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.
I tried calling you last night.
I was there. I'm a heavy sleeper.
Listen, you held the cash for the 50-50 raffle.
There should have been $240. You gave me $210.
Big deal. I miscounted. What is it, 20?
Thirty, Tommy. Forty minus ten.
And you were late yesterday.
- Five minutes. - Ten, since we're counting.
It's getting worse. Something going on?
What, I'm the only one runs late?
Tommy! You scared me.
You alone down there?
Just me and the fabric softener.
I'll have these shirts done for you tomorrow.
You didn't see three guys cutting through?
No. Was there a break-in?
Just go back to your room. Keep the door locked, okay, sis?
Hey, chico, Sergeant missed you at the muster.
He's looking for you.
See me shaking in my boots, chico?
You hurt yourself? Your left arm.
Hope she was worth it, chico.
Your wife's always worth it, chico.
Son of a bitch! I'm not gonna take this!
Every time! Every single time!
- Beer? - I'll just take these.
I'm not turning around, but who just came in here? Three guys?
Tommy, don't start.
You gotta smoke outside. We've been over this.
Hey. Hey, easy. Don't...
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Law & Order CI 3x21 Consumed
ORIGINAL AIR DATE ON NBC: 2004/05/23
First report came in just after midnight.
No eyewitnesses so far.
We're canvassing limo drivers, cleaning crews.
Well, his tuxedo's well-worn. He works for a living.
Maybe a maitre d' or a waiter.
His shoes would be in better shape.
He could be a musician.
If he is, I've never heard of him. Eduardo Mercaldo, 50.
Address up on the West Side.
No family pictures. Credit card, MetroCard.
Let's see you guess what instrument he plays.
He probably doesn't play the horn. He's missing too many teeth.
No calluses from a guitar or drumsticks.
But his hands, they have a long span.
Fingernails are trimmed short.
Perfect for piano.
So, Eddie the piano player. Check piano bars in the area.
Here.
Shot twice. That's what brought him down.
The killer moved closer, shot him through the heart.
Maybe Eddie forgot to play his request.
Let's see the other one.
We got a second round of shots fired about three minutes after the first.
Took a while to find this guy, the way sounds echo around down here.
Ramon Ortiz, 36. No address.
Just two shots this time.
One in the leg to bring him down.
The other right through his heart.
The shooter's getting more efficient.
The 911 report we got mentioned six shots fired, total.
We only count five.
That's what I mean, about the echo down here.
Could be a truck backing up, but I don't hear an engine.
Sounds like it's coming from over there.
He got an entry card for the garage.
Looks like he got shot going in.
Only one shot this time? Hell of a learning curve.
I think I've got a shell casing in here.
Looks like a nine-mil.
The shooter probably picked up his casings at the other sites.
Alejandro Alvarez, 33. Stockbroker.
A few hundred bucks in cash.
Mercaldo, Ortiz, Alvarez.
I'm keeping my fingers crossed it's just a coincidence.
I don't want it characterized as a racial thing yet.
Maybe the victims were all in the same bar and pissed off the same guy.
Eddie Mercaldo's piano bar says he was there all night.
There was no disturbance, and nobody remembers ever seeing the stockbroker there.
Doesn't lay out like a rage spree. It wasn't impulsive.
The killer shot three people in 10 minutes, no eyewitnesses,
and then got away while the zone was flooded with patrol cars.
So the guy spent time downtown, staking out his victims, his escape routes.
He also spent time on a target range. He made every shot count.
Except for the one that fell into the grate.
He took the time to pick up all his casings.
He's afraid that we'll trace his weapon.
Maybe he's used it before in another crime.
We have a winner. It's NYPD.
The casing matches up with a Glock
that was used in a line-of-duty shooting a year ago.
The weapon was assigned to an Officer Thomas Callahan,
currently at the 5-1 in the Bronx.
- Use your phone? - Sure.
Can you check to see if it was reported stolen?
No. No report.
How about the disposition of the line-of-duty shooting?
The shooting was ruled self-defense.
Callahan was cleared and returned to active duty.
Not so active. He missed roll call this morning.
Hey! Hey, down here! Help me! Help me!
Somebody help me! Help!
Help me. I'm a cop.
Come on.
Please help me.
Where am I? Where am I?
Hudson Hospital Prison Ward Thursday, April 22
They brought him in half an hour ago. Broken leg, bruises.
He crawled out of a subway tunnel four blocks from the shootings.
We heard he had a weapon.
Yeah, a.38 from his ankle holster.
It was empty though. The rounds had all been fired.
Is that his file? We're gonna need that.
Yeah. His P.B.A. delegate's on his way.
Callahan's brother officers are already here.
Great. A frat party. You mind, fellas?
We need a few minutes with your brother officer.
Officer Callahan, I'm Detective Eames. This is Detective Goren.
We're from Major Case. Anybody tell you what's going on?
Someone's throwing bullets around downtown last night.
That's what we thought.
Maybe you were chasing someone in the tunnel, you know, a suspect.
No. Look, I was at home watching television. Next thing I know,
I'm in a tunnel with a broken leg.
Anything else, I don't remember.
This blackout, maybe you were doing shots in front of the TV, popping pills...
Major Case Lady, take a big bite, okay?
I'm not a dope head, I'm not a drunk.
And you're not smart enough to hide your temper.
You remember firing your ankle piece, your .38?
Yeah. When I was in the tunnel with my broken leg,
I shot out my gun at the wall to try and get someone's attention.
And what about your other piece, your Glock?
Do you know where that is?
Are you gonna tell me? I don't remember.
You remember your line-of-duty shooting?
Three men jumped you at night in the projects up in the Bronx.
An experience like that must've made you adjust your view of things.
I got over it.
These three men, they were African American, Hispanic, Hispanic, right?
One of them was Hispanic.
- Did he look like this? - Nah.
Or like this? Or like this?
No. Who are these guys?
The guys who were shot last night.
With a Glock.
We retrieved a casing from a grate.
It matched your weapon.
I got nothing to do with them.
You were downtown last night. What was the purpose?
I don't remember.
I never come down here.
Tommy, we find that hard to believe.
And we have a witness who saw you at Harrison's Steakhouse.
- It's on Maiden and Cedar. - Never been there.
You guys are not gonna pin this on me, okay?
I'm not saying nothing until my delegate and my lawyer get here.
Just got word. They found his gun in a trash can,
one station away from where this weasel popped up.
He's done.
There is no corner of Maiden and Cedar.
You really think this guy doesn't know his way around downtown?
The line-of-duty shooting...
Callahan fired seven shots.
All but one missed.
He's only been to the firing range twice since.
I didn't think you could actually score this low and still keep your badge.
This guy is no Wild Bill Hickok.
Maybe he hooked up with someone who is.
He's well-liked. It's what I told I.A. an hour ago.
When we talked to Tommy, we had a hard time pinning down
what would make him so well-liked.
He's always there when you need a favor.
He covers for the guys on holidays.
What we noticed is that he's had a lot of partners,
especially in the last year, like this one here.
Vasquez. He lasted less than three weeks.
Vasquez was smoking in the patrol car.
Tommy's got asthma or something.
They couldn't work it out, so Tommy filed a report.
Maybe the old Tommy would've come to you instead, right?
But since his self-defense shooting, his fuse got shorter.
You could say that.
Anything else you could say?
Something that never made it into a report.
He's gotten careless.
He's distracted? How's his attendance?
Every other morning, he runs late.
Does he have a second job?
Not that he told me.
I don't know what he does at night.
Maybe he's out hunting.
Apartment of Tommy Callahan Queens, New York Friday, April 23
Three alarm clocks, all set for 6:00 a.m.
If he's not getting up, it's not for lack of trying.
Eggplant Parmesan.
Somebody's bringing him home-cooked meals.
I can't imagine a girlfriend setting foot in this place.
Hmm. Looks like there's somebody whose smoking he doesn't mind.
Don't see any lipstick. Could be his partner in crime.
I count four different brands.
Light starch.
His domestic diva's been busy.
Nothing says rage-aholic like a punch in the wall.
His neighbor must love him.
Tommy's always courteous and helpful.
It's nice having a police officer in the building, I'll say that.
And noisy too.
Maybe the TV now and then.
Oh, no. My partner meant when Tommy punched the wall there.
I wouldn't know that.
I mean, everybody has their bad days.
You're very lucky he didn't knock those lamps over.
These are Muranos, aren't they?
Did you get them at Bergmann's?
Oh, gracious, no. I work there.
I couldn't afford that furniture.
They're knockoffs.
You ever see any visitors over at Tommy's, or hear them?
No. Tommy keeps pretty much to himself.
Eggplant Parmesan.
That's you.
No. Tommy's got the same containers next door.
Oh, yes.
It's just as easy to cook for two as it is for one.
Same go for ironing?
The poor man can't even sew a button.
He works such long hours and those late shifts.
Late shifts?
What time does he get home?
Sometimes I hear him... after 4:00 a.m.
4:00 a.m.?
That's not a late shift. That's last call.
It was very sudden. Boom. He...
How can I say it? He just dropped dead.
He and two other men all on the same night, downtown.
Did he leave any will or final instructions?
Apparently not.
His death has made me reexamine things.
I can't afford to continue to represent you.
Don't do this, John.
- Everything can get straightened out. - When it does, you let me know.
Until then, I'm sorry, Bing. Best of luck.
Yeah, sure. Tommy's been coming in for years.
He lives but three blocks away.
He come in alone?
Yeah.Sometimes around 7:00, sometimes around 11:00.
Just he, himself and him.
These loosies are the same brands we found at his place.
He doesn't smoke, so who buys them?
He doesn't smoke? That's news to me.
He buys those and smokes them like a chimney.
You actually saw him smoke? Where, here?
I don't let him smoke in here,
even if he is a cop and even if it is late at night.
Last Tuesday night, he came in?
Yeah. ³×
And the same thing happened with the smokes?
Yeah. Then he asked if I saw three guys come in.
He always asks if three guys are following him.
When you see him walk,
did you notice if he's clumsy or weaving?
Nah. Stiff like a robot.
When you talk to him, does he respond, or does he act like he's in his own world?
In his own world.
Carver's ready to get an indictment on Callahan.
He wants to know if he should start working on one for this mystery partner.
The partner might not be a mystery much longer.
Okay, thank you.
The hospital had Tommy under sedation since he was brought in.
We need to talk to Carver, get him off sedation.
This is better for us how?
It's better for him.
Son of a bitch. Locked the damn window.
I'm in for it now. Hey, sister.
Going for a smoke?
Yeah. I don't have much time.
Do you know who's out there?
Yeah, three guys. You seen 'em, right?
There's a lot of people out there.
You don't know who we are, do you?
- No. What are you, cops? - That's right.
We talked to you about when you broke your leg in the subway.
I don't remember that. I gotta go.
You can't go anywhere. You're under arrest.
- Hey, get off me! Get off me! - Calm down, Tommy!
Your doctor's right here.
Tommy, this is Dr. Barnes.
You've got to wake up. You've got to wake up!
Dr. Barnes? Um...
What's going on?
How come I'm out of bed?
It's all right, Tommy. We're putting you back to bed,
and we'll give you something to help you sleep through the night.
Okay, guys.
He seems to have full-blown parasomnia.
If he hadn't been taken off sedatives, we might not have caught it.
What are the chances he killed three people in his sleep?
Virtually nil.
But the person who did, knew that Tommy had this problem...
and brought him along for the ride.
A sleepwalker with a gun. The perfect fall guy.
Son of a bitch. Locked the damn window.
I'm in for it now. Hey, sister.
Going for a smoke?
Yeah. I don't have much time.
I sound like a damn lunatic.
You had no idea you had this condition?
No. I used to sleepwalk when I was a kid, but I grew out of it.
And you never noticed the punch in the wall or the cigarettes in the ashtray?
I... just thought I had too much to drink.
Kinda didn't want to know.
Can you think of anyone who might've figured out what was going on with you?
No.
No. I mean, if they did, they'd have told me, right?
You suspect my client was framed?
At this point, we're keeping our minds open to every possibility.
Who would do that to me?
It's all right, Tommy.
We're finished here?
How sure are we that this isn't some elaborate ruse by Officer Callahan?
The doctors vouch for his condition.
They think his shooting last year triggered it.
There's no evidence he even knew about his condition.
He never sought treatment, never took a sleeping pill.
Could he have killed these people while sleepwalking?
Well, the murder was premeditated.
From what we read, parasomniacs are incapable of planning their behavior.
They're hardly aware of their environment.
They walk into traffic. They... fall out of windows.
So someone brought Officer Callahan downtown,
used his gun to murder three people, and then
left him to sleepwalk off a deserted subway platform.
That seems elaborate for a hate crime.
But a hate crime is a good cover
if only one of the victims is the real target.
You'd hit that target first to make sure you got him before hitting the decoys.
Eddie Mercaldo was the first kill.
Apartment Of Eduardo Mercaldo 551 West 111th Street, Monday, April 26
No bills overdue. Checkbook's balanced. Solid citizen.
And an organized one.
Gig books.
A record of every job he's played all the way back to 1972.
Who he played with, where... and how much.
Eddie's challenging my opinion of musicians.
He prepaid his utilities and rent three months at a time.
He was probably on the road a lot.
Didn't want to fall behind. Here.
He played Caribbean cruises four times in the last year.
Cruise three months ago stopped in the Cayman Islands.
Cayman Islands.
Seems like the one stop all his cruises have in common.
A lot of drugs go through the Caymans. Eddie might've been a courier.
We should get a dog to sniff his luggage.
Brought the electric piano on the cruise with him.
You'd think that the ship would have their own piano.
You see? Something has been taken out.
The old motherboard.
He replaced it with smaller components and made room for contraband.
Enough for a couple bricks of coke.
We'll see.
Green tint on the lining. Mold?
Ink.
Green ink.
The swab's negative for drugs.
Humidity made the ink run.
Cayman Islands. Offshore banks. (ºñ°ÅÁÖÀÚ °£ °Å·¡ ¿©°ÇÀ» Á¦°ø)
Secret accounts, tax evasion. Eddie was a money courier?
Maybe he got greedy and started skimming.
Whoever's money it is has to know Tommy.
I didn't see any Fortune 500's in his address book.
There is someone close to Tommy...
who might know what a fortune looks like.
Those Murano lamps.. .
I knew they didn't look like knockoffs.
Bergmann's Department Store 713 5th Avenue, Tuesday, April 27
Three murders? It's inconceivable. I...
Tommy was always very decent to me.
We think his rage stems from his shooting incident last year.
Did he ever confide in you about that?
Tommy doesn't confide.
Things just tumble out.
Last Christmas, he asked me to light a candle for his mother,
and that's how I found out that his mother had died
on Christmas Eve a few years earlier.
And that's after knowing him, what, three years.
That's when you moved in next door, isn't it?
I don't remember telling you that.
We looked it up in your rental application.
We try to find out as much as possible about potential witnesses.
Like your job history. It's sort of sketchy.
You've only worked here for four years...
and already you're a personal shopper in the couture department.
You have a lot of retail experience?
Why don't you look it up?
We tried, but your Social Security number only goes back five years.
- You changed it. - I had to.
Someone stole my identity.
Now, since this interview is not about Tommy,
I really do have to get back to work.
You're tough, Ms. Landau.
You don't let people push you around.
I've had to learn not to.
Her outfit... looks like one of those overpriced French designers,
at least eight or nine years old.
She probably bought it back in her other life,
the one she doesn't want us to know about.
The money Eddie was carrying to the Caymans...
probably used to be hers.
Before she started using the name Beth Landau,
she was known as Elizabeth Post, with an address off Fifth Avenue.
I got her. Post v. Post.
It's a divorce action. Started seven years ago.
Started? They're still married?
Apparently so. No kids. Dozens of motions,
mostly about finances.
That's what this money is... contested finances.
See if you can locate the husband.
Shouldn't be too hard. He's been at the same address for the last six years.
Lake George Minimum Security Prison Lake George, New York, Friday, April 30
I'm sorry you came all the way up here, but I've never heard of Eddie Mercaldo.
Are you sure about that? Because he was smuggling money,
and you're hiding assets.
We thought there was a natural connection.
I am not hiding assets.
No? Because the judge said so when she put you in jail for contempt.
Let me see.
Bing! Right here.
"For refusing to disclose the location of marital assets totaling more than $15 million."
All that money's in an offshore bank. Eddie was making regular runs,
bringing back cash to pay your legal bills, take care of other business.
No, no.
Your wife found out. She cut off your pipeline.
She had Eddie shot.
Don't be absurd. Elizabeth went to Holyoke, for God's sake.
Believe me, if that money still existed, Elizabeth's lawyers would've unearthed it by now.
You know, you've been in jail for contempt of court...
longer than anyone in the history of New York.
I'm well aware of the Kafkaesque journey I'm on.
Well, the journey that your wife put you on.
Now, I'd think that you'd jump at the chance to implicate her in a murder.
She doesn't have the wherewithal for this sort of violent...
calculation.
Oh. It's time for my shift in the mail room.
Thirty-eight cents an hour.
Don't tell Elizabeth's lawyers. They'll move to garnish.
Implicating her would mean revealing where he hid the money.
She's his wife. She's still entitled to half.
He'd rather see her walk on three counts of murder than split it with her.
Ain't love grand?
Rubber Soul. (ºñÆ²½ºÀÇ 1965³â ¹ß¸Å ¾Ù¹ü Á¦¸ñ)
It was a cover band.
They toured colleges back in the '70s.
Eddie on piano, and that's Bingham Post on drums.
- And they kept in touch all these years? - There's no evidence of that.
We checked Eddie's old phone records and address books.
No Bingham.
Which made Eddie a perfect bagman.
He wasn't on anyone's radar.
A guy he hadn't seen for over 30 years,
and he got him to agree to break I don't know how many laws?
They bonded for life on the road.
I was in a singing group in college.
Twenty years later, any of those guys call,
we pick up where we left off.
Ms. Landau would've needed a private investigator to find Mr. Mercaldo.
Even if she could afford it, there's no record she paid for one.
She was very good at mothering Tommy.
Maybe his shirts weren't the only ones she was ironing.
Beth never mentioned other cops.
You guys can't be right about her. She's a classy lady.
She was interested in you.
She was worried about your health.
She noticed how tired you were.
I asked her what she knew about sleeping pills.
She said they were bad for you.
Well, the right sleeping pill will keep you in bed, Tommy,
instead of pacing in your room... or wandering the streets.
- She knew your condition. - No! Wrong.
You don't think she heard you banging on the wall, talking to yourself?
Beth didn't want to tell you because she liked you the way you were.
She must've known.
She ever ask you any favors, you know?
Like running down a license plate or finding an address?
Nah. The only thing I ever helped her with was renting a car.
Her credit was bad. She needed something cheap, for cash.
She say what she needed it for?
Overnight visits to her sister.
Do you know exactly where she went?
Because, uh, she doesn't have a sister.
I don't know. Just overnight.
She did call me one time.
She couldn't get her car started. It was late.
And where'd you pick her up?
Just over the Willis Avenue Bridge in the Bronx.
Nothing there but warehouses.
And storage facilities.
B & C Storage, Bronx, New York Tuesday, May 4
Beth in her former life looks happy and prosperous.
Wigs. Blonde, redhead.
No prescription. Disguises?
Adult diapers. What is she disguising herself as?
- Flashlights. Energy bars. - Maps.
- High-speed film. - Binoculars.
Stakeout. That's why she needed to get a rental car.
She didn't hire a P.I.
She turned herself into one.
.22 auto.
Membership card to a gun club in Hoboken.
She turned herself into Wild Bill Hickok too.
Bingham Post filed a new application for release.
Included was a copy of a letter Mr. Post sent his wife earlier this week.
"Dear Elizabeth, This war has gone on for too long
and benefited neither of us. I wronged you,
and I want the chance to make amends.
I hope someday we'll even be able to dance to our old song."
I'm feeling nauseous.
It apparently worked its charms on Ms. Landau.
She indicated to the judge she won't oppose her husband's release.
Well, maybe because she can't access the money without him.
And if he's willing to split it with her,
it means that he can't get at it without her help.
She has something he needs... the bank account numbers,
a password, something she took from Eddie the night she killed him.
He, uh...
His address book was still on him. His wallet, house keys.
No sheet music.
Would he bring sheet music for his gig at the piano bar?
Not sheet music, but he'd have a fake book.
A list of songs with their keys and start notes...
to fake his way through any request.
He wouldn't go anywhere without it.
That bank information could've been in that book.
And now Beth's dangling it in front of her husband.
You know, I think we need to be there for Bingham and Beth's reconciliation.
Any way to get him released into the custody of his wife?
I'll talk to the judge.
Good to see you again.
May I?
There. Not so bad, was it?
You still like irises, I hope.
Yes, I still like irises.
I'll put them in water.
I recognize the lamps.
One of the few things you didn't take when you walked out.
Now, come on.
I learned my lesson.
Have you?
Ah! Why don't I pour us a glass?
No. Not now.
It's for later.
By the way, did you smell the stairwell on your way up?
I got used to that smell in prison.
You could've walked out anytime.
You stayed in for spite.
- I did not choose this. - You're right.
How well do you think you'd do with no resources, no credit,
past your prime with no marketable skills?
That's all in the past.
Now we need each other.
Oh, I don't need anything from you.
I can get by on my own. But... you need me.
Yes, I do. You have something I want.
What could I possibly have that you'd want?
Isn't that what you said when you left?
I was wrong. What I wrote in that letter,
I meant it. I hope that someday we could be like we once were.
The bridges to the past have been burned.
There's nothing left. Nothing.
She played him. She won't give it up.
I spent six years in jail, but you won.
You expecting someone?
Ms. Landau, it's Detectives Goren and Eames.
Can we speak with you?
We're sorry to bother you.
We heard your husband was being released today.
We wanted to make sure you were okay.
Speak of the devil. Look who's here.
Is he harassing you? Did he invite himself in?
No. We decided it was time to end the war.
And share the spoils.
You're gonna tell her where you hid your money?
Elizabeth understands now there is no hidden money.
I'm here to talk about reconciling.
Reconcile?
No, he's here to gloat.
He wants to get a look at your little rabbit hutch here.
I bet your dressing room on Fifth Avenue was bigger than this whole place.
Neither one of us has had it easy in the last few years.
Beth had nothing. You stuck her with so much bad paper...
that she couldn't even start fresh without a new identity, isn't that right?
I... I couldn't buy a cup of coffee on credit, thanks to him.
I wasn't myself then. I was cruel.
I don't know what I was thinking.
Do you think that he appreciates your dire circumstances,
the humiliation that he put you through?
I doubt it.
Empathy was never his strong suit.
Elizabeth, that was then.
You know, you really should've had him come down to the department store.
He would've gotten a kick watching you schlepp those dresses back and forth.
It was the only job she could get, being a woman her age.
I don't know how you got through each day.
It must have been the thought of making Bingham pay...
and pay and pay.
That's a nice vintage.
But I guess those days are almost over.
I guess that it's time to...
make a toast to new beginnings.
You're splitting 15 mil.
For the last time, there isn't any money.
No, see, there is. And Eddie was your courier.
We verified he had a notebook on him the night he was killed.
A fake book, a cheat sheet for hundreds of songs.
I know what a fake book is.
Why?
Did Eddie have one when you played in a band with him?
We think that's where he kept the information on the bank in the Caymans...
the account numbers, the passwords.
Eddie's book was missing when we found him.
Is this what you were planning on serving him?
We know Beth's lawyers never found any offshore accounts in your name,
so it's probably in Eddie's name.
And you can't access the money...
without the information... in that book.
Say when.
Spiral notebook, huh, Beth?
You burned it?
What did you do?
It's a joke, right? Tell me you copied the information.
Beth, stop screwing around! Tell me you copied it!
She didn't. She doesn't care about the money anymore.
She made a new life for herself.
You're the only one that's petrified about not having it.
We have no way of getting that money now!
Don't you understand?
I think she gets it.
She's come a long way from Holyoke.
You know, they say that this should be served at room temperature.
But it's best served cold, revenge.
Look at his face.
Isn't that enough shock, enough
devastation to make it worth your while?
I didn't do anything.
Didn't do anything? You burned $15 million.
That's all the money I had.
You want him to grovel at your feet? Would that satisfy you?
You know, satisfy your... your wounded heart?
Oh, you're feeling it, aren't you?
The emptiness of it.
Revenge. You know, the whole buildup,
and then it lets you down, doesn't it?
Considering all the hours,
the long nights spent stalking Bing's lawyers and friends,
staking out Eddie's piano bar, finding the other victims.
I didn't do that.
Wearing wigs and phony glasses and living off energy bars.
We found your bat cave.
It's very impressive.
This item, especially. Diapers.
Couldn't leave your post without running the risk of missing something,
so you sat there for hours in the clammy wetness,
sustained by the thought of Bingham squirming at the end of your hook.
You know, I bet that this Beth...
would never think she was capable of that.
I had to... look out for myself.
Or hitting bull's-eyes at the gun club, week after week.
Or what you did to the neighbor.
You know, all that mothering. That took real ice in your veins.
I'm... I'm... I'm not that kind of person.
Beth is not that kind of person.
But you?
You knew that Tommy was sick.
And instead of getting him help,
you made sure his shirts were starched and his belly was full...
until that night when you drove him downtown,
killed three people.
You used his gun.
You let him loose in the subway.
And so what if a train hit him?
Didn't matter, because you didn't care.
I'm not like that! I would care!
Oh, you care now? You care about these three men?
You care about them? And the lives that you consumed?
And your own life.
- Oh, God. - Do you see now?
Come on, Beth. Come on. Look at this.
Beth, look at her.
Come on. Let me know that this woman...
Let me know if this decent woman...
isn't dead.
What would she tell me?
What does she need to tell me?
Oh, God.
I... I killed them.
I'm... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
You're under arrest, Beth.
God, I don't know what became of me.
Look.
Look what you've turned me into!
You did this to me! You! You!
You're gonna have to come downtown to make a statement.
I don't recognize her.
That's not the woman I married.
Well, then you're even.
I can't imagine you're the man she married either.
So that's what 15 million bucks looks like.
So that's what vengeance gets you...
A mouthful of ashes.
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