In the criminal justice system
the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups,
the police who investigate crime
and the district attorneys who prosecute the offenders.
These are their stories.
Four lamb chops, three martinis, key lime pie...
Boys' night out. Leave me alone.
And a Montecristo I can still smell on your breath.
So don't inhale.
Pick up the pace, Byron.
Oh, why? So I can live an extra hour?
If you don't mind.
Byron, look!
Well, he's doing something. What...
Hey, what's up?
Look! Look! Here! Here!
Hey!
Be careful!
A man! He ran that way. He was attacking that woman.
I'll take her.
This is 22. We've got a 10-54 on the south circular.
Female down. Suspect on foot.
He went over there, Central Park West.
I couldn't... I got one of his gloves...
Come on, relax. Relax. Central, this 22. We need a bus rush!
Hang in there, buddy. Hang tough.
He just sat there, talking to me, with that knife sticking in him
until the ambulance showed.
Said the perp hopped a wall to the CPW.
Did he get a look at him?
Up close and personal.
5'8 ". Dark coat. Black hair. Hispanic.
He pulled off one of the guy's gloves in the scuffle.
It's bagged for CSU.
Heroes.
Hey, who is she?
Jane Doe, no ID, just a house key in her sock.
What, like a wallet would have slowed her down?
Yeah. She doesn't look good. There's blood all over her head
and a bloody rock found on the ground next to her.
Rape? No time.
He was pulling down her sweats when the Bickersons spotted him.
She fell on the rock?
It was no accident. He hit her and must've meant to stun her.
How is she?
Dead.
Oops!
An hour ago? I was taking my break in the basement.
Who was on the door? Nobody.
Thanks. All right.
Nothing.
Yeah. This guy was helping Mrs. Bronsky with her groceries. 11 D.
Hey! Hey! Is this about what's going on in the park?
You're looking for some guy that jumped over the wall?
Yeah.
Black coat? Dark hair?
You saw him? Yeah.
Hispanic. Hauling ass.
He nearly got hit by a cab.
Which way did he run? Down.
Into the subway.
Great. So he lives uptown or he lives downtown.
Thanks.
The Mayor down there yet?
White female jogger gets attacked in Central Park.
It happens once a year, and it's always the crime of the century.
Anything at the scene?
Camera trucks. Profaci and Newman are showing her picture to other joggers.
Hey, Detective! I got something here for you.
You want me to carry you? Or you want to carry me?
Now, the jogger tackled your perp here. Here's his footprint, stopping hard.
Size nine, maybe a Reebok. While he's down, he pulls out his knife.
How do you know he didn't have it out already?
Because when he stuck his gloved hand into his pocket to get it,
he pulled some coins out, too.
They're on top of the footprints.
We got any fingerprints on the coins?
Worth checking.
Check this one. A Colombian 20-peso piece.
I guess he kills people and doesn't like to pay a buck fifty for the subway.
The same size as the new token?
Yeah. It's the slug du jour.
Our guy ran into the subway.
Well, maybe he still had one of the pesos on him.
He would have to take off his glove to stick it in the turnstile.
The transit authority emptied the turnstiles at that station at our request.
You find a Colombian coin in there?
No, I found three.
This one and this one had good prints, and one of them is in our system.
Mr. Francis Murphy.
Larceny, larceny, criminal possession... No violence, no sex crimes.
Maybe he decided to try something new.
And he's black. Our guy isn't.
What about the other stuff?
Well, all the coins on the ground had nothing but mud.
The gloves, common dime-store variety.
Only prints on the knife are the victim's.
But I don't think the killer's too happy he left it behind.
Why? Got an inscription from grandma?
It's a Mercer.
Engraved brass handle. Must've set him back at least $200.
Maybe two dozen stores in the city carry them.
Thanks. Well, we got a sketch from our jogger.
You want to hit a couple of knife stores?
Let's start with Francis Murphy.
Maybe our guy got his coin from him.
Murphy might know him.
We don't even know if our guy used that coin, though.
Well, there's two dozen knife stores. There's only one Francis Murphy.
Don't move.
You want to take my picture?
I don't want that moke spotting me.
He doesn't head to work in the next 10 minutes,
he violates his parole.
Looks like a fine upstanding citizen.
The parole board thought so.
I don't know what the hell they were thinking.
You baby-sit Francis Murphy like this?
Murphy? He's priority B. Doesn't kill people.
Doesn't hit people on the head.
Yeah? Well, we think he knows people who do.
Is he into something? I should know.
You'll be the first. Where do we find him?
In theory, Roosevelt's Ribs. Working the fire pit.
Odds that he's actually there? Two in five.
Lunch time, perfect.
Thanks.
Murphy? Well, he wouldn't pay attention.
Charred a whole hog before he got it right.
So you let him go?
Yeah.
Plenty of ex-cons where he come from.
You make a habit of employing convicts?
Being that I'm one myself, yeah. But I don't take no crap.
They do the job or they go away.
Suppose Mr. Murphy found a better position somewhere else.
Street hustles.
He'll sell you a stolen VCR, brand new in the box.
Yeah. Nothing inside but rocks, right?
Yeah.
He'll wrap it up real pretty. Maybe deal a little dope.
Now the last time I seen him,
he was selling subway slugs four for $1.
Where was that?
42nd Street.
Near a place called Lulu's. Thanks.
You interested?
Does that come with coleslaw and potato skins?
For you, anything.
All right.
Hey, look, I didn't do nothing. I don't know nothing.
And I don't want to know nothing.
Sort of a Zen thing, huh, Francis?
Keep your life pure and simple.
I don't know.
I hate to intrude on your ignorance, but do you know this guy?
No, man.
Look, Francis!
No.
Hey. We've been asking around.
We hear you been selling these pesos, four for $1.
So I'm a coin collector.
Yeah. And you sold some to him.
I told you, I don't know the guy.
And he used one of your coins to run away from a murder.
Okay, look. Maybe I do sell some of these things, all right,
all day, to lots of different people.
But I don't ask for ID and I don't look at their faces, man.
Just their dollars.
How many knife stores you say there were?
I'll check the list.
Hey!
What?
Seventeen knife dealers. Nobody recognizes our guy.
So far.
Carbon steel. Stainless steel.
All these years I've been using the wrong knife to carve the turkey.
That's Mr. Conover. I found him during his evening jog.
Now he recognized a photo of the deceased.
They talked once on a run around the reservoir.
Her name was Emily. You get a last name?
No. But she said she lived on East 86th Street.
Okay, now what? Another dozen knife stores?
Or talk to every doorman between Fifth Avenue and the river?
Profaci will work the ID, you stick to the cutlery.
Mercers? Nice knives, but I guess you already know that.
Did you happen to sell this one to him?
Whose legs did he break?
You know the guy?
I used to gamble a little. I liked the Lions.
When I lost, if I was a little slow in paying, he'd come around.
And he took a knife for what you owed?
No, he'd just take a knife for the hell of it. I still owed.
What's his name?
He never introduced himself,
except with a slap on the head.
Who was he collecting for?
Keep me out of this. I'm square with the guy.
Okay. We were never here.
I don't know.
He killed a woman.
With my knife?
No.
Son of a bitch.
He was working for Joey Giabone.
Little Joey?
Yeah.
But don't tell him I said hi.
You're asking me? That's funny.
Hey, we don't have any attitude here, Joey.
You don't have to be like this.
Come on, fellas, you want to ask me any questions,
you talk to my lawyer. You know the rules.
Hey, you! You wanna bowl in here, you rent shoes, you dope.
Otherwise get outta here!
I own a piece of this joint, you know. I'm in the amusement business.
Yeah, right. The Feds are after you for gambling and extortion.
The D.A.'s onto you for prostitution.
And two members of the Lopez crew
haven't been seen since they turned State's evidence.
Yeah. But raping and killing in the park?
Now we figured that's him, not you.
So what do you want to take his weight for, huh?
Hey, what're you saying? I know this guy?
We're saying he works for you. We got people who say so.
Now, why open up whole new lines of inquiry into your amusements business
that you don't need opened up?
Listen to me, worked for me, you understand. Not works for me.
I got rid of this crazy Mexican a year ago.
You got a name?
Yeah, I got a name. Luis Cruz, all right?
Yeah. Got it. Last known address?
You're beautiful.
Luis Cruz's wonder years were busy.
Three assault convictions. Two tours upstate.
Gee, you mean Giabone hired him without an M. B.A. In Amusements Management?
I guess he got his training on the job.
So does his description match our sketch?
Up to the eyebrows. They're sending us his mugs.
Him? Trouble.
Is he home?
Doesn't live here anymore, not for a long time.
How long?
A year. Maybe two.
He leave a forwarding address?
Him?
It's Curtis. Yeah.
Okay, thanks.
Profaci ID'd the victim.
Her husband just got back from a business trip.
He'll meet us at the morgue.
Some fun, huh?
You land at LaGuardia
and there's your wife, dead, on the front page of the Post.
Here we go.
Detective Briscoe?
Dobson?
What happened to the other guy?
You know each other?
My former partner and I arrested him for killing his first wife.
That's her.
You couldn't have been married to this one very long, Dobson.
Fourteen months.
And I guess you cut short the mourning period on your first wife, huh?
I never had a chance to mourn her properly,
thanks to you and the District Attorney.
You should have been mourning her for 25-to-life.
Detective Briscoe, my wife is lying there, dead...
Yeah. And we should talk about that.
Can I have some time alone?
His first wife was getting ready to divorce him
and take his money and their kids.
Yeah. He's crazy about the kids.
It's just the wives he has a problem with.
But he was acquitted?
Well, the case got dropped in the middle of the trial.
A CI sent us to a junkie mugger who turned out to be the shooter.
We always assumed Dobson shot his wife himself.
But the junkie did it?
Yep. So Dobson walked.
Now, later on, we found out
the junkie had worked at a comedy club that Dobson owned.
They knew each other.
That's quite a coincidence.
Yeah. But even if we could establish Dobson put him up to it, it was too late.
Double jeopardy.
You really think he would try it again?
Quite a coincidence.
What about motive?
Hey, they were married, weren't they?
Always the romantic.
Emily was really nice.
Dobson was some kind of over-achiever when it came to the ladies.
He doesn't strike me as being that charming.
Well, women go for those guys. It used to drive me crazy when I was single.
A Barnard girl once dumped me for a guy who used to hit her.
Did you ever see Mr. Dobson hit his wife?
No. Did you ever see bruises on her?
You ever see him yell at her? No.
And I saw them once a month at co-op meetings.
As long as she was taking care of his kids, I think he was getting what he wanted.
So the kids were number one, huh?
Numbers one through 1,000.
How well do you know the Dobsons?
Well, they're next door.
Emily used to water my plants when I was away.
She was always here, always working.
They own a restaurant together.
So between that and the children...
She was so good with his children,
I didn't even realize that she wasn't the mother.
And Mr. Dobson, how'd she get along with him?
Fine. You mean like arguing? Anything like that?
Jessica, where are Jeremy's gloves? Right here.
Hold them for him.
Just tell them the truth.
Should I just give you a list of all of our friends and neighbors,
so you can harass everybody I know?
Well, here's my card. Why don't you just fax it on over?
This is part of a normal investigation.
Of a random murder in the park?
Hey, we haven't made that determination yet.
That's because you're determined not to.
Detective Briscoe, let me help you out.
One day last winter, I laced my wife's ice skates too tight.
Then, another time, I put too much salt in her soup.
I'll get you the witnesses' phone numbers.
We're just gonna follow this wherever it takes us, Dobson.
Fine. Where is it taking you now?
To your restaurant.
Good thinking.
If you run into the killer there, tell him I recommend the soft-shell crabs.
Are those in season?
The customers were crazy about her.
She used to sit down with them and buy them after-dinner drinks.
I keep expecting her to walk through the door.
She was always here by now.
And Mr. Dobson? Was he always here, too?
Of course. You know what it takes to start a restaurant?
I just can't believe she's dead.
Did they open this place together?
Yes. With the money that Mr. Dobson got when he sold his comedy club.
He handled the business end of things.
Do you know what business took him out of town
when Mrs. Dobson was killed?
He was meeting some people in San Francisco about franchising, I think.
I just know that he didn't want to go.
He told you that?
I could tell.
He hadn't been away from here since we opened. He was so nervous.
He was calling three times a night just to see how we were doing.
And to make sure everybody knew he was out of town.
What do you mean?
Ms. Nash, would you happen to know who handles the insurance on this place?
I can check the files.
Funny guy, that Mr. Dobson. How's he taking it?
You mean funny odd or funny ha-ha?
He cracks me up.
I think he used to be a comedian.
Yeah. Not exactly my brand of humor. What kind of policies did he have?
He used to have them all.
Fire and theft, liability and the partnership policy.
Yeah. Tell us about the last one.
Well, he and his wife own the restaurant together.
If either one died, the other one got $1 million
to keep the business together. It's very common.
You said he used to have these policies.
Apparently, the restaurant's cash flow wasn't meeting projections.
Mr. Dobson let the liability and fire-and-theft lapse.
But he kept the partnership?
Yes.
I suggested it would be smarter if he kept the other ones instead.
$1 million, that sure eases the pain.
Well, I hate to lie down in front of the bandwagon here,
but nobody we talked to ever heard them argue,
and I thought it was looking pretty clear that Emily Dobson was killed by Luis Cruz.
Hey, Dobson had somebody else do it the first time, too.
Tough part was making the connection.
Well, why don't we try to find it a little sooner this time?
Cruz was muscle for Joey Giabone,
who's into all kinds of things.
You know, restaurant owners have to deal with a lot of different goons.
Rey, call your friends in OCCB.
Find out who picks up Dobson's garbage.
This one was easy.
Dobson's restaurant is in a pilot anti-corruption zone.
Its garbage gets hauled by a squeaky-clean outfit from upstate.
What about vending machines? Linen?
The linen's still mobbed up.
Thank God.
But Dobson gets his tablecloths from Sonny Salvo.
We got his crew list, and there's no Luis Cruz.
Oh, great. You got any other dead ends for us?
No, I checked Dobson's old comedy club.
It had garbage, too. And?
Old Town Carting, sole proprietor, Joey Giabone.
Thank you, ma'am. Thanks.
You're such a big shot now, Rey, you can't make it to the Christmas party?
I had no one to tango with.
Why, Rey, you never dance with me.
No.
Don't you want to hear who murdered your wife?
You mean this time you're actually trying to find out?
His name's Luis Cruz. Does he look familiar?
I was 3,000 miles away when it happened. I didn't get a good look.
Have you arrested him?
We don't know where he is.
We thought maybe you could help.
How could I do that? Go to detective school?
When you ran your comedy club,
your trash was picked up by Old Town Carting.
Okay. Which is owned by a mobster
named Joey Giabone, who employed Luis Cruz.
You starting to see a picture develop here?
No.
Cruz worked for the mobster who shook you down. Did you ever meet him?
We're gonna find out.
My wife is fresh in the morgue,
and you want to send me there, too?
You expect me to tell stories
about the mobster scum I have to deal with as an honest businessman
because you damn cops are too corrupt or lazy to do anything about it?
Is that a yes?
Don't let the door hit you on the way out.
We got a fax from the San Francisco PD.
Dobson was there when his wife was killed.
Leaving town, that was a nice touch.
We got his records from his hotel and cell phones.
He didn't call anyone but his home and office.
He even called home twice after his wife was killed.
To talk to the kids?
No. The kids were on a school trip.
He got the answering machine.
And an alibi.
"Why would I call my wife if I knew she was dead?"
He dots all his "I's."
So I guess it's too much to hope he paid Cruz by check.
This might be just as good.
Dobson got one 10-second phone call to his cell phone
while he was in San Francisco from a pay phone on 8th Avenue in Chelsea.
Twenty minutes after his wife was killed.
8th Avenue, it's the same subway line as Central Park West.
The call was charged to a credit card. Herbert Jaffe.
Who the hell is that?
You ever see a $20,000 phone bill?
The phone company just sent this over by UPS.
Any calls to San Francisco?
Yeah, and Nigeria, India, Senegal, Guam...
I take it you didn't make those calls?
Well, I don't have a whole lot of friends in Sri Lanka.
Three days ago, I was late heading home.
I stopped off at a pay phone in the Port Authority to call my wife.
I punched in my credit card.
And somebody saw.
Midwest Express.
The sharp ones can tell what number you're dialing
from 10 feet away
by how your fingers move.
Yep. Mom always said, "Learn a skill."
Yeah, in 10 minutes they've got the number sold
to a dozen mokes who miss their mommies in the old country.
INS ought to set up a bureau here.
Well, we keep an eye out.
Try to chase the wise guys away from the phones, you know.
Was this one of them? Luis Cruz.
We think he used a number that was stolen here the other day.
I can't say as I know that one.
Ma Bell's most-wanted list.
We keep it updated and hand it out to the shifts.
No Luis Cruz. But here's a familiar face.
Francis Murphy.
Look, I told you, I don't know that guy.
Right. Right. You don't know him, you didn't sell him a slug,
and now you didn't give him a stolen credit card number
you picked up from the Port Authority.
You know, you've got a lot of interesting sidelines, Francis.
And every one of them leads to him.
You provided his transportation to a murder.
You provided him the number he used to call the guy who hired him.
No, no way. You know, Rey, maybe he's right.
Maybe it wasn't this guy. I mean, it's Francis' print on the coin.
Francis is the one who got the credit card number.
I think Francis looks good for it.
Hey, now, you know that ain't right.
If I can't arrest one slime-bag, I'll settle for another one.
And I still get home in time for dinner. Cuff him, Rey.
Look, look. Hey, hey, suppose I just want to walk on out of here.
Now what fun would that be?
All right, all right. Okay. All right. All right. Luis Cruz. He's a Mexican.
Yeah, we know. Where do we find him?
I don't know, man. That's too bad.
Okay. All right, all right, all right. Look, he's got a girlfriend.
Asian honey, you know. On 8th Avenue.
You know how many girls out here call themselves Joy?
I guess it would help if her name was Agnes.
She's Asian. Does that help? Hangs out with this guy.
Oh, yeah, Mr. Personality.
Is this the guy that tried to shove Phoebe in the trunk of that cab?
No, that was Vincent. This is the one that hangs out with extra-short Joy.
But she's not Asian. She's black.
Not that one. The one that gets nauseous if she smokes too much weed.
Ladies, this is all fascinating...
Hey! It's not like you're paying for the time.
Okay. Just let us know when you're done.
I know her. She's got a place around the corner.
Thank you.
Now what do we get for being so nice?
Freedom.
Don't move.
What're you doing? Looking for Luis Cruz.
You got to be kidding.
Men's clothes. Whose are these?
Luis', okay?
Where is he?
He runs out on me. He steals my $400.
Then he gets the police busting in on my door.
I hope you find him. I hope you shoot him.
No problem. Just tell us where he went.
Mexico. You go to Texas, turn left.
You dragged me down here because somebody made a call
to my cell phone with a stolen credit card?
Thanks for telling me. I'll get a refund on my bill.
It was Luis Cruz, telling you the job was done.
This Luis Cruz, he's the one who murdered my wife?
Shouldn't you be chasing him down instead of harassing me?
What was the call about?
Mr. Dobson doesn't have to tell you anything.
Just thought maybe your client would like a chance to clear himself.
He did business with Giabone. Cruz worked for Giabone.
Cruz killed his wife and then Cruz called him.
So what? So what? If I ever see him, I'll kill him. And wrong.
I'm gonna pick up my kids.
Give us a second, Counselor.
How's this for fond memories?
I can't believe it.
Yeah. He still makes my skin crawl.
He's not about to sign a confession. It's up to you.
It would help if we had this Cruz. Where is he?
There's a murder warrant out for him. We've notified INS
and sent a request for help to the Mexican Federal Police.
I wouldn't count on seeing him soon.
Hey, he comes into $1 million.
He gets a phone call from the killer 20 minutes after the killing.
Nothing else makes sense.
Plus, he killed another one just like this one.
Do it.
You bring me a root beer?
Michael Dobson, you're under arrest for the murder of Emily Dobson.
You have the right to remain silent.
Anything you do say can and will be used against you in a court of law.
"Case number 64030. People v. Michael Dobson.
"The charge is Murder in the First Degree."
First?
Murder for hire, Your Honor.
Not guilty!
Counselor.
This is a potential capital case.
The risk of flight must be considered high.
My client runs a business in the city.
He has two small children.
The children need me at home.
I'm their only parent.
Because he murdered their mother.
Is that what he's charged with here?
No. This is a subsequent homicide.
No, this is a vendetta. That charge was dropped.
First degree, no bail.
Next. Let's go.
This guy again. Never heard of a divorce lawyer.
This time we don't let him get away with it.
You were the one that dropped the charge last time.
Yeah. Before I learned he was connected to the trigger man.
This time we can link Dobson to Luis Cruz, before and after the murder.
People saw them together at Dobson's comedy club.
And the call on the stolen credit card right after the call to Dobson
was to Cruz's mother in Mexico.
So we have everything except Senor Cruz.
Murder for hire, without the hiree.
Well, the jury won't need him,
as long as they get to hear what happened to the first Mrs. Dobson.
Yeah, good luck.
To mention the death of his first wife in any way, in any form,
would poison the minds of jury members.
Two dead wives, both murdered by surrogates,
establishes a distinctive pattern,
which makes it admissible under the Molineux rule.
The only pattern here is misfortune,
that the People seek to gain an advantage
from the tragedies in this man's life.
Please. Every woman this man marries ends up dead.
At whose hand?
My client was never convicted of killing his first wife.
Molineux doesn't require a conviction or even a trial.
But the lack of a conviction is a factor to weigh in assessing probative value.
We're prepared to offer evidence of the first murder.
Which would be an end run around double jeopardy.
If this jury convicted,
we could never be sure of which crime they were convicting him.
So the People are penalized
because this man killed before and got away with it?
Yes, they are. There'll be no mention of the death of the first Mrs. Dobson.
When can I see my children? Their Aunt Fatty won't bring them here.
You'll have to petition Children's Services.
Assuming you want them to see you this way.
Suddenly, you're worried about their well-being?
Suddenly, you are?
Well, it's been nice chatting.
Sit down, Mr. Dobson.
You're here to offer me a deal. He's here to offer me a deal.
We're listening.
Speak for yourself.
Murder two.
Sentencing recommendation?
Who cares?
Hello! Attention, everybody! I did not kill Emily. I loved her.
Until she was worth more to you dead than alive.
Just like your first wife.
You think my problems with my first wife,
whom I did not kill, were over money?
Spare us, Mr. Dobson.
The only reason I wanted out of my first marriage
was because I was in love with Emily.
Back then?
She was a waitress at my comedy club.
And a beautiful, warm-hearted, sensitive woman. Everything I'm not.
I noticed the difference, and I fell in love with her.
And I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.
To think I would kill her...
You just can't understand.
Romeo, thy name is Dobson.
He was running around on his first wife with this one.
He just gave us another motive for his first murder.
Yeah. Two years too late.
Adam, I want to go for the death penalty.
He's a slow-motion serial killer.
We still have time before we have to make that decision.
Before I have to make that decision.
If he goes to jail for the rest of his life,
he's not going to kill any more wives.
You can buy a hit man on the street for $500.
Dobson's done that twice now.
He's not gonna be able to do it again from jail.
Maybe not.
But people on the outside might think again
if the price was raised to $500 plus
one lethal injection.
Here's our notice of intent to seek the death penalty for Michael Dobson.
But we still have to convict Dobson without mentioning his first dead wife.
We have what we need,
plus now we know that Dobson had a girlfriend
when he murdered his first wife.
Think he's doing it again?
Call Briscoe and Curtis.
Mr. Dobson is in mourning. His wife is dead.
You understand?
Yeah. That's why we're here.
This is no time to be talking about such things.
Hey, hey, hey, do we tell you how to bus dishes?
What about respect, you know? For the family? For the dead?
If Mr. Dobson was fooling around, he's the one with no respect.
In my country, we don't tell such stories.
Welcome to America. Speaking of which, you do have your green card, don't you?
Yes.
All right.
You know, Mr. Dobson, he's a man. He has a woman on the side.
Is that another custom in your country?
Not just in my country.
I saw him once.
So, they say you've been having an affair with Mr. Dobson.
No. He's my boss. That's all.
Well, a bus boy named Antonio
says that he saw you and Mr. Dobson in the storeroom a few weeks ago.
So? We're in the...
You were caressing him.
It was nothing. We're just friendly.
Ms. Nash, we're going to be calling you as a witness.
To testify against Michael? I won't do it.
You won't have a choice.
You're going to twist it. I know you are.
Twist what?
Michael and I, we're in love.
But that has nothing to do with what happened to Mrs. Dobson.
How do you know?
Michael was going to get a divorce so that we could be together.
He didn't need to kill her.
He and Mrs. Dobson had discussed it. It was all set.
I don't know. There's no record of either of them seeing a divorce attorney.
Well, that can't be right. Michael told me.
Michael told her.
If either of the Dobson's ever saw a divorce lawyer, it was the invisible one.
Sure. Because he's got a better idea
for a more profitable way to end his marriage.
No legal fees, no alimony, and a million-dollar bonus.
And the girlfriend gives him an extra motive. The jury gets to take its pick.
And Dobson knows it. His lawyer just called.
We'll take man one.
You'll plead to manslaughter, Mr. Dobson, despite the fact that you're innocent?
You're gonna make me look guilty. I have to be realistic.
You have to be honest.
Any plea bargain would have to include a full recitation of the facts.
Your facts.
I needed money.
Show me one restaurant owner who doesn't.
I lied about getting a divorce to some broad I was banging.
So shoot me. Whoa! I wanna take that back.
No deal.
Jack McCoy's office.
When? Keep him there. I'm sure he'll want to see him right away.
The INS just picked up a friend of yours at JFK
trying to sneak back into the country.
Luis Cruz.
Him, I'll make a deal with.
And what's in this for Mr. Cruz?
How about he doesn't get executed?
Man, I should've stayed in Oaxaca.
Maybe you just shouldn't have murdered Emily Dobson.
Who's that again?
We have three eyewitnesses who can put you at the scene,
including the man you stabbed with your knife.
Man one and he cooperates fully.
Murder two. I don't need him to convict Dobson.
He's just icing on the cake.
Okay.
I killed her for Dobson, for $10,000.
How did you know Dobson?
From his old comedy club.
He did some business with my boss.
Joey Giabone?
Yeah.
We picked up the club's garbage,
provided some working capital, and we kept the property safe.
Racketeering, loan-sharking and extortion.
That's what Dobson called it, but I guess he liked the way I did my job.
You said he paid you $10,000.
Your girlfriend said you took $400 from her before you left the country.
What happened to the money?
I never got it yet.
Dobson mailed it to me after the job
to one of those private post office boxes.
What happened? It got lost in the mail?
The cops were on me so fast, I couldn't wait around for it to get there.
I was gonna come back for it like next year.
Why didn't you?
The mailbox place called my girlfriend.
They said all mail had to be picked up in 30 days or they send it back.
So I took the chance.
Why didn't you have your girlfriend pick it up?
Yeah, right.
These are the decisions I love.
Do we put the hired killer on the stand
before the insurance agent and the girlfriend,
or do we put the girlfriend and insurance agent on before the hired killer?
Counselors.
We got the money from the mailbox.
All there?
Ten large, as advertised. And we ran it through Forensics as ordered.
Priority. And?
And I just thought maybe we would find Dobson's fingerprints on it.
You didn't?
Not a one. But all over the place, Joey Giabone.
Giabone?
That's what it says.
Cruz's former employer.
Maybe not former.
Whoa! Whoa! Wait a minute.
You're not saying Dobson didn't do it?
Okay, you explain it.
We're offering him an opportunity to give us a simple explanation.
How his fingerprints got on the money.
Mr. Giabone will be happy to tell you anything you need to know
regarding Mr. Cruz and Mr. Dobson
if you arrange with Adam Schiff and the U. S. Attorneys Office
to grant him complete immunity relating to anything he might mention.
Transactional immunity?
He's under investigation for a dozen major crimes.
You want to bowl a few frames? Today is ladies' day.
Mr. Giabone, this would help us. It would also help you.
It's only a buck a game.
You're not a target of this investigation, but you can be.
Stand in line.
We might as well have bowled.
Well, he did do business with Dobson.
Extortion. The money would have passed from Dobson to Giabone,
not the other way around.
Giabone loan sharks, too. Cruz said that Dobson borrowed money.
Back when he ran the comedy club.
Yeah. He borrowed it then. When did he pay it back?
Did he pay it back?
You've already used me once to help you try to kill him.
You handled the restaurant's books.
We just want to know if Dobson owed money to Joey Giabone.
Another gangster, right? Well, what if he did?
Does that hurt him or help him?
It depends.
Look, if he owed money to somebody like that,
doesn't it mean they could have killed Mrs. Dobson to scare him?
Did he owe money?
Yes. He owed somebody.
And he was scared.
How do you know?
There were phone calls he wouldn't take.
He installed a video camera outside the restaurant.
He even borrowed money from me once, $6,000 to make a payment.
He said he could be killed.
And you didn't mention this before?
He needed money to pay somebody back.
I thought you'd use that against him, too.
I don't want to talk about it.
You said you didn't kill your wife.
If you know somebody that did...
You mean Joey Giabone, the mobster?
No. The sugar-plum fairy. Forget it.
You'd rather be convicted?
You're preparing the brilliant case against me. What choice do I have?
What are you protecting?
What could possibly be any worse than what you're facing?
Your children.
Give that man a cigar.
Giabone threatened your children?
You people...
Almost as painful as being railroaded to the death chamber
is watching your minds slowly turn.
Then give us a shove.
I owed the bastard money.
The restaurant turned out to be not such a great idea.
He said, "Pay. " I said, " I'd love to, but I can't."
He killed my wife,
my beautiful innocent wife,
all because of me.
Because I sat down with scum like that.
And the call from Cruz to you.
He said, " I just killed your wife.
"Now you can pay Mr. Giabone."
And once you geniuses got involved, there was another call.
"Keep your mouth shut, or your kids..."
My kids!
But my client's already been cooperating fully.
Yes. But with whom?
With you. Is that right?
Mr. Cruz?
Exactly when did you stop working for Joey Giabone?
I heard you've been asking around.
You heard in Rikers?
I'm not convicted. I can use the phone. I know what's going on.
I've been reflecting.
I want to do the right thing.
I think it's a little late for that.
You want Giabone, don't you?
You told us Dobson hired you.
Excuse me, but I'd like to keep breathing.
Can I have a minute to confer with my client?
We can confer right now.
They want Giabone, and I can give him to them
if they do the right thing for me.
We have a deal in place, which you're now telling us you violated by lying.
It's void.
So let's start over.
Giabone's a lot more important than some crazy husband.
Man one.
The minimum.
Then witness protection. Federal.
And I tell everything.
So now Dobson's poster boy for " When bad things happen to bad people."
That's Cruz's new story. Giabone ordered the wife hit.
He knew Dobson would get the insurance money
and be able to pay back what he owed.
What have we got here?
A hit man who changes his story to get a better deal?
When Cruz first showed up, he was the final nail in Dobson's coffin.
But it couldn't have worked out better for Dobson if he'd arranged it himself.
That's interesting, isn't it?
Have you got the phone number for that mailbox place?
Yeah. Here.
Cruz came back
because somebody called his girlfriend and said he had to pick up his mail.
Hello, Mailbox City?
I've got a box there, and I'm gonna be out of town for a while.
How long will you hold my mail?
Thank you.
As long as I pay the bill, forever.
That's nice of them. Now who called Cruz's girlfriend?
Okay, number one.
"Hello, I'm calling from Mailbox City with a message for Luis Cruz."
No, that wasn't her.
Number two.
"Hello, I'm calling from Mailbox City with a message for Luis Cruz."
I don't think so.
Okay. Number three.
"Hello, I'm calling from Mailbox City with a message for Luis Cruz."
That's her. That's the bitch! You hear me, bitch?
You got my Luis. I'm gonna get you! Hey, hey! Come on!
You got my Luis! Bitch, I'm gonna get you!
Well, I assume we no longer have any doubt that Dobson's our man.
What kind of mind could set up something like this?
We know she visited him at Rikers.
After the case started going against him.
"Margaret, dear, would you mind making a call for me?"
He conned her.
And he thinks he's still conning us.
I told you, McCoy. I'm not going to testify.
If your own investigation supports Mr. Dobson's position,
I trust you'll do the right thing anyway.
Do whatever you want. I will not endanger my family.
Very touching, Mr. Dobson.
Your nobility must be one of the things that made Ms. Nash so devoted to you.
She has nothing to do with this.
On the contrary.
Claire.
Honey, shut up. He's trying to screw me.
No, Ms. Nash, he's trying to use you. He already has.
Margaret, he's full of crap.
You made two phone calls at your boyfriend's request.
One was to the killer's girlfriend, the other was to the INS.
An anonymous tip to be on the lookout for Luis Cruz.
Here are the phone records.
You're saying my client had something to do with this?
He asked her to make those calls.
Isn't that right?
Margaret.
Why would he do that?
Because he knew if Cruz came back,
we'd find the money with Joey Giabone's fingerprints.
If the money has Giabone's fingerprints...
Dobson used some of the money he'd borrowed from Giabone to pay Cruz.
If Cruz was picked up with the money, it would point to somebody else.
Somebody else did hire him. Michael didn't do it.
You're very trusting.
Is that why you used her, Mr. Dobson?
He gave you the number of the killer's girlfriend.
How did he know that?
He knew these people. They were after him.
And the fact that the money for the hit man was in that mailbox,
how did he know that?
I don't know.
Go ahead, Mr. Dobson, explain it to us. We're all listening.
Michael?
You're going to testify about all this.
Margaret, Margaret, you don't have to say anything.
If you don't, I'll charge you as an accomplice to murder.
Margaret.
You want to go to prison for him? What is it?
Do you really want to be Mrs. Dobson number three?
Here's number one.
And here's number two.
And what do you want me to do?
Women!
I still can't believe he committed the same murder twice.
I mean, what did he think? No one would notice?
A guy like that thinks he can talk his way out of anything.
And now he gets to do his routine for the jury in the penalty phase.
Then the appeals court, then the higher court, the newspapers,
the governor. He'll be on death row well into the next century.
Plenty of time to practice his shtick.