R.J. Decker

Previously on R.J. Decker...

R.J. freaking Decker. They let you out already?

I'm a PI now.

-Detective Abreu. How are you? -How is everything at the trailer park?

You making new friends?

I'm on trial.

Good luck today.

Mm-hmm. Thanks.

Please state your name and relationship to the victim.

I'm Emi Ochoa. Lucas is my stepbrother and that's the man who almost killed him.

If I hadn't lied to protect Lucas, there would have been consequences.

But it was still wrong and I'm sorry.

A sinkhole opened up outside your window three weeks ago

and you didn't come to stay with us then?

You wanted to see me?

You can stay here one week.

And then you go.

I was exonerated. It's the very first thing I did.

I bought a scratcher and that scratcher paid out a million bucks.

I'm not released this day instead of the next,

who knows what becomes of me.

- Go, go, go! - -Objective, south door!

- Objective on the left. - Contact!

Don't move. Hands in the air.

Clear the corners!

Clear out.

We got ourselves a farm.

Hot damn, that's a lot of weed.

In case you were wondering which of your pals tipped us off,

it was an old lady who walks her dog around here.

Kept reporting suspicious activity like she was trying to win a radio contest.

Karens, am I right?

It's not cannabis, it's carnivorous.

I said it's not cannabis, it's carnivorous.

They're not marijuana plants, they're Venus flytraps.

- Hey, Detective, over here. -Let's go.

Is that a meat grinder?

You gotta see this.

Question for you, son.

Who exactly have you been feeding to your plants?

Come on.

- You're real bad at this, bruh. - Okay.

Seriously, if breaking into cars were baseball, you'd be the Rockies.

Oh. Well, maybe if I had a better teacher...

You got the best in Fort Laud. Don't blame me for your old man fingers.

Whoa, I think you mean you were the best, right?

Because you know what happens if I find out you're unretired?

-You tell my mom. -Yes.

-Which is worse than telling the cops. -That's right.

Ain't happening. I am D-O-N-E. Done, son.

Stupid pick is broken or something.

Well, how'd you do that?

-What are you doing to my car? -Oh, hey, Cath. This is Darius.

He's helping me out with this new skill I might need as a PI.

-It's 9:00 a.m. on a Monday. -Is it?

Shouldn't Darius be in school?

No, ma'am. Some dude who lives near the school lost his boa constrictor.

We're all supposed to stay home until Animal Control finds it.

- Keep trying. - Thanks.

I found the key to the file drawers, unless you'd like to pick that lock too.

Okay. This is great.

Now I have a place to, uh, put all my files.

-I take it things are still a little slow? -Yeah.

Yeah, they're a bit slow. They're picking up.

Wish texted me last night, said he had a new client for me.

Oh, shoot, actually I got to meet the guy in 20 minutes.

Will he be older than 12?

Hey, where's the client?

Oh, God.

Wish.

I mean, we've been over this. I-I...

I need work.

-I don't need charity. -This is a genuine case, R.J.

Genuine case, really?

Like-Like the case of the missing deep fryer?

You remember that one? You told me it was stolen, but that was bull.

It was just out for repairs.

Then there was the time you wanted a list of names

background-checked so they could work here,

only they turned out to be the starting O-line for the '84 Dolphins.

I swear, had any of those gentlemen been interested, I'd have hired them.

Wish...

You remember me telling you about Waylon Abernathy?

Yeah.

Yeah, of course, he was your cellie the first time you got locked up.

Showed you the ropes just like you did for me.

Prison being prison, where the wrong look at the wrong time

can get you a sharpened toothbrush through the old Adam's apple.

I think you'll agree.

It's the, uh, sort of kindness you don't soon forget.

-Mm-hmm. -Hence why I want to hire you

to get Waylon's son, Marcus, out of a spot of trouble.

This trouble,

you swear it's real?

Oh, it's real.

He even made the paper.

Marcus.

How you doing? My name's R.J. Decker.

-I'm a-- -Private investigator.

Yeah, I know the guards told me, but if you're looking for work, I'm sorry.

-I can't afford you. -I'm actually already paid for.

I'm a friend of Wish Aiken's.

Mr. Aiken sent you?

Yeah, he sure did.

He tells me there's no way you could have done what they're saying.

No, no, no, sir. Not-Not in a million years.

So far all I know is what I've read in the papers.

The police were expecting to find marijuana in your grow house.

It-It wasn't my grow house.

It was Clem's.

Clem Crayshaw. He's the one who hired me.

He's a flytrap poacher.

He's a what now?

Flytraps are rare.

That's what makes them valuable.

The only place they grow naturally in the whole world

is the southeast corner of North Carolina.

And that's where he would steal his.

So you and this Clem guy, you guys were, what? Partners?

Clem was good at poaching.

He's terrible with plants.

He hired me out of the garden center I was working at

just to make sure his plants were... fed and watered right.

And I knew it was wrong. I... I just...

My girlfriend, Kelly Lynn, she just told me she was pregnant and I just--

Marcus, don't worry about that. That's fine, but I got to ask,

how was it you didn't notice a freezer full of body parts?

The freezer was in a storeroom that Clem kept locked.

Before he hired me, he told me

he was feeding the plants ground-up roadkill.

I said that was no good, that the best thing for flytraps was mealworms.

And so, then whenever I got there, there was a big bag of mealworms waiting for me.

Well, according to the paper, the police found you with a big old bag of John Doe.

Clem and I, we barely saw each other.

And we spoke mostly over Snapchat.

I'd tell him what I needed, he'd make sure I got it.

And then a couple of days ago,

he sent me a message and said that... he forgot to order the mealworms.

And the flytraps would have to go back to roadkill for a while.

Don't-Don't you get it?

Clem killed John Doe.

He was using me and the plants to get rid of the body.

The cops, they want me to tell them who the dead guy is, but I can't.

-I-I don't... I-I don't know. -Right.

And since the app deletes the messages after you read them,

you can't prove Clem told you to do anything.

You know, the night they arrested me, they made me look in the freezer.

It was a torso and, uh, two arms and two legs.

And the head and the hands were missing.

But Clem didn't just cut the guy up, he carved him up too.

What do you mean?

The dead guy?

His biceps and butt cheeks were missing.

His biceps and butt cheeks were missing?

They have to be in that bag of meat that Clem gave me, okay?

Them and the head and the hands all ground up.

Please, I just want to go home to Kelly Lynn.

I just want to help with the pregnancy.

You have to find Clem.

Yeah, look at those priors. She's not the one we're looking for.

-Hey. -Print that for me, would you?

-I was just in the neighborhood, and-- -You want something.

Mel, can't a guy living in his ex-wife's pool house

pay her new wife a visit without wanting something?

I mean, please.

Mm-hmm, if you didn't, you wouldn't be holding a bag of

what I assume are pastelitos from my favorite bakery.

All right.

-I caught a new case. -Mmm.

Marcus Abernathy. He's accused of--

Oh. Yeah, turning some John Doe into plant food. Yeah.

-Yes. -Not my case. Can't help you.

- Okay, well, even if it isn't your case... - -Detective.

...you could give me a wee peek at the case file.

I got a lead on a new suspect I like for it, Clem Crayshaw.

I just... I want to know if he's on your radar. That's all I want to know.

Uh, meet me outside in ten minutes. I'll bring you the files.

- Really? - No, idiot.

-Oh. -Also, the house,

stop leaving the seat up. You live with three women.

Three, R.J.

- Kelly Lynn, it's, uh, Aloysius Aiken.

I believe Marcus's public defender told you to expect me?

So, uh, Marcus's attorney said that you were friends

with Marcus's dad or something?

Yeah, Waylon.

Yeah, me and him, uh, did a stretch together

at Zephyrhills Correctional about 20 years ago.

You know, Waylon took me under his wing,

helped me understand what it took to survive.

Taught you how to make shivs and stuff like that?

No, um, the opposite.

You know, he taught me how to keep a low profile, avoid confrontations.

If it weren't for old Waylon, a decent and thoughtful man,

despite his penchant for cloning credit cards,

ain't no way I'd have made it through.

Marcus never really talked about him.

Yeah, well, Marcus never got to know him.

Yeah, Waylon was already serving his sentence when Marcus was born,

and a couple of years later, Waylon was diagnosed with leukemia.