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.
TERRY: Trade you straight up, the adults for the kids.
You can't just change your mind at the last minute, Terry.
It screws up the whole schedule.
Little snots can't even grip their little racquets.
Puny serves and their teeny, tiny attention spans.
C'mon, man, I'm begging you.
Put me out of my misery. No.
Switch with me, or I'll take to drinking
and end up like this dude, sleeping it off on some park bench.
It's a woman.
Look at her hair, that's blood. I don't know CPR.
Doesn't matter.
The back of her head's bashed in. Skull's fractured.
Looks like multiple blows.
Somebody was mad at this lady.
Any sign of a murder weapon?
Yeah. Found a blood-drenched cane under the bench.
BRISCOE: Nice walking stick.
It's a rabbit.
Yeah. With green eyes.
My guess? You're looking for a killer with a limp.
Hey, Cantor, you focus on the bodies,
we'll solve the crimes, all right? No problem.
You got a time of death?
Judging from lividity, body temp, air temp, insect activity, dew point,
and because I'm very good at my job.
I'd say somewhere between 8:00 and 10:00 last night.
Any ID? No.
No purse. Maybe she was mugged.
Hey, what did I say before?
Leave the theorizing to you.
For your book of memories.
Cause of death was intracranial bleeding from blunt force trauma.
Yeah. We found a walking stick at the scene, covered with blood.
The weapon?
Forensics is working it up now.
No, it must have been hers.
Yeah. See that?
Titanium.
She'd had a hip replacement,
probably within the last year or so.
Damn. She got beat to death with her own cane. That's cold.
She'd also had an oophorectomy.
She had her oophers removed?
Her ovaries.
By the way, I don't know how CSU missed this.
But we found her keys and her cell phone in an inside pocket.
These crime scene guys are highly over-rated.
Problem is, they all think they're cops.
What are you doing? Checking her menu.
Oh, if you're ordering coffee, I'll take one dark with two sugars.
GREEN: Here we go, work.
Hello to you, too. Can you tell me where you're located?
Okay. Thank you. Where are we going?
The Knowles School, East 87th Street.
BRISCOE: Tots in town cars, nannies of all nations.
Just like my grade school.
GREEN: I can see you now, a juvenile delinquent.
Black leather jacket, greasy Vaseline hairdo.
Oh, Brylcreem. "A little dab will do ya."
GREEN: The phone company said that this cell phone was billed to this school.
We issue them to our staff.
Thanks for returning it.
This number belongs to Dr. Landon.
Where'd you find it?
In the park.
Is this Dr. Landon?
My Lord, what happened to her?
She was murdered. Sometime last night.
Oh, my God.
GREEN: Was she a teacher here?
Director of Admissions.
We need to contact her next of kin.
Perhaps you'd better speak to Mr. Scofield, the headmaster.
Debra taught kindergarten here for 10 years.
She was a fantastic teacher.
She made it look easy.
Well, all the good ones do.
I thought she was the Director of Admissions?
She had an accident on her summer break.
She was hit by a motorbike and shattered her hip.
When she came back last fall we offered her the admissions job.
We thought it would be easier, but...
It wasn't?
Admissions makes teaching kindergarten
look like a day at the beach.
The parents can be rather zealous,
shall we say, in pursuit of their goal.
It sounds stressful.
She handled it with aplomb, like everything else she did.
She was an amazing woman.
She'll be missed. Sounds like you knew her pretty well?
Well, not socially, if that's what you're implying.
BRISCOE: We have to ask. Strictly colleagues.
Is there anything you can tell us about her family or friends?
Well, her parents were deceased.
As far as I know she had no other immediate family.
So there's nobody we can call?
We were her family.
I don't know anything about her private life.
So that's it?
At Knowles, we eschew gossip.
And place a premium on privacy.
What about her address? Or is that confidential, too?
Of course not. When Debra became admissions director,
she moved into the carriage house on the grounds.
I saw her on the street last night,
heading toward Fifth Avenue and the park.
GREEN: What time was that?
8:30, quarter of 9:00.
She always leaves the radio on?
No, sir.
Here's her purse. Wallet.
Cash is still here.
Looks like she might have gone out to meet somebody
and expected to come right back.
She ever have any visitors? BOLGER: Here?
Never saw any suitors.
No, sir, if that's what you mean.
Lived here like it was a nunnery.
Not that I'm suggesting she was a nun, you understand.
What are you suggesting?
She had great respect for the school, sir.
She wouldn't have entertained gentlemen callers
on the premises. If you get my drift?
Yeah. We do. Thank you very much.
Take your time. Hope you catch the bastard who did it.
Oh, palm pilot by the answering machine.
She was an opera lover. La Boheme.
Oh, you don't have to love opera to love La Boheme.
It's a Broadway play, bro.
At 100 bucks a pop? On a teacher's pay?
Maybe it wasn't her hundred.
Well, let's see if we can trace the ticket.
Oh, here's something I recognize.
A maintenance check. Hmm?
That's a euphemism for alimony.
Oh, who knew?
Yeah, you're lucky.
I guess that gets the ex off the hook.
Speaking of lucky.
Some people are born lucky.
Some people make their own luck.
Am I happy to stop paying alimony? Sure. Who wouldn't be?
Did I kill my ex to make that happen?
Do I look like that big a schmuck?
Besides, I only owed her for another 18 months.
Yeah. Still, that's a big chunk of change.
You strapped for cash, Doc?
Money's not my problem, time is.
You know what a Botox-petrified garden this ZIP code has become?
I got these rich gals lined up around the block.
They'd rather look like the Sphinx than get a wrinkle.
Like people can't tell how old they are anyway.
Why'd you two split up? Kids.
Well, we were told that she couldn't have any.
She wanted to adopt. I didn't want a stranger running around my house.
She spent enough time with other people's kids.
That make you jealous, did it?
We grew apart.
Maybe I screwed up. Who knows?
So, other than by alimony check, you guys keep in touch?
Saw her in the hospital after her hip surgery.
So you wouldn't know if she was seeing anybody?
Her physical therapist, three times a week.
Other than that, I couldn't say.
You know his name?
Mr. Magic Fingers?
You know, come to think of it, when you add it up,
she probably spent more time with him naked on the massage table,
than she did with me our whole marriage.
I had a girlfriend who had to get a nose job
courtesy of a Bermuda scooter.
Debra wasn't on a scooter, she was trying to avoid one.
How often did you see her?
Three times a week, for the last six months or so.
I can't believe this.
Was your relationship, more than just professional?
Excuse me?
I don't know, with all that touching going on.
I touch my clients for therapeutic purposes only.
And Debra's therapy wasn't pleasant, it was painful.
She had a lot of guts to stick it out.
She was a very dedicated person.
Still, all that time on the table.
I mean, she must have confided in you.
She ever mention she was seeing somebody?
She did. One.
Thing is, he's married.
I heard it on the car radio coming in this morning.
Breaking News.
How'd you two meet?
I became Debra's nutritionist post-op.
She was in pretty good shape, but pounds add up
when you can't work out.
So you provided an alternative exercise regimen?
What is that supposed to mean?
Dr. Freeman, you take all your patients to the theater?
Taking a friend to the theater not a criminal act.
Well, it could lead to one if your wife found out.
So, just for our records, where were you on Sunday night?
Where I always am on Sunday nights.
In Greenwich, dining with another happily married couple.
Ah, life in the suburbs, Ed.
See what we're missing?
My wife doesn't care about my extracurricular activities
as long as they don't interfere with her weekend plans.
Maybe Debra was in a vulnerable state after her accident.
Maybe I took advantage of that,
but we both knew it wasn't going anywhere.
And Debra didn't want any more out of the relationship?
She never pushed.
Her life was that school. She was devoted to it.
In fact, I hadn't really seen her in weeks.
She was all wrapped up in this admissions thing.
Consumed by it. It was kind of flipping her out.
Flipping her out how?
It's harder to get into Knowles than Harvard.
Some of these parents can get pretty aggressive. Abusive, even.
It got to the point... She wouldn't answer the phone.
Ah, there wasn't anything on her answering machine
or on her office voice mail.
But these are from her cell phone.
MAN: Dr. Landon, you know who this is.
You're holding my child's future in your hands.
You say you're committed to doing the right thing.
I hope you are, I really do.
For your sake.
No name. LUDs show it was from a pay phone
near the MTA Headquarters.
And now for pissed-off parent number two.
Miss Landon, this is Clarissa Wagner. Again.
I don't think you understand the gravity of this situation.
Let me just say that Chloe has to attend Knowles
and I'll do anything to make sure that happens.
And I won't take no for an answer. Do you understand me?
Hell hath no fury like a mother scorned.
CLARISSA: I wish I were the violent type.
That woman has ruined our lives.
For months we worked like maniacs to get Chloe into Knowles.
Extra tutors, the interviews, the tests.
Sounds like a lot of stress. Valium helps.
Not on you, on your daughter.
Well, you're never too young to learn how to cope.
It's only kindergarten.
It's not just kindergarten,
it's the rest of her life.
The right prep school leads to the right college,
the right job, the right career, the right husband.
It's a carefully calibrated ladder.
And if you miss a step...
Oh, excuse me. That's the caterer, I'll be right back.
Sounds like a vicious circle to me.
If I had a momma like that, I'd run away with the circus.
So, what tricks are you gonna do?
Oh, we're not here for your party, honey.
I know. You're here to entertain.
Daddy told me he got lots of people to entertain.
Do we look like clowns? Eh, don't answer that.
Sweetie, we don't work for your daddy.
Everybody works for my daddy. And does what he says.
I see you've met Chloe.
Mmm-hmm. Mrs. Wagner, we need to know
where you were on Sunday night.
My husband and I were looking for a house in Greenwich.
Well, no point in staying in the city, humiliated.
Humiliated?
Everybody knows that Chloe didn't get into Knowles.
So we have to go someplace else and start over.
It's a shame because we just
finished putting Botticelli's Primavera on her bedroom ceiling.
Botticelli? Who did the baseboards and the trim?
MAN: I hope you are, I really do.
I'm sorry, I don't recognize that voice.
But then I wouldn't. I retired last spring.
And Debra replaced you.
I recommended Debra for the job.
To tell you the truth, I don't think she was entirely happy.
She missed teaching.
GREEN: Not to mention all the disgruntled parents she had to deal with.
Which is why I'm back, holding down the fort, temporarily.
I thought the admissions letters went out last week?
Well, there's still the waiting list.
And some very desperate parents.
They threaten, they cajole, they try to bribe you.
Were you ever tempted?
There's not a lot money can't buy in Manhattan.
An apartment in an exclusive co-op building is one.
Admission to private school is another.
So, you're saying nobody can buy their way in here?
Absolutely not. Other than legacies.
Legacies?
Children of alumni, siblings of current students.
Otherwise admission is strictly by merit.
We'd still like to see a list of the kids who didn't make the cut.
Legacies. I wish I had a legacy.
That's like affirmative action for white folks.
Ain't that how George W. Got into Yale?
Because his daddy went there?
Yeah. Come to think of it, I do have a legacy.
My old man went to PS 21 and so did I.
There's a kid on the waiting list who lives out of the district.
Cassie Waters, 135th Street.
Harlem? Could be our mystery caller.
Well, you never know these days. Harlem's totally gentrified.
I was frustrated. That's why I left that message.
But I didn't kill her.
BRISCOE: You were pissed off Cassie didn't get in.
Look, that school claims to take the best, regardless of finances.
They say they got scholarship slots,
they're committed to diversity. All that bull.
And you thought Cassie should have been accepted.
Dr. Landon kept saying that Cassie was gonna make the list.
And then we got the letter.
Here, Daddy. Cookies.
Oh, thanks, sweetie. Why don't you go play now, okay?
Can I watch Sponge Bob? Okay.
She reads at a second grade level,
she's learning to play the piano,
scored off the charts on her ERBs.
And I didn't have any 4 grand to pay for a coach.
Parents hire a coach to get their kids into kindergarten?
Anything for an edge.
So where were you on Sunday night?
Here, with Cassie. I'm a single father, it's all on me.
She's in bed and lights out by 8:00.
And you were in all night long?
I wouldn't leave Cassie alone.
BRISCOE: Maybe you hired a sitter.
No, man. I was here.
Well, it would help if you had somebody to vouch for you.
I don't know what to tell you.
I wasn't mad at Dr. Landon, she was on our side.
I liked the lady. She kept telling us to hang in there.
I thought she had the juice, but...
I guess when the chips are down, money is all that counts.
Ever.
BRISCOE: Got it, thanks.
Forensics are in,
they found powder blue, cashmere fibers embedded in the cane.
"Superfine," whatever that means.
As in twice as expensive as ordinary.
Whatever happened to mohair?
No prints or blood at the scene other than the victim's.
But get this, they got a hit from Debra Landon's apartment.
A partial. And guess what, he's in the system.
The dude's got a record?
Only for being Bus Dispatcher of the Month.
Our man Marvin Waters.
She invited us over to talk about the situation.
She was as frustrated as I was about Cassie not getting in.
Did she say why Cassie wasn't getting in?
She wouldn't.
Only that the headmaster pulled rank at the last minute
and bumped Cassie to the waiting list for some other kid.
Let me tell you something.
If I was gonna kill anybody, it would have been him.
Condescending bastard.
I remember Mr. Waters well. A very angry man.
Angry enough to kill?
I wouldn't know. But I do know that
he couldn't reconcile himself to the fact that his daughter
just didn't have what it takes to be part
of the Knowles School community.
Mr. Scofield. Oh, thank you.
What is that, the right complexion?
We have a number of minority students, Detective.
We're committed to diversity,
if the students are qualified.
You know, that's the trouble with affirmative action.
It paints them all with the same brush. Them?
Minority students. It stigmatizes them.
No one takes them seriously.
"Oh, she got in because she was black.
"Or Latino. Or... Whatever."
I told Mr. Waters that Cassie would be better off not going to Knowles.
Debra Landon thought that Cassie Waters deserved a spot.
Well, and I overruled her.
It was her job to recommend
and mine to decide. And I did.
Where were you Sunday evening, Mr. Scofield?
At home.
Alone?
Just me and Dante. Dante?
Alighieri.
Purgatorio?
Isn't that a strip club in Queens?
I get to spend all day with him.
Lennie, let's let Mr. Scofield get back to work.
Were you home all evening, Mr. Scofield?
Except for my constitutional, which I take every evening,
religiously, at 8:00.
Your constitutional?
You should watch more Masterpiece Theater, Ed.
Where do you usually go? It varies.
Wherever my mood takes me. Am I a suspect?
Just a couple more questions for our report.
So, where did your mood take you Sunday evening?
Well, let's see. Over to Madison,
up to 96, across to Fifth, and then back home.
You go into the park? Not after dark.
Anybody see you?
Thousands of my fellow citizens. But no one I know.
How long were you out?
Forty-five minutes. Exactly.
Thanks.
Powder blue cashmere.
Yeah. Looked superfine to me.
You know, if he is the guy, it's pretty arrogant of him to be wearing it.
Or pretty stupid.
And Waters was right. He is a condescending bastard. I wanted to kill him myself.
DOORMAN: What can I do for you?
Hey, were you on the door Sunday night?
Swing shift, 2:00 to 10:00.
And did you notice Mr. Scofield go out?
You could set your watch by him.
Every night at 8:00.
Man's an urban legend, the all-weather walker.
Neither snow, nor sleet, nor etcetera
can keep him from his "evening constitutional."
And back at 8:45?
Like I said. Man's a machine.
So, last Sunday night you saw him come back in at 8:45?
On the dot. I mean, I must have. He always does.
GREEN: Well, did you or didn't you?
Well, tell you the truth, I might have slipped down to the corner
for a pack of smokes about then.
Just for something to do.
So you didn't actually see him come back Sunday night?
Come to think of it, no. Thanks.
Okay. Thanks, Frank. I owe you one.
Hey, the doorman on the graveyard shift said that Scofield
went out again at 11:30, didn't come back
till almost 1:00 Monday morning.
That's funny, he didn't mention a midnight constitutional to us.
And, you know, I wonder if his phones were out that day?
Huh?
The LUDs on Debra Landon's phone.
8:14 Sunday night, she got a call from a pay phone
at 92nd and Fifth.
That's across from the park.
And it's two blocks from Scofield's apartment.
So what you think? You think he called her,
said let's take a walk, talk things over?
Maybe she saw it as a last chance to make a pitch for Cassie Waters.
Yeah?
Oh, all right. We'll be right there.
It was Myra Camp. She got something off of Debra's office computer.
She washed her e-mail Sunday night. What time?
Logged on at 11:42 signed off at eight minutes past midnight.
No, she didn't.
No. We were told she was killed sometime between 8:00 and 10:00.
Oh.
BRISCOE: Can you get it back?
Detective, you know I never met a hard drive I can't lick.
This is one I retrieved from the server.
Landon sent it to Scofield the week before she died.
GREEN: "Re: Cassie Waters,
"I can't disagree more strongly. You're making a huge mistake.
"You'd compromise the integrity of the admissions process."
We already know she and Scofield disagreed about Cassie Waters.
I don't suppose you could tell us who deleted the e-mail?
I can't give you a name. But it had to be someone
with a master override password. BRISCOE: Meaning?
Meaning they could get onto any computer on the school's network.
Now how many people in the school would have a master password?
Thanks.
SCOFIELD: Well done, Avery, you're a gentleman.
I have $7,000 from Avery Herman! Do I hear 7,500?
I do not. Well, then we have $7,000 from Avery Herman.
I have $7,000, $7,000 going once.
$7,000 going twice.
Sold to the man in the silver bracelets.
Wyatt Scofield, you're under arrest for the murder of Debra Landon.
You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say
can be used against you in a court of law.
You have the right to an attorney.
If you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you.
COURT CLERK: "Docket ending 724
"People v. Wyatt Scofield. One count of Murder in the Second Degree."
Norman Rothenberg for the Defense, Your Honor.
The honor is mine, Mr. Rothenberg.
Ready to enter a plea, Mr. Scofield?
Not guilty, Your Honor.
Excellent choice. I love a good society murder.
Perhaps we'll all get famous. Ms. Southerlyn?
People request bail in the amount of $1 million.
Your Honor, the defendant has limited financial resources.
You're not working pro bono, are you, Mr. Rothenberg?
Mr. Scofield's friends
have raised funds for his defense.
JUDGE: Then he's not without financial recourse, is he?
The defendant has deep roots within the community.
We ask that he be released on his own recognizance.
Mr. Scofield might have deep roots in the community,
but his friends have deep pockets.
We think he's a definite flight risk.
The defendant will surrender his passport,
bail is set at $500,000 cash or bond. Next.
ROTHENBERG: Judge Torledsky is right.
We are looking at this year's Skakel-fest.
Maybe you enjoy the limelight,
but personally, I find it carcinogenic.
I'd be glad to avoid the media feeding frenzy of a trial.
If Mr. Scofield can convince us that his actions weren't
premeditated with malice or forethought,
I might entertain a lesser plea.
I'll tell you what. Why don't we just dismiss the charges outright?
Not a chance.
SCOFIELD: Why would I kill Debra?
We were colleagues, nothing more.
I barely knew the woman.
Her e-mail indicates that she was threatening
to go to your board about something you did.
You thought your job was in jeopardy.
She was upset I overruled one of her admission decisions.
I've been at the Knowles School for 25 years.
Dr. Landon taught kindergarten before she was promoted.
Whose expertise do you think the board values more?
Then why did you erase her e-mail? I did no such thing.
You've lied to the police. Fibers from your sweater.
This is absurd! Wyatt, please.
If I may?
Look, you can have all the sugar in the world, Jack.
You can have all the chocolate. You can have all the icing.
But if you don't have the yeast, you ain't baking a cake.
Meaning? Motive.
Even if what you're hypothesizing is true,
my client didn't have to kill Dr. Landon.
He could merely have fired her.
Well, it won't be the first time I've tried a case
on circumstantial evidence alone.
Sure. That works great for drug dealers and pimps.
We're talking about the landed gentry here, folks.
Motive goes a long way.
Well, we know Debra Landon was threatening to go to the board about something.
The problem is, we don't know what it was.
Her e-mail said he was compromising the integrity of the process.
From my experience, for these people,
"integrity" is usually a euphemism for money.
You think Scofield had to be taking money under the table?
Well, we know Cassie Waters didn't get in.
I'll find out who took her spot.
There are 50 kids on the waiting list.
All ready, willing and able to pay $20,000 for kindergarten.
It goes up to $26,000 for first grade.
We do have scholarship students.
Out of the 50, how many were ultimately accepted?
Ten. Although three had already accepted Horace Mann.
Three accepted Riverdale.
Were any accepted after Mr. Scofield rejected Cassie Waters?
The last child accepted was Jared Anchin.
His letter went out the same day as Cassie Waters'.
Anchin, I know that name. I wouldn't be proud of it.
Jared's Dad is Harvey Anchin.
You mean... That's right.
The Prince of Porn.
I guess Mr. Scofield didn't think that we should hold the sins
of the father against the son.
I said 2%. This is half and half.
What are you trying to do, kill me?
You know what this stuff is? Liquid coronary.
You're really working for John Ashcroft, aren't you?
(STUTTERING) I'll get you another.
Mr. Anchin?
If you're here for the screening, see the girl at the door.
Actually, I'm not.
Serena Southerlyn, District Attorney's office.
I have all my licenses. I have my financials
filed with the Secretary of State. And most important,
I know the First Amendment backwards and forwards.
I'd like to talk to you about Debra Landon.
Uh, never heard of her.
She was the admissions director of the Knowles School.
Oh God, yeah. That's right.
I had my girl send her flowers and her office sent them back.
That could be because she was murdered.
Oh, sure! Why not?
I sell dirty pictures. I make dirty movies. I must kill people, too.
Listen, do you know that pornography is an $8 billion a year industry?
It always amazes me that nobody watches it.
Nobody thinks you killed her.
We were just wondering if you made a contribution.
I mean, I tried. But those tight-asses didn't think
my money was good enough.
Lucky my kid has brains.
Yeah. Look at that.
You know who that is? That's Jack Mayberry.
He's the CEO of Oxford Electric.
And that fat guy, that's Boyd Carson.
He's on the board of MacArthur International.
And the good looking gentleman, that's Freddy Scarpio,
of Scarpio Cement and Plumbing.
They all invested in my movie.
Their "clean" money goes into my bank accounts
and suddenly it's untouchable by decent folk.
Actually, I was wondering if Wyatt Scofield
felt the same way about your money?
Who?
Look...
I got hands to shake, so I'm gonna...
Great.
Are you sure Scofield doesn't have another bank account somewhere?
Not in this state anyway.
Well, from what I've got here, the only money he deposits are his paychecks.
Maybe Anchin paid him off in trade.
Get my kid into your school, I'll give you a life time supply of skin flicks?
It's easier to get cable.
Look at this.
Every month, like clockwork,
Scofield paid $2,300 to the Fitzgerald Company.
He lives at the Fitzgerald. It must be rent.
Last month it stopped.
You think Anchin is paying his rent?
From what I hear, he could afford it.
RUSH: Do you know how many buildings I own?
I'm supposed to remember if one tenant missed a rent payment?
If you could just check your records, sir.
Why don't you talk to my managing agent? He's on 14th Street.
He'd be happy to help you.
And I'd be happy to talk to him. But I'm already here.
What building we talking about?
The Fitzgerald. You should have said that in the first place.
I'm taking that building co-op,
putting in a new lobby, a fitness center, a pool on the roof,
a courtyard in the back.
So, if Mr. Scofield purchased his apartment...
He's not paying rent to me anymore.
His hard earned money is going to his bank.
Hey. I've still got some great units left if you're interested.
I read about it in the paper.
I can't believe Mr. Scofield would be involved in a murder.
Did you know him well?
Oh, he'd come in to get cash. The ATM scared him.
From what I understand, Mr. Scofield recently purchased his apartment.
I should be so lucky.
A building goes co-op while you're living there,
it's the next best thing to winning the Lotto.
I think he said the outsider price for his unit was a million three.
He got it for 700.
The thing is, I reviewed his bank records
but I didn't see any mortgage payments.
I wouldn't know. He never applied for a loan with us.
I pulled the financials for the Fitzgerald conversion
from the Secretary of State.
Bud Rush, the owner of the building
gave Scofield an apartment worth almost $1.5 million.
It's nice to have friends in high places.
Management could lower prices because the cost
of the cement for the renovations also dropped.
Rush bought his cement from Scarpio Cement and Plumbing.
When I talked to Harvey Anchin, he told me that
Freddy Scarpio invested in his movies.
I met Harvey Anchin, he wouldn't have Scarpio do a favor for Rush,
unless there was something in it for him.
Like getting his son into the Knowles School.
Anchin scratches Rush's back.
Rush scratches Scofield's. And around and around we go.
Until Debra Landon found out where all the itches were.
Only problem is, how could she possibly find out about all this?
She didn't have to. All she had to do was go public
about Cassie Waters' rejection.
A lot of questions would be asked.
Which would lead to a lot of answers.
BECK: Microscopic examination revealed the presence of high-grade cashmere fibers.
Have you seen this sweater before?
People's 12, belonging to the defendant?
Ah, we subjected it to a series of tests,
comparing the material to the fibers found on the murder weapon
and the thickness, color and chemical composition are identical.
Were you able to ascertain when the fibers came to be lodged
on the head of the victim's cane?
Well, since they were embedded in her blood,
along with strands of her hair,
they had to have been deposited there
at the time when she was struck with her cane.
In other words, when she was killed.
At the time of her murder? Yes.
And how would they have come to be embedded there?
The victim must have tried to fend off her assailant
using her cane and the head of it hit his sweater.
And then he must have taken the cane from her
and beaten her to death with it.
I think that's exactly what happened.
Identical, you say? That's right.
Does that mean that the fibers found on the cane
definitely came from Mr. Scofield's sweater?
Not necessarily. But the likelihood is high.
There are other expensive blue cashmere sweaters in the world,
besides Mr. Scofield's?
Same manufacturer, same dye lot, same wool?
BECK: It's possible, I suppose.
Or maybe somebody else was wearing Mr. Scofield's sweater.
Your Honor?
Restrain yourself, Mr. Beck.
Sorry, Your Honor.
Fibers comparison isn't an exact science, is it?
I mean, not like DNA.
No.
Or even fingerprints.
As a matter of fact, there were no fingerprints or DNA
other than the victim's found on the cane, isn't that right?
That's correct.
Just some fibers
which may or may not
have come from Mr. Scofield's sweater.
Is that a question?
No. I think you've already answered it.
I only graduated from high school.
I had to work to help out my family.
I swore my daughter would have it better.
JACK: That's why you wanted Cassie to attend the Knowles School?
She earned it. She deserved it.
Dr. Landon said that Knowles would give her the best education
the city had to offer.
It costs $20,000 a year, Mr. Waters.
How were you going to pay for it?
Dr. Landon said that Cassie would have a scholarship.
She said they wanted children like Cassie for diversity.
That she would be doing the school a favor by going there.
It sounds like Dr. Landon assured you that Cassie would be admitted.
She said with Cassie's test score and her verbal and reading ability,
she was going to get in.
So it must have come as quite a shock
when Cassie was turned down?
Yeah, I was shocked. I was damn angry, is what I was.
Did you express that anger to Dr. Landon?
You bet I did. And how did she respond?
She told me that he was furious at the whole thing.
She said it made her sick.
That the school pretended to have such high ideals
but when it came down to it, they would rather take a rich, white kid
than a smart black kid.
JACK: What, if anything, did she say she was going to do?
She said she was going to talk to this Mr. Scofield.
She said he was the one that turned Cassie down.
And if that didn't work, she was going to go to the board and raise a stink.
If that didn't work,
she said she was going to go to the papers.
One more thing, Mr. Waters.
What school is Cassie going to attend now?
PS 197.
She's going to have to walk through metal detectors.
She's going to have 40 kids in her class.
Not enough reading textbooks to go around.
They have to share.
A black child
doesn't get into a prestigious institution,
it has to be something underhanded that kept her out?
In this case, yes.
Because she's entitled to this expensive education?
As much as anyone else.
Really?
Well then, what about the white kid
who would be turned down if your daughter were accepted?
He was less qualified.
Besides, it's not my concern. No, of course it isn't.
You only want what's owed to you.
Not me! My child!
That's quite a temper you've got there, Mr. Waters.
I feel sad for that girl, but, uh, that's the way it goes.
The rich get richer.
My kid did fine on that test they gave him. Why shouldn't he get in?
Because the admissions director thought there was a better candidate.
Isn't it about time we stopped bending over backwards for...
You're referring to minority candidates.
Look, I know all about prejudice.
My job, my line of work,
let's just say I'm not accepted in certain circles.
I want better than that for my son.
Your son didn't score as well as Cassie Waters on the entrance exam.
That doesn't bother you?
Hey, it wasn't me who told them who to turn down.
I just wanted them to accept Jared.
So how did you feel when they put him on the waiting list?
I wasn't thrilled.
So what did you do?
I called that Debra Landon.
She said, "I'm sorry, it looks like we have more qualified applicants."
You know, those kids are 5 years old.
How the hell does she know that?
So I asked her, I said,
"Is there anything I can do?"
She laughed at me and said, "This is Knowles School,
"not some auction where a spot goes to the highest the bidder."
What did you do?
I had a business associate who knew someone at the school.
And he said he could push a few buttons.
Who was this business associate?
Bud Rush.
And whose buttons was he supposed to push?
Oh, the headmaster. Wyatt Scofield.
Was Mr. Rush going to help you out of the kindness of his heart?
He was paying top dollar for cement
and I was able to get him a more reasonable price.
Because you knew his supplier, Frank Scarpio.
Yeah. That's right.
Are you aware that Mr. Scarpio was indicted several times for price gouging?
It seems to me I might have heard something about that.
And are you aware that he is currently under investigation,
along with members of the Masucci crime family,
for violating federal RICO statutes?
Maybe.
So, it certainly would not have been helpful to Mr. Scarpio's legal position
if Debra Landon had gone to the press
and told them about your little agreement
with respect to the pricing of Mr. Rush's cement, huh?
RUSH: First of all I was being bled dry.
I promised my investors I'd bring the renovations in at $27 million,
and between the cost of cement and the delays in delivery
it would have cost twice that.
And you would do anything to rectify the situation?
If I wanted to show a profit, yes.
That's when Harvey Anchin came to me with a proposition.
Help his kid get into school and my construction problems would disappear.
How could I say no?
So what did you do?
It turned out the headmaster of this school lived in one of the buildings I own.
It was going co-op, he wanted to buy.
I don't understand, Mr. Rush.
As an insider, Mr. Scofield
is entitled by law to purchase his own apartment, isn't that true?
Of course. If he could afford it.
But he couldn't? That's what he said.
So you gave it to him?
I paid for it from the construction costs.
Part of doing business.
JACK: What would this particular apartment go for on the open market?
A million three.
So, in exchange for this apartment,
Mr. Scofield arranged for Harvey Anchin's son
to be admitted to the Knowles School.
Look, this is the way the world works.
Maybe it's not right. Maybe it's not fair.
But there's nothing illegal about it.
My mom shoved a box of Crayolas in my pocket... Thanks.
A peanut butter and jelly sandwich in my lunch box
and sent me on my way.
I wonder how much of this has to do with their kids' educations
and how much with the stroking of their own egos.
I can't imagine the private school worth killing for.
Or the apartment.
We're about to find out. Scofield's taking the stand in his own defense.
Debra was a wonderful admissions director.
She cared passionately about her job, the school, the students.
ROTHENBERG: But?
Well, she'd held that position for less than a year.
And you felt that Jared Anchin
was a better candidate than Cassie Waters?
Yes I do.
All admissions are ultimately at my discretion
I know what Mr. McCoy is trying to do here.
He's trying to paint a picture of some great conspiracy,
but it just wasn't like that.
I accepted a student who in my best judgment
was more than qualified to attend Knowles.
Did you kill Debra Landon?
Why would I?
Even if the board thought I'd received some peripheral benefit
from admitting Jared Anchin,
clearly my 25 years of loyal service at the school
would have outweighed any missteps I may have made.
ROTHENBERG: Thank you.
A million dollar apartment is just a "peripheral benefit"?
SCOFIELD: Well, in our world it is.
I'll tell you what,
in my world, it's called a bribe.
In ours it is a gift.
A gift is given without consideration, Mr. Scofield.
There is no quid pro quo.
But you received an apartment
in exchange for admitting Jared Anchin to the Knowles School.
Isn't that correct?
I received nothing from Mr. Anchin.
Do you honestly think the board would see that distinction?
Anyone who thinks that the world doesn't work with a nod and a wink
and a handshake between friends of friends
is plainly naive.
I guess that includes Mr. Waters and his daughter.
Well, I wouldn't know.
And Debra Landon?
Well, yes.
That's why she accused you of compromising the integrity
of the admissions process?
Well, Debra tended to be overly dramatic.
JACK: Still...
Being accused by one of your peers.
She was not a peer.
She was not part of your world. That's right.
She worked for you? Yes.
Still it must have been disconcerting?
To be honest with you, I didn't give it a second thought.
And I'm sure the board wouldn't either.
Because of your years of loyal service? Yes.
And how much is that loyalty worth on a yearly basis?
Please, Mr. Scofield, answer the question.
What is your annual salary?
$60,000.
Roughly the equivalent of three kindergarten tuitions.
Sounds like you weren't really part of their world either.
All those impressionable, young minds that you molded over the years,
minds that went on to Princeton, Harvard, Yale,
then law school, medical School or Wall Street,
where they got to pay $20,000 a year
to send their kids to kindergarten.
Don't you think it's ironic,
that they owe it all to a man who couldn't even afford
to purchase his own apartment?
Maybe they were just too busy winking and nodding
and shaking the hands of friends of friends
to worry about the man behind the men.
Or, on the other hand,
perhaps they just looked at you
as someone who worked for them.
Sort of the way you looked at Debra Landon.
That school would be nothing without me.
And they owe you?
Yes!
Yes.
Have you reached a verdict? JURY FOREMAN: We have, Your Honor.
How say you?
On the count of Murder in the Second Degree,
we find the defendant guilty.
JUDGE: Counsels to pick a date for sentencing four to six weeks hence.
Scofield has been standing over the oven for twenty-five years.
He thought it was about time he got a taste of the pie.
Now Scofield's out and Anchin's in.
That's gonna be a hard pill for the parents at the Knowles School to swallow.
Oh, they'll get over it.
Once they forget about where his money came from.
JACK: It's the American way.
Yesterday's robber baron is tomorrows philanthropist.
What you're really trying to say is cash trumps merit every time.
And twice on Sundays.