In the criminal justice system,
sexually based offenses are considered especially heinous.
In New York City,
the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies
are members of an elite squad known as the Special Victims Unit.
These are their stories.
Beautiful, huh?
Everything's beautiful to you today.
The waitress. The hostess. Aw, don't start.
Your eyeballs got quite a workout.
So did your mouth, guzzling all those mimosas.
And in the buffet line, you...
No. No, no. I'm not going to do this.
Not today.
Janice, will you marry me?
I said, will you marry me?
Who's our floater?
Female. Thirties.
I'd say she's been in the water about 36 hours.
Bruising around the neck indicates manual strangulation.
Has nothing to do with us.
Pelvic region does. Panties torn.
Genitals mutilated from biting or cutting.
Hard to say until I dry her out.
And there's another twist. Hands amputated mid-ulna.
The killer doesn't want us to ID her.
He's angry and he's smart.
That's a bad combination.
Look up on the roof there. I think we've got company.
Think it's our perp hanging around
to watch us scratch our heads?
Some creeps really get off on the attention.
Let's give him some.
Bastard's attacking someone else.
No! Leave me alone!
Get away from the girl! Get away from the girl!
Down on the ground! Get on your knees!
On your knees! On your knees!
Come with me. Come with me. Get down! Hands on your head!
Whoa. Whoa. Wait. This is a mistake.
Police!
Don't shoot me.
Drop it! Drop it!
Relax. We're just making a movie.
You've got it all wrong. He wasn't attacking me.
Your screams sure fooled us.
It's called acting. We're actors.
Actors? Yeah. Actors.
And I'm the director.
And I'm a Jamaican jet pilot.
You know, I've seen these rape-and-tape scams before.
You lure the Arab girl off the street,
Martin Scorsleazy here films the attack...
Shows what he knows.
Yeah, Rosie isn't Arab. She's Dominican.
Pretty good accent, huh?
I totally researched the part.
Got the clothes on Atlantic Avenue.
You want to hear me ululate?
No, you know what I want to hear?
How you can sleep at night making anti-Muslim rape porn.
Porn? It's art.
Sex is dangerous.
I mean, at its core, it's a power struggle between men and women.
Not if you're doing it right.
People look to porn for provocative imagery, so we provoke.
Okay, all right.
You, please tell me you're not
as big a clown as your friend here.
Hey, everybody's got their kink.
Our audience pops wood for a little faux rape, so what?
"Faux rape. "
Either one of you geniuses notice a real rape
and murder going down on the street?
A murder? We didn't see anything.
Not a car, not a person, nothing.
There was a cab.
It was parked down there the last couple of days.
Kind of weird, just hanging out.
Jerk almost ran us over on Saturday when we were unloading.
You get a cab number?
It might be on my camera. If it still works.
It's too far to see the cab number from here, but...
Scottie...
It's time to unload the van now.
...he gets a lot closer.
Just come on. No respect.
Freeze it. Now, zoom in.
Cab 2X89.
Edward De Pablo. Drop the sponge. Step away from the bucket.
What? Washing a car's a crime now?
Destroying evidence is.
What are you talking about, destroying evidence?
Where were you Friday night around midnight?
Same place I was the whole weekend,
flat on my back inside. Damn summer flu.
Eddie? Who are you talking to?
It's the cops, honey.
Mrs. De Pablo? Can you verify
your husband's whereabouts this weekend?
He was on his fat ass on my couch, bitching how his head hurt.
Where was the cab this weekend?
Nobody drives this rig except me.
I wish somebody would.
Every minute he's lying around is another minute
we ain't paying off our bills.
Which we wouldn't have if you wasn't
on that damn interweb all the time...
Elliot. Cab 2X89. It's the same make, it's the same model,
but the cab in the video has no damage. This one has a rusty fender.
We got two cabs with the same number.
String of rapes in Brooklyn, Queens and the Bronx the last 18 months
by a guy driving what appears to be the same cab.
No victim descriptions, no fluid or fibers left behind.
So, he bounces from borough to borough before the cops catch on.
The guy knows how to be a ghost,
and Battery Park's the perfect place
to bust his cherry in Manhattan.
It's a long walk to the nearest subway.
There's a lot of shops and bars nearby.
In other words, lots of tipsy victims.
You two canvass around where the cab was parked.
See what you can find. Cigarette butt, food trash, anything.
Liv, Elliot, see if the last living victim
can give us anything more about how this scumbag operates.
It was my birthday. The bar's only four blocks from here,
so around midnight, I said good night
to everyone and started walking home.
The police report said that you were carrying some bags?
Just a few presents. Then it started raining.
And out of nowhere this cab shows up.
I was crossing the street and suddenly I was in his headlights.
You couldn't see his face. I was blinded.
He said he'd give me a half-fare.
And before I knew it, he grabbed my bags and I was in his car.
And you can't describe him at all?
Hair color? Any distinguishing marks?
No.
He told me to lie down on the back seat and turn over.
Then he was in the back.
On top of me.
In me.
And the whole time, he had his hand around my neck
saying if I even looked at him,
he would choke the life out of me.
And I wish he had.
It's the M.E.'s office. Excuse me.
Did this guy kill someone?
We believe that he's escalated.
Oh, my God.
Listen, you're here and you're alive.
Good news, somewhat.
We'll take whatever you got.
She may have been raped, but the genital mutilation
looks like it was marine organisms feeding on soft tissue.
Several species probably, including a juvenile Anguilla rostrata.
You're sure?
It was still on the job.
Also, I don't think the perp amputated her hands.
These breaks don't indicate a straight, fine-edged blade.
Whatever did that is blunter.
And more curved.
And delivered a hell of a lot more force than a human can.
Like a boat propeller.
Exactly.
Maybe she fell off one of those
booze cruises that depart from the marina.
Or she was dumped.
That all you got?
Would I have dragged you all the way down here if it was?
The carbon-14 levels in the lens of her eye
gave me a precise fix on her age.
Thirty-five years, four months.
Something weird about that?
Only that she has the bones of a 60-year-old.
The fractures along her ulna show a lot more shatter than you'd expect,
even from a propeller.
It still doesn't tell us who she is.
Her teeth may be getting us closer.
I'm seeing several areas of uncorrected maxillary malocclusion.
Any American dentist worth his salt
would have lobbied for braces.
A lack of fluoridated water would explain the number of old cavities.
My bet, she's European.
Well, if she entered the country legally,
State should have her thumbprint and her retinal scan on file.
I think we missed the boat with the thumb.
She still has one good eyeball.
Call us when you get a name.
Hey. You find anything where the cab was parked?
Just the usual human detritus,
searching for meaning in a meaningless universe.
Oh, yeah, Fin found what might be our bad guy's whiz.
Cabbie's got to go sometime.
There's no DNA in urine.
There is if skin cells are floating in it.
You ever tried to take a leak in one of these things?
Got to work hard. It's a tight fit.
Warner got a hit off the urine sample.
Credit where credit is due.
It was Fin and his exhaustive knowledge of the human penis.
I want you to meet Orlando McTeer.
Former driver for Midtown Cab.
Did time upstate for aggravated rape.
Paroled a year and a half ago.
That's the same time the cabbie rapist began striking.
So, we got the creep's DNA from his pee,
but we don't have DNA from any victim to match it to.
So, in legal parlance, we've got squat.
Well, we know where he hangs out.
We know that he prefers blondes carrying packages.
Let's say we catch him in the act.
Turn the case from circumstantial to solid.
Let's go dangle some bait.
Need a cab, miss?
No, thank you.
Pretty lady like you shouldn't have to walk.
I'll tell you what, half-fare.
Let me help you with those bags.
Not so fast, pal.
What the hell?
You just never know who you're going to pick up, huh, McTeer?
You even look at me, I'll choke the life out of you.
That's him.
You sure? There are three more in there.
He's the one who raped me. I know his voice. I'll always know it.
I'm telling you, I didn't rape anyone.
Who do we believe?
The woman who just ID'd him?
Or convicted rapist driving an illegal cab?
Yeah, okay, I faked the medallion,
but that's only because no real company would hire me.
But, lady, I didn't mean you no harm, I swear.
Well, you can swear all you want.
The jury is going to convict you based on your record.
It's not going to be a nickel like before.
You're looking at 25-to-life, so bye-bye, pal.
Look, okay. Okay.
I raped that girl. The other ones, too.
But I swear to God, I didn't kill anyone.
Prove it.
You said that girl died on Friday night?
I wasn't in the city Friday night. I wasn't even in the state.
I was in Pennsylvania, visiting my old man.
Like a father's not going to alibi his son.
You don't need him. He went to bed early and I went out.
In my cab.
I picked a girl up outside the mall.
I helped her with her bags and then,
I did things to her.
Said that if she told anyone, I would come to her home and get her.
I took her license. I still have it. Go find her.
She'll tell you what I did to her.
Bushkill PD found the victim. She confirms it all.
The mall pickup, the threat. Even says she scratched him.
So he's a rapist but not a killer.
Great. So Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx
and Pennsylvania all clear their cases.
And we're back to square one.
Not exactly. That retinal scan panned out.
Our dead woman's name is Marga Janssen.
And the reason she had such low bone density,
prolonged exposure to microgravity.
Where did she get exposed to that?
In outer space. Ms. Janssen was an astronaut.
And our experiments in long-term space exposure up here
will help us to live more safely when we go back to the moon.
Marga Janssen, native of Belgium,
lunar scientist for the European Space Agency.
Marga gave weekly science lessons
to school kids around the globe.
This is last June aboard the ISS where she lived for 207 days
before returning on the Atlantis shuttle.
From outer space to our morgue.
It's about as hard a landing as you can get.
Those kids are going to be devastated.
Well, they're not the only ones.
Belgian Consulate is asking for the release
of her body so it can lie in state in Brussels.
They making any noise about us doing the investigation?
I reminded them NYPD has jurisdiction.
But if we don't close this fast,
they can make a formal request to the State Department.
The woman spent six months locked in a tin can in outer space
and then she doesn't go home to Belgium. What's she doing here?
She was giving a speech at a week-long space symposium
at the New York Hall of Science.
"Back to the Moon. " I like the sound of that.
I've always been ambivalent about the space program.
Billions of dollars spent and what did we get out of it? Tang?
Satellite networks, heart pump technology...
Besides, every kid needs a real hero.
You know, I always wanted to be an astronaut.
Hi. Excuse me. We're looking for
the Associate Administrator for Spaceflight.
We understand he's at the conference today.
Administrator Harkin is on the dais at the moment.
It's important.
Well, if that isn't the sorriest damn excuse for a Marine I ever saw.
I came all the way out here to have some devil dog piss on my leg.
Colonel. How are you?
Elliot Stabler. How the hell are you?
How long has it been? Too damn long, huh?
Well, that's enough about us. Who's this gorgeous woman?
This is Detective Olivia Benson. Colonel Richard Finley,
Marine Corps test pilot and legendary astronaut for Apollo, Skylab,
half a dozen shuttle flights...
Jeez, kid. Don't lay it on so thick, huh?
It is a pleasure, Olivia.
The pleasure is mine.
You've been my partner for, what, 10 years,
and you've never once told me that you know an astronaut?
Like I need the competition.
Well, looks like you're doing just fine to me.
So, what brings you two out here?
Bad news.
One of the crewmembers on the ISS
was found dead yesterday, Marga Janssen.
Oh, no. How did she...
She was murdered.
Good Lord.
Administrator Harkin is coming over now to talk to us.
Yeah, Ed's a good man. He'll help you out. The whole agency will.
But, you know, I'd be glad to run point for you.
Grease some wheels.
Anything you can do, we'd appreciate it.
Like if you know of anybody who'd want to harm Ms. Janssen.
Not a soul. Marga was a hell of a gal.
Although I did hear about an argument between her and Andy
in the hotel bar the other night.
Andy is Marga's husband?
Well, girlfriend, actually.
She's a segment producer at the NBC affiliate in Houston.
It's her. Wait. Where's her necklace?
She had one just like mine.
We only recovered earrings.
No. I had matching necklaces made while she was in space.
I gave Marga hers the moment she landed.
She said she'd never take it off.
We heard you two argued at the hotel.
No, not really. I argued.
She just apologized.
For what?
Last April, before launch,
Marga said we'd go on vacation together when she got back.
I got a rental car and booked a lodge upstate.
We were going to leave first thing Saturday.
Friday night she changed her mind?
She said she wanted to be alone. I tried to convince her.
She just left me there in the lobby.
Said she was going outside for a walk.
At midnight?
That was Marga.
Nighttime walks always helped her to clear her head.
But why would she suddenly bail?
Marga was freaked out about some kind of
incident that happened on-orbit
with another astronaut.
She ran into the guy at the symposium.
Colonel? Colonel.
Do you know about a necklace that Marga Janssen wore?
Necklace? No.
But you know about the incident on the space station,
which you forgot to tell us about.
The space shuttle has provided...
Excuse me.
The agency doesn't need another astronaut-in-a-diaper story.
Yeah, there was a scare on-orbit last month
with a fellow named Lance Corliss.
A payload specialist. This is him.
What happened?
Well, Corliss was on his ass from the get-go.
Space sickness. He got dehydrated, started behaving erratically.
That's not a good thing 200 miles above Earth in a small tube.
Yeah. The docs in Houston okayed Marga to give him a sedative.
But then there was a failure in one of the solar arrays,
and they lost power in several modules.
So Corliss flipped out.
Yeah, total breakdown.
Delusions. Paranoia. Accusing Marga of trying to kill him.
Well, Corliss will never fly again.
He's been banned from the post-flight junket
and this symposium thing, all of it.
Well, we think that he came anyway and found Marga here Friday.
Oh, jeez.
Colonel, we need to find Corliss. Now.
Dick, I didn't kill Marga, so why are they accusing me?
Just answer their questions, Corliss.
But I didn't kill her.
You came back to New York after you were ordered not to.
You tracked Marga down at the symposium.
I had the chance of a lifetime
to fly in space and I blew it.
I ruined everything.
That's why I came back here, to tell her I was sorry.
But you freaked her out.
I know. But she kept cool,
just like on-orbit.
No wonder NASA was trying to poach her from the ESA,
get her to Houston full-time.
So, you weren't at the hotel Friday night around midnight.
I was right here from 9:00 on every day since.
I got nothing to go back to Houston for.
You think I want my wife and kids
to have a screw-up like me around?
Ask Eddie.
He'll tell you I was here.
Yeah, he was here.
Another suspect bites the dust.
I got to say, I'm glad it wasn't one of mine.
So what now?
Well, I was thinking you should read some of the mail we get,
you know, mostly fan letters,
but some of it's kind of weird, like threats and stuff.
Where's the mail?
It's in Houston.
But I can have it on a T-38 at Ellington Field in a couple of hours
and it'll be here tomorrow.
And so in the meantime?
Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm with Corliss.
I could use a drink.
So, I'm at the Mouse Trap in Cocoa Beach
having a beer with Pete Conrad,
when one of the little bar gals comes up to us
and she's crying, and she says Nixon
just canceled the last three Apollo flights,
which means I just lost my ride to the moon.
So what did you do?
Well, I ordered another beer.
But you still got to fly in space.
Olivia, you're talking to the luckiest guy in the program.
You know, I flew Skylab, ALT. I'm tied for the most shuttle flights.
But, you know, still, every time I look up at the night sky,
I think what I really wanted to do back then was go to the moon.
Colonel Finley is heading up NASA's lunar return in 2018.
Yeah, and I would have been the youngest guy back in '74.
Now, I'm the oldest. But, you know,
as long as I get there, it's all good.
So, how did you two meet, anyway?
Colonel... Dick went to the same high school I did out in Bayside.
I remember there was this huge picture of him,
it's still there, in the school trophy case.
He's got a silver flight suit on,
and it's when you flew the X-15.
It's all ancient history.
So, my senior year, Dick's coming by
to give a speech to the whole school.
And the student class president is going
to go out and pick him up at the airport.
And I paid him off to get sick that day
and I went out instead and picked him up.
So, Dick, you got El into the Marines.
Not the tattoo, though.
Back then, this was a crazy kid.
Liv, you got a second?
Yeah. Excuse me.
What's up? Somebody's been hitting ATMs in...
So? Hmm?
Dick, I'm married.
Never stopped me.
And you got the four divorces to prove it.
El, somebody's hitting ATMs in Midtown using Marga's credit card.
Just showed up at a gas station three blocks from here.
Mind if an old Marine tags along?
Your call.
You can never have too many.
Look, the stupid pump won't take it.
So just run it on the register and give me the cash back.
I told you. You don't look like a Marga and you don't have ID.
Damn it. Put two bucks on pump three and go to hell.
Hey. Police. Put that down and get away from the car.
What did I do? Shut up and put your hands
against the post.
Up.
Stay right there.
We got matches and meth. Surprise of all surprises.
The kid's a walking pharmacy.
Hey, none of that belongs to me.
Sure it doesn't.
Elliot! Elliot!
Once a Marine, always a Marine.
Hello. Someone gonna come talk to me?
I can hear you watching me.
Yoo, hoo!
Come in, Calcutta.
Where'd this guy beam down from?
Planet methamphetamine,
along with Marga's credit card.
We sure he understood Miranda?
He seemed to.
I want anything we get from him about her murder to stick.
Well, it would also be nice to know who he is,
since he won't give us his name.
His prints speak loud and clear.
Vincent Beckwith. Twelve arrests over three years.
Possession, burglary, selling stolen goods.
All a far cry from murder.
Well, how about a restraining order,
a conviction for second-degree menacing? Two separate victims.
Okay. So it sounds like Vince has a problem fixating on women.
And if he's locked onto Marga,
maybe we can find some love letters
from him in Dick's batch of mail.
Munch, go through it.
Huang's already on his way here to help.
Colonel, if you could lend a hand, see if you recognize anybody?
Anything I can do.
Okay. We're going to take a run at Rocket Man.
Vince? You ready to join us here on Earth? Answer some questions?
Well, how about you answer for this?
One of you pigs slugged me and I want his name and badge number.
Who says it was a he?
Actually, Vince, it wasn't a cop
and he doesn't have a badge, so in a way, it didn't happen.
See how easy that was?
Now, tell us about the woman you stole the credit card from.
Woman? I don't know any woman.
Erotomania is different from other stalking disorders.
Instead of fixating on an ex-lover or a work acquaintance,
the erotomaniac becomes convinced
that he's loved by a celebrity.
It's rarely sexual.
It's more of an obsession with an imaginary shared destiny.
Well, is there anything we should be looking for besides
the name Vince Beckwith?
Threat language. Anything with a specific date or owning a weapon.
You know, I'm not surprised you jet jockeys get all this.
The moon has long been thought to influence behavior.
The word "lunacy" comes from the Latin lunaticus, literally moon-sick.
Well, me, I'll take the obvious nut over
the joker who thinks we never went there.
Well, there's a lot of people who think
those jokers are telling the truth.
Yeah, well, Buzz Aldrin had the right idea.
You know, when some joker tried to lay that crap on him,
Buzz just punched him right in the nose.
Here's one. "To Marga. "
Marga who? Janssen.
She's been all over the news.
My cable's out.
Maybe you remember strangling her
Friday night outside the Argus Hotel.
Whoa. I ain't been anywhere near the Argus.
So you didn't steal her credit card
and toss her purse into a dumpster?
Purse? I found that card on the street
in Midtown. Finders, keepers, right?
That's enough, Vincent. No more questions.
Who sent you, Ms. Walsh?
My frigging dad.
I'm counsel for Beckwith and Sons.
Vincent's father recognized him on last night's news,
and he hopes that we can clear this up
and forestall any further publicity.
Beckwith and Sons. The auction house?
I'm the family embarrassment.
Who's being held on suspicion of murder.
For which you have precisely zero evidence.
And from what I overheard, you can't even link him to the victim.
Well, that's because we're trying to link him to reality first.
Go screw yourself!
Vincent, be quiet.
You too, bitch.
I don't need your help or my dad's, all right?
Tell me something good, Fin.
How about I found Marga's missing necklace?
Pretty decent print on it, too.
Anyone there recall who pawned it?
Yeah, the owner says he does.
Can you send me a pic? Oh, yeah.
...all right? The only person my old man cares about is himself.
So pull your head out of his ass, lady.
Vince? What?
Say cheese.
Vince, will you shut up?
Liv, he says it's him.
Thanks, Fin. Get it to CSU to verify the print.
Well, well, Vince. So you're still saying
that you don't know our victim?
Because we found the necklace that you snatched off her neck
with your fingerprint on it.
My client will fully cooperate with this investigation
in exchange for certain concessions.
So you admit to pawning the necklace?
Yeah. But I didn't steal it. I found it
with the purse that was in that dumpster.
And I sure as hell ain't a killer.
You're a stalker.
An unfortunate misunderstanding
with a girlfriend and a former counselor.
Vincent's actions weren't prudent.
But he harbors no animosity toward women.
I can help.
You can help? How?
Just before I dove the dumpster,
someone ran past and threw the purse in.
A guy wearing a baseball hat.
And you didn't mention this before because...
He's mentioning it now.
So, if you bring in a real suspect, he can identify him.
Dick found an interesting new candidate.
Anton Thibodaux. Marga's number-one fan.
Guy's pretty well known around JSC.
He got busted last year for trespassing in Florida
outside the Astronaut Hall of Fame.
This one says, "See you in New York, Marga. Love, Anton. "
I saw him outside our hotel on Friday.
Think he's still there?
Not since her death. But I know where he will be.
Can you describe the guy?
Six-foot plus. Beard. Definite weirdo vibe.
I'm gonna take a wild guess.
Yeah, that's Thibodaux.
All right. You go left, I'll go right.
And this time, if he bolts, don't punch him.
Hey, hey, you guys. Hey, you guys, look at this.
Those are the three astronauts,
the Apollo ones. I got all three of them.
I got them. That's worth a lot of money. Hey, hey, you guys.
You ever seen these guys? That's Gus Grissom. He went up in flames.
I've got Neil Armstrong.
He spelled it N- I-E, but I think he spelled it wrong.
Well, Colonel Finley. What took you so long?
I knew you people would find me
the moment I heard the awful news.
You do know that I saw Marga the night that she was killed.
You admit you were at the hotel?
Well, of course.
Please. Sit.
We talked. She signed my book.
Look. I have it right here.
I have all the astronauts.
I have many of the cosmonauts, too. Right here.
But Marga and I, well, we corresponded regularly.
Well, I know that you wrote to her. Did she write you back?
Well, no. No, of course not. No, no. She was very, very busy.
She was always up there, doing very important work.
Work that I obviously can't talk to you about
because you don't have the proper clearances.
No offense. None taken.
Well, Marga and I were... We were very, very close.
I wrote her 33 letters this last year.
I don't write on the e-mail 'cause I don't trust the e-mail.
She was my good friend.
Well, what do you think, Doc?
He fits the description of a male in a ball cap.
Stalkers become violent when they're rejected.
The way that he tells it, Marga treated him with respect.
He's obsessive, clearly, but I'm not seeing the necessary volatility.
Did you notice anyone suspicious at the hotel?
No.
But whoever did this, I don't like him.
He took Marga away from me, and that's a big mistake to do that.
That's a big, big mistake to do that. Anton, let's sit down.
Marga and I, we were destined to be together.
I don't like whoever did this.
I could really hurt... I could really hurt the person who hurt her!
It's okay.
That enough volatility, Doc? We'll run a lineup, see if Beckwith can ID.
Just take your time, Vince. Look at each one.
I don't see him.
You said you would recognize the guy
who threw the purse into the dumpster.
And I would.
Vince, maybe you should take another look.
How many times I got to say it? None of them is the guy.
May I have a moment with my client?
He's playing us. He killed her in a robbery gone wrong.
Maybe. But we can't hold Thibodaux.
You sure? He's a pretty odd duck.
Who we've got nothing but circumstantial evidence on. Cut him loose.
I don't want to leave.
Look, we appreciate your cooperation, Mr. Thibodaux,
but we can handle it from here, so...
You don't understand. Marga was my good friend.
I can help you find the monster that did this.
I'll tell him to keep an eye on the folks
at the Hall of Science for us.
Okay.
Hey, Anton, my friend, let me bend
your ear down the hall for a sec, huh?
I know exactly how you can help us out.
So, what's next?
Take another shot at Beckwith?
Hey, Olivia.
Dickie?
Look how tall you are. Right?
Yeah. And I kind of go by Dick.
Of course you do. Sorry about that. What brings you here?
I wanted him to drop by
so he could meet the man that he's named after. Colonel?
Yeah, yeah. Okay. Take off.
Colonel, you got a minute?
Let me guess.
Kid as handsome as this has got to be named Dick.
Dick Stabler, meet Colonel Dick Finley.
It's an honor, sir. It's all mine.
Your dad told me a lot about you.
So, are you really going to the moon?
As a matter of fact, here's the launch vehicle that's taking me.
Now, when your teacher's talking about that in class,
you tell them you know the good-looking son of a bitch
that's gonna fly that thing.
You killed my friend!
Gun!
Keep your head down!
Anton, what have you done?
I did it! I got him!
Thibodaux, drop the gun! Now! Drop your weapon now!
Somebody call a bus.
I'm on it.
I don't even know where to start on my report.
I'm gonna do mine tomorrow. I got to get my boy home.
Go.
I'll walk you out.
You kept a bloodbath from getting a lot worse.
I just saw the gun and reacted.
We'd all be lucky to react that fast.
Look, I don't know how the hell you guys do this.
I got to get back to something safe, like flying rockets.
Not so fast, Colonel. Autograph for a fan?
You bet, John. Thank you.
Appreciate it.
In case I'm wrong.
I think it just started snowing in hell.
Well, Detective, it was real nice getting to know you.
You have a cut on your head.
You know what, Liv?
I got a Marine Corps function I got to go to tonight.
It would be a lot more fun if you were there.
You serious?
You doubting the word of a legendary astronaut?
I would love to go.
Should I call Elliot and see if he can join us?
I think you and me can handle this.
Meet you at the hotel around 8:00?
Okay. Okay.
I'm sorry you had to see all that. Sure you're okay?
Yeah. It was kind of scary, but I didn't see anything gross.
And I got to meet the Colonel.
Yeah, he's a pretty cool guy, huh?
How many of your friends can say
they were named after an astronaut?
He's like your hero, isn't he?
Yeah. Until you came along.
So why didn't you try to be like him, go into space, too?
I did try.
You know, your grandpa and me, we butted heads a lot.
You know, Dick kind of took me under his wing.
He's the reason why I joined the Corps, you know, applied to OCS.
He even pulled some strings to get me into flight training, but I...
You chickened out?
No, it's more like I saw what I already had.
You know, your mom, Maureen on the way...
I thought you guys got married
after you got out of the Marines.
Dude, you knocked up Mom?
My point is that it wasn't about me
being a fighter pilot anymore.
I mean, I had a wife and new baby on the way.
I wasn't even 20 years old.
So it was either follow my dream
or take responsibility, you know?
Yeah, I wanted to be like Dick,
but not as much as I wanted to do right by our family.
That make sense?
I don't know, Dad.
Flying jets would be too cool. And going to the moon?
You'd give up your family for that?
I'd do anything to get there.
Really? Anything?
Dad, anybody would.
Hey, Elliot. I wasn't expecting you.
I bet you weren't.
Hey, do you mind? Huh?
You! Time to leave.
All right. Here. Whoa. Whoa. Hey.
This yours? Dick?
Bye-bye. Hon, I'm sorry. He's an old friend of mine.
Well, that was awkward, huh?
Okay, okay. I'm sorry about Olivia.
You know, I should have checked
with you before asking her out to dinner.
I mean, if you're not gonna make a move...
Dinner with Olivia is off.
I think that's up to her to decide, don't you?
So, excuse me. I got to get dressed.
Dick, I know.
You know what?
Your game.
What are you talking about?
You ran point for us, all right.
You pointed us to Marga's girlfriend, her crewmate.
And when that junkie said he saw a guy with a ball cap,
you pointed us to Thibodaux,
knowing you could wind that nut-job up and pull the pin.
Look, if you've got something to say, Marine,
say it or get out.
Tell me why you murdered her.
I never murdered anybody.
No. No more lies. You owe me at least that much.
I owe you something?
I looked up to you.
Well, I'm sorry to disappoint.
Look, why don't we just calm down? I mean, this is all nuts.
I'm your friend, Elliot. I always have been.
And you come and barge in here
with all these wild accusations.
Come on. Have a drink. Huh?
What was it?
Afraid you weren't going to be the hotshot anymore?
Wait. I'm not the one that washed out.
You knew you were about to. Heading up that lunar return,
you know that was just a bone they were throwing you.
That was an empty title. I mean, 2018.
That's a long way away.
Is this what happens to cops?
Everybody becomes suspicious?
Marga Janssen. Lunar expert.
Media star. Ah. She's a rookie.
She's NASA's new hotshot.
It's a good thing you didn't try to become me
because you never would have made it!
That night, at Marga's hotel, what pissed you off so much?
Was it because she was young?
That she was going to take your job in Houston?
Or was it when your sweet-talk to her
was just falling flat 'cause she's a lesbian?
Get the hell out. So you grabbed her.
But your reflexes aren't what they used to be
and all you got was her necklace.
Damn it, Stabler. I'm gonna throw you through the door.
Why are your fingerprints on the necklace?
It's a perfect match to the one
that you left on the model rocket.
The lab just confirmed it for me.
It's not the junkie's. It's yours.
Well, if you aren't some kind of little pissant!
You know, I never should have lifted a finger for you!
She was going to take the moon from me.
Get up.
I said get up.
Come on, Elliot. Hey, it doesn't have to go down this way.
We can solve this. Two Marines, working together...
You murdered that woman, you dump her body in the river,
and you have the nerve to shake my boy's hand?
Elliot.
Is everything okay?
No.