01x05 - Judgement

[bunniefuu]

You are being watched.

The government has a secret system.

A machine.

It spies on you every hour of every day.

I know because I built it.

I designed the machine to detect acts of terror, but it sees everything.

Violent crimes involving ordinary people.

People like you.

Crimes the government considered irrelevant.

They wouldn't act so I decided I would.

But I needed a partner.

Someone with the skills to intervene.

Hunted by the authorities, we work in secret.

You will never find us.

But victim or perpetrator, if your number's up, we'll find you.

[Electronics buzzing]

[Tires screech]

[Phone rings]

Yeah?

We've got a problem.

[Static, indistinct chatter]

What's good here?

That won't work, Mr. Reese.

What won't?

Your interrogation technique.

What's good here?

It's an innocent question.

No question is ever innocent from you.

You're trying to determine whether I come here often.

Armed with that knowledge, you'll try to figure out where I live.

You're paranoid, Finch.

With good reason.

Maybe I just don't know what's good here so I'm asking the regular.

Enjoy your meal, Mr. Reese.

Law degree from NYU.

He lives on the upper west side with his son, Sam.

Bus is here!

So what do we have on him?

Born in South Boston.

Law degree from NYU.

He lives on the Upper West Side with his son, Sam.

Where's the wife?

She died last year.

Any chance Gates was involved?

Not unless he found a way to give her cancer.

Elizabeth Gates was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor last April.

By November she was gone.

So the son is all he has left.

Wait!

Oh, don't forget your lunch.

What do we know about the nanny?

Christina Rojas.

Gates hired her when his wife fell ill.

The kid sure likes her.

She spends a lot of time with him.

Judging by the hours she's billing, I'd say Gates was putting in long days at the office.

He lost the woman he loved.

Probably threw himself into his work to cope.

Where's his office?

Criminal court, City of New York.

Which may explain why the machine has sent us his social.

Absolutely not.

This is direct evidence, properly obtained.

So odds are he's the victim, not the perpetrator.

Judges get plenty of death threats.

It doesn't pass the balancing test, your honor.

The probative value is--

I know what the balancing test is, counselor.

Gates gets more death threats than most.

Word at the courthouse is he's waging a one-man w*r on crime-- tough, by-the-book, making lots of enemies.

If video of the actual crime is unfairly prejudicial, I think we might have to give up on the entire concept of trial by jury.

The video's in.

Everyone has enemies.

The machine identifies malice and an intent to harm.

We need to determine which threat it saw, which one is real.

Until we know, my best bet is to stay close to Gates, in case somebody makes a move.

[Computer beeps]

Looks like he's got quite a collection of enemies.

Mr. Reese, any sign of a threat?

Does cholesterol count?

I'm nearly done analyzing the threatening letters.

There are nine that I still can't source, but I've identified six possible suspects.

Any of them white guys with crew cuts?

Not that I'm aware of.

[Tense music]

♪ ♪

[Phone beeps]

Finch, what's the son's name again?

Samuel Gates, Junior.

Why?

I think we've been following the wrong Sam Gates.

Hey, Christina.

You're not going to believe what Mark C. said to Mrs. Kizer today.

[Muffled speech]

[Tires screech]

[Struggling]

[Grunting]

[Silenced g*nsh*t]

[Static, indistinct chatter]

I can't be there on time if I'm getting bad information.

The machine did not send us the wrong number.

If it says that judge Gates is in danger, then he is.

Well, tell that to his son.

The kidnapping must connect.

It could be the first step in a larger plot that ends with the judge dead.

We can still put a stop to it, all of it.

But we need a plan.

I have a plan.

Find Sam.

The man just lost his wife.

I won't let him wind up alone.

[Cocks g*n]

[Phone rings]

Judge Gates.

Dad?

Hey, Sam.

Dad...

What's wrong?

He's fine, your honor... for now.

Who are you?

Where is my son?

No cops, no feds.

Tell anyone and he's dead.

Keep quiet and you'll hear from us tonight.

Wait, look... We can handle this ourselves.

Just tell me what you want.

[Hangs up, dial tone]

[Dials number]

[Over recording]

This is Sam, leave a message.

Hi, uh, Christina, this is judge Gates.

Please! Call me back.

Hi, uh, this is judge Gates. Is Sam there with Daniel?

No, is everything okay?

Oh, God.

Let's figure out how we get your son back.

Who are you?

I'm here to help you.

Where is Sam?

Where is my son?

You're with the kidnappers, aren't you?

You're one of them..

No, I tried to stop them.

The the kidnappers made contact.

That's good.

That means they want to negotiate.

They won't hurt your son as long as he's worth something.

What do you mean, you tried to stop them?

You were there?

I was.

But not soon enough.

How did you know they were gonna take him?

Who the hell are you?

You have two questions right now.

Who are you and where is my son?

Which one do you wanna focus on?

[Static, indistinct chatter]

They were in my house.

How'd they get past the alarm?

I've tapped your phone and I'm setting up surveillance on your street.

It's our best shot at I.D.ing the kidnappers.

Where's Christina?

She was supposed to be here when he got home.

I didn't see her.

Could she be in on it?

That's impossible.

She loved Sam.

Judge...

Have you received any kidnapping threats?

Tried any cases involving kidnappers?

I have about $300,000 in the bank.

If this is about money, I can pay.

Whatever this is about, I'm going to find your son.

And I'm going to bring him home.

Stay here and wait for the next call.

They said no cops, no FBI.

They didn't say anything about me.

Okay, Finch.

You should have audio on his landline and video of the street outside Gates' house.

I want to save that boy as much as you do, but remember, Mr. Reese-- we don't need a judge asking questions about who we are and what we do.

I can't work a kidnapping from arm's length.

I'll worry about Gates once we get Sam back.

Where are we on the kidnappers?

Any luck tracing their call?

I'm afraid not.

It was voice-over I.P., anonymized through the Internet.

What about the other phone?

The one the spotter threw in the trash?

It's a disposable, obviously.

Not much on the SIM card.

Some disconnected numbers and a handful of texts, all equally cryptic.

So I'm trying to hack the cell company for more information.

But their firewall is impressive.

You can't get in?

You built a machine that spies on the entire country.

When you work for the government, access is not a problem.

Things are different now.

I'll figure it out.

Well, figure it out quick.

The kidnappers k*lled the nanny.

They must have gotten Gates' alarm code out of her.

[Dials phone]

[Over phone]

911 emergency, hello?

[Static, indistinct chatter]

Hey, you seen Carter?

No.

Detective.

Detective.

You came down from the 51st right, Fusco?

The Bronx finest.

What brought you here?

I wanted a change of scenery.

Wanted?

Or needed?

You got something you want to say?

I heard some rumors that got me concerned.

[Laughs]

I just like to know what I'm dealing with.

[Phone beeps]

Carla, I'm going to buy you a coffee.

Since you've been so nice.

Cream, no sugar.

[Static, indistinct chatter]

Oh, he comes when he's called.

Good.

Now if I could just train you to stop trying to k*ll me.

How long am I going to have to work down here?

Commute's a bitch.

You should be grateful.

Takes some guys years to make task force.

Plus, I let you live.

Carter, is she getting close?

All I know right now is you pissed off real police, my friend.

She's not going to stop till she got you.

Is that it?

Ballistics.

And find out if there's been any ransom kidnappings reported.

White guys with crew cuts.

One with long hair.

Kidnapping's big news.

I'd have heard something.

What about Amber alerts?

Child abduction?

Is that what we're dealing with?

We?

[Chuckles]

Since when are you on board?

It's still a missing kid.

Hey, whatever else I've done, I'm still a cop.

If you need some help, you let me know.

You understand?

I cracked the cell company's firewall.

The spotter's phone was purchased with cash and a phony name.

But our kidnappers have to sleep somewhere.

The location data puts this phone on the same block in Brooklyn every night--

14th between Franklin and Wythe.

Then I'll hit him where he lives.

[Groans]

Finch.

I just found our guy.

Is he talking?

Not at the moment.

Turski, Leon Josef, with an "F".

Hold on.

[Buttons snap]

I know who has Sam, Finch.

Szajka Pruszkow Dziewiec: SP-9.

It's a nasty street g*ng from Eastern Europe.

You dealt with them in your former employment?

They were trading with the Pashtun warlords.

g*ns for heroin.

But they also run kidnappings in warsaw.

Looks like they just opened up a new branch in New York.

Come on, let's go for a ride.

That's all I need, detective.

[Zips]

Thank you.

Carter, homicide, I got your message.

Detective Olson.

I got your bolo.

White male, 6'2", graying temples, nice suit.

Super said he saw him leaving at the time of the 911.

Did you get audio on the call?

What audio? Nobody said boo.

M.E. said she was dead two hours before.

So you think your guy k*lled her?

No, I think he called 911.

Great, she's F.O.B. from Puerto Rico, no family, no boyfriend.

Man, I thought you were going to gift wrap this for me.

What kind of work does she do?

Oh, she was a nanny on the West Side.

We've got unis talking to her clients.

So if your guy wasn't the sh**t, what was he doing here?

Someone k*lled Christina?

Oh, God, I--

She wasn't here when Sam came home.

Sam?

My son.

She wasn't here when he came home from school, so he called me.

I came home to be with him.

He's upstairs playing right now.

Thanks for your time, judge.

Christina was, um...

She was, uh...

With us the night that Elizabeth died.

She was so good with Sam.

She was just a kid.

Hey.

He's alive, okay?

As long as they need him, Sam's still alive.

You don't know that.

I need your help, judge.

Have you ever heard of the Szajka Pruszkow, SP-9?

What are you?

An ex-cop?

FBI?

I have experience in situations like this.

That's all you need to know.

Yeah?

Well, maybe you're not enough.

Maybe I should call those officers back and tell them the truth.

I know how to be invisible.

The police and the FBI don't.

But I'm going after your son regardless.

Now, have you ever heard of a g*ng called SP-9?

No.

Who are they?

[Phone rings]

That's them now.

Hello?

You're alone?

Yes.

I need proof that my son is alive.

Put Sam on the phone.

Dad?

Sam...are you hurt?

Dad, please, I want to go home!

Sam, Sam!

Relax, your honor.

Your son is just fine.

He's a good boy.

Smart, like you.

How much?

I'll pay anything you want.

See?

Smart.

But, fortunately for you, we don't want your money.

We want your help.

There's a case in your court right now, the people vs. Angela Markham.

The people...are going to lose.

What?

Throw the case, judge.

Angela Markham walks.

Or your son dies.

[Dial tone, phone beeps]

Angela Markham?

She mowed down some guy in a parking garage.

It's a simple hit and run.

Well, now she's become the key to finding your son.

[Static, indistinct chatter]

Angela Markham is an account exec at a tech company near the trade center.

Six weeks ago, she got drunk at an office retirement party, and hit a CPA on her way out.

Charged with DWI and vehicular manslaughter.

It's just a random accident.

What does this woman have to do with the people who took my son?

I don't know.

But it's not just Sam's life they're playing with.

They're planning to k*ll you too.

How can you know that?

Where are you getting your information?

Let's just say I have a source and it's never wrong.

Look, these people can't be reasoned with.

They can't be trusted.

If we're going to save your son, I need to find a way to hurt them.

The trial resumes in 30 minutes.

What do I do?

Just stall.

Make it look like you're cooperating.

But buy me time.

Well, this isn't a street g*ng.

This is a multinational corporation.

SP-9 is active in at least 18 countries in Europe, Asia--

After interpol took down the old Pruszkow mafia, they got smarter.

Started hiding their tattoos, studied military discipline, computers--

They have almost no digital footprint.

I have yet to find anything that could help us find Gates' son.

Then focus on her.

Somehow this girl and that g*ng connect.

My best guess, whoever she's sleeping with is high up in SP-9.

Bet her boyfriend knows where they're keeping Sam.

And while I'm checking into the girl, what'll you be doing?

Tracking down the rest of them.

[Static]

[Groaning]

The longest it's ever taken me to break someone is 16 hours.

[Muffled speech]

You don't look like you're going to set a record.

Want to talk?

[Muffled speech]

You must like it in there.

Caught a fresh one?

My guy in a suit led me to another case.

Nanny from the Bronx m*rder*d on her lunch break.

sh**t dug the slugs out, huh?

Just the one, and I'm not so sure that was the sh**t.

[Cell phone ringing]

[Sighs]

It's my ex, I've got to take this.

You've got a real creepy sense of timing, man.

Ballistics report, detective.

Squat.

Your slug's not in the system.

And I'm pretty sure that Carter's working your crime scene.

Hey, does this dead nanny have anything to do with the missing kid?

I'll call when I need something else.

Hey, whoa, whoa, you need all the help you can get right now.

I mean, if I can I.D. the nanny k*ller, it might help you with the kid.

Am I wrong?

I'll give you a way to contact me.

Keep me posted and keep Carter out of my way.

So what have we got?

Primary's thinking romance-gone-bad, but those are always so messy.

This is too clean.

Look at the circles on this entrance wound.

How many pissed-off boyfriends you know go out and buy a sil*ncer?

Romance, my ass.

Your k*ller is a pro.

Pull up a chair.

All rise.

The honorable judge Gates presiding.

Be seated.

In the matter of the people vs. Angela Markham, court is now in session.

[Static, indistinct chatter]

[Tires screeching]

Hey, Leon.

How's the ride back there?

Ah!

Now...

You can have this juicy burger, or you can go for another spin.

All you have to do is help me find a scared little boy.

I don't know where he is, I swear to God.

Who's Angela Markham and what does she have to do with SP-9?

Never heard of her.

Look, I don't know why they wanted that kid.

You don't know much, do you?

That's how they run it.

They work in small teams. Cells.

So who's in your cell? Full names.

We only use street names.

A-K, Krakow, Sops, Ziom.

Look, there's four guys, that's all I know.

Now would you please let me out of here?

For no names and no info?

No, no, no. Wait, wait, wait.

Okay, wait.

I know a place.

It's 3185 Lorimer.

It's where I go to get paid.

Good.

How am I supposed to eat it?

You'll figure it out.

I observed a white SUV driving erratically at high speed.

I stopped the vehicle for a possible DWI.

And what did you see when you approached the car?

Blood.

On the front left fender.

Objection, facts not in evidence.

Sustained.

Uh, how did the vehicle look?

There was front end damage.

A red fluid that appeared to be blood--

Objection, your honor.

Sustained.

What happened then?

The defendant got out of the vehicle.

She appeared to be intoxicated.

Objection!

Sustained.

Your honor--

Counselor...

I'm going to give you some time to better prepare your witness.

Resume at 10:00 A.M. tomorrow.

[Bangs gavel]

[Phone ringing]

Judge Gates.

I'm disappointed, your honor.

How did you know I was here?

Did she tell you?

Who is Angela Markham to you anyway?

You don't want your son back, is that it?

Let me talk to him.

Not until you stop stalling.

Look...

I have to do this right or the D.A. can appeal.

You want her free, I have to make sure she stays that way.

Do it right.

And do it fast.

And don't forget what you're playing for.

[Dial tone]

[Phone beeps]

[Phone chirps]

We're running out of time, Mr. Reese.

Did you dig up anything on Angela?

Going through her contacts and emails even as we speak.

Any progress with the g*ng?

I got an address from Leon Turski.

[Phone rings] On my way now.

[Phone rings, beeps]

[Over phone]

It's as good as done.

What, do you think I'm stupid?

It's not done until I'm free and clear.

This is bad for business.

My clients are asking questions.

That's not my problem.

You are the problem.

Our whole operation is in jeopardy because you had too many sh*ts.

Unless you know someone who can do what I do, our deal stands.

Once you get the charges dropped, I go back to work.

Business as usual.

[Static, indistinct chatter]

[Suspenseful music]

♪ ♪

[Screams, groans]

Aah! Unh!

Where's the boy?

I don't know!

Finch...

Just found a way to make these guys hurt.

Well, find it and find out who took it.

I am missing two men and $1/2 million.

Someone is making a move against us.

I need to know who!

Contact your teams!

Change of plans.

I guess we know why they didn't ask for money.

I have six more just like it.

Could be our bargaining chip to get Sam.

There may be lots more where these came from.

Angela's not sleeping with our kidnapper.

I think she's in business with him.

That tech company she works for, they make banking software.

The kind that can spot money laundering.

And I just found a room full of small bills.

In 2009, she oversaw the installation of a new anti-money laundering system at Onestate Bank.

If she still has access, she could turn that whole system off with the click of a mouse.

Then SP-9 uses one of the biggest banks in the world to clean its dirty money.

They leave no digital footprint because this is how they pay for things.

Cars, lawyers, safe houses.

If we can access those accounts, we'll have more than a bargaining chip.

We'll have a way to find Sam junior.

[Static, indistinct chatter]

They know I'm stalling.

We're getting close.

Just need to hold off a little longer.

You had your chance.

I'm not playing games with my son's life.

They'll k*ll you both as soon as they get what they want.

Now, I can save your son.

You just have to trust me.

Upon further review, I'm reversing my decision on admissibility.

Your honor!

It doesn't pass the balancing test, counselor.

This video would unfairly bias the jury against Miss Markham.

Then I move for a mistrial.

Denied.

Judge Gates--

Approach.

Is there a problem, counselor?

Respectfully, sir...

What the hell is going on?

One more word and you are in contempt.

I'll have you charged with misconduct if I have to.

Trust me, Miss Ramirez.

You have no idea how far I'll go.

Nothing further.

Prosecution rests.

Hey...

That's account data.

It's confidential.

Not anymore, we just got hacked.

What? How did they get past the firewall?

I'm working here.

What's your name? Who are you?

Considering they called me when your system was compromised, I'd say I'm the guy that just took your job.

A hospital would be nice about now.

Where's the boy?

I already told you, I don't know.

How about your boss's name? You know that yet?

I've got a family. You going to k*ll them too?

Because he will.

You ever see two cats in a bag?

What?

You want out?

Get your boss's name.

Ahh!

Carter.

Come here, I think I got something.

I did another canvass and I found a bodega near the nanny's house with eyes on the street, and it's on the NYPD surveillance feed.

This is right around the time of the m*rder.

Look at this.

White guy, long hair, pulling off gloves.

He could be our k*ller.

Or just a guy with cold hands.

What makes you so sure Mr. Longhair is our man?

You get a description I don't know about?

I got a hunch.

I ran his plate to get a name, but I got a company instead.

Coldfield Holdings.

It's in Brooklyn.

Worth a look.

Finch, got a name for you.

Jarek Koska.

Word is he's the boss.

Well, if he is, he's careful about it.

No accounts in his name.

The operation is massive.

Every morning at 5:00 A.M., Angela shuts down Onestate's software for three minutes.

Millions of dollars flow in undetected.

SP-9's not just laundering their own money.

They have hundreds of clients.

All criminal themselves, I'm sure.

If Koska's using a shell corporation, it could take hours to find it.

[Phone rings]

Finch?

Try Coldfield.

Definitely a large account.

Looks like the money's being used to buy...

Boats, planes, real estate...

Most of it right here in New York.

That's them, get a list.

The place they're holding Sam will be on it.

I'm sending you an address.

A building less than ten blocks from Gates' house.

Purchased just two days before Angela went on trial.

If I can find Sam, the judge won't have to throw her case.

Well, you better move fast.

I think Angela's jury just reached a verdict.

Finch, if you don't hear from me in four minutes, call 911.

Send them here and tell them about Sam.

Please rise.

Has the jury reached a verdict?

We have, your honor.

What say you?

[Phone chirps]

We find the defendant... not guilty on all charges.

If you want your son back, come alone.

No cell, no GPS, no weapons.

If I see anyone who's not you, your son dies.

[Dial tone]

So Angela Markham walks, and judge Gates is heading to a death sentence.

The machine sent us his number because they were planning to k*ll him all along.

Him and his son.

Scorched earth policy.

Clean up and cover their tracks as soon as they get what they want.

We need to warn him.

I've tried. He won't listen.

But we have to do something.

We are.

Hello, Angela.

[Gasps]

[Static, indistinct chatter]

I want to see my son!

Dad!

Sam!

No!

I'll let you say good-bye.

Look, you've got me.

I did what you asked.

Everything you asked.

You can keep me, but please let my son go.

Sorry.

[Cocks g*n]

Your honor.

Stop!

Your name is Jarek Koska.

Your bank account number is 1278340102.

Last year you laundered at least $400 million to clients including MS-13, the Sinaloa cartel, and the government of North Korea.

So you got some info from that alcoholic bitch.

I'm the last one you'll ever tell.

These aren't good odds for you.

I'm not alone.

[Phone rings]

Every last dime has been transferred to an offshore account.

Do exactly what I say and you might get it back.

But if they don't walk out of here alive, every client on your list will be notified that you've lost all their money.

Then I won't have to ki y you.

Your clients will do that for me.

The operation's burned.

sh**t them all.

[g*nf*re]

Dad!

[Groans]

Judge, is he all right?

Yeah.

Then take him home.

[Pensive music]

♪ ♪

[Vehicle ignition starts]

It's time we go for a little ride.

3185 Lorimer.

It's owned by Coldfield.

And there's Mr. Longhair's car.

NYPD, anybody home?

[Door bangs open]

[distant siren wails]

sh**t, sh**t!

Both: Goal!

Whoo!

Whoo!

That's us, 10, trees, 0.

You're so weird, dad.

Do it again?

Let's go!

Here we go!

I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again.

Yeah, I'm, uh, not great at keeping in touch with people.

I don't know how to thank you.

You don't need to say anything.

I'd prefer it actually.

Look...

I don't know exactly what you do, or how you're doing it.

But I know that if people ever find out...

When they find out...

There won't be anything I can do to protect you.

Go play with your son.

[Static, indistinct chatter]

What did he say?

That we don't need to worry.

He might even help us someday.

I was listening to your conversation, Mr. Reese.

And I was reading between the lines.

I suppose only time will tell which one of us is right.

Thank you.

I beg your pardon?

For giving me a job.

Try the eggs Benedict, Mr. Reese.

I've had them many times.