Law & Order

In the criminal justice system,

the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups...

the police, who investigate crime,

and the district attorneys, who prosecute the offenders.

These are their stories.

This is the last time, Chris, I swear.

All right, "Pork chops and martinis." Veal chops.

And not just martinis... apple martinis.

After seven years of marriage, Stella knows what I drink.

After we ate? Met game. Seats by the first base dugout.

Good. Mets 5-4 in 10.

How much did you win? Nice touch.

I don't know. Say, a grand.

She's gonna want half. Two hundred. I owe you.

Hey, what'd you do, drink the Great Salt Lake?

All right, so those pork chops, rare or what? Veal!

I love when you blow.

I swear I'll move in with you when she throws me out.

Whoa, Chris... This'll work fine if you stay cool.

You got your cell phone?

Holy Moly.!

I make her late teens. From rigor and blood pooling, dead a couple hours.

From what? Take your pick... blunt force trauma to the head or strangulation.

Rape? Slash marks on the breasts.

Definite sexual activity but no obvious vaginal bruising.

Please don't tell me she laid back and enjoyed it.

Hey, Lennie, it looks like Dumb and Dumber over there...

were just making a pit stop on the way home. Probably made the alley smell better.

Do we know who she is? No, but I got guys checking all the trash cans.

Between you and me, I got my fingers crossed they come up empty.

Sure. Why should our lives be easy?

Hey, life's one thing. Telling the girl's parents is another.

Detectives.

I guess I should have crossed my toes.

How? She was only 17. In an alley?

- We're sorry for your trouble. - No.!

No. It can't be her. Sally's going to go to college.

She wants to be a doctor.

Mr. Galan, we found Sally on the Upper West Side. Do you know why she was there?

What do you mean? Was she on a date maybe?

You see, it's not her. She was with Katie. Look, l-I'll call. You'll see. Sh...

Look at the damn picture.

It's her. I'm sorry.

- Who's Katie? - Katherine Corwin.

Her friend from St. Joe's. Sally spent the weekend.

Her parents have a place in Amagansett.

Oh, you're kidding me. Her mom called the cops? Well, not exactly.

She called my mom? No. That pleasure was ours.

Look, I'm not getting in the middle of this. You wanna know about the weekend, ask Sally.

The problem is we can't.

What's going on? Is Sally all right?

- Well, actually... - I told her. I mean, what is she doing with a guy like that?

A guy like what? He's a car mechanic.

Wait. Why don't we back up a couple steps? Sally spent the weekend with this guy...

A boyfriend? More like something to do.

We made up the story about Amagansett as a cover.

His name's Kurt Lemond.

Did he hurt her?

Yeah, I know the bitch. You might want to rethink that answer, player.

Okay. Bitch ho.

I'm guessing he doesn't have the complete works of Germaine Greer on his bookshelf.

I hate Nazis. Hey, man, how old are you?

And how big is... Hey, look! Don't play with me!

I ain't no high school girl! You can drop the attitude,

or I'll shove this wrench down your throat. What's his problem?

Your girlfriend's dead. Whoa. She was alive when she walked out on me.

Yeah? When was that? Last night, around 10:00 at Bobo's.

Bobo who? It's a club on...

Yeah. I know the place. So you were there with Sally?

A couple of tequila shooters, she starts bustin' my chops. She went her way, I went mine.

A couple hours later, I went home. You can ask anyone.

Good idea. In the meantime...

I do not recognize her. Well, maybe this'll help... she's 17.

Still never seen her. Well, she was here and now she's dead.

Look, I was back here all night. I'd know if she was sitting at the bar.

Maybe one of the waitresses. Julie!

You seen this one?

Sure. She was here last night with, uh, that lug Kurt what's-his-name, with the tattoos.

He was knocking the tequila back like it's New Year's in Tijuana.

Sounds like fun. Oh, yeah, a real whoop-de-do.

First she says he can go "F" himself. Then he says she can go "F" herself.

He goes to the little boys', she goes for the door and then she tells me I can tell him he can go...

Yeah. We get the picture. What time was that?

- Maybe 10:00. - Did he go back to his table?

Yep. And he didn't miss a beat. Ordered a double. I kept 'em coming till around midnight.

- And before he turned into a pumpkin? - Left with some babe I've never seen before.

Real silicon city, but, uh, I doubt he remembers. What did he do?

Probably nothing. Thanks.

Strangulation, knife wounds.

Subdural hematomas are severe enough to make me think that she was unconscious when he strangled her.

Less fuss, less muss. Well, from the lack of ligature marks or defensive wounds,

I'd guess the fun started once she was out cold.

How do guys get this sick?

I think it has something to do with Mom.

Anyway, this guy had a way with a knife.

Wounds are limited to the victim's breasts, some kind of weird pattern.

You don't see that every day. So I let my fingers do the walking.

Brooklyn, five years back. Girl disappears without a trace on her way home from the library.

Her body's dumped, bludgeoned, raped, strangled... And slashed.

Yeah. The slash marks on Sally Galan's breasts and those on the Brooklyn girl are close.

- How close? - Close enough for a maybe.

The lab's running D.N.A. On the semen samples. I'll let you know. Thanks.

Five year separation. Not exactly Son of Sam or Zodiac. Maybe he was out of town.

Or maybe wejust haven't found the bodies. You know how many teenage girls go missing.

The guy the Galan girl spent the weekend with?

Oh, a real sweetheart. Yeah. With a real alibi.

Well, I'll set you up with this Detective Goldstein who worked the Brooklyn girl.

Meanwhile, let's not press the public panic button just yet.

You ever have one that won't go away? More than one.

Sorry to hear that. Holly Pinkston was mine.

Eighteen, pretty as a picture, straight A's.

She left the stacks with an armload of books about Napoleon.

Ran into a girlfriend, yak about this and that, head home, that's it.

So there was no ransom call? Nothing.

Not until a couple of alkies prowling an abandoned warehouse in Red Hook found her body.

Cut, beaten, raped and strangled.

Librarian said there was this guy in the stacks of the European history department around the same time.

Department artist made a sketch; none of the bookworms could ever place him.

- And you never found the guy? - I didn't even know if we were looking for a suspect or a witness.

Hey, we're gonna need a copy of that sketch.

- Yeah, that's him. - Who?

He sat right there Sunday night. And Sally Galan and her tattooed friend were where?

Right here. Is he the one who...

Did he talk to Sally?

Barely talked to me. Just, "shot and a beer."

You know, he was kind of creepy.

Creepy how?

I don't know. I work in a bar.

Guys flirt with me, especially guys by themselves. This one just stared.

At Sally? Kind oflike at nothing.

I told him I'd run him a tab. Most customers jump at that.

- But this guy wanted to pay as he went. - That makes for a quick exit.

He pulled out a roll. It must have been, like, three inches thick. Looked like all ones and fives.

You know, when Kurt got back to the empty table, after your girl left 'cause of the fight,

this guy was gone too.

Sure. He wanted to give her his shoulder to cry on.

Did you show this to Sally Galan's parents?

And they never saw him before. Neither did her friends, people in the building or at school.

So we're back to random. Looks like. The only issue is how many.

Missing Persons put this together for us.

The blue pins are the known homicide victims... Sally Galan, Holly Pinkston.

The red ones are missing girls who fit the M.O.

Teens who've vanished in plain view, no prior history as runaways,

no ransom demands, no credit card activity.

We're looking at five boroughs and Westchester County... blondes, brunettes, Asians, blacks.

I'm not seeing a pattern here. In all honesty, neither are we.

Well, someone's got to know this guy.

So start with the Manhattan pins. Work your way to the bridges.

- Why would I know him? - Well, there is a chance that...

You think Dana's with him?

Like I said, there's a chance, Mrs. Quilty. Well, she'll get tired of him.

I haven't touched her room, you know.

I want it to be just like she remembers it when she gets back.

You know, it has been almost a year.

That Elizabeth Smart girl out West, she came home.

I saw her on the news playing the harp. My Dana plays the flute.

She was coming home from a lesson when sh...

I'm sorry. I've never seen him before. Could you do us a favor...

not for your daughter, but for the missing girls...

would you mind holding on to that sketch and showing it to some of Dana's friends?

Those poor girls.

Sophie was really a good kid.

I know that sounds corny, but she was. She was walking home from practice...

Music? Basketball. She's a pretty good two-guard.

They actually recruited her to play at Marbury Prep.

I don't harbor any illusions. I know Sophie's dead.

My mother and father know too. They never could've left the city if they had any hope.

The hardest thing about it...

is imagining what some freak did to her.

Have you seen anyone who looks like this?

I'm sorry.

You okay? Yeah.

I'm all right. It just came back all of a sudden.

I'm sorry, man. No.

I know you're trying to help.

I'm just going to sit here for a while.

I'll call you if...

Marbury Prep's on the Upper East Side, right?

Yeah. Eighty-third and Second. That's a long walk here, especially after hoops practice.

Now Bobo's Bar is across town from Galan's apartment.

The library's gotta be two miles from the Pinkston girl's place.

And the flute player disappeared, what, 50 blocks from home? So?

So unless all these girls were training for the marathon... A cabbie.

Would hit all the boroughs. And a cabbie would have a large wad of small bills. Damn.

Twenty-five thousand hacks in this town. How come I can never get a cab?

Complaints are third floor. By the way, that number doesn't include livery and vans.

You sound like a "glass-half-empty" kinda guy. I'm just giving you the stats.

The guy we're looking for is white, mid-40s, native-born. Why didn't you say so?

You eliminate the Africans and the English-as-a-second-language crew,

the number goes down to 1,500.

What about guys who just got their hack license five years ago?

I'd have to ask Mr. Computer. Then why don't you do that?

Hey, past two years, I quit the life. Yeah.

Paris Hilton begged me to stay at her place in the Hamptons. How could I say no?

Man, cut the crap. It hurts, okay?

'Cause the idiot brother-in-law told me the future's in popcorn. What's wrong with popcorn?

Oh, nothing, at a movie. He wants to start stores, like Starbucks.

Charge a lot, he says. The morons will eat it up like it's...

Like popcorn? Exactly. So I mortgage the house, quit the job.

We open up one store and never get out from under.