(indistinct conversations)
(indistinct P.A. announcement)
Excuse me, sir. Sir.
Can you step over here, please?
Problem?
No problem. Random additional screening.
Uh, this necessary? My flight was two hours late,
my buddy's been waiting. Just take a moment.
Right this way.
I understand you're doing your job,
but maybe you can, uh, cut me a break?
Thank you for your service.
No, thank you.
(grunts) Passenger down.
Need an EMT in Customs now.
(crowd chattering)
Sir. Can you hear me, sir?
WOMAN: He's not breathing. Got no pulse.
Start CPR. EMT's on the way.
♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪
♪ Bang, bang, bang, bang ♪
♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪
♪ How, how, how, how ♪
♪ Hey, hey ♪
♪ You gotta come on. ♪
All right, let me get this straight. Okay?
I drive you to the airport, I carry your kit,
but I don't get to work the body?
It seems like I'm more chauffeur than intern.
If it's your calling, a little grunt work won't
seem like an imposition. Calling?
More like a little pocket money.
Ooh, the lady doth protest too much, methinks.
What lady?
Shakespeare. Hamlet.
Never heard of either of 'em. Oh...
Look, I would protest a little less
if you let me near that body.
Patience is a virtue.
Now, be a doll and go grab me a...
Coffee, sugar, cream.
Thank you.
Our victim-- Navy Petty Officer
First Class Felix Armstrong--
was making his way through customs
when he suddenly collapsed.
Found this in his jacket.
Dalteparin? It's an anticoagulant.
It's used to prevent blood clots.
Also note the bluish
discolorations of the nail bed.
Suggests cyanosis--
lack of oxygen in the blood.
Often caused by cardiopulmonary arrest.
So, heart attack.
Possibly.
But cyanosis also occurs in drug overdoses.
No way to tell for sure until I get...
Get him on the table? Yeah.
Let me get you a T-shirt made with that written on the front.
(laughs)
Once I run the tox screen,
I'll let you know what we're looking at.
What do you got? Got the flight records.
Armstrong took a chartered plane from Havana.
Must've been stationed at Gitmo.
But he took a chartered flight?
What's off is log at Belle Chasse
said they got a Gitmo flight landing
in a couple of hours.
Why pay for a chartered flight when there's
free transport same day? I'll try to find out
why Armstrong was on the flight.
See if he talked to anyone on the plane.
I'll talk to airport police. Go.
Excellent,
right at the base of the skull.
Yup, uh, forcing the chest to,
uh... um...
You know, the...
Expand for maximum access to the thoracic cavity.
Yeah, that. Someone wants
to get near a body, someone needs to do their homework.
And yet someone got to go to the crime scene today.
Jealousy ain't a good look, bro. Me?
Jealous? Why would I be jealous after working here for, like,
five years and only getting to go to the crime scene from
time to time.
Danny merely drove me.
I have a license. I can drive.
Says the dude who's afraid to make left turns.
You told him that?
Today, the crime scene, tomorrow your job, Big Bird.
(scoffs) Okay, well,
first of all, I consider myself more of a Beaker
than a Big Bird. Second of all,
53.7% of all accidents
involve left-hand turns, so forgive me
for putting safety first.
Simmer down, Beaker,
there's plenty of work for both my boys.
(knocking)
May I help you?
That Felix Armstrong?
And you would be?
A friend.
I'm sorry
for your loss,
but you can't be in here.
Oh, no, no, no, see, it's cool.
I got this.
Now, it's a letter from the family
giving me permission to take the body.
I have yet to conduct the autopsy.
And even once complete,
I can only release him to next of kin.
Sir,
you have to leave.
Whoa. Whoa, whoa.
Whoa, whoa.
All right.
Now, the only way I'm leaving here...
is with that body.
I talked to the Navy, got the bio on our vic.
Petty Officer First Class Felix Armstrong.
34 years and stationed at Gitmo for the last three.
Tours in Iraq, Afghanistan,
numerous commendations. Red flags in his personal life?
I ran the cat's financials, dumped
his phone. Found two things:
jack and squat.
This dude is Mr. Clean-clean.
Any idea what he was doing in New Orleans?
Armstrong's out of Chi-town. No obvious
connections to the city.
Family knew nothing at all about the trip.
Other passengers on his flight
said he kept to himself.
You hear from Loretta?
Called. No answer.
She's probably knee-deep in autopsy.
So, Navy man comes in
on a non-military flight
to a city where he has no business.
Yeah, no ties at all.
Make that one tie. Spoke to the airport policeman.
Said he was approached
by a friend of Armstrong's. His name's
Philip Culliver. He was there to pick Armstrong up.
Went to contact the victim's family, never came back.
Okay. Follow up with the friend.
Meantime, I'll contact Armstrong's commanding officer,
see if he can tell me why Armstrong
was in town. And hey, give it 15 minutes
and try Loretta again.
Want to find out what's going on with that body.
Everyone, put your phones on the table.
Do it now.
And you-- Slim.
You close all those blinds
and lock those doors.
You-- help him.
And you--
get that body in a bag.
Come on, move, move, move.
Come on, come on, come on.
Hey! What the hell you doing, huh?
I'm-I'm just scratching. I-I get hives in high-pressure
situations-- when it's fight or flight, my brain
takes over, my body starts to malfunction.
You should've seen me before prom, it was a disaster.
Shut it. Shutting.
You.
Quit mad dogging me, boy.
I'm not your boy. Okay,
now everybody take it easy.
It's not the first time I had a gun in my face.
It could be your last.
No, no, no. Look, please, just listen to me.
No one's gonna have a last anything.
We are not trying to stop you.
All right.
You put that body in a bag, put him on a gurney, and I can go.
Okay, well, it's a little more complicated than that.
I've got to file a C.O.D. and a Form 15...
Don't stall me.
I'm not stalling, I am just trying to help.
If you walk outside without the proper paperwork,
the armed guards
at the exit are gonna ask
questions, and none of us
want those questions answered with gunfire.
Write up my paperwork.
Go on. Do it now.
PRIDE: Armstrong was unauthorized absence?
Yes, sir. Went missing yesterday.
Any idea why he'd be on a chartered flight to New Orleans?
Asking ourselves the same damn question.
Petty Officer Armstrong was a squared-away sailor.
Loyal to a fault.
What was Armstrong working on at Gitmo?
Latest assignment was a task force
taking down the Padilla Group. Terrorist organization
operating out of Cuba.
Drug running, guns, human trafficking.
You got a cause of death there down there?
Yeah, we're still waiting. But soon as we know anything,
you're our first call.
So his C.O. has no idea
why he went U.A.?
I just don't think we're getting the whole story.
Something's funky. With the friend, too.
No one in the city by the name Philip Culliver.
And the phone number he gave airport police doesn't exist.
Well, Patton's trying to catch our mystery man
on airport security cams.
I'm digging the new digs, Triple P. (chuckles)
This an office or trophy room?
Batting champ, first-team
all state, North Gwinnett High School.
I was fast, too. I had wheels
before I had wheels. Hey, All State,
you got anything for us?
Yeah. This is Armstrong's mysterious
airport pickup gone missing. Bruce any help?
Still working.
All right. Well, keep us posted.
All right. How about Loretta?
I called again. Nothing.
Patch her in on the plasma.
(ringing) You know, that's the third time they've called.
If I don't pick up, they'll know something's going on.
Fine.
You two. Over here.
Come on, move it.
Now. Move!
Hey.
Now, you say anything to tip them off--
anything at all-- and you got
two more autopsies you're gonna have to do. You understand me?
Mm-hmm.
All right, go.
(ringing continues)
(beep, ringing stops)
Hello, Dwayne.
Not taking my calls. Something I said, Loretta?
Busy morning, that's all.
Just following up on Armstrong.
Of course.
After further examination of the petty officer,
my initial suspicions are correct.
Cardiac arrest?
From Larrabee Syndrome.
A fatal spasm of the coronary artery.
Investigation's open and shut as far as I can tell.
Easy day for everyone concerned, then.
Even planning a long lunch.
Contact Jefferson Parish SWAT and EMTs.
We're headed to the morgue now.
Never heard of Larrabee Syndrome.
'Cause it's not a syndrome.
Captain Adam Larrabee.
Case we worked on before your time.
He died in a hostage standoff.
Give this to the guard at the door.
Body's all yours.
You're coming with.
Collateral if anything goes down.
You help me get this body to my van... and I'll let you go.
Now, wait a minute, there's no need to take her, all right? Waiting time's over.
You hear me? Now, you two.
One the ground, face down.
Count to 1,000. Hell I will.
Danny, just do as he says.
(door opens)
All right, come on.
Move it.
Smooth and easy.
GUARD: He's going crazy. I was like, "Man, I'm out of here." (laughs)
DOCTOR: Yeah, fear for your life.
GUARD: I know, exactly. Mm-hmm.
Morning, Dr. Wade. I'll see you later.
You done with autopsy already?
What can I say? Open and shut.
Uh-huh. Who's this?
His family.
You sure everything's all right?
Oh, fine, Darrel.
Back off, rent-a-cop. Hey...
Hey. We're walking out of here.
You hear me?
All right, easy, guy.
Just relax, now.
Just... Hey. Oh! Oh.
(shrieking, indistinct shouting)
Come on, back to the room now! Move, move!
(alarm wailing)
Anyone comes in here,
and everybody dies! (grunting)
(Wade yells)
(gunshot)
(grunting)
Danny. (Danny panting)
(panting) Danny.
(alarm wailing)
(sirens wailing)
(indistinct chatter)
PRIDE: Darrel, what happened?
The guy in there with a gun,
he clipped me. We got him. Go, guys, go.
He took hostages. They're in Autopsy.
Doc Wade and who else?
Oh... Sebastian. And the kid.
Danny's in there. DARREL: I heard his gun go off.
Anyone get hit?
Oh, I couldn't see inside the room. All right,
look, I need you to tell Agent Brody
everything you saw.
All right? (grunting)
Chris,
interface with JPSO. Set up a perimeter.
I'll see if I can make contact with the gunman.
All right, let's go. Let's move! Move!
Come on, go, go, go!
(siren wailing)
I wasn't trying to shoot. I swear to God.
(loud gasping) It's all right, Danny.
Just breathe in easy.
GUNMAN: It wasn't supposed to happen like this.
None of it.
Doc? Shh, shh, shh.
Don't talk. He needs to get to a hospital.
And I need to think.
You hear me? I need to think!
What do we, uh... what do we do for Danny?
Get me some gauze from the cabinet.
Hey!
I didn't say you could move.
WADE: No, but if he doesn't receive
medical attention, he will die, making you a murderer.
Doesn't seem like that's why you came here.
Just quiet!
I'm a doctor!
I can help him if you just let me.
(phone ringing)
SEBASTIAN: Uh...
I don't mean to clutter your thinking,
but I'm pretty sure that standard operating procedure,
if you don't make some sort of contact is to, you know,
storm the site. I'm just...
I'm providing you with the facts.
(phone continues ringing)
What?
PRIDE: Hear there's a situation in there.
I'm Dwayne Pride, negotiator for the Navy.
What's your name?
Doesn't matter.
Matters to me.
I want to understand what's going on,
see if I can help.
Maybe you feel like you're standing on a ledge.
Maybe things got out of control,
but if you'll just talk to me,
I can pull you back.
First thing, I need to know if anyone's been injured.
Stupid kid. Went for my gun.
Kid? Name's Danny.
How about my other two people-- Loretta and Sebastian?
(Danny gasping)
Listen, I'm sure you didn't mean to hurt Danny,
but if he's been shot, we got to get him some help.
I don't want to see anyone else get hurt, including you.
Nice story,
but I ain't buying your lies.
You're just like the rest of 'em.
Rest of who?
All right, look, how about this?
Why don't you tell me what you want
so we can both figure our way out of this?
What I want--
no more calls, no more in,
no more out.
No more contact.
I see anyone, anyone, come at me,
and I promise, gonna need a lot more body bags!
Okay... (click)
(phone clicks off)
(loud, overlapping shouting, helicopter blades whirring)
Jake.
Glad you're here.
JPSO's always got your back, Dwayne.
What's the word?
Danny's been shot.
Don't know how bad.
Gunman doesn't seem to have any kind of a plan.
No demands. Not talking. Where you at?
All exits are covered.
Snipers are on the rooftops.
Monitoring phone lines, disabling the Internet.
Oh, blueprint of the morgue.
Autopsy's in the back hallway.
We need to talk entry scenarios.
No, we're not there yet, Jake.
LASALLE: Our friends--
they're inside there.
Understand that, and want to get them out safe and sound,
but given this guy's not talking...
We're gonna get him to talk.
At the moment, it's your boat, Pride.
Just tell me where to row.
How many guys you got on the roof?
Got three on the east side...
Got a description of the gunman.
African-American, black hat, striped shirt.
Friend from the airport?
One in the same. PRIDE: Okay.
Well, Patton's still running facial recognition.
Hopefully, he'll be able to tell us who the hell this guy is.
One more thing-- Darrel said
the gunman was trying to leave with Armstrong's body.
(Danny panting loudly)
Gauze, Sebastian.
(Wade groans) What's wrong?
It's my wrist. I must have sprained it when I fell.
(Danny gasps loudly)
Damn it! Hemothorax.
His lungs are filling with blood.
I need a scalpel, uh, iodine,
a Kelly clamp and a length of tubing.
(loud rattled breathing)
Think you're doing with that blade, Slim?
Drop it! Oh, uh,
I can see how this might seem untoward.
Now! And you-- on your feet, lady.
I need your help.
We need that scalpel to insert a chest tube
which will drain the blood from his lungs.
Otherwise, Danny stops breathing.
Actually, we need to get him on a table.
It don't sound like my problem.
Son, it really is your problem.
You need my help,
but this boy needs it more.
Now, we have to trust each other.
You just let me take care of Danny,
and then, I will do whatever you want.
Otherwise,
you might as well pull that trigger.
(Danny panting loudly)
What are you waiting for?
So, this, uh...
this whole surgery thing-- how you gonna do it?
Not me.
You.
(Danny gasping loudly)
We're live at the Jefferson Parish Morgue
where a hostage situation is unfolding.
Well, you have him contact me as soon as you find him.
Trying to get in touch with Armstrong's commanding officer,
see if he has any insight
into what's so important about Armstrong's body.
Might have good news here.
Found an unattended van in the parking lot behind the morgue.
Reported stolen earlier today.
Could belong to our guy.
Prints? No, but I found
this laptop inside, password protected.
Got to make that my bitch then.
Meantime...
I couldn't get a make on the gunman,
but I do know who he was trying to call as he left the airport.
You got his phone? Yeah, right off his shades. Check it out.
See the reflection?
He's dialing a number.
Belongs to a Dr. Timofey Yeltin.
Got an addy, too.
All right, Chris, Brody, you go check it out.
No, I want to stay here. So do I.
Look, unless we know who he is
and what he wants, we can't talk him down.
Answers are out there.
Need you two to find 'em.
We'll be in contact.
All right.
(loud, labored breathing)
Good. Now to find the seventh intercostal space.
(groaning) Here.
(loud, labored breathing)
Okay, now for the one-inch incision.
Sebastian, it's all in your head.
Its-it's pretty loud in there right now.
I don't really feel like I'm in control here.
You are.
What about the guy with the gun?
Block him out. I need for you to be a hero today.
I'm not. I'm the sidekick.
What's taking so long?
Sebastian,
under the talk, the neuroses, the hives...
is a hero.
I saw it the first day you walked into that lab.
Now cut! (Danny gasping)
(gasping)
(yelling)
I'm sorry. I'm sorry, sorry, sorry.
I'm trying to save your life.
Aah!
All right.
(Danny groaning and panting)
(Danny yelling) Now, keep going until you hear a popping sound.
And that's-that's good? Yeah, yeah.
It means that you're inside the chest.
It will allow for the... pressure to be relieved.
Ow! Ooh!
All right, now, uh, Mr. Tube here.
(groaning, loud gasping)
Danny? Danny, look at me, look at me.
Breathe slowly now. Just slow, slow. (exhales loudly)
(exhales loudly) There. Okay.
Some good you are.
In all my time dealing, I never got shot.
Then I start working for you...
(laughs)
Okay, just quiet. Quiet, sweetie.
Look, if I don't make it, you got to tell...
Oh, no, no, you're gonna be fine, gonna be fine.
But if I'm not... No. No, just stop.
You got to tell CJ... Stop.
Stop. You're gonna be just fine.
(exhales loudly)
(Wade sighs)
There's two of them.
Him and his little brother CJ-- nine years old.
You have any siblings?
Just finish up.
Looks like the good Dr. Yeltin doesn't believe
in good housekeeping.
(doorbell rings)
NCIS!
Doesn't sound like anyone's home.
(loud thudding)
Then again... Ready?
(gunfire)
(shouting in Russian)
(speaking Russian)
Okay!
(speaking Russian)
Get your hands in the air! Let me see your hands!
Get your ass on the ground!
BRODY: Now! Belly flat!
Get on the ground!
Aah!
Ah, not again.
(grunting)
(muffled music playing)
(speaking Russian)
Hey.
(groaning, speaking Russian)
You got it. You hear that music?
No, no, nyet.
Is anybody else in the house?
Is anybody else in the house?!
LASALLE: I'll check it out.
(music grows louder) (grunting)
(music blaring)
♪ ♪
What the...
♪ ♪
What the hell you been up to, Doc?
(grunts) No talk.
No talk. America. Rights. Da?
Well, what about the rights of that girl you murdered?
No talk! No talk!
NOPD's on the way. You tell 'em to bring a translator?
'Cause I can't understand a word Baryshnikov here is saying.
Rosetta Stone. I was gonna take a semester in Moscow,
but it's too cold.
Why I should talk to you?
Because you're facing the death penalty if you don't.
How do you say "lethal injection"?
Uh, Rosetta Stone doesn't
really cover stuff like that.
I-I cut.
Uh... girl was, uh...
How do you say? Uh, donkey.
Donkey? Mule? Drug mule?
Da.
What does he have to do with that dead girl?
Marcus Martel?
That's his name? Da.
Nothing to do with girl.
Said he had body for me to cut.
We got the connection between Martel and this Dr. Yeltin?
LASALLE: They used to be colleagues.
Both worked for a Colombian drug cartel-- El Hacha.
LASALLE: Haven't ID'd the girl,
but NOPD's on it, gonna keep us apprised of where they are.
Doctor said Martel was a low-level dealer for the cartel.
Then, one day, he just left the game.
Last doctor heard, he was on the straight and narrow.
Apparently, not straight enough.
Doctor say what was inside Armstrong's body?
Didn't know. Martel hadn't told him.
But if Armstrong was working on that task force,
taking down a smuggling operation...
He'd have access to all kinds of contraband.
Coke, heroin.
And maybe Armstrong was using
Martel's old connects to move it.
PRIDE: Yeah, still, just a theory. Pride?
All right, Martel's got an address
near the Industrial Canal. 3434 Congress Street.
Go. See what you can learn.
We're on it, King.
(engine starting)
(tires squealing)
(engine revving)
WADE: Pulse is thready, but constant.
He's holding for now. That makes one of us.
Well, we've done all we can.
Danny still needs to get to the hospital.
And he will...
soon as you live up to your end of the bargain.
Something inside him I need.
I'm sorry. Um, inside?
Wax in your ears, Slim?
No, I'm just... I'm assuming that it's now my job
to find this... thing, and surprise, surprise.
It's my maiden autopsy voyage.
You'll know when you see it.
Just do a Y-incision like you've seen me do before.
Shoulder to shoulder?
Yes, then down the midline to the base of the pubic bone. (sighs)
And make it... Fast? Yeah, I know.
But contrary to my wildest dreams, I'm not Han Solo,
this is not a lightsaber,
and Mr. Armstrong is not a Tauntaun.
Now I can make this fast, potentially destroying
whatever this thing is that you're looking for,
or I can be meticulous, which will take more time,
but it will get you what you want.
I can't do both, so, what's it gonna be, chief?
Just get me what I want.
Clear.
It's like a vampire lives in here.
Dude likes his privacy.
Look at this.
There's Martel, Armstrong.
Who's the third guy?
WADE: Your brother.
This is about him, right?
When I mentioned Danny's brother CJ, you reacted.
You're wrong.
I don't think I am. Okay.
Feeling a little overwhelmed here. Okay, now just run
the gut, dear. Put pressure on the intestine
and pull it between your fingers.
Does this remind anyone else
of those Hammerpedes from Prometheus?
Yeah.
Sorry. That movie was a real letdown.
Look, sir, I can see you working very hard
to present yourself as some sort of monster,
but it doesn't strike me as real.
You don't know a thing about me.
Or my brother.
No, but...
I imagine you would like to see him again.
Yeah.
I would.
That ain't gonna happen.
PRIDE: Martel's brother is dead.
Name was Nathan.
Martel's only family.
He was a SEAL.
He was killed ten months ago.
Combat?
Details are classified.
I'm in the process of getting read in.
Any word from inside? Radio silence.
PATTON: Okay, I got around Martel's laptop Crack Sniffer.
What? No, it's not what you're thinking.
It's a program that sniffs you out
and locks you out the second you try to crack in.
And he hit the mother lode.
Okay, look. I went through Martel's e-mails.
I found dozens of requests to the Navy asking
for the classified story about his brother's death.
And then there's this big ol' angry manifesto.
PATTON: And on the end...
PRIDE: "Because you won't release the truth about Nate,
I'm releasing everything I've gotten my hands on"?
Well, is there any proof he's really got something?
There it is.
SEBASTIAN: Is that a flash drive?
What's on that?
Payback.
(sirens wailing)
What is this?
Captain Dawson.
You're a hard man to get
ahold of. Dealing with the cluster
on my end, Pride.
I'd like you to meet
FBI SWAT Team Leader Marie Cutter.
FBI? Look. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Look.
We just learned the identity of the gunman
and why he's doing this.
We think we can talk him down.
We just need a little more time. And your work's
much appreciated, but time's up.
FBI's taking over.
(indistinct chatter)
Dawson, come on. You duck my calls,
leave me in the dark, and then within ten seconds
of showing up, you're gonna instigate a firefight?
Two days ago, Petty Officer Armstrong downloaded thousands
of classified documents onto a flash drive. Troop movements,
weapon capabilities, undercover assets.
Not quite Snowden but approaching. Son of a bitch
swallowed the drive to sneak out of our secure facilities,
which is why we got to get in.
We're talking national security here, Pride.
Well, what about the security of my people?
The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.
Sorry, Pride.
Went over the blueprint.
No surprises to us.
Autopsy's in back. Only one way in and out.
Tactical goes in there, it's gonna be a turkey shoot.
And protocol says wait until there's an imminent threat.
Guess those documents fit their bill.
Let me ask you this.
Is there any chance
that the file on his brother's death,
the one Martel requested,
is on the flash drive that Armstrong smuggled in?
Probably not.
Didn't have any access.
But we do.
How long would it take you
to get me that file?
15 minutes, give or take.
All right. You got five.
Five?!
Pride.
King.
What the hell you gonna do?
What the...?
Pride! Pride! Get your ass back here!
Can't do that!
CUTTER: Ordering you
to stand down!
Give me five minutes!
Then the show is all yours!
Damn it.
Agent Pride has breached the building.
All units, hold positions.
SEBASTIAN: Uh, not sure what your plan is
since disabling the Internet is Hostage Protocol 101.
You can't put those files online.
MARTEL: Can when this thing accesses an offsite hot spot.
Tether it to your computer,
and you're in business.
(keys clacking)
(computer trilling)
No.
No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no!
He encrypted this! Why the hell would Armstrong do that?!
It's a smart way to control how the files are disseminated.
Damn it!
PRIDE: Marcus Martel?
I'm Dwayne Pride.
One who talked to you on the phone before.
I told you not to come in here!
I'm unarmed.
Here to help.
You got three seconds!
Three seconds to leave or someone dies!
Marcus, FBI's outside this building.
I'm the only reason they're not storming in here right now.
Here to save your life, son.
Life don't need saving.
Then tell me what you do need.
An encryption specialist!
Get one in here now!
FBI's not gonna let that happen.
Besides, I don't think
you really care about those files you stole.
(phone vibrates)
The one you... need,
the one you want,
truth about your brother. All you got to do is let me in.
Keep your hands up.
Inside. Move. Now.
How is he? He's lost
a liter of blood.
You got the file on my brother?
PRIDE: I do.
And I'll show it to you.
But you got to let us
take Danny out,
get him the attention he needs.
Yeah.
And what about what Nathan needed?
Hmm?
He goes off
and he dies for his country,
and they won't tell me nothing about what happened to him.
He was my best friend.
The only one who ever believed in me.
Nate.
Little Nate with the... bright eyes
and the... crazy smile.
A smile I will never see again.
WADE: We understand, Marcus.
You don't.
And you can't.
I can.
What you want,
the how and the why
of a loved one's death, that's what we do here. For instance,
your friend, Petty Officer Armstrong...
Just stop.
When we opened him up,
I saw his enlarged heart.
Considering he was using dalteparin,
I'm guessing he died of cardiac arrest
brought on by the stress of what you two were doing.
You saying it's my fault? I'm saying
one man's perished for this.
Let's not make it two.
Think of Danny's brother.
You want to take from him what was taken from you?
I need some help!
BRODY: Get that ambulance over here! Now!
SEBASTIAN: Easy, easy. LASALLE: Watch it.
What do we got? Single gunshot. Small caliber bullet.
It's lodged in his upper thoracic region.
Here we go.
Let's get him in. Come on, come on, come on!
One, two... You-you can't come with us!
I'm tired of people telling me what I can't do today.
I'm staying with him till I know he's all right. Come on.
Sebastian, Pride and Wade?
They're both fine, but it's still pretty touch and go.
(siren wailing outside)
Marcus.
I don't understand.
Your brother was killed
by the al-Majid Front.
Rebels who were...
working secretly with our government.
Al-Majid was supposed to help our SEALs
take down a Syrian government official.
Instead...
they turned on 'em.
All these lies...
Someone has to pay for this, right?
Marcus, the FBI's about to come through that door.
I know.
Then are you ready to end this?
(indistinct shouting)
Easy, easy! Situation's under control!
Nobody's dying here today!
(indistinct police radio transmission)
DAWSON: Thank you very much, Agent.
Appreciate all your help. CUTTER: No problem.
PRIDE: Captain.
We've got some unresolved business.
I should say so.
The business of divulging state secrets.
I was protecting my people. Not good practice.
Neither was the handling of Nathan Martel's death.
Department of Defense makes that decision, not the Navy.
And now thanks to you, Marcus Martel can tell that
to anyone who'll listen.
One document as opposed to thousands.
And maybe saved a few lives.
I'm sure there'll be a hearing to debate whether or not
what I did was right...
...but there's no debate to this.
That man's brother, Nathan Martel,
deserves a Bronze Star.
Not my call to make, Pride. Find someone
who can.
Kid died a hero.
Deserves to be remembered that way.
(sighs)
(machine beeping rhythmically)
♪ Carry me ♪
♪ For a while ♪
♪ It's your turn ♪
♪ To lend ♪
(knocking) ♪ A hand ♪
♪ Carry you ♪
♪ For a while... ♪
Lasalle and Brody went to get CJ.
Any updates?
Uh, he's stable.
The doctors will come back and check on him in an hour.
Okay.
Tough kid.
He'll be okay.
Yeah.
(sighs)
Heard Sebastian dug deep today. (chuckles)
He did indeed.
Sidekick no longer.
He's been my silver lining in an otherwise cloudy day.
How you holding up?
Me? Oh.
This is nothing.
I'm not talking about that.
I'm fine, Dwayne.
Loretta...
No, I'm-I'm okay.
I'm okay.
(crying): I'm okay.
You are now.
(crying)
Captioning sponsored by CBS
Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org