Stop overthinking it. If this girl likes you, just say, what's up?
Bro, how are you giving me advice and you don't even wear deodorant, bro?
I can't help it. I smell nice. Yeah. [laughter] All right, all right. Oh, yo, I almost forgot. No, no, no, no, it's not a big deal. Nah, bro, you have to have lunch. I can't have them nuns thinking that Hugo Soto's little bro is missing meals. Go inside, ask Gigi for a hero, and I'll hold the bus if it comes. Okay, you better. [chuckles]
What's up? Oh, you think you're cute. Oh, I know I'm cute. What's your name? I'm not telling you my name. Uh, how about I buy you a popsicle and then you tell me your name?
A popsicle?
Unless you got another way to beat this heat. Are you nice? I don't like bad boys. I'm the nicest. For real, you can ask my little brother.
Javi!
[indistinct chatter on TV] [door opens, closes] Hey, three miler?
Uh, four. Eight-minute pace. Oh, really?
Yeah, really. He meant "wow, really?" Uh, right. It was an implied "wow." I was, um--I was thinking about adding another college application, if that's okay?
What college do you wanna add?
Georgetown. I'm back on the honor roll, and it's the best place if you wanna apply to the FBI one day.
Wait, is he serious?
I thought--
Did you know? I'm as shocked as you are.
So this tin-pot general is about to hire us to train half his army when I take a look out at his driveway and decided to ask for a sweetener, you know, as a gesture of friendship. Right. Meantime, my boss is sweating 'cause he's holding an unsigned contract worth 25 mil. And you're about to blow the deal. It all worked out. General threw in an Aston Martin. You gotta love the private sector. Yep. End of the day, there's not much difference between what you and I do, except I make a mint. Uh, no, there is a big difference, Clay. I enforce the law. I help people. You enrich corporations. Why are we even having this conversation?
'Cause you think you're better. And you just proved it. And 'cause you're still sore I wrote you into that op the other night... except can't admit it because you liked it. [chuckles] Bro, come on. The cloak-and-dagger stuff suits you. Well, Pyramid Security is grateful, all the same. You did good. Who were you surveilling, anyway?
Ah, so he is curious. [scoffs] Forget I asked. Taiwanese engineer selling trade secrets. Employer hired us to prove it. Wanna know how we knew when the deal was gonna go down?
That depends on if it's legal.
Actually, the less I know, the better. I gotta go.
Still not sure why we're being called in for a gas-line explosion. Well, mayor's on the record trying to revitalize the neighborhood. Can't spook that Uptown money. So a bombing. Six dead, 12-year-old in critical condition. Mayor called the ADIC, begging for us to shut this down before the story grows legs. Any cameras? Destroyed. Any witnesses?
Bodega was a part of the community, and... owner was a saint. Hey. That looks homemade. Yeah, the lab will run the chemical signature, but a presumptive test indicates TATP and copper nails. Copper nails, that's not normal, right?
No, it's more expensive. Any nails would work. The blast marks suggest that the device was in the back of the store. Away from the customers?
That defeats the purpose of the nails. Unless our bomber had a different target in mind.
Can I get a saw back here?
Looks like our local saint's running an illegal-gambling op.
All right, people, meet the target of our bodega bombing-- the owner, Ignacio Torres. Community pillar by day, illegal-gambling impresario by night. And judging by the sums we found in his ledger, this was not your grandma's canasta club. So the question is, who would wanna bomb a high-stakes poker game? Ledger lists all the players in debt to the house. Deepest is $200,000 in the red. Ok--where I come from, that is called financial motive. We have a name? Negative. All the gamblers' names are encoded in a cipher. Right, well, we gotta assume the only person who can decode this on site died this morning. Check Torres' finances, wire transfers, deposits, anything we can match to a debt in that ledger. We ID the people in this book, and I would wager we're a page closer to our bomber. I'm looking, but not finding any large sums in or out. Hey, I might have something. The store's ATM is an older model. The camera backs up off-site every 48 hours. So we have surveillance in the bodega. Nothing from this morning, but two days ago, this guy pulled out 3 grand at 4:00 a.m., Hugo Soto. Soto. Wait. How do I know that name?
He's the legal guardian and brother of the boy pulled from the rubble-- Javi Soto, taken to Triboro Hospital. Well, I know prices are high these days, but I'd say 3 grand is too much for a grocery run. No, he was at that game. Let's talk to him. Lost our parents a few years ago. I wasn't gonna let Javi go into the system, so I stood in front of a judge and swore that I would protect him.
Now he might not make it out of surgery. That's my fault. Whoa, Hugo. That's really hard, stepping up the way you did, especially for someone your age. That's a lot of pressure. Beating yourself up isn't helping anybody. When Javi gets out of here, he's gonna need you.
You are a line cook, is that right?
Yeah, that's right. So how did you afford to play a high-stakes game at Iggy's?
I had nothing to do with what happened today. We're just talking, Hugo. It's okay.
Okay. Okay. So I play a little poker so I can take care of my brother. Ain't nobody ever made private-school tuition on a minimum-wage salary. But if you guys are thinking about jamming me up-- Hugo, you're not in trouble. We're hoping that you can help us find the person who put Javi in here.
If you can find your name on this list, we can decrypt the rest. And we'll find whoever had the motive to attack that bodega.
[sighs] That's me. Great. I'll go tell the JOC. Have Scola and the new guy run it down.
Anyone else on that list ring a bell?
I mean, everybody was talking about this crypto bro, tanked, like, 200 grand last weekend.
Started chirping, saying that the decks were rigged, so they threw his ass out. If you figure out any of the other names on that ledger, I would definitely check him out first. Okay, that helps. Thank you.
Oh, this was my favorite part. Back when I was on SWAT, suspects always act big and bad until we show up. In the end, they always scarper. They what? Run away. Oh, yeah. No, I can relate. Spencer Bishop, FBI, open up! You're too soft with it, man. Back when I was on SWAT, we made our presence known. Oh, you were with SWAT. Yeah, you never mentioned that. Please. FBI, open the damn door!
Yeah?
Hey! I got him.
Please don't kill me! I'll get you the money! What did I tell you? An attempted scarper.
I swear, if I knew you were the Feds-- Look, you might have heard us announce ourselves if you were listening to some Mozart and not, you know, going for the world record. Instead, you shot at us. That's assault on a federal officer-- 20 years. And we haven't even gotten to the main course. Easy. Look, when he grabbed you, you said you'd get the money. Are you talking about the 200K that you lost last weekend?
Yeah. So why did you bomb that bodega?
What?
No, I've been chasing Deltone K's Pharma all morning, and as soon as I close my position, I'm gonna pay back my marker. Well, why does it matter? Ignacio Torres is dead. He might have ran it, but this is Latin Kings' game. They're the money and the muscle.
All right, so, hey, check it out. Remember that high-stakes card game, you know, the one that went boom?
Well, according to our big loser Spencer Bishop, the operation was run by the Latin Kings. Yeah, so I don't know--is it possible that our bombing was a rival gang making a bold move?
Where's my Gang Unit rep?
Alexa, there you are. Talk to me. The Kings entered Jackson Heights last year, started gobbling up territory from the Low Street Hustlers, dropped a few bodies along the way. So this could be retaliation. It's possible LSH wanted to send a message by bombing the Latin Kings' game. The endless ebb and flow. So how quickly can we get eyes on HQs for both gangs?
Inter-agency task force is already up on several active fronts. Perfect. We got a fish market, liquor store, electronics boutique, strip-mall church-- all protected fronts for gang activity. So the Latin Kings move into Jackson Heights, push the Low Street Hustlers off their turf. LSH licks their wounds until they clap back by bombing the Kings' gambling operation. So the next question is-- Whoa. What?
What is--is that--wait. I'm confused. Is this live?
Yes. Is this a Latin Kings location?
No, no, no. That's a Low Street Hustlers' hangout. It's retaliation.
Saddle up, people. We just witnessed the start of a gang war.
Fire department confirms three dead at the blast site. So far, just one ID-- Tonya Johnson, 24-- no priors or gang affiliation. Yeah, 'cause they don't care if they kill civilians. NYPD pulled over three known Low Street Hustlers headed towards Latin King territory, recovered multiple Glocks fitted with auto sears and extended mags. Automatic handguns. Great. All right, keep scrubbing footage. Find me something that'll help with this latest bombing. Hey. What do you got?
Uh, NYPD is flooding the zone, but they're not gonna be able to keep a lid on it. It's escalating too quickly. [sighs] I just got off the phone with Congresswoman Wright of the 14th District. Pressure to close this case isn't just coming from the mayor now. Okay. How do you wanna proceed?
All right, everybody, listen up. In the '80s, the Cuban Mafia went to war with the Lucchese family over the city's numbers racket. What started out as a dispute over a single bolita hole exploded into the arson wars. 100 buildings were destroyed, 65 casualties, including a four-year-old little girl. Now, we cannot let another turf war spiral into that kind of terror. Okay, you heard her, let's pull up our gang org charts. Have your teams reach out to the shot callers. Have them work their CIs. We need to shut this war down before more New Yorkers get hurt.
You Hector?
You better not have been tailed. Relax, it's not my first rodeo. And it ain't your face catching a bullet if my homeys see us together. Hence, meeting in neutral territory. There's not a spider web tattoo in sight. Why are you so nervous?
Ain't you heard?
A war's about to pop off. That's exactly what I'm here to prevent. Officer Webb said you're a valuable CI, that I can trust you. So talk to me. What are the Latin Kings up to?
Uh, how's business been? Mm, you know how hard it's been keeping this place afloat?
After COVID and the protests and all these bombings, got the whole neighborhood on edge again. Yeah, I can only imagine. All this time I've been saying no to the developers, I'm starting to think I should take the deal-- get out of this damn city. Hmm. [sighs] Hand to God, we ain't bomb back. Don't lie to me. FBI already spoke to a Low Street shot caller. They said you sparked all of this unprovoked. Lady, I don't know where you're from, but around here, wars are bad for business. Right now business is good. Word came from up top-- don't clap back at Low Street, even if those weak-ass punks hit us first. [scoffs] Yo, are you even listening to me?
I'm risking my life here.
OA, got a black hoodie, just made for the exit.
OA, there's a bomb. Maggie, he locked us down here. FBI, everybody get out now! Go! Hurry up! FBI, that way's blocked. We're gonna get you out of here.
Get back. Stay back! Go, go, go. Come on. Come on. That's it. That's it. That's it. That's it. Nice and easy. That's it. That's it. I'm gonna double-check everyone's out. Go, go, go. Is anybody else in here?
Quick, go. Maggie, hurry up! Maggie, hurry! Okay, you, go.
Come on, let's go.
Heads up-- there's been an explosion at the bar in Jackson Heights where OA and Maggie were with our CI. Good news is, Maggie and OA are okay. Bad news is, the bomber is in the wind. so let's run him down. Okay, wait. But that--that bar was neutral territory, right?
So what am I missing here?
Maggie just radioed in a description of our suspect-- male, 30s, 5'10", white, brown hair. Well, not to state the obvious, but I don't think a white guy's working with Low Street or the Latin Kings. Right, so what are we dealing with, a lone wolf?
I want CCTV footage from a two-block radius right before this bombing. Ortiz from BAU just sent up a preliminary profile. Based on the three places targeted, the bomber's embittered, likely due to a power disparity. He's lashing out to express the lack of control over his life. That's great. That narrows it down to about half of Long Island City. I think I got something here. Yeah?
Security footage pulled from the bar. Yeah, that's our guy. Stop it right there. Rewind. Yep. Stop. Right there. Zoom in. Yeah. Elise. Yeah, already on it. Yeah. Got a hit. Alfred Landry, age 33, former army demolition expert, stationed in Iraq with the 515th. Looks like he's struggled to hold down a job or a home since. Yeah, and--and look at that. He lives in LIC. Yeah, no ties to either side. Why would Landry wanna provoke a gang war in Jackson Heights? I don't know. We'll ask him when we find him. We need a location, people. Pinging his cell. Got it. It's pinging in Williamsburg.
Got eyes on Landry, doesn't appear to be carrying anything. Hey, this guy planted three bombs today, okay?
So approach with caution.
Be advised-- he just picked up another bag. Well, if he's got another bomb, we cannot risk letting him slip away. Move in. Go, go, go.
FBI! Landry, do not move!
I got him.
Scola, he tossed a phone.
Suspect is in custody. Repeat--suspect is in custody. Talk to me, Scola. Bomb techs are en route, but do we need to evacuate?
Stand by.
Not a bomb. Jubal, he wasn't picking up a bomb. Then what is it?
A damn windfall.
You got me. I stole someone's trash. Man is looking at 9 counts of murder, and he's still got jokes. $40,000, hmm? That's all it takes?
Build a bomb, hurt all these people?
You know, this kid is 12 years old, but he's fighting for his life in the hospital. Three surgeries already because of you. I found a bag of cash. People should be more careful with their things. Save it. The RT already found bomb-making equipment in your basement and linked your signature to all three of the bombs. And let's not forget, you tried to blow us up too. But I saw your face--me. And I'll be the one pointing you out in court. You take pride in your work, don't you, Landry?
Copper nails, sophisticated timers, anti-handling devices-- a bomb would have been deadly regardless, but you really cared. You're gonna go away, but it doesn't have to be forever. We know that somebody hired you to set the bombs, target the gambling op, make it look like a gang war, and then paid you with a dead drop. So give us a name!
You want a name?
Okay. [clears throat] Anthony Sanders. Who's Anthony Sanders? My lawyer. Hmm. I'm not saying another word.
I think your bomber is bluffing. He doesn't know who hired him. How can you be so sure?
Well, there's no texts, emails, or interactions between him and his client. That doesn't prove that he's bluffing. No, but this does. On Landry's phone retrieved at the scene. "Frisky Cookies"? Game's a cover. Enter Landry's pin here-- voilà, an anonymous encrypted-messaging network designed for criminals. In fact, the whole phone is. You can only get one on the dark web. So this is how Landry's communicating with his client. We've got the entire transaction, from what buildings to hit to-- "Your money's at the drop." But this is anonymous, right?
So there's no way Landry knew who hired him. No one does, except the app maker. Then let's subpoena them, find out who he was messaging with. App's developer, Optum Force, traces back to an unregistered offshore corp-- limited operations, few assets, as far as I can tell. A shell company. It's not my sandbox, but yeah. Sent it to White Collar, ran it down, they came back with some ties to a UK-based company-- Pyramid Security.
Why would Pyramid Security wanna make this app?
Best guess... infiltrate criminal networks targeting their clients. FBI did something similar a few years back-- major source of intel. Mm. Bottom line--Pyramid can ID who ordered the attacks? Yes, but good luck getting them to admit as much.
Cool beans. Mojito?
The Taiwanese engineer-- you knew where the meeting was going down because he set it up on your app. [laughing] Why is it always business with you, man?
It's bad for your chi. That app is not just tracking software. It is dangerous, man. All right, pump the brakes, okay? If there's an app--and I'm not saying that there is-- it's not good or bad. It's just computer code. Okay, well, someone used your app to set up three bomb attacks today. Nine people are dead, Clay. A 12-year-old is clinging to life. That is not just code. That is real. We shouldn't be having this talk. No, we shouldn't, because the tech shouldn't exist. So you need to give me everything you have on one of your users, okay?
[sighs] Hey, one way or the other, we are gonna shut you guys down, so make it mean something, please. [sighs] All right. Say there's some back door that somebody could use as a starting point for recon and say, somehow, you got your hands on that info. Ain't got nothing to do with me. Copy?
[sighs] So we know the bomber is financially motivated. He was hired to hit three specific locations in Jackson Heights, but by whom and why... I can help with the who. I got an IP address for the person Landry was messaging with. How did you come by this information?
Uh, it's an anonymous tip, but the intel's good. The IP address comes back as the Perez Land Group. [stammers] Wait, as in Fernando Perez?
The one and only.
Whoa, we have to tread carefully. This guy isn't just a magazine cover. No, he--he's a legend. He had to go through the Mob's construction racket to become one of New York's biggest real estate moguls. Well, and not to mention the mayor's best friend. Is this IP address traced directly back to Perez?
No, just someone in the C-suite. Perez is worth a fortune. Why bomb the buildings when you can buy them?
He can't buy them all. He's been acquiring lots in Jackson Heights for a billion-dollar legacy project. Recent "Times" piece listed several holdouts, including our bodega, electronics boutique, and the bar. Right. Okay, so there's the connection between the bombings-- and motive. Perez can't move forward until they sell. And the delay's costing him millions, but if the business owners were out of the way... The bar owner was already on the fence after the explosions. There's no way she doesn't sell.
So his plan is working. My office... now.
An anonymous tip? Yes. It came from a burner email, had every communication between Landry and his client. Each one came back to an IP address linked to Perez headquarters. Okay, well... [sighs] You know we love a good anonymous tip. The intel's good. We're covered. Well, let's assume this is true. It does not mean Perez hired the bomber. It could have been anyone in the organization, right?
Perez is a known micromanager. Nothing happens without his say-so.
Okay, chase it down, but be careful. Perez doesn't just have an army of attorneys behind him. He's got juice. One misstep, it is all of our careers. Got it.
[sighs] You know your platoon buddy, moved here from London, Clay?
He works at Pyramid, right?
You have something to say, just say it. I know you think that you owe him because he saved your life. You don't know the full story. I-I don't need to. If this case goes to court, your anonymous-tip story is not gonna hold up. [sighs] This isn't like you. I saw how these private-security companies work overseas. They make up their own rules. If we go through official channels, Pyramid's gonna shut us down or stall. What if another bomb goes off?
The only way that Clay is gonna help us is if we do not use his name. I just don't wanna see you backed into a corner you can't get out of. Look, if he's so solid, make him your CI. One misstep...
If it's all right with you, I've asked our in-house counsel, Edmund Wilkes, to join us, and my son, Fernando, Jr. Of course. Look, we don't have any leads on the bomber or bombers yet, but we want you to know that we're working every angle. Thank God for the FBI. I grew up in Jackson Heights. I just wanna do my part so people there can have a chance to succeed like I did. To the best of my knowledge, Mr. Perez's assets have been unaffected by the violence thus far. And we hope to keep it that way. To summarize, you have no leads, and Mr. Perez's buildings are unharmed. Mm-hmm. Why are you here?
We're just making our presence felt. Nothing goes down in Jackson Heights without Mr. Perez's involvement. That checks out. Wouldn't your presence be better felt somewhere else?
These gangbangers have blown up half of Queens, and you're in Midtown for a chat?
I mean, you'd think with all the money that my family's donated to the cops, the Feds, politicians, you people would be able to get your head out of your ass.
Excuse my son. Whatever you need, just ask. Given your status in this neighborhood, it's possible someone's gonna reach out. If they do, this is me.
All right, folks, so Maggie and OA have shaken the tree. We get to see what falls out of it. Ian. Care to do the honors?
Making contact now. "FBI is asking questions. Drop another 40K, or I start talking."
This is gonna sound weird, Ian, but you are a natural at extortion. All right, so the text has been sent, which means whoever our bomber was communicating with in the C-suite now knows we are onto them. The suspect thinks they are being extorted by Landry, which means we just have to catch him in the act when he makes the drop. Easier said than done. He just changed the drop location-- Columbus Circle. It's packed now.
Stay frosty, people. Nobody moves until there's confirmation of a drop.
Businessman, alone, briefcase.
Incoming from the subway. Things are about to get crowded. Okay, Ulrich, do you have confirmation?
Negative, hang on.
Okay, drop confirmed. I repeat--drop confirmed. Lost visual on the suspect. Take it easy, SWAT. You gotta look again.
What's going on?
Sorry. Sorry, no suspect, no drop. My bad. What's up with your boy, Scola?
Come on, now, he's okay.
Red hoodie, baseball cap, heading southeast. All right. OA, can you get an ID?
Negative.
Bag drop confirmed. All teams move in.
FBI, don't move. I'm not resisting!
Junior?
You wanna call your dad, or should we?
All right, everybody, meet our surprise guest-- Fernando Perez II, or as readers of Page Six might know him, Junior-- 27-year-old Ivy Leaguer with a string of Insta-model exes and dismissed DUIs, all thanks to his father's influence. Right now he is our only link to the bomber. Do we really think the kid's responsible, though? His dad seems to have him on a pretty short leash. What are the odds we get Junior to tie this to his father, who's obviously the brains of the operation and had the most to lose? Slim. Perez's lawyer will be here any minute. He already got two cartel bosses off. That doesn't mean we can't shoot our shot once he's here. Make it count. If you wanna connect this to Fernando Perez, you've gotta get Junior on the record, or we have no case.
Good luck.
What's up?
Hugo Soto's downstairs.
Hugo, I'm so sorry I haven't been able to check in. How is Javi? Is he out of surgery?
I-I just can't sit in that hospital no more. I know. I know. Did you figure out who hurt him?
Where is he? Where's my son?
Mr. Perez, you need to calm down. This is ridiculous. Junior had nothing to do with these bombings. This is harassment! And the mayor's already heard about it. Follow me. Come on. Come here, Hugo. Is it true?
Did you arrest his son?
I'm not allowed to discuss active investigations with you. Don't matter. Rich people like them always get away with it, right? The FBI are doing everything we can to make sure whoever hurt your brother is brought to justice. You want me to trust the system?
No. I want you to trust me.
My client will be exercising his right to remain silent. That's okay. We'll do the talking. You are in trouble, Junior. No one your dad can call this time. Because New York City might not have the death penalty, but Uncle Sam does. You can tone down the rhetoric. Just the facts. Nine counts of murder-- ten if this boy dies.
That's not life in prison. That's the needle.
Three buildings were targeted today because three people said no to your father. Been a long time since someone said no to him. So he asked you to arrange the bombings, and now you're on the hook. But you don't have to be. We're willing to make a deal with you, Junior. If you admit that your dad ordered you to make that drop-- And what evidence does the FBI have linking the money in my client's possession to these bombings?
You'll find out at discovery. Oh. [scoffs] That's what I thought. Are we done here? You notice how every time Maggie mentions this kid's dad, he gets so tense, it's like his jaw is gonna snap off. Mm, BAU says the person responsible for these attacks is reacting to a power disparity, lashing out to express a lack of control in his own life. Well, that makes sense. His dad's got an iron grip. I wonder if there's a way we can chip away at Junior's faith in him, you know, get him to lash out at his oppressor? We'd have to use his father's own words against him.
Mr. Perez, thank you for allowing us to interview you. I stared down New York's five crime families when I built my first project. I can handle a little misunderstanding. Is that what this is... [photo rustles] A misunderstanding?
This innocent boy is fighting for his life. As a father, my heart breaks for this child's family.
But my son... had nothing to do with these bombings. Well, who else would you trust to take care of this, um, inconvenience?
Don't play coy. You've read the tabloids. You know everybody knows how much Junior struggled-- reform school, rehab. Nothing took. The kid can barely wipe his own ass, and you're telling me he masterminded a crime of this scale?
I am saying you're the mastermind.
Let me set the record straight, and you can verify this with my board of directors. Junior is the last person I'd go to... for anything.
All right, here goes nothing.
Sorry for the wait. We just have some, uh... [door closes] Some paperwork for you to sign, if you wanna take a look at that.
[sighs] I just wanna say, I-I get it.
I do. It's never easy following in your dad's footsteps, especially when he thinks you're not good enough. Get your ADIC in here. I'm reporting you for misconduct. This isn't me talking. See for yourself.
Take a look. You've read the tabloids. You know everybody knows how much Junior struggled-- reform schools, rehab. Nothing took. The kid can barely wipe his own ass, and you're telling me he masterminded a crime of this scale?
Okay, shut that off. I think Junior would like to hear what he has to say, right?
Let me set the record straight. And you can verify this with my board of directors. Junior is the last person I'd go to... for anything. That's enough. You've always known, right?
Down deep, right? I mean, he might not say it to your face, but... he thinks you're nothing. My client's done. Not another word. So why protect him?
Why not just admit it was him, it was his idea, the whole thing?
Why protect him... when this is what he thinks of you?
Junior, Junior, I said you're done. But he's right. Junior-- Shut up, Edmund!
No one would have died if it wasn't for him. For once in your life, keep your damn mouth closed. Why should I? I hate him. I hate him.
I did it. Me, it was me.
He's never seen me, never. But I bet you he sees me now. I knew what he was too scared to do. Those people were a problem. I fixed it!
I don't need his love... but I deserve his respect.
I did what he was too scared to do. Those people were a problem. I fixed it! I don't need his love... but I deserve his respect.
We're transferring your son to MDC, if you'd like to speak to him before then. He doesn't represent the values of my family, so he's on his own now. Wow. Just like that?
No one's above the law. Call Patty. I want Mark from "The Journal" and what's-her-name from "The Times" downstairs in 30 minutes. The people of New York need to know I'm sorry for the pain my son has caused.
[door opens, closes] [sighs] Kid is on his own. I think he always was. Well, I'll call the Southern District and let them know their docket just got a lot more complicated. Good work today, all of you.
Uh, Isobel, do you have a minute... to speak about where I got my intel from?
[sighing] Um... Maggie Bell. Hey. Where's your new partner?
Oh, well, rookie's down at O'Malley's guzzling pints with the rest of SWAT-- that's where he belongs. Well, that's too bad. He's, uh... No, he knows it. He--yeah.
What's up?
It's the hospital. Javi Soto died in surgery three hours ago. Oh, damn, I'm sorry. I know that you-- No, it doesn't make any sense. I spoke to Hugo an hour ago, and he didn't mention anything. I'd like to start by sharing my deepest condolences to the loved ones of those lost in today's bombings in Jackson Heights. I am standing here with you all to grieve... Scola, Hugo's here. These events came as a shock to many, especially myself. But while I may have failed as a father, I will not fail the people of New York! Hey! No, no, no, no! [gunshot] No, no, no, nobody shoot! Somebody call 911. No! Someone help him! Nobody shoot! Everybody stand down! You need to give me the gun. They took everything from me. For what? You said I could trust you. I know it feels like that. Hugo... give me the gun.
Listen to me. What would Javi want?
What would Javi say to you right now?
Come on. Give me the gun.
This is where you tell me Pyramid's gotta shut the app down 'cause it's unethical. "Unethical"? It's illegal, Clay. Ah, splitting hairs. Keep the app live. I spoke to my SAC. She's willing to overlook your hairsplitting. But from here on out, on paper, you are my confidential informant. You will give me any and all intel on the app that endangers public safety, understood?
Where do I sign?
I'm not messing around. This isn't Afghanistan.
I'll shut your ass down if you don't play ball. [chuckling] What's so funny? [continues chuckling] Back in business, baby... like old times. Yeah, except no one's shooting at us. [chuckling] [engine turns over] [tires squeal, engine revving]
[wolf howls] ic]