Sasha-- she's out of control.
We know she's been flooding the ports with contraband.
(chuckles)
That don't even scratch the surface.
There's a storm coming,
likes of which you never seen.
Gonna hit you Navy folks where you live.
What are you talking about?
Tell me.
Just as soon as I sign
them agreement papers. (gunshot)
BRODY: Over there.
Shooter's heading out.
Cut him off!
(alarm blaring)
PRIDE: Before Baitfish was killed,
he said something about a storm
coming in, bigger than anything
this city's seen before.
MAN: 65 acres here.
Another 35 across the river.
Well, where do you want to start?
(panting)
(distorted yell)
♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪
♪ Bang, bang, bang, bang ♪
♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪
♪ How, how, how, how ♪
♪ Hey, hey ♪
♪ You gotta come on. ♪
♪ Put your dreams away for now ♪
♪ I won't see you for some time ♪
♪ I am lost in my mind ♪
♪ I get lost in my mind ♪
♪ Mama once told me ♪
♪ You're already home where you feel loved ♪
♪ I am lost in my mind ♪
Ah, infamous Baitfish wall.
Baitfish wall no more.
You don't knock? Well,
knocking just gives the dudes on the other side of the door
a chance to load up and aim.
Better to put your head down and barge in.
Kind of my life philosophy.
Thought you'd be back at your offices at ATF by now.
Uh, well, while I'm healing,
resident in charge said I could stay put,
close up the files on my undercover work.
LASALLE: King.
Percy.
Lasalle.
Loretta and Sebastian are here.
Gather the group at SCIF. You got it.
SCIF means secret-secret. What's up?
Come.
We've been told a storm is coming.
Already intercepted cash...
bullets...
antiquities.
All of which came through the ports hidden in Navy shipments.
Checked with Homeland and the Feds.
Notified every agency and so far nothing on their radars.
Got the Navy increasing force protection levels
at the ports and sensitive targets.
If they find anything, we're first on their call list.
Dude, we don't raise our hands in here.
What are you-- six?
Look, I know you got an office here now,
but I'm still technically a visitor.
They always like that? Uh-huh.
Uh, Dwayne, why are we here?
That was gonna be my question.
What just happened to Baitfish.
No one knew the route but the people on the inside.
And yet, he was gunned down.
Which can only mean that... We have a mole.
You think it could be someone from our office?
PRIDE: No.
But at this point,
I'm not ruling anything out.
Something big is coming.
The what and when of it are still up in the air.
Until we've neutralized the threat,
I want you all to assume that the only people
you can trust... are in this room.
(computer chirps)
Dead sailor at the port.
Patton, sweep the entire facility for bugs.
Everyone, on your toes.
Brody and Lasalle, you're with me.
Mind if I hitch a hide? Sure.
Come on.
When you put us on alert, I reached out to port ops
and the supply officer in charge.
Wanted to make sure he checked and rechecked
our cargo before my ship's arrival.
When I couldn't get a hold of him this morning,
I contacted my civilian counterpart.
Jonathan Warren, yard manager, Port Commission.
Got in my car, drove right here.
That's where I found him.
Who's the deceased?
Logistics Specialist Third Class David Hanson.
Since this is a mixed-use port
and terminal security runs through me,
I dealt with David a lot.
Hard worker.
First in, last out.
He got family?
Wife and daughter.
I'll speak to Hanson's commanding officer.
Get him to reach out to CACO, make sure the family's notified.
Camera there.
Pointed in the general direction of our victim.
Can you get us the feed?
I'll have it to you by this afternoon.
Thank you. Where are we?
Uh, based on rigor and body temp,
time of death-- 3:00, 3:30 this morning.
And judging by the incised wound in his jugular vein...
...cause of death-- severe hemorrhaging.
He bled out here.
Guys, there are a dozen containers here.
This is the only one that's been opened.
So, maybe Hanson's prepping containers for ship's arrival,
finds someone in the midst of a robbery,
things get ugly.
Let's see what's worth killing for.
Rogue cafeteria worker looking to score
some free table setups?
Hang on.
PVC pipe.
Keeps going, too.
Tubes to nowhere?
It's a wall of sheet metal.
Looks detached down here.
What the...?
Tube for air.
People were stowed here.
Hanson wasn't killed for mess trays.
If this is what Baitfish warned us about...
Then the storm isn't a what.
It's a who.
(door closes)
What's Washington say?
Deputy director's been updated on the threat.
Marching orders-- find out who the hell was inside
that container and how our dead sailor was involved.
Shouldn't we take this conversation back in...?
Patton's sweep came back clean.
Tell me things. Talked to NSA.
300 enemies of the state with port presence.
Members of Somali Mafia,
Cambodia's Tycoon Syndicate and Hezbollah.
And our container?
Sebastian's analyzing everything in that compartment,
combing for DNA.
As for the origin of the container,
it's a ghost.
It wasn't scanned when it came in.
Unusual?
With 10,000 containers coming through
each week, it's not unheard of.
Port Commission reports a two percent loss annually.
But seeing as this one was filled with people--
suspicious.
My condolences go out to the family
of the young sailor who was killed today.
And I'm here to make them a promise
that justice will be served
and the safety of our parishes will be returned
to the standard we all deserve. Thank you...
Election season already?
Always and forever with him.
(cell phone beeps)
Loretta's got something on our sailor.
Check in, will you?
And you?
Container and mole are connected.
You chase down the former.
Let me hunt down the latter.
Who's driving, Lasalle-- you or me?
Well, you got the morning java,
so I'll brave the Quarter traffic.
All right.
St. Christopher medallion?
Savannah's dad...
said she wanted me to have it.
You want to talk about it?
Nope.
You sure?
Yup.
(sighs) Okay.
Mole, huh? (laughs)
And you coming to me, son?
During your heyday, you had an insider
in nearly every office in the city.
If there were a professional corruption league,
you would've been the Lebron James.
Should I be touched or offended?
Try being helpful.
Sounds to me like somebody
in Navy uniform is your problem.
No.
Threat's coming through the Navy.
But my problem-- the mole--
someone in the city.
All right, start with theories.
Got one. Can't land it.
Ah, let me guess.
Young Hamilton?
Must run in the gene pool.
The ports are in his district.
If he was getting kickbacks
by letting things slip through,
my suddenly dead witness's testimony
would've meant that the councilman
could've been your new cell mate.
Well, being in the district doesn't mean he has control.
Look, say for a moment that Hamilton is your mole.
He still could have somebody on the inside pulling strings.
Stevedore or truck driver, scales operator...
An insider.
Find him or her, and maybe they can prove your hunch.
Meantime, I still got sources.
Let me dig.
Appreciate that.
Son?
Why are you trusting me with this?
You bilked a whole lot of people out of their money, Cassius,
but you might be the only person
who loves this city as much as me.
Sir. Thank you.
I swabbed Specialist Hanson's throat wound for analysis.
Found iron oxide residue, presumably rust from a blade.
Also, trace amounts of organic matter,
which turned out to be tuna.
Tuna?
Albacore, specifically.
Tuna can from inside the container.
Found matching iron oxide residue around the rim.
If the same knife that killed Hanson
also opened that can, then...
Whoever was in the container claimed his first victim.
Posible nada with the señor.
Perdón por la interrupción.
What's with the Spanish, brah?
Un momento para the... explanation.
Okay, so,
I found a few hair follicles from the container
with the roots still attached.
Now, usually we use DNA to pinpoint identity,
but guessing that we don't have
our stowaways' I.D.s in our system,
I scanned for nuclear DNA,
which pinpoints origins and sex
based on root samples, and...
dios mio, I got hits.
Uh, all female, and judging by the condition of the hair,
between 20 and 30 years old, also with Incan origins.
Hence my terrible Spanish when I walked in.
I think these woman came
from a coastal region of South America,
specifically... Ecuador.
Young Ecuadorian women?
That's our storm?
You seen those photos of girls joining ISIS?
Wolf in sheep's clothing.
Oh, come on. These women scream sex ring, not terrorism.
Regardless, BOLO for the women went out an hour and a half ago
based on Sebastian's description.
Which doesn't match anyone on the DOD
or NSA's threat list.
Maybe there was someone else in that box who does.
Well, look who's still here.
Can't bear to leave us, Percy?
Got a fridge that just won't quit.
Tad too much meat product for my taste,
but damn, y'all have a lot of Perrier.
We tested every shred of evidence in that box.
No sign of anyone other than those women.
Yeah, well, some things are no longer in that box.
Early 2009,
I was part of an ATF raid of an End of Days group.
Perps fled, left the women and children behind.
Couldn't find a shred of their DNA
until we realized there was one thing
they couldn't help putting their hands on.
The women. Bingo. Swabbed the girls,
found trace amounts of tissue and hair follicles.
Got the bastards.
I'll interface with the lab guy, which
gives me another chance to hang out
with the tall, handsome man-child.
Sebastian?
You never know, Lasalle.
Might like 'em wordy and nerdy.
(phone chirping, beep) BRODY: VICE just got word
a group of South American girls are being held in Tremé.
Let's move.
Guys.
My officers been staking this house for weeks.
Word is, four coyotes inside, two at the door,
two in the cash room around back.
My men are ready to move.
We got a dead Navy sailor.
Girls inside may have intel on the killer.
You think he's a smuggler?
That's what we're here to find out.
My men go on your word.
Why don't you and I take the front door?
Christopher, take the fellows around back.
Let's go.
(knocking) PRIDE: NCIS!
Don't move!
One down.
Two down.
PRIDE: Don't move!
(grunts)
Where are the girls?
Where are they?
(women's voices in distance)
We... were in the box
for... three days.
Dark.
(crying): I think I'm going to die.
When we stop,
bad men tell us quiet,
wait for somebody to open the door.
There were... men?
How many?
Dos.
Uh,
they smoke,
never say any words.
While we were waiting for somebody to open the door,
one girl-- she start crying.
(crying)
A man, um... a...
¿Cómo se dice?
Uh, in a suit?
Uniform?
Sí.
He got us out.
Bad man... hit him.
Cut his throat.
The bad man--
what did he look like?
Uh, he has, um...
a fire and machete.
Like this.
PATTON: Thousands of tattoos in the database.
Got to refine the search.
(rapid beeping)
PRIDE: Is that Sebastian?
(coughing): You call that a wellness elixir?
Cayenne pepper, oil of oregano, and ginger.
Oh. Oh, hey, guys.
Uh, turns out Sonja and I share a common interest
in the healing property of roots.
You called us?
Oh, right. So, um, thanks to Sonja's very astute insight,
uh, we had the stowaway girls' clothing sent for testing,
swabbed and scraped for epithelial cell tissue, and...
Drumroll, please.
Nuclear DNA results?
Two men, West African descent.
Send us your results.
Most def.
Okay, so let's add this new information to the mix.
Refining search parameters.
PATTON: And bam.
Solomon Ekpo.
Leader of a terrorist group out of West Africa
known as the Niger Delta Renegades.
PATTON: FBI has a video clip.
You come to our home,
you choke our land for petrol, pollute our villages.
What you take from us, we'll take from you.
Not in oil; in blood.
Our storm...
just turned into a hurricane.
According to NSA, Solomon Ekpo went off the grid
a few months back.
Intel suggests he was trying to find a way into the country.
And with the Navy shipments compromised...
Flees Nigeria, heads to South America
with his chief lieutenant, Charles Turay.
And the two of them hitch a ride in a container up to the States?
That's the current theory.
What do we know about Ekpo?
Solomon Ekpo,
born and raised on the Nigeria coast,
owned a cassava farm, was a father and husband
until '87 when the Greybridge Energy oil pipeline fire
took all that away.
His wife and children were burned to death.
Shortly after, he started the Niger Delta Renegades
in hopes of taking revenge on the Western energy sector.
He began with attacking oil tankers,
and when he didn't get results,
he bombed the USS Allegiance, killing five sailors.
Hanson's his first victim on American soil.
Our job is to make sure it's his last.
Get me a list of potential targets and any chatter.
Coming from the Renegades-- got it.
Focus on the last six months.
So Ekpo and Turay were in the container,
Hanson opens it, and one of the two Nigerians slits his throat.
They were waiting for someone
to get them out of that container.
Yeah, probably wasn't Hanson.
Where the hell are we with the surveillance footage?
Where you're about to be is Patton Plame's love shack.
Follow. It's where the fun starts.
Feel free to take a seat there.
Cushion's pure Egyptian cotton.
I'll stand.
Patton, surveillance footage.
Fine, we'll skip the foreplay,
but just know you killing the vibe here.
All right, since we kept getting delayed
on getting the port surveillance,
I went looking in the cloud.
All I had to do was extinguish a few firewalls,
tee up the video,
there he is--
Petty Officer Hanson.
Fast-forward to the time of the murder, 3:30 a.m.
Warp speed ahead.
Wait a minute, whoa, that's interesting.
3:26.
That's...
That was the last frame.
Erased?
The rest of the night?
PATTON: Yeah.
Hang on. Give me a moment.
Looks like whoever did this left a hell of a fingerprint.
Traced back the IP address
to none other than...
...yard manager, Jonathan Warren.
Guy we talked to at the docks.
The guy that promised the footage but never delivered.
Where can we find Warren?
WADE: Got called by JPSO.
When they told me
it was Warren, I knew to notify you.
Small caliber round to the skull.
Working on time of death.
LASALLE: Ready for this?
Series of texts from a blocked phone.
All five-digit numbers.
Container numbers.
Ran a check. All are ghosts.
And the last one, 28871,
that's the container Ekpo and Turay came out of.
So Warren got the numbers,
made sure the contraband made it through the port undetected
but showed up late for his final job.
Yeah, Hanson got in the way,
so Ekpo took care of him.
And then when we started sniffing around...
Then Warren became another loose end
that needed to be tied.
(device beeping) Time of death?
It's a rough guess, but somewhere between 2:30 and 2:45.
BOLO on Warren went out at 1:00.
And Warren's dead an hour and a half later.
Mole's still one step ahead.
Get a hold of Brody.
See if she's got any information on the Renegades' targets.
Dwayne.
Every story of ruin starts with men building walls.
Taller and wider.
To keep out the invaders.
But cities don't collapse from the outside.
They're taken down from someone on the inside.
Iago, Brutus, Judas.
Traitors, all.
If we don't figure out who ours is,
we don't have a chance against Ekpo.
LASALLE: Sorry to interrupt.
Brody just got some background on our vic.
You're never gonna guess
who appointed Warren Port Commission.
Who?
Well, yeah, I mean,
if we can get young Leroy on our side,
we'll have majority.
Absolute...
Douglas will call you back.
Well, if I'd known you were gonna join me for lunch,
I would have ordered you the salmon.
And who's this poor soul?
Someone you had appointed to the Port Commission.
I appoint lots of people.
It's part of the job.
Yeah, well, this appointee let in a terrorist.
So whether you knew about it or not,
you got blood on your hands.
I'm gonna tell you something.
Do I appoint people I don't know
to repay favors?
Yes. Oh, yes, all the time.
Happens all the time.
But what you are accusing me of,
compromising our city,
is something that my father would do.
And I am not my father.
Prove it.
Once and for all.
If someone paid my campaign cash
to put this man in office,
then I will grant you access to anything.
You can have my financials, my donor lists,
anything you want, but I'm telling you,
I do not know the name of the person you're looking for.
PATTON: Hey, Pride!
Hold up.
All right, I'll push, you talk.
I'm in a hurry.
Thank you.
Hey, man.
Yesterday, Yeah.
our ATF friend Sonja and I was in my office talking.
I left to hit the head.
While I was gone, she used my log-in I.D.
to get into our system. What for?
Still searching. But...
But no classified files were breached.
Look, man.
I don't think this is connected to the mole issue.
Percy's good people.
Seeing what's going on around here,
you thought I should know.
Thanks for the heads-up.
You good?
Yeah, I'm good. Where you going?
Business.
CASSIUS: This is Hamilton's donor list?
Hundreds of names.
Families.
Judges, lawyers.
Connections I'm... Shh...
trying to make sense of. All right.
Just let the bad man do his work here.
I got a hunch now, but...
a hunch is no good without...
...without the proof.
What?
Hunch just became fact.
Who is Suzy Rivard?
Suzy's second husband is Johnny Rivard,
and he's in here with me right now.
Few months back, he got a window cell,
and there's only four of them in the whole damn prison.
Only way you can get that is with a bribe.
This has a point, yes?
Rivards don't have any money,
yet somehow Johnny's lady got the cash to donate
to Hamilton and get her dim-witted husband better digs?
She asked for Warren to get appointed.
She's our mole.
Your mole is the one who is filling up her bank account.
Now, ask me Suzy's maiden name.
Well, come on, ask.
It's more fun that way.
What is Suzy Rivard's maiden name?
Messier.
Jim Messier.
Suzy Rivard is his mama.
Messier didn't want anyone tracing his name back to Warren.
So he had his mama give the cash to Hamilton
and gets Warren appointed.
Messier knew about the transfer of Baitfish...
...ran in the same circles as Sasha Broussard,
had jurisdiction over the port.
Done good, Cassius.
Maybe not such a bad man after all, huh?
Need to find a safe place for that.
I got it. Chris.
Look, this is mine, okay?
I got to deal with this, not you.
Talking helps.
I'm not sure it does.
Patton tracked Messier's phone.
Got us a location.
LASALLE: Blue Grass Inn?
Yeah, shut down five years back.
Two points of entry.
JPSO will meet us for support.
We'll approach from the front.
Lot of exposure to the back.
Deputies and I will cover that side, scoop up anyone
you guys flush out. Good idea.
Patton will keep track of Messier's signal,
lead us over the comms.
You ready?
Ready.
Let's go roll this piece of scum up.
I got the layout in front of me.
Tracking your position.
BRODY: Tactical team on the move.
Take the first hallway to your left.
Directly across the courtyard, up the stairs.
Room 75.
Messier's here. Brody, call the paramedics.
Who did this to you?
Who did it to you?!
Bastard with a tattoo.
I smell gas.
This guy?
Yeah.
Dwayne, I never meant for this.
King, there's a trigger mechanism. (electronic beeping)
This place is gonna blow.
Brody, the room's hot-- get everybody back.
Go on, get out.
(coughing)
Go on. I'll take care of him.
Like hell.
Come on.
(beeping accelerates)
Where's Ekpo and Turay?
I don't know.
You killed Baitfish to keep the ports open,
to let the terrorists in.
It's not like that. (coughs) (scoffing): Oh...
Sasha seduced me,
made me an offer,
more money than I'd ever seen.
I'd get crate numbers,
give them to Warren to let them through.
But, I swear, I didn't know what was in this one.
Warren screwed up.
Couldn't risk him talking.
As he begged for his life,
he told me who he'd let in.
Expect me to believe that?
Doesn't really matter what you believe anymore, does it?
Excuse me. Need to take him.
Bank or banker.
Heard him say it a couple of times.
LASALLE: Hey, Pride, I got something here.
Pulled a couple things from the room that might be of interest.
This made it through the explosion.
Built to withstand heat. PRIDE: What is it?
DM51. The canister's ballistics-grade.
What about the filaments?
No clue there. Brody?
Turns out terrorists and my father have similar taste.
SD card reader, transfers photos onto your computer.
Same one I got last Christmas.
It's no good without the card.
One gig backup storage.
Dad says it's a value buy.
If Ekpo's taking photos, I need to know of what.
Figure that out... We'll know where he's been.
Or, even better, where he's going.
Get the canister to Sebastian,
the reader to Patton.
Tell them...
LASALLE and BRODY: To learn things.
SONJA: Looks kind of like a Monet.
Ekpo's photo files, burnt to hell.
I can't make out a damn thing.
Want some help?
Think you helped yourself to enough already.
I can explain.
Look, it's not my business, really.
I just passed along what I found,
now you got to take it up with the big guy.
Wait. Back up.
Blow that up.
It's a handle of a saber. You see that?
It's from a mural on the containment wall
of the Naval Operational Support Center in Baton Rouge.
Pass it every Sunday on my way
to the farmers' market in Livingston.
You drive two hours for produce?
Hey, kale is important to me.
Look, if this base is their target...
Hundreds of servicemen's lives is at stake.
Yeah. I got to let Pride know.
Oh.
And just so you know, I vouched for you.
WOMAN: Command is on lockdown.
Had our security watch team canvass the base for breaches,
learned we'd already been hit. Attack?
Not exactly.
Couple hours back, the roving sentry found
the rear-access door broken in.
Carry on.
This is where you keep deactivated Navy weaponry?
Yes, before they're shipped to Defense Logistics.
.30 caliber Browning machine gun,
AT4 and M72 rocket launchers,
and then here...
...M252 mortar.
Last night, there were two.
LASALLE: Cannon's got a range of 3.7 miles,
fires 81-millimeter mortar rounds,
burst radius of 40 meters.
It's enough boom to take out an entire city block.
But our missing mortar launcher doesn't have a firing pin.
Which you could work around,
but, even so, can't be fired without propellant charges.
Unless they already got 'em.
Just off ATF's wire,
four rings of M220 propellant was stolen
from Dinex Munitions in St. George.
If Ekpo's got the propellant... (cell phone beeps)
Mortar's operable.
SONJA: Wordy and Nerdy's back with the hand raise.
All right, notify Homeland Security.
And FBI.
Pulling up a map of sensitive targets
within a 200-mile radius.
We are in the dark.
City more at risk than ever.
SEBASTIAN: Steel can,
utterly fire-resistant,
able to withstand extreme pressure,
and the strings are carbon fiber filaments,
conduct electricity.
You put 'em both together, you get a blackout bomb.
Now, blackout bombs were first used by the U.S.
in the Gulf War.
They targeted Iraq's main power facility.
The whole country went dark.
All this for a power outage?
All this for Chernobyl.
Cans are packed into a mortar shell
that's launched at a nuclear generator.
Once the shells reach a certain altitude,
the cans open,
releasing a dense cloud of razor-thin filaments.
Those filaments slide into the grid,
create mini electrical fires,
work their way back to the core, cause meltdowns.
How many nuclear plants along the Mississippi watershed?
Twenty-one.
But there are five in the immediate area.
One of those gets hit,
the runoff contaminates the whole waterway.
Radiation poisoning up and down the river.
Tens of thousands of people exposed.
"What you take from us, we take from you."
We don't figure out what the target is,
Ekpo's prophecy comes true.
Nuclear Support Team is being assembled.
Where you at? Given the amount of propellant,
Ekpo would have to be within a mile of a reactor
to hit his target.
Security perimeters have been set up
in a four-mile radius of the generators, so...
it's hard to see how he pulls this off.
He wouldn't have come all this way
if he didn't have a plan.
Roads are blocked... no-fly zone in place.
Boat?
Wobbles too much.
Tides make launching anything impossible.
What about...
an island?
There's dozens of them.
Peak, Satchwan,
Bankers, Milton...
Bank...
Bankers.
Messier said
they kept saying that word.
How far is Bankers Island from the nearest generator?
Less than a quarter of a mile from...
Greybridge Energy Nuclear Power Facility.
Same company whose pipeline fire
killed Ekpo's family. Let's gear up.
Less than a minute out.
Coast Guard?
On their way. JPSO, too.
They'll be here in 20 minutes.
We're not waiting.
All right.
Island's two square miles.
Gotta move fast and quiet.
We got the island, you got the shoreline.
Anybody spots Ekpo or his partner,
radio for help.
Everyone there at HQ?
Standing by to support you like an underwire bra.
I... I raise my hand, and it's the end of the world,
and somehow that's appropriate?
Underwire's a serious back saver.
Don't knock it till you try it.
Nothing on the south side. We'll circle back.
Got it.
Mortar launcher.
Right by the lake.
Dead east of the boat landing.
We're five minutes out.
Headed back your way now, King.
I got the launcher, but no sign of any of the...
(gunshot) (groaning)
PRIDE: I'm taking fire!
Hold tight!
Lasalle, keep due east. You're about a quarter of a mile out.
(gunshot, gun clicks)
(groans)
(grunting)
(yelling in pain)
King. King, you all right?
I'm fine.
(panting)
Turay's down.
You gotta find Ekpo.
On it.
(Pride grunts)
(groans)
Patton.
Sending you a photo.
Found their landing point.
No sign of our man.
All right, keep looking.
Patton, talk to me.
PATTON: That's an RF transmitter.
With an SW-1 trigger mechanism.
Meaning?
Firing pin has been replaced
with a remote detonator.
Hell, Ekpo must have it.
You can dismantle that transmitter
by removing the encoder chip...
And the 18-pin dill socket.
Find the blue wire and yank it out.
I got this.
(yells)
(grunts)
(panting)
(clicking)
No.
Too late, Ekpo.
What did you do?
Firing the bomb...
wouldn't have ever brought your family back.
Do you have a family?
Then they will feel the pain that I do.
(gunshot)
BRODY: Pride! Lasalle! You guys okay?
Better now.
This reminds me of picking snow peas
with you when you were a kid.
Except I don't remember the...
barbed wire or the armed guards.
And I don't remember you ever getting beat up like that.
(Pride chuckles)
But I heard you done good, though.
With your help.
Ask me what's in here.
More fun that way.
Copycat.
Letter to the parole board.
Highlighting what you done
and giving my support
to watch over you, should they grant release.
Might be time you came home.
I could be helpful to you.
Give you an insight into the makings of a corrupt mind.
Thank... thank you, thank you, son.
Think I might even look good with a badge.
Don't get ahead of yourself, Dad.
(laughs)
That's better.
Wanted to see me?
You lied about getting permission
from your resident in charge.
And you hacked into our budget?
I...
I wanted to see if...
you had room for another agent.
Why not just ask?
Because if you ask,
sometimes people say no.
"Better to put your head down and just barge in."
Exactly.
I've been working on my own for so long,
and with everything that we've gotten done...
I'm just thinking there's some appeal.
Be part of a family.
This family.
Your family.
Okay, Lasalle.
Let me see it.
What? The medallion.
Brody...
I am not taking no for an answer.
Thank you.
So, this...
was my sister's.
Bought it from this Gypsy lady
on our Europe trip; she said it was good luck.
(sighs)
She never took it off.
And now this...
will not get lost.
I can't.
You and Pride have been amazing to me.
Made me feel like...
I'm home.
And, uh... I, uh...
I hadn't felt that since I lost her.
So I would be honored
if you would please wear this.
PRIDE: Let's gather everybody up!
SCIF room again?
Not exactly.
BRODY: What's going on?
I just think that raising your hand
is a basic foundation of all modern civilization.
A grown-ass man raising your hand?
That's worse than your moon landing conspiracy.
That flag is flapping in the breeze, man.
That's fundamentally impossible!
PATTON: Oh, come on.
That's attractive to you?
Sense of humor, top of my list.
Lasalle knows a bunch of knock-knock jokes.
Tell her one. (laughs)
PRIDE: Loretta...
Sazerac... light on the bitters.
Oh, you never forget.
They're safe for tonight.
Tonight.
Tomorrow is another story.
This city.
One of a kind.
♪ To the ends of the Earth would you follow me? ♪
♪ There's a world that was meant for our eyes to see... ♪
Captioning sponsored by CBS
Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org ♪