Bosch

Yeah?

I knew you'd be up.

I remember how you were with the big cases.

Tired?

Forgot how it feels, though.

That rush you get when the case starts to come alive.

I thought you were just an asset.

Minor recon for the Feds.

Come on, don't spoil my high, Harry.

I'm back in the hunt. I've missed it.

-Just don't let them string you along. -Really?

That's all you got for me? Sorry I called.

I heard you and Maddie got into it.

She's 18, and I'm her mother.

Oh, I think there's a little more to it than that.

Eleanor?

Eleanor

Just shoot straight with her.

I will.

I am.

I got to go, Harry.

Okay. Have a better one.

Jesus Christ.

-

-

-

-

Bitch.

Are you using the Jeep today?

-Nope. Taking my city ride. -Mom's hounding me

to finish all that bank trust whatever paperwork.

I'll probably stay at her place tonight.

What's going on with the phone?

Trolls.

Trolls?

I'll make you breakfast.

Egg whites. Protein.

I'm good.

Were you here for the riots?

Yeah.

I was a street cop on Wilshire.

25 year anniversary or something.

We've been talking about them at my school.

City's changed a lot since back then.

Better or worse?

Both.

But back to the elves in your phone.

What's that about?

Sometimes, when your name's in the news,

people blow up my accounts with stupid anti-cop stuff.

-Like what? -It's no big deal.

I just block them.

People you know?

Dad, obviously not.

I'm sorry you have to deal with that.

It's easier than dealing with the real thing out there.

Your old man's one smart Indian, Mads.

You don't need to worry about me.

I don't. Much.

Still need to eat breakfast.

Lost his head over a woman.

With a tactical knife

in her Kate Spade bag.

Mmm. Still. Cliché.

Well...

Troubles?

I think I broke it.

We can only hope.

You're early.

Pierce, right?

-Terry Drake. -I know.

The other RHD guys are coming in later.

Jimmy thought to get you out of here first.

30. -Yeah.

Shit. My bad.

It's banker's hours.

This cat used to be in here hitting it by 0600.

I can't park you in here, but let's go grab a cup

of coffee while you wait.

Uh... You know what?

I'm good. I'm good, brother.

I, um... I got some errands to run.

And, uh, just tell Santiago that, uh...

I'll circle back.

You the cop?

I am.

Leave it here.

I'll walk you in.

I'm not likely to give you more than five minutes.

Sorry to intrude.

Forgive me for not wanting to participate in the charade

that the Los Angeles Police Department

gives a damn about my husband.

I do.

-If there's a better time, I can come back... -No.

Ask and go.

Threats

Anyone he was at odds with?

Besides you cops?

It was his job...

to be at odds with the whole world, if need be.

How often did he stay at the Bunker Hill place?

Always...

as trials got close.

That's why I wasn't expecting him.

We took some photos in the apartment.

Tell me if you see anything out of place or unfamiliar.

You expect me to pretend I don't know about

his jury consultant?

It wasn't her who killed him, either.

She liked sleeping with him too much.

-Your son inside? -No.

Maybe later.

He has his own place.

Stay away from him.

Mrs. Elias, I need to do my job.

You need to look at who would most benefit

from my husband's death, Detective.

You need to look at your own people

before you go throwing accusations around about mine.

I am.

I am looking at everyone.

Why do I find that so hard to believe?

Whether you do or you don't, my job's the same.

Terry Drake.

What about him?

Well, Drake and my husband had more than one run-in,

back when Howard was in the DA's office.

This one time, Howard refused to file a case,

and Drake went ballistic.

He got one of his patrol buddies

to pull Howard over for driving while black.

You know.

Did your husband ever report this?

No. He quit.

He went over to the dark side.

Isn't that what you call it?

I don't call it anything.

Jen, how are you?

I have a houseful, so...

Of course.

If you think of anything.

Again, my condolences.

Stay away from my boy.

In the wake of the murder of attorney

Howard Elias, no word yet on how or even if

the Black Guardian civil rights case against the LAPD

will proceed. Meanwhile,

The L.A. Times' Scott Anderson, in today's onl...

Know what I like about the L.A. River?

Not a damn thing.

You look like shit.

How long they keep you?

Oh, I'm not going until later.

Wait a minute, you're blowing 'em off?

No, no, no, no. Relax, relax. Listen, you go in,

you talk to 'em, and then I'll go in and lock everything down.

I'm not talking to anybody. It's all bullshit.

They're-they're only looking at us because of Black Guardian.

Now, we would do the same thing if it was them.

Frankie doesn't have an alibi.

I thought you were out drinking.

I was at home.

Alone.

Drunk.

Jesus.

I could say that he was with me.

Even if Jimmy let that slip, uh...

-Harry Bosch would blow that straight up. -Fucked.

-No. -I'm fucked. They're gonna fuckin' nail me on this.

They're gonna fuckin' hang it on me.

Hey, Rooker?

Let me have a word with my man here.

I'm screwed, dude.

Elias refused a settlement on Friday night.

Any reason that he should be so confident all of a sudden?

The fuck would I know?

You didn't do it.

I didn't do it?

Fuckin' kidding me?

You know I didn't do it.

Yeah. So you just go in there, you-you tell the truth.

Where you got the booze, when you got home,

what you watched on TV until you passed out. You hear me?

Oh, the truth, huh?

City needs a fall guy.

-Hey, I need to hear you say... -I'm fucked.

-...you hear me. -I am so fucked,

because I fit. I'm it.

Say it.

No alibi. Bosch.

Frankie... I got your back.

But I need to hear you say the words.

I hear you.

I remember this one.

That was a use of force involving Rooker.

Judge threw it out, but, uh,

Sheehan got beefed for a dust-up during the depo.

Beefed by Elias?

I think so. It wasn't my case.