In New York City's war on crime,
the worst criminal offenders are pursued
by the detectives of the Major Case Squad.
These are their stories.
We're short how much? Well, throw in the red Bentley.
That's right, baby, out with the old.
"Out with the old"? Is that the theme of Friday's auction?
Pam, we're celebrating a life of privilege.
With the magazine's circulation declining, Mr. Merritt,
some people say this auction is about money.
No, it's just my way of sharing
40 years of good times with the readers.
Jim, we're moving the breakfast with the Teachers Union to next week.
Putting it all out there, baby. The good, the bad, and the very bad.
You, too, can own a piece of George Merritt's good times,
when 40 years of Men's Privilege memorabilia
goes up for auction at Bartleby's.
All right, folks. Let's get back to work.
My years as a Privilege Honey were some of the happiest of my life.
I worked on the jet, you know. That's where I met my husband Johnny.
Is that what brought you all the way from Houston, the memories?
I owe Georgie Merritt so much.
And if buying some of the wonderful things he's putting up for sale
helps him just a teeny bit...
Excuse me. I'm sorry to bother you.
That's all right.
Are you Lila Brown, the January, 1972 Honey?
Yes, I am.
This is... I can't tell you.
You had the most beautiful hobbies. Would you sign this?
Sure.
You still got it, sugar.
Lot 82. They actually let me look through it.
The estimate's eight grand. Best money you'll ever spend.
And we have $45,000 from the lovely lady on the left.
$45,000. Do I have any advance on...
50.
Oh, $50,000 from Helen on the telephone. $50,000.
We have 50. $55,000 from the lady on the left.
$55,000 60.
$60,000 from Helen on the telephone.
$65,000 from the lovely lady on my left. 65...
70.
$70,000 from Helen on the phone. $75,000 from the lady...
I'm sorry, sir, but the bidder still has her paddle up.
Helen, any advance? No? $75,000...
That's not possible, sir.
Do you want to bid?
Going, going, gone!
I'm sorry, sir, the bidding's over.
Congratulations.
And now we're gonna move right along... Sir, I'm sorry.
...to Lot Number 83. Originally shoes...
Sir, I have to hang up now.
Sometimes it seems as if it was all just yesterday.
How about I take you all downstairs for some hot chocolate?
Now go, get your brother.
Grandpa's taking us for hot chocolate!
The Hot Chocolate Express is leaving the station!
Johnny? What did you forget? Come see what's become of your Honey.
Family found her when they came back.
Maid on the floor below reported a pass key missing,
that's how the perp gained entry.
Took the rings off Mrs. Parsons's fingers,
but the big-money jewelry's still in the safe.
Any other rooms burglarized?
None reported, but we're canvassing.
A blast from the past. A Honey suit.
Any idea how this got here?
The Parsons were at a memorabilia auction this morning.
The items that they bought, any of them missing?
We're still getting an inventory.
This is odd.
Just before the murder, somebody made nearly 20 calls from the room.
All within 15 minutes, all local numbers. No call was more than a minute long.
Odder still, look at the exchanges on these numbers here.
I don't recognize any of these.
The exchange on some of those numbers
haven't been active since the area code was split a few years ago.
These calls were around 3:00,
just before we took the kids out for hot chocolate.
I know Lila wasn't using the phone.
Your grandkids, where were they before you went out?
Holly was watching TV and Kenny was in his parents' room.
Alone? Yes.
I didn't call anybody.
Kenny, what did I tell you about lying?
Let's call the numbers. Ask who called.
Okay, I called them. Big deal.
You're right, it's a big deal. So where'd you find the numbers?
In this book my grandma bought this morning.
What kind of book?
Belonged to that guy who owns a porno magazine.
I just wanted to hear what the girls sounded like.
Like, if they're in this guy's book, they have to be hot.
What did you do with the book?
Anyone look under here?
No, sir, we haven't gotten around to this room yet.
"Also included is George Merritt's very own little black book
"covering the years 1988 to 1991,
"containing the addresses and phone numbers of
"the famous, the infamous and the anonymous. "
And now it's gone.
An aging swinger's little black book.
Somebody must be desperate for a love life.
My archivist told me it was either move or have a fire sale.
Well, the catalog said that
the entries in your address book were annotated.
What kind of notations did you make?
Little things to help me remember people, where we met, what we were doing.
A crib sheet.
Yeah, you meet as many people as I do, you need a little edge.
Oh, here she is. January, '72. Lila was a lovely girl.
She was a Stinger Honey. The jet, you know?
Well, maybe someone wishes that they weren't in your little black book.
Only fun people got in my book, baby. And fun people don't have regrets.
Eve, they're asking about the address book. Eve's my archivist.
We were wondering if you have a copy of it.
In '91, we switched to an electronic organizer.
I made one copy then.
I had no idea how valuable that book would be.
The bidding was fierce?
Came down to two bidders, Lila in the room and one on the phone.
But Lila kept her paddle up.
Whatever Lila wanted, Lila got.
That girl was implacable.
Maybe not as much as the runner-up.
The other bidder was a Timothy Holtzman.
First-time client of the auction house.
His application listed an address in Delaware and a corporate credit card account.
Credit card company's sending us the activity on the card.
Here's what a sore loser sounds like.
The auction house records all its phone bids.
I'm sorry, sir, but the bidder still has her paddle up.
Well, she can't do that.
Yes, sir, it's allowed. Do you want...
It's unfair competition. I want the bidding suspended.
That's not possible, sir. Do you want to bid?
Okay, now go 80.
I'm sorry, sir.
What? No, no, no. I put in a bid. You asked me if I wanted to bid.
Sir, I'm sorry. Sorry?
This is a rigged auction! I'm suing Bartleby's...
Sir... ... for tortious interference.
I have to hang up now.
...and I'm suing you for fraud.
I have your name.
"Tortious interference. " A lawyer?
Worse. A Texas lawyer.
He's not familiar with auctions, probably not a serious collector.
Maybe fronting for someone.
Last purchase on the credit card was a month ago.
Ten grand in office supplies in Brooklyn. And pizza, lots of pizza.
Three to four hundred bucks a night, every night for a month.
Office supplies and pizza.
Sounds like somebody's running a boiler room.
Sure, I remember the orders. Mr. Tim, he had offices over on Atlantic.
He hasn't ordered since last month, though. I guess he moved.
You know what kind of business it was?
No.
But Mr. Tim sent me over a framed picture of his boss.
He said he was famous or something, but I never heard of him.
You still have it? Yeah.
Looks familiar.
There's something underneath it.
Do you mind if I open this up?
I ain't putting it back up.
Radcliff. The candidate in the primaries. Holtzman must be working on his campaign.
Putting out fires before they start.
This is a rigged auction! I'm suing Bartleby's...
Sir... ... for tortious interference
I have to hang up now. ... and I'm suing you...
That's me, all right. I'm a collector of contemporary memorabilia.
Privilege magazine is an American icon.
The only lot that you bid on was Lot 82. The one with the little black book.
Then there's the way you muddied your tracks.
The Delaware address, the Arizona credit card.
Just a sorry but legal attempt to outrun a youthful indiscretion.
In 1988, I was in New York City and I met a delightful Privilege Honey
who introduced me to George Merritt, and I distinctly remember him
putting my name next to hers in his little black book.
In 1988, you were in law school?
I was a summer intern at a New York law firm.
A newly-married intern with a wife back home in Austin.
I don't need this book turning up on some website.
I just hope whoever got it will be discreet.
Well, keep hoping. The lady who outbid you was murdered two days ago.
The book is missing.
No reaction.
Very politic.
Where was your candidate in the late '80s?
Jim Radcliff was juggling a young family and a career in real estate.
You sure he's not the one who got his name in Merritt's little black book?
You think I'm lying to you?
What we think is, you're doing what any good campaign manager would do
and that is fall on his sword to protect his candidate.
Prove it.
Been a pleasure.
Jim Radcliff did a lousy job of juggling. He got divorced in 1990.
So, Merritt sent over their only copy of the address book.
There's no Tim Holtzman in it.
Then it's got to be about Radcliff.
Well, Merritt listed people by their first names.
All the Jims, Jimmies, Jameses are all under the letter "J."
There are two entries here for a Jim, last initial "R."
Well, I checked the phone numbers in the reverse directories from '89 to '92.
The first one was registered to a Jim Roberts.
The other one was a residential hotel, the Morgan,
that closed down eight years ago.
Radcliff could've lived there before his divorce.
These initials next to the name, "BV."
Maybe where Merritt met him?
Well, let's see what Merritt has under "B."
BV. Bacchus & Venus, East 48th Street.
I know the place. Private sex club.
Used to get complaints about it all the time.
If that's where Merritt met Radcliff...
A mattress full of naked swingers.
Not the kind of platform people want from a candidate.
Bacchus & Venus, that was a swinging place.
I remember the girls, but the men?
You're saying you never met Jim Radcliff?
No. We met at a benefit last year.
And, yes, he had all his clothes on. I can't say he's my kind of politician.
So you're saying that Jim with the last initial "R,"
you're positive that that's not Radcliff?
I'm not positive about anything.
The '80s are all a fantastic blur to me.
I was at Bacchus & Venus a couple of times a week.
They loved me there. A guy would have to bring a girl to get in, I'd bring six!
Come on, Honeys, come on. P. Diddy can't start this party without us.
Talking to that guy's like walking into a fog bank.
He did say a guy would have to have a date to get into the club.
Radcliff would've had to bring a girlfriend.
He was going through a divorce.
His ex-wife might've been keeping tabs on him.
Jim and I made it a condition of our settlement
that we wouldn't discuss anything related to our divorce,
for our daughter's sake.
Can we ask you where you lived when you got the divorce?
We had a brownstone on West 73rd.
It was being renovated when we separated.
During the renovation, were you living somewhere else?
Maybe a residential hotel or...
The Morgan.
I don't know why any of this is relevant?
We think your ex-husband's name was in an address book
once owned by George Merritt, the magazine publisher.
My husband was in real estate. He met many different people.
It's a matter of where he met Mr. Merritt.
There was a notation in the book which indicated it was at a sex club.
This is embarrassing for you.
Jim would never step foot in a club like that.
Well, if he had, he couldn't have done it alone.
Maybe you know who he was seeing...
Look, I told you this was off-limits.
Jim and I have worked very hard to get along
for our daughter's sake, and I will not put that in jeopardy.
Please understand.
We understand that your husband caused you a lot of hurt.
Hello? Oh, yes, yes, yes. Those bags came in yesterday.
I'm gonna be at the store in about a half an hour. Wait. Hold on.
Could you let yourselves out?
Yeah, they're beautiful.
Class act. We gave her a chance to slam Radcliff and she didn't take it.
But when you mentioned the sex club, she blushed.
A shame response. She knew the place.
So far, it's all your typical divorce tit-for-tat.
This isn't typical, here.
Her deposition in the custody hearing.
"Jim said he had a romantic evening planned.
"He took me to a club, Bacchus & Venus. I was shocked.
"The room was full of people having sex.
"I wanted to leave, but Jim told me to humor him.
"Men were looking at me. I felt dirty.
"Jim told me to perform oral sex on him while they watched.
"I refused and left. "
And then three months later.
"He insisted we do what he wanted. But this time, once we were inside
"the sex club, I became physically ill. I cried. Jim got angry,
"he said I was spoiling everything,
"that it wasn't sexy for me to cry. "
A sex fiend and a bully. Politics is the perfect place for him.
This file hadn't been looked at since 1994.
And then Monday, it was signed out.
Two days after Lila Parsons was murdered.
Signed out by Radcliff's divorce lawyer.
Well, he knows what's in here, why would he need to look at it?
Maybe this is what he was checking.
To see if anyone else had looked at the file.
A shakedown artist, maybe that's who stole the book.
My client is not being blackmailed.
We looked at that file to clarify a child-support issue,
now that Jim's daughter is going to college.
Besides which, what Kay said in those depositions is a total fabrication.
You didn't drag her to a sex club?
No. We went there once, as a married couple, out of curiosity.
We were both disturbed by what we saw and we left.
Hmm.
Hardly seems enough time to meet George Merritt and give him your number.
That's because I didn't meet George Merritt.
No, see, you're in his phone book under "J."
Jim R. And there's your number at the Morgan Hotel.
Jim sold high-end real estate. No doubt he's in a lot of address books.
Except the letters after his name, "BV."
That's Merritt's little, you know, code, to remind himself of where he met you.
Bacchus & Venus, the sex club where you took your wife.
Is that enough proof for you?
You're looking at it real good.
That's because we've never seen it.
So the first page, the...
The one that you hardly looked at, that's the one you've seen before.
Now, did the person that's blackmailing you send that to you?
Mr. Radcliff has always been a friend of law enforcement officers.
Even when they make mistakes.
This is why I became a cop, you make so many friends.
Radcliff's blackmailer,
before he stole the book from Lila Parsons,
he might've tried to buy it legitimately.
One of the other bidders.
Well, somebody told them to check that file!
They didn't come up with that bright idea on their own!
I didn't tell them anything. I swear to God, Kay.
You talk to the press, you confirm one iota of that crap, I...
Regan, there you are. You're late.
And you're a jerk.
Regan, don't.
Get your stuff, let's go.
No.
You apologize to Mom or I'm not going.
You deserve each other.
You shouldn't push your father away, honey.
He just wants people to see him skiing with his daughter. He's such a phony.
My brave little girl. Never afraid to look at the truth.
Mr. McKenna?
Please, wait here. Oh.
Mr. McKenna told the auction house he worked for Unicorn Crystals.
Mr. McKenna has a lot of businesses. Only one office.
He was scanning something onto his computer.
He might've e-mailed it to somebody.
It's from the address book, Radcliff's entry. "Now do you believe?"
Must be Part 2 of a shakedown letter.
The e-mail address, Texas Hold 'em.
Tim Holtzman.
Decomp.
What's in here?
Storeroom.
Our shakedown artist. Somebody shook back.
McKenna's phone was last used at 5:50 Saturday night,
a call to the local deli, just an hour before he sent the e-mail.
He got six e-mails back from Texas Hold'em. The first one was Saturday afternoon.
And the next one was received late Saturday night,
after McKenna sent the proof.
They were ready to pay up.
They sent four more messages, asking for McKenna for an answer.
They could've sent them to cover up the fact they had McKenna killed.
Two small-caliber entry wounds in the back.
We found blood on the tops of his shoes.
On the tops? Well, that wouldn't be his blood.
Might be Lila Parsons's.
And this came back on his prints.
McKenna has drug beefs, '89 and '90, possession with intent.
Coke and poppers. Party drugs.
Check out the location of the arrests.
East 48th...
Party central, Bacchus & Venus.
The e-mails were traced to an account owned by your campaign manager.
The implication is clear.
Maybe to you. If you think you can make a case...
I don't like liars.
Either he tells us what he knows,
or I'll drag him before the grand jury and put him under oath.
We received a demand for $1 million in exchange for the address book.
Against my better judgment, we agreed.
But we never heard back from the other party.
This is the other party. You know him?
I've never seen him.
You sure?
Rob McKenna.
This is what he looked like when he was a bouncer at Bacchus & Venus.
I don't remember him. I only went to the club five times, then I lost interest.
You don't know McKenna, but he knew you were in the book.
I can't explain it.
McKenna had a partner. Someone you told you were in the book.
No, I never told anyone.
You didn't brag to your buddy boys about meeting George Merritt at an orgy?
It's not as sexy as making your wife cry in front of a room...
Mr. Carver, my client does not need to be subjected to this...
Your client needs to answer the question.
The first I heard of this auction is when George Merritt called
and warned me that the book was up for sale.
He reminded me my name was in it
and that I might wanna keep it out of the wrong hands.
I told Holtzman to take care of it.
I was performing a public service.
You told us Radcliff wasn't your kind of politician.
That was before you said you weren't positive he was in your book.
If you're going to pay attention to what I say.
What do you think, for the July Honey, huh?
Yeah, the reason that you called Radcliff
was because you were priming the pump for the auction.
Oh, enlightened self-interest is the best kind of public service.
Oh, was that me? I'm sorry.
Did you call anyone else?
I might have.
Throw me some names.
Rob McKenna.
He supplied party favors at Bacchus & Venus.
Yeah, I know who he is. I didn't call him.
He called me to place a pre-emptive bid on the book.
Said he was being a gentleman on behalf of a friend
who thought they might be in the book.
I told him to get on line like everybody else.
Georgie?
Hmm.
The game's stuck.
I'll be right there. Excuse me.
What is it, sweetie? The game won't go.
A gentleman. That's a word that men use sometimes when they're helping a lady.
Maybe McKenna's friend was a lady who knew Radcliff was in the book.
And I can think of one. Kay Connolly.
Who would blackmail Jim? Did he tell you this?
He got an extortion demand about his activities at the sex club.
That doesn't make any sense. I told you that was all lies.
We read your deposition. We know what your husband put you through,
taking you to that club.
My husband said I was too uptight.
Too conventional.
He wanted you to experiment.
I'II... I'll just... Do you mind if I shut this? We need to...
It's okay, honey.
...talk to your Mom in private.
Uh-huh.
I told him if he let the genie out of the bottle,
then he would destroy our marriage,
and that's what he did.
Well, we found the man who was blackmailing him.
His name's Rob McKenna. He was a bouncer at that club.
No.
This guy's a jack-of-all-trades.
This year, he was selling beachwear.
Last year he was selling women's leather belts.
In fact, he had a booth at the Women's Accessory Show.
The show's organizers said you were there, too.
Yeah, well, he even gave us a map.
This is where his booth was here, and right across the aisle was yours.
Oh, right. Now I do remember. Rob.
Right, Rob. Good old Rob.
So what did he do? He was just chatting you up?
He remembered me from the club.
The time that I freaked out and Jim got angry with me.
I guess I made an impression.
I'll say, him remembering you just from that one time in 1989.
Just so we know that we're talking about the same guy here,
can you describe what he looked like back then in 1989?
He had hair that was combed forward, like a Caesar cut.
And he had a small, little beard.
Oh, a soul patch.
Yes, that's how I remembered him.
So this is what he looked like in '89, when he was arrested.
And this is what he looked like in '91. This is when Kay met him.
Two years after she was at the club with Radcliff. She lied to us.
She was a divorced woman in '91. Single.
The genie out of the bottle? Maybe it was hers.
You turned off your cell.
Let go!
Let me see. Let me see!
Stop it! Let me see your arm!
Stop it! I didn't do anything.
Let me see!
Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me what he did to you?
I didn't think you'd understand, honey.
You promised to tell me everything!
I know. I'm sorry, sweetheart, I'm so sorry.
How could he take you to a place like that? I hate him.
Found her. "Monique. "
And the phone number was registered
to Kay under her married name from '90 to '92.
Monique. "Choochoo"? As in the little engine that pulled the train?
Multiple partners.
Must be what she became known for at the club.
Well, I've heard of post-divorce follies, but this...
She didn't want the book to blackmail Radcliff.
She needed it to bury her own past.
Monique... Monique... No, I'm sorry. I guess I...
I don't remember the girls after all.
And Choochoo?
Oh, exactly what the name implied.
Whoever that girl was, she saw more traffic in one night than the Holland Tunnel.
Oh, come on. It was harmless fun, you know.
Thank you, Mr. Merritt.
Oh.
Honeys! Here we go.
Nice to meet you. Bye.
Bye.
Maybe Ms. Connolly isn't Monique.
Maybe Merritt wrote down the wrong number.
Hell of a coincidence.
Maybe the blackmail scheme was just a lure.
It's how Kay got McKenna to front for her at the auction.
When he was outbid, he saw his meal ticket slip away,
so he killed Lila Parsons to get the book back.
Before Kay knew what he was up to,
McKenna tried to sell the book to Radcliff,
that's the last place Kay would want it to wind up.
So, she put a stop to it with two slugs.
If in fact Kay Connolly is Monique.
Find a witness.
Her daughter Regan would've been three or four at the time.
A nanny or a babysitter. If Kay paid by check, we can find her.
Regan was such a lively girl. She is all right, isn't she?
As far as we can tell. You were her nanny for a year and a half.
A record. Her other nannies lasted six months.
Ms. Connolly had a very active social life.
And you were stuck baby-sitting till her mother rolled home.
Once she was gone for three days.
She came back looking like...
She smelled of drink and sex.
She was a lonely, unhappy woman.
Any idea where she'd been?
I heard men leaving messages on her machine,
saying they'd met her at this club. It had two names.
Bacchus & Venus.
That's it.
Was Regan aware that there was something wrong?
Ms. Connolly would tell her she'd be home to tuck her in,
but she'd never make it back.
Just one broken promise after another.
Regan would line up her dolls neatly on the bed,
she'd sit up, forcing herself to stay awake until Ms. Connolly came home.
When you asked if Regan was all right,
did you have anything special to be concerned about?
I'm not even sure. But five years ago, I got a call.
It was a young girl, 11 or 12.
She sounded drunk.
What did she say?
She said she was going to kill me.
I heard giggling in the background, but the girl was very angry.
She said she'd found a gun in her mother's store
and she knew how to use it.
The store. That's how you knew it was Regan.
When are you going to be home? Okay.
My mom said she can't come home yet, there's police at the store.
Do you have any idea what we're looking for?
You know, we talked to your old nanny, Mrs. Brendan.
She said that you called her five years ago.
What? We dug up an old phone record.
You want to see it?
Do you remember what you said?
I was goofing.
You told her that you found something in your mom's store and that
you'd kill Mrs. Brendan with it.
I didn't mean it.
Mrs. Brendan said you sounded drunk.
I used to get drunk a lot.
But now you're okay.
"Hamilton Heights Literacy Program. " Is this yours?
Yeah. I volunteer.
That's great. You should hold on to it.
Was there anything else? Besides the drinking?
At the store, I noticed that you pulled down your sleeves.
You're hiding scars?
I'm not a junkie.
You were a cutter?
Who were you mad at? Your mom?
Mom and I are tight now. We're best friends.
You worked on it? You went to counseling together?
Yes.
Mrs. Brendan told us that after your parents got divorced,
that your mother spent a lot of time away from home.
Did that come up in counseling?
Yes.
You thought that it was your fault that she stayed away.
You thought that if you kept your room clean and neat, and lined up all your dolls,
that she'd see that you were a good girl and she'd love you more, stay home?
It was my dad's fault. He dumped us.
And Mom had to work all the time, that's why she couldn't be at home with me.
Did she tell you that in counseling? That she was working late?
Yes. She worked really hard.
While Dad... I know what he did to her.
Her self-destructive behavior is a symptom of her attachment disorder.
She felt abandoned by everyone,
by her mother, especially by her mother.
They went to therapy to rebuild the bond between them,
rebuild it on a foundation of trust and truth.
And what did Kay do? She lied.
Tough to tell your kid you neglected them
because you were too busy romancing the 7th Fleet.
Well, the girl might forgive her for her conduct,
but not for lying about it.
Kay had to be worried about what would happen if Regan found out.
Find out how? It's an anonymous entry in an address book.
With a phone number that Radcliff would recognize if it ended up in his hands.
That's who might tell Regan.
Well, nice theory, but after serving two search warrants,
there's still no gun or an address book.
Well, we still have a copy of the address book.
She didn't want the truth falling in the wrong hands.
Why don't we give her something to worry about?
No, I don't know anyone named Monique.
No, see, next to her name, Mr. Merritt wrote down your phone number
at your old brownstone on 73rd.
It's a mistake.
No, no, the number's right.
It's a hot little number, too, going by the notes that Merritt made.
Let me see it.
Sorry, Mr. Radcliff, you're not entitled to examine grand jury evidence.
Grand jury? What are you talking about?
We believe Monique knew your client's blackmailer, Mr. McKenna.
And she obviously knew Mr. Radcliff, since she was living at his place.
Turns out you and McKenna had a very close mutual friend,
which makes us wonder why you lied to us about not knowing him.
I'll be seeking Mr. Radcliff's indictment for Mr. McKenna's murder.
That is ridiculous! I'm telling you, I did not know these people.
Mr. Carver, I'm serving notice that I'm putting my client
in front of your grand jury and I want access to all of your grand jury evidence,
including the contents of the address book.
Not without a judge's order.
Fine with me.
Antonia, please come in.
That's the address for Ms. Kay Connolly.
As soon as we get a court date for Mr. Talbot's motion,
please send her a notice.
Under CPL Section 190.50, my client has an absolute right
to testify on his own behalf before the grand jury.
And to prepare his testimony, he must be allowed to review the evidence
Mr. Carver intends to present against him.
Your Honor, Mr. Talbot is alluding to a copy of an address book,
specifically to an entry under the name "Monique. "
Since I have no intention of asking Mr. Radcliff any questions
about that document, I see no basis to turn it over to him.
That is the lamest argument I've heard in a month.
If it's evidence, he has a right to examine it.
I'm granting his motion.
You have till the end of business day to turn over the address book.
Mr. Carver, Bonnie Wells. I represent Kay Connolly.
Can I have a word with you in private?
Of course.
You're suggesting I appeal the judge's order?
What's your interest here?
My client wants to limit access to the book, since it brings to light
her husband's behavior during their marriage.
She wants to shield her daughter from that information.
She already knows her father dragged her mother to sex clubs.
It's not his behavior that's the problem. It's yours.
You know, the evidence of it. That's what you want to keep away from Jim, right?
I didn't do anything. It was Jim who humiliated me.
He did. He bullied you, he made you feel worthless and undesirable.
Was it to prove him wrong that you became Monique?
To make yourself feel more powerful by being desired?
I don't know what... What you're talking about.
I'm talking about this, Monique.
This phone number and this notation
and this description of you.
Come on, you know what it means now, don't you?
We talked to Regan's nanny.
She heard the messages men left on your machine.
She knows what you were doing when you came home late or not at all.
I don't have to explain myself to you.
You haven't explained yourself at all, to anyone, much less your daughter.
You know that once he figures this out, he will use it to vilify you.
He will cast you as a bad mother,
who has abandoned their child to...
To satisfy her pathological lust.
He will drive a wedge between you and Regan.
Regan, who thinks that you were absent in her life
because you were working so hard to provide for her.
Please, put yourself in my place.
How could I ever tell her what I was doing?
No, you cannot tell her, but now your ex-husband will.
And she will believe that this bond between you,
the one that you worked so hard to salvage,
was based on nothing but lies and mistrust.
And then she'll be lost to you.
No, you can't let this happen. You can't let Jim see it.
You can't, please.
I'm sorry, but as long as Mr. Radcliff remains our suspect, he...
He has a right to this evidence.
I beg you, please, for my daughter's sake, what it would do to her.
She's hurt herself so much. Please.
As long as he remains a suspect,
that's what you said, Mr. Carver?
Hmm-hmm.
But if he stops being a suspect, then he's not entitled to see this, right?
Yes, but it would take a lot to convince me of his innocence.
Kay, we've done all we could here.
Hang on. What would it take to convince you, Mr. Carver?
Someone else confessing to McKenna's murder?
Yes. That would do it.
Kay, come on.
No, but isn't it true that if she confessed,
then your behavior at that club 14 years ago,
it would not have to be exposed.
If she confessed and agreed to a plea bargain,
she would not have to reveal the motives of her acts.
And this address book, the only existing copy of it?
If she waived the right to appeal, the copy would be destroyed.
And then the past would be in the past, you see?
And nobody could use it against you or to hurt Regan.
You could tell her you killed McKenna to stop him from blackmailing her father.
You'll be her hero.
And then she'll stand by you,
and if sometime you have the strength to tell her the truth,
then you tell her the truth.
But until then, this is what you have to do.
Yes. Kay.
No, I can't... I can't lose her. I can't lose her again.
I thought my name might be in the book, and then
I saw at the preview that it wasn't just my name, but Jim's.
You knew he would try to buy it, to protect his political future.
Yes.
And I was so relieved when that woman got it.
But then Rob killed her and tried to sell the book to Jim.
And he...
He would turn her against me. He would.
I couldn't run that risk.
She loves me.
And she's all I have.
Did you catch Jim Radcliff's press conference this morning?
We were too busy sugaring our coffees at a crime scene. What did we miss?
Since his ex-wife will be spending 20-to-life in prison,
Mr. Radcliff is withdrawing from the primaries
to devote more time to their daughter.
Who wants to do the honors?
It's all yours, Counselor.
Harmless fun.