting.
Well, we're only going to be a few minutes.
But I do get to ring the bell?
Yes, but we're going to do it in San Francisco.
- Hi. - I'm sorry?
Well, what is this?
Inspectors Mulligan and English...
SFPD.
They've got a couple questions.
Okay.
Uh, well, I'm so sorry.
We are running a bit late.
I am his attorney. Here's my number.
Call me at my office. We'll set up a meeting.
Okay, well, this will only be a few moments.
Or he can come down to 850 Bryant Street with us
if you prefer?
I got a minute.
Great.
So, you're sure you've never seen this guy before?
Uh... like I said.
I meet a lot of people.
Great, but that doesn't really answer my question, so...
All right, yeah.
Yeah, I've seen him.
Chances are
Kevin Neyers is my biological father.
I'm adopted.
I was curious. Jimmy Salter and I, we did some research,
and we narrowed it down to this guy.
I went to meet him a couple of months ago.
I thought it might have some meaning.
Maybe answer some existential questions.
You saw how he lives.
Kevin Neyers was my sperm donor and nothing more.
So, I gave him some money and said goodbye,
but guess he figured out who I was?
Found my email address and started asking for more.
He threatened you with going public.
To announce to the world that he's my father.
You think anybody cares?
Well, maybe you care.
No. No, I don't.
If anything it's kind of funny.
I mean, my dad was a junkie and a two-bit con,
and my mom was a whore
and an addict.
And here I am, on my way to my private jet.
America.
What a country.
So, why didn't you tell us any of this before, then?
You didn't ask.
Oh. Well, I don't want to make the same mistake twice then.
Mr. Blunt, did you kill Kevin Neyers?
Okay, thank you.
Erich, you don't have to answer that question.
Relax, David. I didn't kill him.
That's ridiculous and they know it.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go to L.A..
I have another prick trying to blackmail me.
What does this one want?
My integrity.
So, if you want to arrest me for murder, stick around.
I'll be back before dinner.
Your uncanny valley bridge
is a direct copy of our motion-parallax vector.
Without my work, you'd have nothing.
You're a gnat, Leonard.
A little flea.
Your app uses simplistic matrix-vector multiplication
limited to linear operation.
It didn't bridge the uncanny valley.
I cheated physics.
Can't cheat physics, erich.
You stole my code.
And you're about to turn it into minimum $400 million in revenue.
No.
I want to share the credit,
and a big chunk of that upside.
Hmm.
Okay.
What's this going to take, gentlemen?
50-point gross split.
We'll give you a ceiling of $200 million.
And my client would like his name on the masthead
right next to Mr. Blunt's.
That's cute.
Two million in cash or we go to court and win.
That's insulting. It's nothing.
It's $2 million more than nothing.
Do you really want a messy trial, erich?
I mean, you claim to be
this big tech genius, this modern Edison.
Well... what if the world learned that you're just a fraud?
You get nothing,
you ungrateful prick! You are nothing.
When I'm done with you, with all these lawyer fees,
you'll have nothing, which is exactly what you deserve.
And... and credit?
Credit? On my masthead?
Oh, Jeremy...
I'm going to take you to court and I'm going to kill you.
Yeah.
And when you're dead and buried,
your tombstone's going to read,
"Jeremy Leonard... Irrelevant."
Great to see you, pal.
Shh!
You guys validate?
How about a nice glass of wine?
I want you to destroy him, David.
I don't care how much it costs.
Offer him 10, he'll settle for 12.5.
He gets nothing.
Just do your job.
Or I'll find a new lawyer.
Maybe you should.
- Oh! - Idiot!
This shirt's worth more than you are!
I'm so sorry.
I'll... I'll get some club soda.
Hey, Cindy,
do you like your job, huh?
Yeah, I love my job.
Yeah, your job is to make my life easier.
And you're not doing your job.
Don't do this, erich.
Do what?
Huh?
I'm... I'm not your enemy.
No.
You're just useless.
God, look at me!
You're fired.
Get out of my face!
Okay.
Feel better?
Yeah.
Yeah, I do.
Are you sleeping with her?
Not anymore.
Well, you can't fire her.
With the lawsuit and everything else that's going on,
she knows too much... She could bury you.
She's a flight attendant.
She signed a non-disclosure agreement.
Well, hell hath no fury and yadda-yadda.
Look, erich, at some point you have to realize
that it's better to keep your enemies inside your tent
pissing out than outside your tent pissing in.
I'll handle it.
Louise, come on! We gotta go!
I'm coming!
All right, we're good?
Yep. Okay.
Mom, what happens if you get shot at work?
Will I have to live with dad?
No one's going to shoot me, baby.
Then why do you have to carry a gun?
Because I'm a cop. It's what we do, right?
Right.
I know you miss daddy.
I don't like being divorced.
Trust me, it wasn't my original plan, either.
All right, let's go.
Have a great day!
Morning, Louise.
Love you.
Later, Gator.
Later.
Bye.
We've been searching
for all these other types of birds,
but we forgot one.
It's a duck tattoo.
There it is.
Okay, you get an address. Let's see where this duck swims.
Narcotics have tagged him in the past for Fentanyl pops.
He's a perfect match.
All right.
Right on time.
Love it when they're punctual.
Come here! Come here!
Hey! Come here.
Chris Walton.
What?
You're under arrest.
What for?
For being an asshole.
Uh! Ah!
Come on.
Uh!
So, let's talk about Kevin Neyers.
Who's Kevin Neyers?
The guy you killed two nights ago.
I didn't kill nobody.
- You know a man named Erich Blunt? - No.
Did Erich Blunt pay you to kill Kevin Neyers?
Only one's ever paid me to kill a man
was the United States army.
So, I'm just curious.
Um, after you shot him, why on Earth...
Molk?
That wasn't very smart.
'Cause you got the wrong man, you understand?
I didn't shoot nobody.
All right.
What have we got?
Battery on a person, resisting an officer, four duis.
Burglary, kidnapping, first degree robbery.
Says here you blew up an A.T.M.
Mmm.
Domestic violence.
You put your father in the I.C.U.
Assault with a deadly weapon.
You beat a woman with a crowbar outside of a Pete's coffee shop.
She started it.
Look, we're going to charge you for the full ride.
Murder one, distribution, felony possession,
resisting arrest.
We have two eyewitnesses placing you
at the scene at the time of death.
Six additional witnesses willing to testify
that they've seen you dealing drugs
at the tenement directly to Kevin Neyers.
We've got your prints at the scene.
And the Fentanyl pops,
which were found on your person at the time of arrest,
which match the batch of the prescription
found in Kevin's apartment.
So, no matter what you say,
jury's going to take one look at you,
that ugly mug and the tattoos and the scars and,
they're going to have a coffee and a doughnut in the jury room,
and then they're going to send your ass to San Quentin
for the rest of your life.
I want a lawyer.
Suit yourself.
Hey?
First...
Let me smell you, sweet thing. Come close.
Terry!
What the hell was that, huh?
What was that?
He needed to learn some manners.
You need to go home, okay?
You need to go home.
And you need to be with your wife.
I don't want to see you again
until you're under control, all right?
We had a good time, Bear.
"Bear"?
You haven't called me that in years.
I was just thinking about your 30th birthday.
Yeah. Roller coasters.
There was that one
that we just kept riding
over and over again?
Um...
"The inferno."
Oh. You were scared.
I'd never seen you scared before.
Until then, you were just this rock.
Always so strong and so fearless.
But that inferno broke you down.
Hm-hm-hm.
I thought you were going to break up with me
right then and there.
Oh, no, bear.
Now that was the exact moment I realized that I loved you.
That I would always love you.
I'm scared, em.
Huh?
I know.
I'm so sorry.
I'm leaving you, Terry.
Em...
You'll be okay.
I tried her home, her cell, I sent her a text.
She's M.I.A.
You sure she doesn't still think she's fired?
No, I mean, I spoke to her right after we came back from L.A.
She said that he apologized and she promised she'd be here.
I've got a weird feeling.
You know what, we've still got a couple hours left.
I'll go to her house and you load the flight plan, okay?
Of course.
All right.
I've knocked several times. Her car's still here.
She's been with me for three years,
she's never once been late.
Not once.
Cindy?!
Cindy!
Should we call the police?
It'll take 'em an hour to get here. Just open the door, please.
Dear Lord!
Ah, damn it, Cindy.
Call the police.
Call the police!
She'd never been late before, so...
Sir.
See that contusion on the side of her head there,
and cuts here and there?
Well, she went down coming around the bend there.
She tried to grab the shelf,
break her fall.
She missed, broke the vase,
cracked her head, and then she tumbled over
and just landed right on her neck.
Boom... dead.
Slipped or she was pushed?
- Inconclusive. - What about the bruise on her cheek?
Well, it's greening so maybe two days old.
Look, my best guestimate here,
just eye-balling her lividity, is she died yesterday.
So, bruised, death... Two separate events.
Anyway, once we get her up on the table,
verify her injuries,
the timing, check her cavities, see how loaded she was.
But, yeah, girl... obviously fell down the stairs.
Naked.
Yep.
Strange.
- It's a shame, isn't it? - Yeah.
- I'll see ya. - All right.
Yeah?