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Detonator

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{y:i}It's Valentine's Day.
{y:i}And this is Mr. Key|{y:i}on KPGB...
{y:i}reminding you to snuggle up close|{y:i}to that special someone.
Thanks for the reminder Mr. Key.
{y:i}This one's from Neil in Studio City|{y:i}going out to his girl, Patrice.
{y:i}Ah, isn't that a great song?
{y:i}Thanks for keeping it tuned to|{y:i}KPGB on this Valentine's evening.
{y:i}In local news, emergency crews|{y:i}are on high alert...
{y:i}after three unrelated explosions|{y:i}that rocked the south land.
{y:i}Early reports indicated that|{y:i}there are no casualties.
{y:i}In other news...
Go! Go!
Hurry.
Hold it! Freeze!
Freeze!
What kind of pig are you, homes?|That ain't no LAPD badge.
Bureau of Postal Inspection. You're|both under arrest for violating.
And I'm not a mailman.
{y:i}Annie, I hope your meeting|{y:i}went well.
{y:i}I'm in the file room|{y:i}getting caught up.
{y:i}Your messages are on your desk.
{y:i}The Lieutenant Governor's office|{y:i}called to confirm for Thursday.
{y:i}And your tickets for the hockey|{y:i}game are in the manila envelope.
{y:i}And since when|{y:i}do you like hockey?.
{y:i}And who's the secret admirer?.
{y:i}I'm thinking maybe|{y:i}he's the hockey fan.
{y:i}If you need me,|{y:i}you know where I am.
The fool that lives right there?|He's a real pendejo.
Yeah, so you blow up his mailbox|three times in a month?
Man he run over|my homeboy's bicycle.
He ain't gonna pay for nothing.
Why don't you put nails|in his driveway or something?
Just leave his mailbox alone|and get out of here.
I don't want to see you|around here again. Go!
Damn!
Oh my God.
{y:i}Attention all emergency units.
{y:i}We have an explosion|{y:i}on 4th & Figueroa.
{y:i}Please respond.|{y:i}All units please respond.
{y:i}This is Sky 4.|{y:i}We are on our way.
{y:i}Station seven.
{y:i}The location,|{y:i}traveling eastbound on Olympic.
Oh shit.
Are you all right?
Oh shit.
-You! Come here!|-You can't stay here.
You got to take care of this guy.|I'm gonna go look for others.
-We've got one down.|-Okay, I got it.
Let's pull back.
The gas line.|Clear the building!
We need another hose!
He's looking pretty bad.|We need to carry him out of here.
-Where's the other team?|-You guys all right?
-We're fine.|-Sure?
-Sure.|-See if anybody else needs help.
Get everybody out!
-What the hell are you doing her?|-I'm fine, and how are you, Jack?
Shit! Hell of a thing!
We knew they'd strike again.|It wasn't a matter if just when.
Is that what they're calling this?|A terrorist attack?
A skyscraper, explosion,|pretty simple math nowadays.
So how long were you|in there for?
Less than ten minutes.|Smoke started to get to me.
Did you see anything?
You can't see in there.What I saw|here. lnitial blast burned white.
-I'm talking...|-Magnesium?
You boys are here quick.|LAPD already called you in?
Nope.
That would be the man.
He's in town for the world cup|of hockey next week.
Captain.
I want this perimeter widened|to a six block radius.
You got it. I want two units|four blocks north.
You find a news crew,|you find Bob Brickland.
Director Brickland, can you confirm|that there was a bomb?
I have a brief statement.
And I won't be taking|any questions at this time.
As you are aware a little over|an hour ago...
there was an explosion|in the building you see behind me.
Director of Domestic Security.
Acting Director. He still|has to be sworn in by the Senate.
Yeah. Slam dunk.
He's ruffled lots of feathers|to get there. It could go any way.
Prickland has more friends than|a 100 dollar bill in a whorehouse.
Easy tiger.
Oh great. Look who's coming.
This could get ugly.
-Forrester!|-Agent Dreyer.
LAPD said there was|an eyewitness.
I'm gonna go back in the|building now. Where it's safe.
-Happy Valentine's Day.|-What about my eyewitness?
That would be me.
-Beau? Jesus Christ.|-Great to see you too, Jane.
Look, I'm sorry. I'm just|a little surprised. Okay?
How's the Bureau of Postal|Inspection treating you?
I love being a Postal Inspector.|It's basically a nonstop joyride.
How about we pretend we like each|other and you help me with my job?
I mean, I can't tell you how warm|and fuzzy that idea makes me feel.
Stoddard. I don't have|the world's greatest memory.
But, I swear I did not request|the services of the... What is it?
-Postal Investigations?|-It's great to see you, too.
-You're looking better than ever.|-Really?
Is that a genuine|Presidential pin?
And I'm betting you didn't|just buy that online, did you?
Look...
Director Brickland,|look this way, sir!
Would you be kind enough to escort|ex-agent Stoddard to his vehicle?
-Let's go, Stoddard.|-There's no need. I'm outta here.
Yeah, we'll miss you.
Let's get employees lists.|Client lists.
I want to know everyone who was|in and out in the last two weeks.
-What about Stoddard?|-What about him?
-He's the eyewitness.|-So get a report.
Yes, sir.
Inspector Stoddard, I tried to|call you. Boy, you look like shit.
How was your Valentine's Day?
Don't ask.
Who are you?
Fred Bizzert.|Internal Revenues Service.
You are a very hard man|to get a hold of, Inspector.
My office.
Denied. Denied.|Denied. Denied.
Now, these meals. Do you have|the actual dated check stubs?
I just shove everything into this|one little closet at the house.
I don't think you fully appreciate|how serious is an l.R.S. audit.
-I'm starting to.|-Dude! lRS guy, right?
-I'm in the middle of an audit.|-No, no, no, no. Check this out.
I do a lot of walkingon the job.
These boots.|I take them on the mountain
I mean hypothetically here, if l|were to wear them to work as well?
Could I then potentially consider|them a write-off?
That would depend on whether or|not you need to wear those boots.
As opposed to just...|Buying them...
Candi, I'm really busy in here.|Can this wait?
{y:i}I'm afraid not, sir.
There's an emergency development on|Kelly's case and requires attention.
-Fred, I have to apologize.|-I'll stay here until you get back.
Between you and me,|this could take days. Weeks, even.
Candi will set you up for something|for the first week of next month.
I really appreciate you coming in.|Thank you. Thanks for your time.
-Inspector? Please? -Dude! Bro.
The reason for the big boots.|Gnarly bunions.
I could get like a doctor's note.
Thank you.|No one from the FBI called?
No. Wait. What did you do?|IRS, FBI.
-Are you in trouble, Beau?|-When am I not?
This make me an accomplice?|I have bartending school tonight.
You'll make it.
Nothing to be concerned about...
but like a good pair of|corrective shoes can work wonders.
Sir, if you don't mind, we're|trying to maintain perimeter here.
We're asking to cross the street|if you want to take some pictures.
You brought it up
Please, sir. Yes, you're clear.
Here you go.
Sir, I don't want|to have to ask you again.
Sir?
If you stare at that any longer|you could go blind.
My priest told me the same thing|in Sunday School.
Why am I not surprised|to see you here?
Seeing you yesterday... Awakened|some emotions in me.
Piss off.
What do we know?
It's just like you said.|Magnesium traces everywhere.
-Main charge?|-Nitric-ester-based.
That's a hell of a bomb.|The nitro takes out the building...
and the magnesium acts as a|secondary thermite.
About 3500 degrees.
Find the bomb vessel?
Not even pieces. I guess it was|organic. Probably paper or wood.
And the trigger?
No. But we did find|splattered WP.
White phosphorus? That combusts|as soon as it hits the air.
This entire floor was leased by|a high-powered law firm. HNZ.
Right. Harrington, Newman,|and something Russian.
-Zakolov. Very good.|-Thank you.
This office, Harrington's,|was ground zero.
Was he...
Harrington's a she,|you sexist pig you.
Yeah, we found some|organic remains.
Preliminary DNA results|match hers.
It looks like Harrington picked|the wrong night to work late.
-Got the building's employee list?|-Right here.
But, like I said, I can't give out|that information, man.
You're barking up|the wrong tree, boss.
-Can I help you with something?|-The question is, do you want to?
It's bureau case, Stoddard. We have|jurasdiction here. Need I say more?
We at the Bureau of Postal|Inspection have a tradition...
of cooperating with|other agencies.
-If the bomb was mailed...|-That hasn't been established.
Not yet. But, if it is we're looking|at a whole new ball game.
-Is this to get back at Brickland?|-All of it? No.
It was your own doing.
If you took your head out of his|ass for a minute you'd realize...
You punched him out in front|of the entire LA field office.
Brickland was your boss.
Now he's head of a cabinet|level Federal Agency.
If you wanna work the victim angle|while playing Russian Roulette...
with what's left of your career...
Victim angle?
The only real victim here was|Anne Harrington. Come here.
Come here. Okay, this|was Anne Harrington's office.
Here is our row of windows.
On big meetings she thought it would|look imposing. That's ground zero.
Glass-top desk, no doubt.|The power piece.
Now there's five things on|every lawyer's desk.
A Mont Blanc pen,|a legal pad...
a picture of a loved one,|a calculator...
and last the days mail.
Career?|I'm just doing my job.
-Can I help you?|-Dejuan Michaels?
Inspector Stoddard, BPI.
I want to know if you delivered any|packages to Harrington yesterday.
-One of them was kind of different.|-What was different about it?
Um, well the box|was hand-painted.
Acrylic red hearts on a|cardboard box.
Untrained child-like strokes.|But, it worked.
I can show you.
That's pretty close. They were all|over the box.
You didn't happen to notice|if it had a return address?
No, no. It was Express Mail.|I remember that.
How heavy was it?
About fifteen pounds,|give or take.
Inspector Stoddard's office.
Candi?|Is Van out to lunch?
Physically?
Tell him to look up the Express|Delivery tracking records...
into and out of that building|on the day of the explosion.
{y:i}Okay, will do.
We're a hundred percent sure|it was a bomb.
Fifteen dead.|Another twenty wounded.
Mostly night crew,|janitorial workers...
young lawyers|trying to make partner.
And of course our ground zero|being Anne Harrington's office.
-She was one of the founders.|-Yeah. I know who she was.
{y:i}Director Brickland,|{y:i}phone for you, line 2.
Excuse me.
We all know why we're here,|so I'll just cut the formalities.
The bomb was|nitric ether based...
with a white phosphorous|component.
Any of you who weren't sleeping|during munitions training...
know that WP is a military grade|combustible.
I want background checks on anyone|who worked there, went there...
or took a piss in the building.|See if they've got military ties.
I want you to check all|military supply stores.
Shake them down. See if they're|selling the real shit. Calloway.
Take a team and bury yourself|in the firm's files.
Any law firm in business that long|has got a laundry list of enemies.
I want you on the periphery.|Who does the windows cleans...
the floors, does the goddamn|vending machines?
And I want a full report back|by the day's end. That's it.
I just got off the phone|with Washington.
In light of this event...
the Russian President|has been dropping hints...
about pulling out of the|hockey game next week.
You're kidding.
If he cancels because I'm unable|to do my job, well...
We can imagine how my confirmation|hearing's going to turn out.
There'd be a line of people trying|to get credit for a job like this.
But Intel's got nothing.
Actually, I just got an update|from Intel.
We now officially|have 15 different groups...
and a handful of different whack|jobs calling in online for this.
I want them all checked out.
All the way to their dental records!|And I especially want the groups.
This has to be|politically motivated.
Do you think, Jane?
You bet it is. The office|was not targeted by chance.
They pissed someone|off all right.
{y:i}Authorities have still not|{y:i}released any new information.
{y:i}There are seemingly no new leads|{y:i}on last night's deadly explosion.
{y:i}The death toll now believed to be|{y:i}as high as fifteen and counting.
{y:i}The public is still desperate|{y:i}for answers.
{y:i}And while the authorities remain|{y:i}tight-lipped about the incident...
{y:i}the people of LA are plain|{y:i}frightened to go to work tomorrow.
{y:i}I'm going to a caller now|{y:i}on line 2.
{y:i}Gloria from Eagle Rock.|{y:i}Hello.
{y:i}I think it's despicable that|{y:i}this is the world we live in now.
{y:i}No one can feel safe anymore.
{y:i}I work in downtown LA...
{y:i}and I'm not going in.|{y:i}I'll stay at home.
{y:i}Everyday it's something new now.
{y:i}And I think that it's our criminal|{y:i}justice system that's failing us.
{y:i}Thank you for your opinion,|{y:i}Gloria.
{y:i}On line 3 I have Glen|{y:i}from North Hollywood.
{y:i}Glen, you're on.
{y:i}I think it's these terrorists out|{y:i}there with nothing better to do...
-Should I call if he comes back?|-Yes, please.
-That's a lot of packages.|-Popular building.
But that is why Van is the man|with the skills...
to pay the bills.|What's up brother?
Local OTR number 1791,|delivered at 11 :00 am on the 13th.
Okay, but how do you know|that was the one with the bomb...
and not, say like chocolate,|someone's underwear?
Van. Sometimes you just know.
Get the originating P.O, name of the|employees who worked the windows.
We find out who this signing agent|is, what time they run lunch break.
Call me.
Call you? I mean,|Candi does the, you know...
Call me.
Okay.
Hey. What's up?
If you're tailing me, there are|subtler ways, you know.
-Like to join me for a bite to eat.|-Yeah, I'm really kind of busy.
You kind of don't have a choice.
-Let me choose the restaurant.|-Fine.
Lunch. Now talk.
-What the hell are you trying to do?|-At the moment, open this bag.
Stop ducking the question.
I was at Michael's house. He says|a man from your office was there.
Asked all sorts of questions.
Did he say whether or not|this guy was good looking?
Damn it, Beau. You can't keep|doing this. Not on this case.
You want to know what I'm doing,|you put me on the case.
Until then, Dejuan Michaels|is just an old frat buddy.
-That decision is not up to me.|-Of course it is.
You just don't want to deal|with the repercussions.
Convince me. Give it your|best shot. Right here. Right now.
I've got the tracking number|of the package.
I got it traced back down to the|local downtown branch.
Policy there's anything over 1 pound|has to mailed from the window.
The signing agent is going to give|us a physical description of him.
That's good. But it's not|conclusive proof.
Come on. What more do you need|to get me on this case?
This is FBI territorial bullshit.|And you know it.
Play by my rules. I call the shots.|None of your cowboy shit either.
I'm not going to pick up the pieces|of my career on this one. Clear?
-I don't like it.|-It is what it is.
Feel like going to|the post office?
I've got a date with|the signing agent.
-I'm jealous.|-You drive. I bought lunch.
Thank you.
That weird-ass thing was what|took that building out down?
We think so. Yes.
Damn. I was holding that shit|in my hands, too.
I got paint and shit on my hands.
Messed up my nails.|Pissed me off.
Tell us everything you recall|about the person who mailed it?
White dude.|Kinda regular looking.
He paid with cash.|Old school style, you know?
Practically everybody's putting|their shit on plastic now.
Anything else?|That's it? Just regular?
He had a tattoo. Not that|that's anything unique.
Everybody's painting their body's|these days.
-Right here on his forearm.|-What did it look like?
It wasn't color. Black and white.|Like a jailhouse tat.
Do you think you could recognize|him? Would it help to see a book?
Drawings of facial characteristics.|Haircuts. Color.
Hell no.
Dreyer here.
-Thanks for your time.|-No problem.
{y:i}Jane, I just got a letter from|{y:i}the bomber.
{y:i}-Brickland wants you to get here.|-I'll be right there.
Don't worry, gentlemen.
This sucker's been x-rayed,|irradiated, and photographed...
more than a Pakistani|carry-on at an lsraeli airport.
Lawyers should serve the law.
I want you to wait in the car.
If Brickland has information,|I should know about it too.
My rules. That was the deal.
OYD. Does this|mean anything to anybody?
It means our bomber has finally|made contact.
We sure it's not a hoax?
Post marked two days before the|bombing. lt'd be one hell of a hoax.
I'll wire a copy to Cryptology|over in Quentico.
Is that all we got?
Our boys down in research went|digging groups that took claim.
They found this:|James Grimes.
Harrington put him away|ten years ago.
Court transcripts several verbal|death threats made to her personally.
And some to the judge, as well.
Where is he now?
He got parole 3 years ago. He's been|keeping a very low profile since.
Wait. James Grimes|is the son of Henry Grimes...
who was killed|in a Montana raid in '93.
That's our motive. I want 24 hour|surveillance placed on this Grimes.
And all of his pathetic|brotherhood as well.
In the meantime, let's cross-check|the initials OYD...
against every known|terrorist organization.
It's not a terrorist organization.
Mail delivering itself, is it?
We got a well-oiled machine|down there.
You know the whole rain,|sleet and snow deal.
You care to tell us|what you're doing here?
Before I answer that,|Bob let me ask you a question.
According to|U.S. Federal Code...
who has jurisdiction when|evidence is received via U.S. mail?
Anyone?
Anyone?
Well, I'm glad to see you're so|well-versed in federal code.
So, in your professional opinion|what do you think it is?
This guy is no terrorist.|Terrorists want to take credit.
Trust me on this one.|You don't have to lecture me...
on what terrorism is.
Harrington, Newman, Zakolov,|they were a lobbying firm.
I can read the papers, thanks.
White Phos. Was the trigger.
I got an ID on a suspicious|package on a late day run.
I got a witness who says|that at roughly 4:00 pm...
there was nothing suspicious|in Harrington's office...
other than said package.
And we all know that it|wasn't strategically placed...
for maximum damage.
Someone didn't like|Ann Harrington.
Everything else|is a smokescreen.
All right, Stoddard.|So, what is it you want?
I want to get this killer.|That's it.
Yes, sir?
Set up Inspector Stoddard with|remote access to our mainframe.
He's our official liaison to|the Bureau of Postal Inspection.
You'll have to excuse me.|I have my daily press briefing.
Agent Dreyer?
-May I talk to you for a moment?|-Certainly, sir.
What's it then?
-It isn't what you think.|-Just what do I think?
He's been out there freelancing|this case behind our backs.
If he really had anything|that could help...
Look, and I understand.
Beau is dangerous and careless|with his work and his career.
We've both seen that first hand.|He's a reactionary, Jane.
When you work like this, it's best|to proceed not just clean...
-but sterile.|-I understand, sir.
My current position requires a|certain diplomacy, as you are aware.
You, however, are under|no such obligation.
-That's correct, but I...|-Do I have to spell this out?
Now, I don't want this guy|to botch...
what could be a real turning point|in your career.
Are we clear?
Yes, sir.
Good.
Shit.
-Hey Jack. Got a minute?|-What are you doing here?
-What's up with the bum password?|-What are you talking about?
It's not working.
I've been trying to get into her|file. I keep getting shut down.
This is the one you were given.|Hold on. Let me try something.
-That's weird.|-What?
Access is locked. Hold on a|second. Let me try something else.
Okay. That's interesting.|N2.
-That's got a distinctive odor.|-No time for your conspiracy shit.
I'm not doing anything.
Well? Who can get into|this file right now?
Well, Brickland, for one.
You know, I've wanted to ask you|for a long time though.
All those years back.|Why'd you punch Brickland out?
You know what, Jack?|Three years on the bomb squad.
Five years as a field agent.|All under his command.
I guess I just ran out of reasons|why I shouldn't.
Right.
Was it worth it?
Get me a good password.
I know that felt good.
The three guys who are on the train|are drunk.
One guy says,|"Excuse me, sir? Is this Wembley?"
He says, "No, it's Thursday."
The guy says, "Well me, too!|Let's stop off and have a beer."
How about some dessert around|here? A little sugar rush.
Come on. Dessert! Dessert!
Look at this!|I could eat the whole thing.
In fact, let's do that.|Let's all have one.
Lemon for you.|I'm gonna go with the chocolate.
Here, you want the pineapple|upside down cake?
Just get out of my way.
And Cohiba Churchill's|for everybody.
Cubans. You're all unindicted|coconspirators. Help yourself.
{y:i}We interrupt this program to|{y:i}bring you a special news report.
{y:i}California Governor Mitchell has|{y:i}agreed to Mayor Hansen's request...
{y:i}for a National Guard deployment|{y:i}across the county of Los Angeles...
{y:i}in the wake of the second|{y:i}deadly bombing.
{y:i}This one, claiming the lives|{y:i}of some fifty people...
{y:i}including US Attorney|{y:i}Fred Goldenberg.
{y:i}Authorities have not yet linked|{y:i}these two bombs as serial...
{y:i}but all indicators|{y:i}point that way.
{y:i}We are standing outside the scene|{y:i}of tonight's terror.
{y:i}And here is Domestic Security|{y:i}Director, Robert Brickland.
{y:i}May our prayers go out tonight|{y:i}to the victims and their families.
{y:i}The people should rest assured|{y:i}that we're doing everything...
{y:i}to hunt down those responsible|{y:i}and bring them to justice.
{y:i}-Hello?|{y:i}-Director Brickland?
{y:i}Please verify your|{y:i}ID at the tone.
{y:i}Thank you, you're clear.|{y:i}Please hold for the President.
{y:i}I'd like to announce the capture|{y:i}of these bastards in the next 24 h.
Yes sir, Mr. President.
{y:i}Make no mistake about it, this is|{y:i}not to be handled with kid gloves.
I understand, sir.
-Jack, you got anything?|-Yeah, take a look.
The bomber sent us another letter.|Just came in an hour ago.
"Prosecutors should|prosecute the guilty."
OYD. Did we get anything|back from cryptology?
-Nothing.|-What about the paper?
The paper is the same as the last|batch. 20 pound, store copy paper.
Letters are random clips.|Magazines, newspapers.
Glue's off the shelf. No prints.|Not a single spec of bomb material.
This guy is smart and|immaculate.
Yeah, he is. About the only thing|of interest in these letters...
is who they were mailed to.|Where is Brickland anyway?
Ann Harrington's funeral.
Some prominent people are attending|she had many powerful friends.
Was he one of them?
Sir.
I understand there was|another letter.
"Frouda?"
-What the hell's that mean?|-We're not sure yet, sir.
What about our eyewitness?
The busboy?|They say they found an apron.
Nothing. No human DNA.|No prints, nothing.
-Somebody better find something.|-We're working as hard as we can.
The public doesn't care about|how hard we're working.
The only thing the public cares|about are results.
Let's get some.
Wait a minute. Okay, let me just|get in here a second.
"For you dad?"
It looks like we're starting|to build a motive.
{y:i}Agent Dreyer,|{y:i}you have a call on line one.
Yes.
Yes. Thank you.
What is it?
They just spoke with the busboy.
He gave a complete description|of the tattoo.
It is a match for Grimes.
Bingo. That's it.
I want everyone assembled in the|task force center in five minutes.
We're moving on Grimes.
James Grimes, forty years old.|Son of Henry Grimes.
Henry Grimes was killed|a few years back.
In a raid on one|of their compounds.
His son looks to be extracting|revenge on that. This is our guy.
Now I'm going to turn this|over to Agent Dreyer.
She will brief you on our mission's|tactical components.
He has been on the receiving end|of our tactical raids more than once.
He knows we like to hit between|2 and 5 am...
when the average human|being is least alert.
At any one time up to half a dozen|or so of his followers...
can be found on the premises.|We've got them all profiled.
All ex-military, all shooters.
This is a surveillance photo of|Grimes' house, northeast of L.A.
lnnocuous looking|from the outside...
we have every reason to believe|it's been heavily fortified...
and well stocked|with arms and supplies.
For these guys it's s a wet dream|to be raided by the Feds.
Weekends in the desert shooting|tins with AK's finally paid off.
Yeah, well. Let's hope not.
{y:i}Female subject one has exited|{y:i}the rear of the house.
She's doing her laundry.
I can't see anything else.
It looks pretty quiet.|Gardner, what do you got?
{y:i}Same. Same. Silent.
{y:i}It's been the same all day.
{y:i}Oh, heads up Gardner.
Incoming vehicle coming up|the alley.
White, early model sedan.|California license plate 2...
alpha bravo Mary 543.
Sedan belongs to|a Matthew S. Gainey.
Armed robbery back in 92.
Got out last year|on good behavior.
Suspect carrying concealed weapon|at waist.
Possible back-up piece|in right leg.
In a right leg holster.
Not my idea of good behavior.
Shit. Lost him.|Kazinski, you got him?
I got him.
Subject two has entered|the rear of the house.
{y:i}That places 4 more subjects in the|{y:i}house. Armed and very dangerous.
We should move in now before|this turns into a Superbowl party.
{y:i}Wait a minute.|{y:i}What's this?
Ah shit. She's coming to me.
She's coming to me. Me!|I told them about me.
She didn't listen to me.
What the hell's going on, Kazinski?
It looks like she's throwing|out some trash.
Me.
Me, me.
I said hello, lady.|I said hello, lady.
-Did she make him?|-I can't tell.
Did she make us?|Talk to me, Gardner.
This mike is going.
Oh, Christ.
I don't think so.|You want me to move on?
-No, hold a minute.|-Wait, wait, wait.
All right, she's coming back|out of the house.
I don't like this.
All right, we move in.|Start strolling up to the house.
{y:i}We're moving in.
{y:i}Affermative.
{y:i}We're rolling.
Hey, lady! Can I get some water?|I'm kind of thirsty. Lady?
Lady?
Shots fired! Shots fired!
Man down!|Man down!
-FBI!|-We have the place surrounded!
I want everyone out of the house|and on the lawn!
Cover me!
Okay, I've got|you covered! Go!
Grimes, freeze!
Man down!
Grimes, freeze!
Don't be stupid, Grimes.|Put it down!
Did you do it?|Was it you?
Pay back, right?
Goldenberg and Harrington|put you away.
Fucking feds.|Never get it right.
Stoddard, are we clear?
Stoddard, are we clear?
Clear!
-Good work, Gardner.|-Anytime.
You all right?
{y:i}Bullets rang out|{y:i}in the southland today
{y:i}as Federal Agents raided|{y:i}a compound...
{y:i}operated by suspected bomber|{y:i}James Grimes.
{y:i}Grimes spent 15 years in prison|{y:i}before being released 2 years ago.
{y:i}The carefully planned raid|{y:i}ended in gunfire today,
{y:i}killing four Federal Agents,|{y:i}along with six members of the...
{y:i}Questions still remain|{y:i}if Los Angeles can get back to...
{y:i}the timely capture|{y:i}of the suspected bomber...
{y:i}was Interim Director|{y:i}of Homeland Security...
{y:i}Robert Brickland...
{y:i}he will be meeting|{y:i}with the President...
{y:i}later today to discuss|{y:i}future security issues.
How's it going?
{y:i}Good, I guess.|{y:i}You?
Just doing some clean up|on these files.
Yeah, me too.
Everything look|kosher to you?
Well, now that|you mention it. No.
{y:i}I've got something on my mind.|Why?
Let's grab some|beers later. Talk.
-Yeah, good idea.|-I'll see you later.
-Dude, where are you going?|-For a walk.
Hold my calls,|will you?
Van said I could find|you somewhere around here.
-He's an interesting one.|-You're kind.
So, how are you?
I'm fine. I'm just|getting back to normal.
Results come back from Grimes.
Everything we would expect.
It looks like it was Grimes|and who works for him there.
Tests came back from evidence|found in the basement.
Methamphetamine production|and high explosives in there.
It's pretty conclusive.
That's great.
I just wanted to tell you|I think you did a fantastic job.
Brickland's been talking|about reinstating you as an agent.
I'll believe that|when I see it.
-Always the cynic?|-Always the realist.
If there's something|you wanna say, say it.
-Something just doesn't add up.|-About what?
The whole thing.|Grimes.The bombings.
Why address|the letters to Brickland?
Why not?
An anti-establishment group|attacks the establishment?
Who better than that|to get the recognition they need?
Harrington and Goldenberg|were very personal to Grimes.
-Brickland wasn't.|-What do you think it is?
With all this hard evidence,|Grimes is not the man?
-I don't know.|-Look, Beau.
I've got to get to the stadium|for a security briefing.
You can imagine how|Brickland is regarding security.
Thanks.
It means a lot.
Then you're welcome.
This is the last time|I let you handle the invoices.
That's so Gemini of you.
I feel like our compatibility...
Some hottie from the FBI|came to see you. Did she find you?
If that's the FBI's new look|I like where they're headed in.
You throwing some|back into that?
Not quite.
What am I going to do with you|I thought we headed for progress.
We were headed for breakthrough.
When was the last time|you even had a date?
I've been meaning|to talk to you about that.
In your dreams.
{y:i}You've reached Jack Forrester's|{y:i}office. Leave a message.
My liege.
Look at this.
FBI files.
Protected FBI file,l need access to|Do you think you can open it?
-That's a Federal crime.|-Yes it is.
-I can go to jail.|-Yes, you could.
-I'll need a raise.|-You got it.
-Where you going?|-I've got to talk to a lawyer.
I'm the one that's going|to need a lawyer.
{y:i}Stuart Newman?
{y:i}Your secretary said|{y:i}I'd find you here.
{y:i}Beau Stoddard,|{y:i}Postal Inspectors Office.
I'd like to ask you some questions|about Ann Harrington.
Ann made the firm|what it is today.
I don't know what|we'll do without her.
How'd you meet her?
I recruited her. I stole her away|from the US Attorney's office.
I'm a tax specialist.
who needed a litigator|to round out the team.
Ann was brilliant.|Driven.
There wasn't anything|she couldn't handle.
And she handled everything.
In retrospect,it's a blessing|she didn't have a family.
She was too busy|for one.
Aren't we all?
Can you tell me|anything about Grimes.
It's just another example|of a failed system.
A guy like that winds up|on the street.
Makes you wonder|what we're all fighting for.
I know what you mean.|Did Ann ever mention Grimes?
It was her case|before she joined our firm.
Interesting, no?|What's that?
A convicted felon for making|several death threats is paroled...
and she doesn't bring it up?
We're lawyers,|Mr. Stoddard.
If I had a dime for every threat|from a disgruntled client
I would be a rich man.
But, you are a rich man.|See what I mean?
-How does the system fail?|-What's that?
The system. How does it let a guy|like Grimes back out on the street?
Overcrowded prisons,|lack of funding...
a drunk judge asleep on the bench.|Take your pick.
That's what I'm asking.
Guy's in jail for drug trafficking,|weapons violations, armed robbery...
Don't forget the little|incident in prison.
What was that?
He stabbed his cell mate|to death with a shank.
-Claimed it was self-defense.|-I didn't know that.
He's gone now.
Karma, I guess.
I guess so.
Have a nice day, Mr. Stoddard.
Hello?
{y:i}-Van, how's that file coming?|-I am giving it all I've got...
{y:i}I need this.
I need it warp speed.
Is this what work is?|I've been wondering...
How close are we?
{y:i}-We're close. We're close.|-Good.
This is Jane.
Beau? What's going on?
{y:i}How familiar are you|{y:i}with the Grimes file?
As familiar as I have to be.|Why? What's up?
{y:i}In prison, Grimes killed a man.|{y:i}Do you know who that was?
It was weird. It was an accountant.|White collar criminal.
-What are you looking for?|-I'll tell you when I know.
{y:i}You've reached Jack Forrester's|{y:i}office. Please leave a message.
-Have you seen Jack around?|-Not all day.
Thanks.
{y:i}-Not lately.|-What's up?
-I'm in.|{y:i}-What do you got?
{y:i}-This is so interesting.|-Are you in the Grimes file?
Who was Grimes' cell mate|that he murdered?
{y:i}Um, let's see.|{y:i}Someone named Kerwin.
So Kerwin is dead?
So what's interesting?
They let him out two years after|the murder for good behavior.
-Guess who signed the release?|-Hold on.
-Some guy named Hancock.|-Negative.
I'm looking at the signature|of one Robert Brickland.
-What?|-Dude, this stuff is intense.
You should see the stuff|they've got on me.
I need you to find out everything|you can on Steven Kerwin.
Copy everything, sir.
Meet me at 5345 7th Street|now.
Nice of you to show.
Let's just say I got a tip|and I trust the source.
I've got some news for you.|Guess who signed Grimes' release?
-I'm listening.|-Brickland.
No, he didn't. I know that file.|Brickland had nothing with it.
Which version did you read?|The sanitized one?
He's got the N2|security access.
He doctored the file.
He's so in deep in this mess,|it's coming out of his ears.
-Where's Forrester?|-I don't know. Car's cold.
All right, let's find Forrester,|then we'll deal with Brickland.
I go upstairs, you go to basement.|We'll meet in the hallway in five.
Yes, ma'am.
Holy shit.
What's going on, Beau?
Forrester is downstairs.|He's dead.
-What?|-Shot in the head.
Oh my God.|We have to put out an alert.
The bomber is still on the loose.
Holy shit.
Oh, thank God.|Are you okay?
That was close.
You want to go|to a hockey game?
Love to.
We've got to get to Brickland|before Kerwin does.
Ladies and gentlemen...
The night we've all|been waiting for.
The first International|World Cup hockey game!
And after all|that's happened...
we could not have askedfor a better|event to bring people together...
{y:i}and lift the spirits of a city...
{y:i}still recovering from a series|{y:i}of truly awful events.
Rumors of The Russians|pulling out...
only seemed to increase|the focus on tonight's game...
as we come together|in unity. In harmony...
For peace. For sport.|For competition.
For hockey!|Let's play!
You're gonna be so happy|not to pull out.
This exactly the kind of relations|that our two countries need...
to move us forward together|in this new century.
Your boy Markov|is good.
But, he's going to get hell|getting a shot passed Sutter.
Excuse me.
{y:i}Why didn't you tell us|{y:i}about Kerwin?
Who?
What are you talking about?|Why aren't you here?
{y:i}Forrester is dead.|{y:i}Kerwin is the bomber.
He's targeting you.|You have to clear the stadium.
That doesn't make any sense.|I just can't...
{y:i}Just do it now!
Let's go enjoy a game.|Russell, you come with me.
Take our guests up|to the VlP.
-Yes, sir.|-I'll be up there in a minute.
-May I help you?|-Like you helped my father?
That's the kind of help|I don't need.
You're him.
Steve Kerwin's son.
You're the one doing all this.
In my hand is a detonator.
I can take out a thousand lives|with the push of a button.
Do you think I don't know|what you did? Do you?
I would let that go|to voice mail.
You're bluffing.
You should keep|your mouth shut.
You're so full of shit,|you might get an overflow.
You are a coward.
Wrong answer.
You think I'm bluffing?
What about this?
I want you to call|Jane Dreyer.
Tell her if I smell a fed|within 20 feet from us, boom.
If they try to evacuate|the building, boom.
If they try to take me out...
I can only assure you|that I have a contingency plan.
What are you waiting for?|Start dialing.
Let's make this|a walk and talk, shall we?
Dreyer here.
{y:i}Jane. Listen to me. Kerwin has|{y:i}this place wired to blow.
Do not evacuate.|Do not send in the troops.
{y:i}And do not try to find me.|{y:i}He will kill us all.
But we have to get|these people out of here.
-You do and we'll all die.|{y:i}-What does he want?
He has got this whole place|wired like one big bomb.
-We have to evacuate.|-No, we can't.
This is Jane Dreyer from the FBI.|do you copy?
{y:i}Copy, Agent Dreyer|{y:i}Go ahead.
{y:i}I want all police, security,|{y:i}and federal agents...
{y:i}to keep a 100 foot perimeter|{y:i}in all directions.
{y:i}Copy that.
If we evacuate,|he will blow it.
-And if he blows it anyway?|-You wanna make that call?
-I want to find that bomb.|-We've got a negotiator coming in.
We've got contact with Brickland.|Let's just see what this guy wants.
This guy doesn't want anything.
He said all feds|keep a distance.
It's a good thing|I'm a postal inspector.
Come on.
Open it.
-What do you want?|-In good time.
Sit down.
You know what to do|with them.
Stick save!|Unbelievable!
Come on. Where are you?
All right. All right.
Damn zipper.
A big night for you.|Exciting, isn't it?
The sooner you tell what you want,|the sooner we can make a deal.
A deal? With you,|Mr. Clean?
Mr. Robert Brickland. Soon to be|Director of Domestic Security.
You failure.|Here's the deal.
You're gonna|die tonight.
What are you|talking about?
I'm talking|about revenge.
Clear on out.
Hello?
{y:i}Harrington, Goldenberg, Grimes.
You, Mr. Brickland.|You're the last piece.
Brickland is in the building.|His cell phone is on.
Have the eye in the sky grab|his signal and his exact location.
{y:i}Copy that, Agent Dreyer.
You set my father up.
You framed an innocent man|for tax fraud...
so that you|and Ann Harrington...
could claim the millions|that he made.
Fuck!
Then you had him transferred|to a maximum security prison...
Then you made a deal|with Grimes, to have him killed.
-That's not what happened.|-No? What happened.
There must have|some kind of mistake.
Your father was supposedto be|taken care of once he got out.
He wasn't supposed|to get out.
-You don't know any...|-Shut up!
This tape is wired|to a fire proof box.
This is your last interview.
Exactly what is it you|want me to say?
I'll blow this building tonight.|And thousands of people will die.
And they're going to find|this taped confession of yours.
Hold on.
Let me do your|make-up first.
There's lip color.|How about some blush?
What's this?
Are you trying to fuck with me?|You think I would hesitate?
Well, you're wrong.
When you're at home by yourself|do you know you're crazy?
Do you look in|the mirror and say...
"Damn I'm one sick|motherfucker"?
Holy cow!
Oh my God!|Look at this.
This is unbelievable.
Now for the big boom.
Stoddard! Get the detonator!
Get the detonator!
Shoot the security guard!|Shoot him!
Don't move!
-We've got 2 minutes to get out.|-Let's go! Everyone!
Let's get out of the stadium.
I want everyone out of the stadium.|All agents.
Let's go, let's go!
16, 723 people in the arena.|Sixteen thousand.
Enough explosives to kill|everyone in the place...
and a madman with the will|to do it.
Because of this team...
16, 721 people walked out|of there alive.
A handful of people|wounded in the panic.
With only a couple|of fatalities.
One of which was|Steven Kerwin Jr.
This office...
This unit turned an awful moment|in the history of this nation...
into one shining|moment in security.
That's great.|Now for the good stuff.
I'd like to single out|a couple of people...
For, without|their individual effort...
all of this may have|gone down differently.
Miss Jane Dreyer.|And of course...
Mr. Beau Stoddard.
Job well done.
This just came for you.
Thank you.
Apparently Kerwin's video tape has|been recovered from the wreckage.
I'll take that to evidence|on my way out. If I could see...
-I would love to see that tape.|-I would, as well.
Well, so would I.|But, the proper...
We all have clearance here.
Play on.
Looks like he never hit record.
Maybe it was|damaged in the blast.
-That's a shame.|-Why? He's dead.
It's not like he can|add to his sentence.
We were hoping they were|going to add it to yours.
-Mine? What are you talking about?|-Agent Stoddard?
Robert Brickland made|a cell phone call to Intel...
they would get the exact location|of where they were in the stadium.
What Brickland didn't count on|is that Intel recorded the message.
{y:i}No?|{y:i}What happened?
{y:i}It must have been some|{y:i}kind of mistake.
{y:i}Your father was supposed to be|{y:i}taken care of once he got out.
{y:i}He wasn't supposed to get out.
{y:i}-You don't know any...|{y:i}-Shut up!
What is this bullshit?
These are ramblings of a madman.|You people can't be serious.
Where's your evidence?
Well, I didn't have any.
But, I do now, because|of Beau Stoddard.
You son of a bitch.
You personally authorizedthe early|release of Grimes from prison.
Recognize that signature?
You then used your office|to falsify federal documents.
That's against the law, Robert.
Is that all you got?
Well, that and the so-called|lost documents...
which detail that you Harrington|and Kerwin were business partners.
Those are some|interesting records.
So much for your|confirmation hearing.
Cuff him.
Cuff me?
You have the right|to remain silent.
Anything you say can...
-Shut the fuck up.|-Gladly.
Let's go.
DC Sniper 23 Days of Fear
D A R Y L 1985
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