NARRATOR: 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.
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.
It's been two weeks since my last confession.
Well, for starters,
a man cut me off on the Cross Bronx Expressway.
I know I shouldn't have, but I sped up and I cut him off back.
And then, when I saw him screaming at me in my rear view,
I made a hand gesture.
You know, I flipped him the bird.
Father?
Are you okay?
Father?
(GASPS) Oh, God!
Lady came in for confession about 8:20. This is how she found him.
Name is Father Grady.
Man.
Looks like he caught it in the line of duty.
Yeah, and no hazard pay.
Was there anybody here besides that woman?
Caretaker. We got him in his office down in the basement. He's pretty upset.
All right. Take him outside, we'll talk to him there.
Hey, let's get some guys on the street, see if we can turn up that gun.
And if you need help, get an ESU team down here.
So, how do you kill a man of the cloth?
Small caliber, close range.
Where was the shooter? In here.
Wow. He shot him right through the confession screen?
Yeah. The line of fire's right on a level with his head.
Which means our guy was in the sinner's seat.
Wonder how many Hail Marys that rates?
I got in around 4:00.
First thing I did was mop the floor in the chapel
and then I went to clean up downstairs.
What time was that?
Maybe an hour or so later.
When was the last time you saw Father Grady?
Right before he went in to hear confessions.
Maybe 7:00, 7:30.
Did you see who he was taking confession from?
Well, there are a couple of regulars,
you know, elderly ladies from the neighborhood.
I thought the chapel was part of the boys' school.
School uses it during the day. But it's open to the public the rest of the time.
And what about for confessions?
Wednesday nights, Saturday afternoons.
So, I guess it's pretty quiet in the evenings, huh?
There's always a few students staying late,
but they're usually next door in the gym.
And anybody else who wanders in off the street
till I lock the place up about 10:00.
How long have you known Father Grady?
About two years. He was a good priest.
Jeez, what kind of person could do something like this?
Who's in charge here?
The Monsignor. He lives here in the rectory.
Thanks.
It took less than 10 minutes to go through his room.
He's got one desk, one drawer, nothing unusual.
I don't have to tell you guys
the brass is all over this one.
Well, we're trying to track down some women
who went to confession that night.
Well, what about ballistics?
Based on the signature on the slug,
we're looking for a Phoenix Arms .25.
Well, you have to figure someone looking for money
isn't gonna rob a priest.
Well, his wallet's still in his room.
And there's nothing missing from the chapel.
This could be some psycho from off the street
who's got a grudge against the Pope.
Or maybe a grudge against Father Grady.
FATHER EVANS: We're all trying to go on with the routine today.
But it's been hard.
Father Grady was well-liked?
Very much so.
And Don Bosco isn't exactly the easiest place to teach.
Why is that?
Some of the boys here have been...
Well, turned away from other schools.
How serious are the problems?
Oh, it's pretty wide-ranging.
Any of these kids have a personal problem with Father Grady?
Well, you don't really think that one of our students
could have had something to do with this?
Well, we don't know, Father. What do you think?
There was a disciplinary problem with one of the seniors,
a boy named Tim Boswell.
But I just can't believe it could have led to something like this.
Well, what happened with this kid?
He and Father Grady had
some sort of altercation. I don't know the whole story.
But he was suspended last week.
Does Tim have this kind of locker?
Well, now, wouldn't you need his permission for that?
Well, actually, the law gives the school as much right to open it as he has.
There should be a master key for these.
I'm not sure I'm very comfortable with this.
I mean, we try to maintain a slightly higher standard here.
Well, we're just trying to find out if everybody's living up to it.
Whoa! Catholic school wasn't like that in my day.
He's not supposed to have those.
See, we got some text books, notebooks, magazines.
It all looks pretty straightforward.
What are you looking at, Mr. Cole?
Nothing.
Aren't you supposed to be in Latin?
Forgot my book.
What are they doing with Tim's stuff?
That is not your business, Mr. Cole.
No, no, no, it's okay.
Hey, you tight with Tim Boswell?
Know him a little.
BRISCOE: He ever talk to you about Father Grady?
Do you have something to say, Mr. Cole?
He had a fight with him.
What was it about?
Something personal. I don't know.
Then how do you know it was personal?
Just the way Tim was acting yesterday when he told me about it.
Yesterday? Mr. Boswell wasn't supposed to be in school.
ED: What time did you talk to him?
I don't know, late.
I stayed after for soccer practice.
When I went to get my coat, Tim was right here.
How do I know where he is?
Your son's been suspended for two weeks
and he's just out roaming the streets?
You think he listens to me?
What happened to you, Mrs. Boswell?
Nothing. I tripped on the stairs.
Was Tim home yesterday evening?
Why?
There was a problem at his school.
What kind of problem?
A priest was shot last night.
Which priest? Father Grady.
Oh, my God.
And why do you want to talk to Tim?
ED: We just need to clear a few things up.
You don't think Tim had anything to do with it?
Actually, we think it was some drug addicts in the neighborhood.
Because my son would never do something like that. Never.
Oh, we just need to talk to him.
There's some older boys who hang around by the deli on 9th Avenue.
Doing nothing.
He might be with them.
Tim Boswell?
Yeah.
Let's take a walk, huh?
You arresting him or something?
Hey, you keep your mouth shut or we're going to be arresting you.
Hey, hey, hey, hey! Smells like teen spirit.
This yours, Tim? No.
Well, whose is it, then? Because it was closest to you.
Anybody?
That's what I thought.
Look, I'll cop to the ell, okay?
Come on, man. You know you don't get to sit up here in first class over some weed.
(EXHALES) What do you want?
Why don't we start with your whereabouts yesterday evening?
I was at the park chilling with some girls till it got dark.
BRISCOE: And then what?
Went to Mickey D's, got some food, walked home.
We got somebody that put you in Don Bosco at 6:30.
Only you were suspended. So what the hell were you doing there?
Look, kid, we got a dead priest.
And the only way you're going to catch any kind of a break on this
is if you start telling us the truth!
All right, so I was there.
What time?
6:00, 6:30.
Doing what?
All I did was sneak in to get some weed from my locker.
I never even saw Father Grady.
Really?
Because we heard that you and him threw down the other day.
Wasn't like that.
BRISCOE: Well, either way, it's obvious you didn't like him very much.
I had a reason.
We're listening.
I tell you, you're just going to think I killed him.
We already think that.
He was using his collar to get over.
Wait a minute.
You're telling us that Father Grady made advances on you?
(SCOFFS)
My mother.
I can tell you this horrific crime is being taken very seriously by the Church.
His Holiness has been informed
and he sends his prayers and condolences to the entire Archdiocese.
Please.
Well, we can assure you,
we're gonna do everything we can to clear the case.
Monsignor Fanelli informed us of your suspicions about Father Grady.
And?
A few weeks ago, my office got a call from Mr. Boswell.
He accused Father Grady of having
relations with his wife.
That explains her trip down the stairs.
Anything to what he said?
I think the problems in Mr. Boswell's marriage
have nothing to do with Father Grady.
Did you tell him that?
I did. He claims we were covering up for Father Grady.
It seems he really wasn't interested in hearing the truth.
From anyone.
My son's not here.
Actually, we want to talk to you.
About what?
It'd be better if we did this inside.
(TV PLAYING)
What happened to your wife, Mr. Boswell?
She fell.
Don't you got something to do in the kitchen?
So what do you want?
ED: Where were you on Wednesday night?
I was here.
You got anybody that can vouch for you?
My wife. And a delivery guy who brought up a pizza.
We understand you knew the priest who got killed.
I might have met him once at a parent-teacher conference.
BRISCOE: And maybe you thought your wife knew him a little better than that?
We had a conversation with Bishop Durning.
He told us about your phone call.
Yo, Lennie, check this out.
Don Bosco newsletter.
We get it every month. So what?
Yeah, well, on the front page, it has the schedule of confession.
It has the priest's name,
the day and the time he's going to be there.
Oh, sort of like a how-to for somebody who might want to kill him.
Wait. Hold on a minute. The night of the murder,
Father Evans was supposed to be in that confessional.
Not Father Grady.
Father Grady and I traded assignments.
ED: Why didn't you mention that
the first time we spoke to you?
I guess in all the turmoil
it just slipped my mind.
Wait, it should have been me in there.
Who else knew about the switch, Father?
Uh...
No one. Uh, just... Just Father Grady and myself.
It really wasn't anything formal.
What about money problems?
Or, uh, maybe somebody who had a grudge against you?
You really think it's possible this person was
trying to kill me?
Well, anything is possible.
Father, whoever did this is still out there.
So why don't you really think about it
and let us know if anything clicks, huh?
Boswell thought this priest was getting it on with his wife.
Anything to it?
It's an excuse to wail on her.
We referred her to Domestic Violence.
The pizza guy says he delivered a large sausage and mushroom
to the husband right about the time of the shooting.
Well, what about his son?
Kid's still on our short list.
But the change in the confessional schedule
opens up a whole new range of possibilities.
So, we start looking in this other priest's direction?
This Father Evans? We already have.
We found out that Don Bosco sends out 1,600 newsletters every month
to students, alumni, congregation members.
We have a list.
The lab turn up anything to narrow it down?
Latent came up blank. We checked this morning.
Well, Detectives, you've got 1,600 names
to cross-reference with gun permits and felony records.
Eddie, just got a heads up from the 1-5.
A subway worker picked up a .25 millimeter
from the tracks at 33rd Street on the Lex.
That's a few blocks from Don Bosco. Thank you.
Eddie?
It's a Phoenix Arms .25, one shot missing from the clip.
I had it dusted, but they couldn't lift anything usable.
You got a read on when it was tossed?
It's a guess, but from the grease and grime, I'd say a few days at most.
How about the test fire?
The slug recovered from the victim's pretty beat up.
I can testify consistent, but not a dead-on match.
So, everything says it's our murder weapon,
but you just can't make it definite?
I did run the serial number.
And was it stolen?
Registered to a Joseph Serrano, here in the city.
He's got a business premises license.
You're licensed for a gun on the premises, Mr. Serrano?
Uh-huh. I bought it about five, six years ago. I'm open late most nights.
So you think you're going to scare off a stick-up man with a .25?
Nah. My wife made me buy the damned thing.
Personally, I'd rather hand over a day's receipts
than go muzzle-to-muzzle with some crackhead.
But hey, it makes her feel better me having it.
So when did this gun go missing?
Missing? Mmm-mmm. It's right inside.
I keep it locked up under the register.
It's gone.
When's the last time you saw it?
Maybe two, three weeks ago.
Who else has access to this drawer?
What happened with this gun?
Who else has the key, Mr. Serrano?
Danny. My night manager.
The one who wasn't here Wednesday.
All right. You're coming with us till we straighten this out.
I didn't take the gun.
Your boss here says you were the only other person who had the key, Danny.
Plenty of people could have picked up that key from somewhere.
Now that wouldn't make you a very good night manager, now would it?
I go out of my way to give you a job and now you got me jammed up behind this? Uh-uh!
Where'd you get this Don Bosco mug, Danny?
SERRANO: He went to high school there.
You been over there recently?
Why would I?
How about to go to confession?
Not since I was a kid.
ED: You heard about the priest who got shot over there, right?
Look, I don't know nothing about the priest.
But you heard about it, right?
Yeah.
BRISCOE: Well, it turns out that priest was killed with the gun we're talking about.
Your gun, your school, Danny.
BRISCOE: Now, the least you're looking at
is a weapons possession charge, kid.
I'm going to lose my job.
You already did.
What we're talking about now is jail time.
I gave the gun to my cousin, Angel.
ED: Now, why would you do that?
He said he needed something for protection.
Protection from what?
He wouldn't tell me!
He just said he needed the gun
for a couple of days and he'd bring it back.
Does Angel go to Don Bosco?
No, he used to.
Now he works up at the boatyard.
Angel Cabrera's worked for me for about a year.
You have any problems?
He shows up.
That's him, working on that 19-footer.
(HORN BLARING)
(TRUCK HORN BLARING)
Get your ass back here, stupid!
BRISCOE: We don't like it when somebody runs, Angel.
Kind of gets things off on the wrong foot.
I got a warrant, man.
You want us to believe you almost got yourself shot for a turnstile jump?
Tell us about the gun your cousin gave you, Angel.
I lost it. Yeah, we know.
Somebody found it on the 6-Train tracks.
Must have fell out of my pocket when I was changing cars.
Now, this is after you got off on 33rd Street?
Man, I got no reason to be down there.
Well, here's the readout from your MetroCard, Angel.
It's got you entering the 33rd Street station at 7:42 p.m.
Should have jumped that turnstile.
You go to church?
My mother gave me that.
What's your mother going to think
when she finds out why we picked you up?
Maybe we ought to call her right now.
Yo, I don't even know that priest, man.
ED: You know Father Evans?
Look, man. Your mother put you in a really good Catholic school.
She goes to church every Sunday
and prays for your soul and this is how you repay her?
She brought you up believing that God forgives all sins,
but you have to cop to it first.
Either way, we're going to charge you with murder.
I want a lawyer.
You sure?
Because once a lawyer gets involved, it ain't between you and God anymore.
I want a lawyer.
Well, he was in one of my classes, but that was over four years ago.
And that was your only contact with him?
For the most part.
Angel had some problems around that time.
What kind of problems?
I'm sure you already know. He was arrested a few times.
BRISCOE: And you helped him out of those situations?
His mother contacted me.
I offered my advice and support to him.
Shooting you is kind of a strange way for him to pay you back, isn't it?
Then you believe Angel's responsible for Father Grady's murder?
We do.
Any reason why Angel would want you dead, Father?
Oh, I'm sorry. But I'm just not at liberty to talk about it.
Kind of a strange answer, Father.
I really don't have anything else to say.
But you do know something about what happened?
Look, whatever your relationship is with him,
I'm sure there's a way we can figure this out.
Look, I'm sorry, Detective.
But I'm a priest, not a police officer.
Excuse me.
It's better to cut Cabrera loose now than after some half-baked indictment.
We got lucky on that, the arraignment judge held him on the warrant.
What's our take on this priest's refusal to cooperate?
Well, it sounds like Cabrera must have told him something in confidence.
Then he's relying on privilege?
Apparently, without claiming he took this kid's confession.
That makes a difference?
If this was a formal confession, we'd be stopped in our tracks.
Not every communication between a cleric and a congregant is privileged.
(EXHALES) So it's not enough if the priest says it is?
Privilege only attaches when someone seeks spiritual counsel.
So, if this priest is tap dancing around this for whatever reason,
maybe we have some leeway to find out what was said.
I'm not sure I like the fact that we have so much
wiggle room in all of this.
LEWIN: What do we know about the nature of the conversation?
So far we don't even know what the circumstances were.
LEWIN: Cabrera's mother is the one who called this priest.
Mmm-hmm.
Let's find out why.
Your son didn't appear for court when he was arrested.
He was afraid to lose his job.
Which is why I came to speak to you, Mrs. Cabrera.
Speak to me? About what?
Your son's been doing pretty well.
Yes.
Only, now we think he might have some information about a shooting,
but so far he's refused to tell us anything.
My Angel is a good boy.
That's what Father Evans tells us.
God bless that man.
I don't know what we'd do without him.
So, Father Evans has helped Angel before, then?
Yeah, in high school.
His father ran off. My son took it very hard.
I tried...
But that's when Angel started getting into trouble.
Yeah. He began to have problems in school and
then there was the stolen cars, shoplifting...
So you called Father Evans?
One night Angel comes home. He's very scared.
Scared about what?
I think he saw something happen.
He would never tell me.
I don't think he wanted to frighten me.
But you never knew what this was about?
No. All I know, is that he was afraid to go out.
And we started getting these calls in the middle of the night.
I finally disconnected the phone.
You didn't call the police?
No, I called Father Evans.
He came to our apartment and spoke to Angel.
And nothing happened.
Thank God.
And ever since then, Father Evans has always kept in touch with Angel.
When was the last time your son saw Father Evans?
A few weeks ago, I think.
MURPHY: Angel Cabrera?
Hmm, there's one entry. "Detective R. Murphy, 3-1 Precinct."
He would have been 18 when you pulled his jacket.
I worked a lot of cases the past three years, Counselor.
Well, what were you working in October of '98?
We have to save our old memo books. Let me take a look.
Well, his mother said she had the phone disconnected.
According to the phone company, that was on the 11th.
You pulled his jacket on the 16th.
Okay, looks like I was working
a couple of residential break-ins with our Burglary Squad.
Anything else?
Uh, a homicide.
The vic was a kid named Samuel Landrum.
Okay, yeah, here he is. Angel Cabrera.
Address. Phone disconnected. That's right.
Why were you trying to contact him?
We had a tip he had some information. He's possibly an eyewitness.
Did you ever interview him?
Doesn't look like we ever did. Why not?
Case was closed with one collar on the 29th.
Perp's name, Freddie Ortega.
And if I'm remembering right, Ortega got convicted, he went upstate.
Without Cabrera's cooperation?
Turns out we didn't need it. We had a solid ID on Ortega.
Then we found a jacket in his closet
with Landrum's blood on it the day we grabbed him up.
The victim was knifed in Riverside Park.
One group of kids beefing with another group of kids
over a bubble jacket.
This year it's denim.
But it just doesn't make any sense, Jack.
Why would Cabrera want to kill Evans
if all it was about was his involvement as a witness?
Have you talked to Father Evans
since you learned about the Landrum case?
No. He won't take my phone calls.
Drop a subpoena on him.
On a priest?
Cabrera's bound to be cut loose at his next court appearance.
I'd rather not see him taking another shot at someone.
Well, obviously, this priest feels like
he has a religious obligation to stay silent.
Question for us is, is it a legal obligation?
And we can't know that until we get some information from him.
Well, what if he won't answer our questions in front of a grand jury?
I mean, would we really hold him in contempt?
Not our call.
Well, we're the ones putting him in this position.
Doctors, lawyers, even priests.
They don't get to make their own rules.
Sometimes the people that they counsel get a free pass,
but only in a narrow set of circumstances.
(EXHALES IN FRUSTRATION)
I thought you were brought up Catholic.
Which is exactly why I'm bending over backwards
to treat this man like any other witness.
Just let me try and talk to him again. Just give me one more chance.
I'm not looking for a fight. Take your best shot.
Great.
Only bring a subpoena with you.
Hi. I'm Serena Southerlyn, from the D.A.'s office.
I'm handling the Cabrera case.
I'd like to ask you a few questions about him, Father.
Well, I'm afraid I can't help you.
But you haven't even heard what I want to speak with you about.
I didn't mean to be rude. Please.
Thanks.
I've already spoken with Angel's mother.
And with the detective who investigated the Landrum murder.
There's nothing I can add.
Are you sure there's nothing you're willing to say, Father?
On or off the record?
I'm very sorry, but no.
I know you think what you're doing is right.
We're not going to stop asking these questions.
(SIGHS)
This is a subpoena requiring you to appear and give testimony before
the grand jury in the case of People against Angel Cabrera.
The Archdiocese views this as an abuse of your prosecutorial power.
My office is investigating the murder of a priest.
And who more than the Church would want his killer brought to justice?
We all respect religious privilege,
but the law entitles us to ask certain questions
in order to determine whether or not that privilege applies.
He confided in a priest.
What more do you people need?
Father Evans never claimed it was confession.
And Cabrera's mother indicated that he was afraid,
that he didn't know what to do.
Legal privilege wouldn't apply if Cabrera were only seeking practical advice.
The whole purpose of privilege is to encourage people
to seek guidance from their clergy in an atmosphere of trust.
You really want to be splitting hairs on this?
Unfortunately, it's our job to split hairs.
This priest made a decision to keep a confidence.
I'm asking you to respect his decision.
We're trying to. But we can't do it without the cooperation of the priest.
At some point you're going to face the voters, Ms. Lewin.
I don't think you want to be known as the candidate
who locked up a priest because of his
spiritual convictions.
I certainly hope that's not a threat, Mr. Mansfield.
Because if it is, you might want to consider your own position
as someone who's obstructing the investigation of a homicide.
I really hope you reconsider.
Good day.
(DOOR CLOSES)
We're absolutely sure there's no other way to do this?
The only two people who know anything won't talk to us.
Unless we get some information from Father Evans,
we're working in the dark.
Well, with everything that's been happening in this city,
are we sure this is the right time to be challenging the Church?
Angel Cabrera wasn't the only one there when Landrum was murdered.
Freddie Ortega was there, too.
ORTEGA: Father Evans sent you?
JACK: Why do you think that, Mr. Ortega?
Because he told me he was going to help me.
You're from the D.A., right?
Yeah. That's right.
So, didn't he talk to you? Isn't that how come you're here?
We came here on our own.
Maybe I should just let Father Evans handle this.
If you're looking for help, I'd think you'd be eager to talk to us.
(SIGHS)
But Father Evans is trying to get me out of here.
Why would he be doing that?
Because he knows I didn't kill nobody.
JACK: A jury thought otherwise.
That's 'cause they don't know everything.
There was a lot of people tussling out there, man.
But I wasn't the one who stabbed the kid.
His blood was found on your jacket.
Because I helped carry him, the fight was over by then.
A person ID'd you as the stabber.
Oh, man, she only saw it after when I was picking Sammie up off the ground.
Look, Father Evans knows I didn't do it.
HOW?
All he said was that God knew the wrong person was in jail.
When did he say this?
He's been saying it.
This whole time I been here, he's been saying it.
Look, you don't believe me, I got his letters telling me
to keep the faith and everything.
Then after my appeal got squashed, that's when he came to see me.
What did he tell you?
He said that he was going to get the guy who killed Sammie
to go to the police.
How did he plan to do that?
All he said was that God would make sure
that everything would come out all right.
So now we know.
Cabrera wasn't just an eyewitness, he was the murderer.
Father Evans went into high gear when Ortega's last appeal was denied.
That's when he started making personal visits to prison and to Cabrera.
LEWIN: Trying to get him to confess.
Re-confess.
So, if Cabrera thought this priest was about to reveal his secret,
he had plenty of motive to kill him.
What are we going to do about Ortega?
No judge is going to release a convicted killer based on his self-serving statement.
We need Father Evans now more than ever.
PAUL: Jack McCoy.
Thanks for making the time, Paul.
How many years since your last confession?
How can I help the people of the state of New York?
We've got an issue with a priest.
Refusing to disclose what someone told him.
And you want to pick my brain to see how you can twist the poor fellow's arm?
Well, you're going to have to tell me more than that, if you want my help.
We think this kid committed a crime.
Then his mother called this priest to talk to him.
To give confession?
The priest is refusing to say one way or the other.
Well, was the kid asking forgiveness?
Based on everything we've learned so far,
I'm guessing no.
People go to confession to seek forgiveness.
To express regret for whatever it is that they've done.
I don't know of any priest
who would absolve a murderer without that.
Or without their agreeing to come forward to accept
whatever punishment he or she might deserve.
Well, this kid is letting an innocent man do his time for him.
And he tried to kill this priest to keep him quiet.
The Grady case.
A patient threatens his shrink, a client threatens his lawyer,
any confidentiality there is gone.
Religion and the law don't always speak the same language.
That being said,
on these facts, I wouldn't have much trouble revealing what he'd told me.
So, what's stopping this priest?
He must still have hope.
Hope that he can get this kid to come forward and save his soul.
Now my guess is, as long as this priest has that hope,
you won't get him to talk.
So my job is to take his hope away from him.
Don't worry, Jack.
I'll still put in a good word for you.
SERENA: "I know you didn't kill anyone.
"You're a victim of a terrible miscarriage of justice.
"But you must have faith in the Lord and not lose hope.
"I'll do everything in my power as servant of His Church
"to fight for your freedom."
That was personal correspondence.
Which Mr. Ortega consensually provided.
Now that you know,
can't you help him?
The court's not just going to take his word for it, Father.
I can't reveal what Angel told me.
You've done what you could for this kid.
He's not going to come forward.
Father Grady's murder is proof of that.
So there's nothing I can say.
Well, if you can't repeat what he told you, at least give us some background information.
How would that help you?
Well, if we can understand the circumstances of his statements...
No!
You're looking for loopholes.
We're looking for the truth.
Angel Cabrera bared his soul to me as Christ's intermediary.
In his apartment, not in a church.
Oh, come on, Mr. McCoy.
You know what I'm talking about, Father.
He believed he was speaking to me under a seal of secrecy.
Did he ask your advice about what he should do?
Of course. Legal advice?
This wasn't a legal consultation.
Did you offer him absolution?
This is wrong.
How about an act of contrition?
If he were a Jew and I was a Rabbi, you wouldn't even be asking these things.
Maybe not. But we'd be asking different things.
Oh, I see.
So it isn't a home run because we didn't touch all the bases.
If his statements weren't spiritually motivated,
you are allowed to testify about what was said.
I'm not supposed to be looking for technicalities.
Don't you think I want to help you?
I just can't.
One more push, we could have him.
Or lose him.
Mr. McCoy. Dana Bauer.
I've been assigned to represent Angel Cabrera.
On a turnstile jump?
I think we all know a murder indictment's coming down the pike.
JACK: Do we?
I also know you've been speaking to Father Evans.
You don't have to tell me, I'll save you the trouble.
This is a motion to preclude any and all statements
my client made to Father Evans.
Enjoy your day.
Anything my client said to Father Evans
during the visit to his apartment in 1998
is inadmissible hearsay evidence.
Even if I find the clergy-congregant privilege doesn't apply here?
That's right, Judge. In this situation,
the hearsay rule would bar the statement,
even if the privilege wouldn't.
Mr. Cabrera's statement was a declaration against his penal interest.
It's admissible under an exception to the hearsay rule.
Mr. McCoy's forgetting that Mr. Cabrera
thought he was speaking to Father Evans in confidence.
Since he didn't believe his words would ever be revealed,
they weren't against his interest.
Counselors?
People v. Robinson, Your Honor.
Robinson is a fail-safe remedy available when the hearsay rule violates due process.
Father Evans' testimony will establish
that an innocent man is serving a life sentence.
If that is not a violation of due process,
I don't know what is.
But Mr. Cabrera's the one who's being prosecuted here.
This remedy was not carved out for the benefit of a third party.
It shouldn't matter whose name is in the caption, Judge.
If Robinson says anything,
it's that you cannot look at the hearsay rule in a vacuum.
I have to agree, Ms. Bauer.
Provided Father Evans will, in fact, testify
that Mr. Cabrera made a confession.
If he takes the stand, that's what we anticipate he'll say.
Anticipate, Mr. McCoy?
He hasn't revealed the substance of Mr. Cabrera's statement to us.
I'm not allowing this priest in front of a jury if he's going to balk
when he gets to the moment of truth.
That's a not-so-subtle hint to the jury that Mr. Cabrera's guilty.
What if we produce Father Evans as an offer of proof?
Fine, but the man's going to have to make up his mind,
one way or the other.
I just called Father Evans to tell him about the hearing.
JACK: How did he take it?
Well, he thanked me for not showing up at his door with another subpoena.
Any read on what he's going to do?
I don't think he knows himself.
(KNOCK ON DOOR)
Mr. McCoy? Bishop Durning.
May I speak with you privately?
I have a few calls to make.
Please.
I take it this is about Father Evans?
It's my understanding that you still intend to call him to testify.
It's the only way we can prove
one defendant's guilt and another's innocence.
No one is trying to subvert the ends of justice, Mr. McCoy.
Certainly not the Church.
But your decision puts Father Evans in an untenable position.
I'm sympathetic with that. Father Evans doesn't want to talk to us.
But he must talk to us.
This is one of those situations
where the ends of religion and the ends of justice don't coincide.
Isn't the job of saving souls more important than punishing them?
Catholic, Muslim, Jew. A man's
private communication with his spiritual advisor
is none of the government's business.
It's away for people to reach out to God,
to seek out His compassion and forgiveness.
I'm not sure Mr. Cabrera was seeking forgiveness.
And who makes that call?
In this building, the court does.
If Father Evans refuses to testify,
the court could hold him in contempt.
If he violates his conscience or the precepts of the Church,
there may also be consequences.
Either case, it's no place to be.
Find another way, Mr. McCoy For all our sakes.
JACK: First you go down on the murder in the church.
That's 25-to-life.
Then we try you for the Landrum murder.
That's another 25.
What's the offer?
He pleads to both, 20-to-life concurrent.
Fifteen and we've got something to talk about.
Fifteen.
Angel?
All this depends on whether Father Evans gives me up, right?
Fifteen is better than 50, Angel.
And zero's better than both.
I don't think he's going to testify against me.
Well, then why did you try to kill him?
If he was going to talk, he would've done it already.
And if you're so sure that he's going to go to court at all,
you wouldn't be trying to get me to cop out now.
Yes or no, Mr. Cabrera?
Let's leave it in God's hands.
I didn't hold out much hope Angel would accept a plea bargain.
I was never able to reach him either.
I went as far as I could.
And I thank you for that.
I accepted this calling because
I wanted to make a difference,
to teach and minister to young people,
to offer solace and hope.
If there was another way...
Suppose, as a lawyer,
you held a client's confidence,
a secret you felt morally bound to reveal.
Would you violate your oath?
If I felt morally bound,
I'd like to think I'd follow my conscience, yes.
You'd be willing to accept the consequences of your decision?
It doesn't concern you that your life is in danger?
Of course it does.
But if I let reason persuade me in this,
then my soul is in danger.
It's noble of you to defend the ideal, Father,
that you can get Angel Cabrera to come forward.
But when he came after you,
when he murdered another priest to keep the secret,
he rejected the ideal.
You and I both know there's such a thing as evil in the world, Father.
People out there I still might be able to help.
If I choose to make a personal decision
and reveal this confidence,
my usefulness as a priest
will be compromised forever.
I received a phone call from Mrs. Cabrera.
She said Angel was in some kind of trouble
and she begged me to come right over.
What did you observe when you arrived?
Mrs. Cabrera was in a state of agitation.
She asked me to go into Angel's bedroom and speak to him.
I went in.
Angel was on his bed, he was crying.
There was dried blood on the sleeve of his sweatshirt.
What happened next?
I asked him if he was all right,
if he was hurt. He said he was okay, but
that he had something to tell me.
What did he say?
That he had done something terrible.
That he stabbed another boy in the park.
Anything else?
He asked me what he should do.
I told him there was only one thing to do,
that he should turn himself in to the police
and if he did that,
God would always stand by him.
Did he agree to do this?
He did not.
Did Mr. Cabrera ever ask for forgiveness?
No, he did not.
Nothing further.
Cross, Miss Bauer?
Your Honor, there was a plea bargain
previously offered to my client.
Is that 15-to-life still open?
Times two.
Angel, I'm sorry I failed you, son.
SERENA: I asked Father Evans if he wanted to be there
when the judge released Ortega.
I see he declined.
JACK: Other things on his mind.
Two murder convictions and the vindication of an innocent man, Jack.