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Happy birthday, baby.

 

Donald, honey?

 

Get up.

 

It's dinnertime, sweetie.

 

I sent the staff home early.

 

I thought maybe we could celebrate your birthday alone.

 

Wonderful.

 

There's food and champagne downstairs.

 

But if you want to make a wish

 

and blow out your candles right here...

 

What do I have to wish for when I've already got you?

 

Oh, that's sweet, honey.

 

But the wax is dripping onto the cake.

 

Ooh, look at you in that dress.

 

What I wouldn't give to be 20 years younger.

 

Try 60.

 

Oh, I forgot to tell you.

 

I had a call from Dr. Carroll today.

 

He told me that the last

 

of the malignant cells in my prostate are gone.

 

It's a miracle, he said.

 

Someone my age, making a full recovery.

 

A full recovery? Yeah.

 

So... there's no chance the cancer's coming back?

 

Carroll didn't think so.

 

You know what I think made me better?

 

You.

 

It helps to have a young wife.

 

Who knows, the way I feel now,

 

I might just push for 100!

 

Sweetie pie, what are you doing?

 

I thought we were going downstairs.

 

We are. You are.

 

I'm sorry, Donnie.

 

But this isn't what I signed up for.

 

You weren't supposed to live this long.

 

Oh, my God.

 

Why won't you die already?

 

No.

 

medium 614

 

...following a one-day adjournment,

 

court will resume this afternoon

 

in the Mallory Kessinger trial.

 

Kessinger, as virtually every news outlet

 

in the country will tell you,

 

stands accused of murdering her billionaire husband,

 

J. Donald Kessinger, last August.

 

Come on, would you marry that guy for a billion dollars?

 

Would anyone marry that guy for a billion dollars?

 

Okay, enough talking, not enough eating.

 

Come on, guys. We're leaving in ten minutes.

 

Mommy's got a meeting with the district attorney,

 

and I can't be late.

 

Yeah, almost forgot.

 

I won't be home for dinner tonight.

 

I'm babysitting. For the Quinlans?

 

A friend of theirs.

 

Her name is, uh, Dr. Behrend.

 

I think she's a therapist or something.

 

And according to Mrs. Quinlan, if I do a good job,

 

this could turn into a regular thing.

 

Well, make sure we have her information.

 

Name, address, phone number.

 

And if I'm there past 8:00, I'll call.

 

...to murder her husband.

This video footage was taken while Mallory Kessinger

 

was vacationing in St. Bart's

 

just one week after her husband's death.

 

What?

 

I'm taking an interest in your work.

 

Uh, I'm guessing this is yours?

 

Oh, thanks.

 

That kind of morning, you know?

 

I finally get an interview with the city planning department

 

and the lock on my briefcase gives.

 

Here's hoping I find the paper

 

that told me what floor I'm supposed to go to.

 

Well, I'm heading that way. I could show you.

 

Oh, thanks, but I think I still have some things

 

I have to collect.

 

Maybe, if I'm very lucky,

 

I won't have to crawl under any cars to get them.

 

Wow, how did you beat me up here?

 

And what happened to your vest?

 

Oh, don't tell me you had to crawl under those cars.

 

Manny, I'm only interested

 

in what's best for my client

 

and what's best for my client

 

is for this whole ordeal to be over.

 

In fact, nothing would please Mrs. Kessinger more

 

than to be able to get on with the business

 

of grieving for her husband.

 

Hmm.

 

I'm sure she also wouldn't mind

 

getting her hands on the inheritance as well.

 

Well, since you mention it,

 

the fact that her assets are frozen while she's on trial

 

has proven to be an additional hardship.

 

But look, we've both been in that courtroom

 

for more than a week now.

 

We've both seen the way the jury is looking at my client.

 

They're captivated by her.

 

They're not going to send her to prison.

 

Face it, Manny.

 

It's time to cut your losses.

 

Make a deal.

 

If your offer does not include

 

the charge of first-degree murder,

 

we don't have anything to talk about.

 

Come on, Manny.

 

There are no witnesses to this so-called murder.

 

Your whole case comes down to some forensics guy

 

who's willing to testify

 

the blow to the head of Mr. Kessinger

 

was not the result of his unfortunate fall down the stairs.

 

Well, guess what?

 

I got a forensics guy, too.

 

And he's gonna say the exact opposite.

 

I'll take my chances. Really?

 

Are you that sure you're in the catbird seat here?

 

I mean, I haven't put Mallory

 

on the stand yet.

 

When I do, believe me,

 

the jury will see that she was the very definition

 

of a loving wife.

 

She gave Donald Kessinger the best 14 months of his life.

 

Fourteen and a half.

 

Uh-huh.

 

All right,

 

sorry we couldn't work anything out.

 

I'll see you back in court.

 

Impressions?

 

???aa

 

I mean, I think if he was 40 years older

 

and a billion dollars richer,

 

they would make a perfect couple.

 

Sir...

 

What is that man doing in your office?

 

Oh, him?

 

He's tech support. Apparently, there's

 

some sort of glitch in the municipal mainframe

 

that's got a lot of the computers

 

in the building acting buggy.

 

Why?

 

Because I ran into him this morning in the parking garage.

 

You know, he told me that he was interviewing for a job

 

with the city planning department.

 

Okay, so, maybe he was.

 

Yeah, but he keeps changing his clothes.

 

That's the third outfit I've seen him in today.

 

Uh, there's no law against that.

 

Yeah, but it's weird.

 

Okay, let's see, uh...

 

What else?

 

You've got all my numbers.

 

You know when and what Jeb's supposed to eat.

 

Uh, I think we've pretty much covered it all.

 

You have nothing to worry about, Dr. Behrend.

 

Jeb is in good hands.

 

Real quick, uh, before I go,

 

in the interest of full disclosure, Jeb can be

 

a little bit of a handful.

 

Especially when it comes to sitters.

 

And that's why I'm going to pay you double

 

whatever the Quinlans pay you.

 

Wow, um, okay.

 

But Jeb doesn't look like a handful at all.

 

Yeah, don't fall for that.

 

He'll eat you alive.

 

Seriously?

 

Just keep an eye on him.

 

Oh, and if he does do something bad,

 

do not let him convince you that it was Mr. Teefers.

 

He's Jeb's imaginary friend.

 

He's a beaver.

 

About yea high, big teeth.

 

He gets blamed for a lot around here, if you know what I mean.

 

Isn't that right, Jebby?

 

Anyway.

 

I'll be gone a few hours,

 

and you have my cell phone if you need me, okay?

 

Okay.

 

Bye-bye, sweetheart.

 

Be a good boy for Mama, okay?

 

She's begging you.

 

So, Jeb. What do you, uh...

 

what do you say we play outside before it gets too dark?

 

What do you say?

 

What was that, Mr. Teefers?

 

You think that sounds like a lot of fun?

 

He's not there.

 

He's not?

 

Well, then, where is he?

 

Did you hear anything at work

 

about our voting district changing?

 

No, why?

 

I got an e-mail from the city that says it moved.

 

Sort of a weird time of the year to tell us, though.

 

I mean, there's not gonna be another election

 

for what, ten months?

 

Well, Devalos mentioned something about

 

there being a glitch in the municipal mainframe today.

 

Maybe that e-mail went out before it was supposed to.

 

Oh, shoot, my computer's about to die.

 

I'm still downloading these specs from Keith.

 

Could you grab my power cord?

 

It's in the dining room in my briefcase.

 

Honey, honey, can you come here now?!

 

What's going on? There's a man outside.

 

He's walking a dog. He's wearing a dress.

 

I think he's following me.

 

I saw him three times at work today.

 

Each time he was wearing something different.

 

Different dress?

 

No. It's the first time I've seen him in a dress.

 

The dress thing is new.

 

I don't know what to tell you.

 

Maybe he's changing into a pantsuit or something.

 

Look, I'm telling you.

 

There was a man out there.

 

He was walking a dog and wearing a dress.

 

He's been following me all day.

 

Allison, you work for the district attorney's office.

 

It's not like anybody can just wander around in there.

 

Well, this guy does. Sort of.

 

I mean, he fixes computers or something.

 

Well, so he's not really a stranger.

 

I mean, I-I bet if you ask around work tomorrow

 

you can probably find out who he is.

I guess so.

But I've never seen him before today.

 

Well, for all we know, he could live in the neighborhood.

 

I mean, maybe you seeing him now,

 

that could just be a big coincidence.

 

No. Maybe.

 

I don't know. It's dark.

 

It's a pretty good distance from here to the sidewalk.

 

You know, maybe he's wearing a billowy coat or something

 

and your eyes are playing tricks on you.

 

A billowy coat?

 

I'm just trying to find a logical explanation

 

so I back to checking my e-mail. Your e-mail.

 

Okay, go back and check your e-mail.

 

Please, don't do this!

 

You've gotta believe me.

 

I'm begging you.

 

I didn't take anything

 

from you!

 

I'm just as much a victim in this as you are!

 

I'm going to ask you just one more time.

 

You tell me what I want to hear,

 

and you come out of this with nothing more than a severe limp.

 

Where is my money?

 

Please, Charlie.

 

I didn't take it.

 

I'd give you my own money, but that's all gone, too!

 

Please. You have to believe me.

 

I'm begging you, please.

 

I got good news for you, old buddy.

 

Looks like you're not going to have to worry

 

about that limp after all.

 

Charlie...

 

You okay?

 

Yeah, just a weird dream.

 

That guy that I saw outside the window was in it.

 

Wait a second.

 

Now you're dreaming about this guy?

 

Mmm.

 

Al, please, for your sake, for my sake...

 

you gotta find a way to get this guy out of your head.

 

Al, what the hell are you doing?

 

Where's my husband?

 

What did you with him? Al, your husband?

 

What the hell are you talking about?

 

Where is he?! Tell me where he is now!

 

Mom?

 

What do you think you're doing?

 

Why are you pointing that at Dad?

 

Step back.

 

Ariel, look at him.

 

This man is not your father.

 

Dad, what is she talking about?

 

Why is she acting this way?

 

No, Mommy! I don't care if you guys are fighting.

 

You can't hurt Daddy.

 

I don't understand.

 

Why are you protecting this man?

 

Why do you keep calling him Daddy?

 

Because that's who he is: our dad,

 

and we're not going to let you hurt him.

 

It wasn't easy, but everyone's calmed down

 

and getting ready for school.

 

The official story is, you had a whopper of a nightmare

 

and woke up pretty confused.

 

Okay.

 

Once more with feeling.

 

My name is Joe Dubois.

 

You and I got married on the beach

 

in San Luis Obispo, California.

 

It was beautiful,

 

even though it happened a day after it was supposed to.

 

We tell people that's probably the weekend Ariel was conceived,

 

although we both know you were about five weeks pregnant

when we got married.

 

For the last time, Al, I'm your husband.

 

When our daughters look at me, they see your husband.

 

Something's going on with you, obviously.

 

It might be obvious to you, but...

 

Joe...

 

when I look at you, I still just see a stranger.

 

Okay.

 

Well, is he better-looking than the real me?

 

It's not funny.

 

What are you doing anyway?

 

What does it look like I'm doing?

 

I'm getting on with my day.

 

Look, this is definitely weird.

 

But you're not in danger.

 

And now that you aren't pointing

 

a pair of scissors at me anymore, I'm not in danger.

 

So let's just ride it out.

 

Temperature's up to an unseasonably warm 78 degrees.

 

So you can leave your jackets at home today, folks.

 

Dan?

 

Thanks, Ted.

 

The governor returned to Phoenix today,

 

insisting that his trip to Washington doesn't mean

 

he's interested in a run at a higher office...

 

Okay, those guys on TV right now--

 

they both look like you.

 

All those people that I saw yesterday,

 

they all look exactly like you do now.

 

I mean, I know I wasn't looking at the same guy.

 

They were different people.

 

I just... I just couldn't recognize them

 

for who they were.

 

So, everyone looks like me?

Like this to you now?

 

Well, no, not everyone.

 

No, not the girls.

 

Not my boss.

 

Not that lawyer I met with yesterday.

 

I don't get it.

 

Why do some people look different

 

and some people don't?

 

In other news,

 

the corpse of an apparent murder victim

 

was found in a patch of forest near Chandler

 

that's being cleared for a housing development.

 

Authorities have yet to identify the man,

 

but evidence at the scene suggests

 

that he was chased through the woods and shot several times.

 

Oh, my God, I had a dream about that murder last night.

 

Oh, yeah? Did you see the guy who did it?

 

Yeah, I saw him as clear as day.

 

I saw the victim, too.

 

They both looked...

 

a lot like you.

 

The body appears to have been shot several times.

 

It was found early this morning by an indigent man.

 

It was about 6:00 a.M.

 

He was out walking his dog...

 

Hey, what are you doing here?

 

Lee, is that you?

 

Uh, yeah, is there someone else you think I might be?

 

Just don't worry about it.

 

I'm just having a very weird morning.

 

This murder--

 

I dreamt about it last night--

 

sort of.

 

Okay.

 

We know the victim's name is Peter Musgrove,

 

but if you happened to get a look at the shooter...

 

I did and I didn't.

 

But I actually saw some things I think could be useful.

 

The victim and the murderer knew each other.

 

They-they were arguing about money.

 

And the guy who got shot

 

kept calling the other guy Charlie.

 

Charlie. That's a start.

 

Anything else?

 

Nothing that-that you could use.

 

Peter! Peter!

 

Peter!

 

We I.D.'d the victim from a fingerprint check.

 

Looks like his wife just got here.

 

Handsome woman.

 

Hey, Jeb, do you want your sandwich cut in half

 

or just regular?

 

Cut in half, please.

 

One late afternoon snack coming right up.

 

Oh, my God, what are you doing?!

 

That's my history book!

 

My take-home quiz-- you ruined it!

 

MAN : Doesn't it just break your heart?

 

Deep down he wants to be good,

 

but he just can't help himself sometimes.

 

You scared me.

 

You're still scaring me.

 

Yeah, well...

 

you scared me yesterday, so I guess we're even.

 

I scared you?

 

Sure.

 

I'm not used to anyone but Jeb being able to see me,

 

so I guess you're, uh, special

 

like he is.

 

Who are you?

 

Who do you think I am?

 

I don't know.

 

Some dead guy in a beaver costume?

 

Not just any dead guy

 

in a beaver costume.

 

You ever hear of Ashmore University?

 

Yeah. You ever watch

 

one of their football games on TV?

 

The Beavers-- the Ashmore Beavers.

 

We finished eight and four this year.

 

I am the Ashmore Beaver.

 

Or was.

 

Dressed up like this for games.

 

Got the crowd going.

 

Or used to, anyway.

 

I climbed on top of the scoreboard

 

during the homecoming game this year.

 

Fell off and broke my neck.

 

Oh, I'm...

 

uh, I'm sorry.

 

Did you die while you had the costume on?

 

Yeah.

 

Of course, never having been dead before,

 

I didn't realize how things worked.

 

Like, you know, I died in this costume,

 

so now I'll be stuck in it forever.

 

Okay.

 

What are you doing here?

 

I mean, did you know Jeb while you were alive or something?

 

Just sort of crossed paths one day.

 

Realized he could see me.

 

He thought I was one of those, you know, magical creatures.

 

So I hammed it up a little bit.

 

Starting talking like that stupid dinosaur on TV.

 

: Hey, Jeb, I'm your friend Mr. Teefers.

 

: Like that.

 

Turns out the kid could use my help,

 

so I decided to hang around for a while--

 

pretend to be his imaginary friend.

 

I give him advice sometimes,

 

try to keep him on the straight and narrow.

 

Honestly, it works out for both of us.

 

I get pretty lonely sometimes.

 

Look, I'm sorry if I'm weirding you out.

 

It's just you seem nice.

 

So I wanted to warn you about Jeb.

 

Uh...

 

Kid's got more issues than a newsstand.

 

Seriously, if I were you,

 

I'd find myself a new babysitting gig

 

before he Krazy-Glues my hands together.

 

He did that, you know.

 

Two sitters ago. Not pretty.

 

I can't... I mean, I can't just leave now.

 

I already promised his mom that I'd stay and help out all week.

 

I'm supposed to drive him to school tomorrow

 

and then pick him up.

 

She can't find anyone to replace me now.

 

Well, you do what you have to do,

 

but, honestly, I don't see things working out.

 

Jeb can be a real handful when he doesn't like someone.

 

And that stuff about your homework, trust me,

 

that's not even close to the worst he can do.

 

So you think this trial's

actually going to wrap up tomorrow?

 

I don't know. Devalos seems to think so.

 

He doesn't think that Mallory's lawyer

 

will actually put her on the stand.

 

I'm sorry. I can't do this.

 

Do what?

 

This.

 

Oh.

 

You want me to sleep in the living room?

 

You would do that?

 

I'm not happy about it, but sure.

 

I'm your husband.

 

I know this will pass.

 

No, wait a second.

 

No, don't. Just stay.

 

But do me a favor.

 

Will you check my e-mail before you shut that thing down?

 

Devalos said that the computers

 

at the office aren't working.

 

You have one new e-mail from the city of Phoenix.

 

"Your voting district has changed?"

 

Come on. Didn't we already get this e-mail?

 

Just delete it.

 

What?

 

Nothing. It's just the kids are all asleep.

 

It might be a good time for a little adult swim.

 

Are you serious? Come on.

 

Isn't it bad enough that I'm in bed with someone

 

who looks like a stranger?

 

Do you think I'm really gonna compound that felony

 

by actually sleeping with you?

 

Are you sure?

 

Might be kinda fun.

 

We are still in the same room.

 

Don't push your luck.

 

I knew we agreed on 100,000,

 

but you know, I'm the one taking all the risk here.

 

And I gotta be honest with you, I'm starting to get cold feet.

 

Look, what I'm doing for you, it's a pretty unique service.

 

I figure it's worth $200,000.

 

Excellent. I'm glad you agree.

 

Excuse me.

 

You're gonna have to wrap up your call now.

 

The recess is over. You need to return to the jury box.

 

Don't worry. You just bought yourself an acquittal.

 

What do you mean, they all look the same?

 

They all look like him. They all look

 

like the man I've been seeing.

 

Every single one of 'em.

 

Look, I know how crazy this sounds. Do you?

 

Look, in my dream, one of the jurors

 

was negotiating a bribe: $200,000

 

for an acquittal in this case.

 

Allison, I don't know what to do with that.

 

Talk to the judge.

 

The case has been compromised.

 

So you say, but I'm about to make my closing argument.

 

Now if you could identify the juror you saw,

 

maybe I could make a case

 

for an investigation of that person,

 

but barring that, I'm afraid my hands are tied.

 

Hello.

 

Hey, it's Lee.

 

Thought you'd want to know we just arrested someone

 

for the murder of Peter Musgrove.

 

Was his name Charlie?

 

Charlie Boller-- Peter Musgrove's brother-in-law.

 

And get this: Charlie's got a history.

 

He already assaulted this guy once last year.

 

We got him dead to rights, and he knows it.

 

He's copping a plea.

 

So listen, given you're the one who put us onto him,

 

I thought you might want to sit in

 

while I take his statement.

 

Allison, you still there?

 

Yeah. Sorry.

 

Um, hey, do me a favor.

 

When I get there, can you make sure

 

you're wearing your badge?

 

I'm having... some trouble with faces today.

 

Okay, last stop: preschool.

 

Everybody out.

 

Mom told me that after this week,

 

you won't be babysitting me anymore.

 

But I don't want you to go.

 

I like you.

 

Sure you do.

 

Why else would you ruin my homework

 

and tear up my textbook?

 

Is that why you're quitting?

 

Because Mr. Teefers told me to play a joke on you?

 

What are you talking about?

 

What do you mean Mr. Teefers told you to play a joke on me?

 

He tells me to do a lot of stuff.

 

I try to tell people

 

when Mr. Teefers tells me to do things,

 

but they never believe me, Mom especially.

 

She just cries.

 

I gotta go now.

 

I told you to find yourself a new gig.

 

I tried to be nice about it, but you wouldn't listen.

 

So now? No more Mr. Nice Beaver.

 

No more Mr. Nice Beaver?

 

Jeb doesn't need you, okay?

 

I'm his friend, not you.

 

If you're his friend,

 

then why do you keep getting him into so much trouble?

 

A few weeks before I died, my girlfriend broke up with me.

 

We'd been together since our freshman year in high school.

 

When I asked her why, she said her therapist thought

 

I'd become a domineering influence,

 

that she needed to get away from me

 

to find out who she really was.

 

I don't understand.

 

What does any of that have...?

 

Jeb's mother is a therapist.

 

Was she treating your girlfriend?

 

Are you seriously using her five-year-old

 

to get back at her?

 

Hey, what can I say?

 

Once a domineering influence, always a domineering influence.

 

You happen to notice those bags under her eyes?

 

All me, baby.

 

She hardly even sleeps these days

 

'cause she's so worried about what Jeb might get into.

 

Someone's waving at you.

 

Yeah, that's him.

 

That's my brother-in-law, Peter Musgrove.

 

And yeah, I'm the one who killed him.

 

I'm not denying it.

 

A bullet in the brain. Any particular reason

 

or are you just finishing what you started a year ago

when you assaulted him?

 

I didn't assault him. I beat the crap out of him.

 

He stole some checks from me.

 

Went out and bought himself a lot of expensive things.

 

I told him I'd kill him if he ever did it again.

 

Couple days ago, I get a call from the phone company.

 

They say my last check bounced.

 

I tell them that's impossible.

 

They don't want to listen.

 

So I get on the phone with my bank.

 

They say there's a reason the last check didn't clear.

 

They say I logged onto my account that morning,

transferred every penny I had to some account offshore.

 

Thing is, I hadn't been on my online account in weeks.

 

Are you saying your

 

brother-in-law cleaned you out? He was always messing

 

with my computer every time he and my sister came over.

 

He hacked me or something.

 

So I loaded up my rifle, went to pay him a visit.

 

He swore it wasn't him,

 

that the same exact thing had happened to him;

 

his bank account had been cleared out, too.

 

I didn't believe him, so I shot the dumb son of a bitch.

 

Joke was on me, though

 

'cause I found out the very next day

 

everything Peter was telling me was the truth.

 

What? My sister called,

 

asked me if I'd seen him.

 

She was a wreck.

 

She thought he'd run off on her because-- get this--

 

their bank accounts had been wiped out

 

Just like Peter said.

 

But couldn't he have

 

cleaned out those accounts?

 

Maybe he really was planning on leaving your sister.

 

He knew I'd kill him if he left.

 

Besides, later that day, I had a friend of mine

 

take a look at my computer,

 

see if he could figure out what had happened with my money.

 

He said it was all because of an e-mail I got from the city.

 

Something about my voting district changing.

 

Turns out the e-mail was a fake.

 

When I opened it, I downloaded something

 

called spyware onto my hard drive.

 

And just like that,

 

the guy who sent it had access to all of my information:

 

my credit card statements,

 

my PIN numbers, my social.

 

It was easy for him to make the bank think he was me.

 

He had all the numbers. He was me.

 

He was you.

 

That e-mail you opened--

 

you said it was about voting districts?

 

I opened one of those.

 

Of course you did.

 

Keep an eye on this guy.

 

Hey. Where you going?

 

What do you mean, "Of course you did"?

 

The last few days, I've been seeing this face

 

almost everywhere I go. I see it when I look at Joe.

 

I saw it on those men in there.

 

I see it when I look at you.

 

And now I think I'm finally starting to understand why.

 

I think it's the face of the man

 

who's been sending out those e-mails

 

telling everyone that their voting district has changed.

 

He's an identity thief.

 

That's why when I look at you or I look at Joe, I see him.

 

Because he's taken your identities.

 

Considering how often I've been seeing him lately,

 

he must have done it to hundreds,

 

maybe even thousands of people.

 

I look like who now?

 

Look, Lee, just trust me.

 

Do what I'm doing.

 

Go to your bank. Talk to somebody.

 

Maybe we could stop him from taking anything else.

 

Hi, you've reached Joe Dubois.

 

Please leave your name and number and I'll call you back.

 

Hey, honey, it's me again.

 

Look, I just want to let you know

 

I just put our credit cards on hold.

 

Sorry to leave so many messages.

 

Just... I'm at the bank.

 

Call me when you get this, okay?

 

Hey! Hey, stranger.

 

Uh! Long time no see.

 

It's you.

 

It's the real you.

 

I can finally see you.

 

I guess this craziness is finally over.

 

Did you get my message?

 

Is that why you're here?

 

Sorry. Do I know you?

 

Thanks again for your patience, Mr. Dubois.

 

If I could just get your signature,

 

we can complete the wire transfer

 

for your new account.

 

Wire transfer? What are you talking about?

 

Honey, why are you transferring our mon...?

 

It was easy for him

 

to make the bank think he was me.

 

He had the numbers. He was me.

 

You're him, aren't you?!

 

You're the man who's been sending out all those e-mails!

 

When I've been looking at Joe, I see you.

 

And now that you're here, pretending to be Joe, I see him.

 

You're the identity thief.

 

Sir, this man's not my husband.

 

Hey! Stop him!

 

So this is the man whose face you've been seeing everywhere?

 

The actual man? ALLISON: That's right.

 

Well, how can you be so sure of that?

 

If everyone looks like this man to you, it's...

 

Well, that's over now.

 

The only time I see his face now is

 

when I see him, the real him.

 

We checked the guy out.

 

Turns out his name's Fred Rovick,

 

and he does have a record-- not long, but colorful.

 

Way back in the '80s, he got arrested for hacking

 

his way behind an IRS firewall and erasing his dad's tax bill.

 

This is when he was a sophomore in high school.

 

Turns out a felony conviction makes it difficult

????ff

to land a gig with the big software firms,

 

so Fred's had a tough go of it.

 

Spent the last couple years fixing computers

 

with the Brain Brigade.

 

You know, those guys who come over to your place

 

and fix your computer for 25 bucks an hour?

 

Yeah, I've heard of them.

 

My wife used them to help set up our wireless network at home.

 

Well, turns out Fred meets a lot of wives

 

while he's out doing his job.

 

His, uh, manager told us over the past six months or so

 

that Fred's been going on a bunch of maintenance calls

 

for one client, in particular:

 

a woman by the name of, uh, Mallory Kessinger.

 

Mallory Kessinger?

 

The woman I'm prosecuting?

 

He wasn't just working for her.

 

According to his manager at the Brain Brigade,

 

he's been bragging about the big game he bagged

 

up at the Kessinger estate.

 

They're lovers.

 

I think he may be the-the person who's attempting

 

to pay off that juror to make sure that Mallory's acquitted.

 

Okay. Wait a second.

 

Didn't you tell me that the juror was asking for $200,000?

 

Where does someone who works for the Brain Brigade

 

get a hold of that kind of money?

 

Oh, from us.

 

Every single computer that the city owns

 

has been acting weird the last few days.

 

We checked with the IT department.

 

They've been investigating the possibility

 

that it's not just some weird glitch.

 

They think they've been hacked,

 

that someone broke into the city mainframe

 

and used it to send out thousands of e-mails

 

telling everyone that their voting district had changed.

 

Oh, yeah. I got one of those.

 

I've just been too busy with this trial to open it.

 

Delete it.

 

Those e-mails are full of spyware.

 

Anyone who downloaded the attachment

 

with the map of the new districts

 

got, uh, software on their hard drive

 

that gave the hacker access to everything on their computer:

 

personal information, passwords, you name it.

 

You got to admit, it's a pretty good plan.

 

Official-looking e-mail from the city?

 

No one's gonna think twice about opening it.

 

I didn't.

 

I think that's why I've been seeing this guy everywhere.

 

Everyone who opened this e-mail,

 

everyone whose, uh, identity was stolen,

 

they all looked like Fred Rovick.

 

Look, sir,

 

the jury's still deliberating.

 

We need to tell the judge

 

that one of the jurors has been tampered with.

 

Maybe we can get her to-to declare a mistrial.

 

Based on what, exactly?

 

Look, I'm inclined to believe you both,

 

but even so, there's no proof,

 

nothing I can present to the judge.

 

I can't even tell her which juror is compromised.

 

Well...

 

I guess it's a moot point. I'm needed back in court.

 

The jury in the Kessinger case just came back.

 

What the hell did you say to Jeb?

 

Mr. Teefers.

 

Good. You're here.

 

Yeah, I'm here.

 

I'm here every night at 9:00.

 

That's when Jeb and I usually talk.

 

But tonight, he just ignored me.

 

He kept mumbling, "Go away."

 

What gives?

 

Yeah. Sorry.

 

But I don't think Jeb's going

 

to be paying much attention to you anymore.

 

Really?

 

I doubt that.

 

See, you might have said something to him

 

that will work in the short term,

 

but think about it. You can't outlast me.

 

I'm in this for eternity.

 

I can visit Jeb whenever and wherever I want.

 

And eventually...

 

he'll start listening again.

 

See, you're missing the point.

 

Come with me.

 

There's something I want to show you.

 

What is that?

 

What the hell is that?

 

You can rent one at a costume shop.

 

Cost all the money I earned this week,

 

but it was worth it, to get you out of Jeb's life.

 

Get me out of Jeb's life?

 

I don't know what you're talking about,

 

but I think I just figured out who I'm gonna mess with

 

after I get tired of Jeb's mom.

 

Hope you're ready to get it on, kid,

 

'cause you just made my list

 

of things to do.

 

After I put Jeb to bed,

 

: Mr. Teefers paid him a visit.

 

That stupid voice you do?

 

It was easy to imitate.

 

I told Jeb that I was going away.

 

That he wouldn't be seeing Mr. Teefers anymore.

 

He was sad, but I explained

 

that he was ready to be on his own.

 

And that there was one thing that he had to look out for.

 

Mr. Teefers' evil twin.

 

And I warned him

 

that he would be showing up

 

and trying to get him to do stuff,

 

but that Jeb should ignore him.

 

Until he goes away.

 

And he will go away.

 

You seriously think the kid's gonna buy that?

 

I'm gonna walk in there right now

 

and tell him I'm the real Mr. Teefers.

 

That one he saw earlier tonight?

 

That's the evil twin.

 

You could give it a shot.

 

But I wouldn't get my hopes up.

 

See, after our conversation,

 

I told him that we had to seal our pact.

 

And I had Jeb tie

 

a red ribbon around Mr. Teefers' wrist,

 

so that he'd be able to tell

 

whether he was talking to the real Mr. Teefers.

 

Come on.

 

Sucks, huh?

 

That the one thing that you can't change

 

is the way that you look.

 

So I guess you'll be moving along now.

 

You played me.

 

I can't believe you played me. What are you, like, 16?

 

You're already worse than that bitch therapist.

 

Leave.

 

Do something else.

 

Or go to wherever it is you're supposed to be heading

 

because there's nothing for you here.

 

Okay? Not anymore.

 

Now. I have Spanish homework.

 

Am I surprised that the jury declared itself

 

to be hopelessly deadlocked?

 

Yes and no.

 

Frankly, I was expecting the speedy acquittal

 

that my client deserves.

 

But at the end of the day,

 

a mistrial works in our favor, too.

 

Mallory Kessinger is walking home a free woman,

 

and that's clearly the most important thing.

 

Do you expect the district attorney

 

to refile charges against your client?

 

That would be a very foolhardy move indeed.

 

Mr. Devalos has had his day in court.

 

I think it's time for everyone to move on.

 

REPORTER 2: Mallory, do you have any comments?

 

Um...

 

I loved my husband.

 

I loved Donald,

 

and I miss him so, so badly.

 

I just hope everyone realizes that now.

 

200 grand to get access to a couple billion?

 

That'll be the best money she ever spent.

 

Well, she didn't even spend her own money.

 

She and her boyfriend stole it.

 

True.

 

But there is a bright side.

 

They didn't steal anything from us.

 

Thank goodness you showed up at the bank

 

before the transfer went through.

 

Hmm.

 

Coming to bed?

 

Well, you certainly are in an awfully good mood.

 

Well, the girls are asleep.

 

When you look at me, you no longer see Fred Rovick,

 

international man of mystery.

 

And I'm holding a certain rain check.

 

Hmm.

 

Come on.

 

I'm dying to cash this thing in.

 

Hmm. Hello?

 

FRED : Hey, Mallory.

 

How's the first day of the rest of your life going?

 

Freddy!

 

Going just fine.

 

Well, there is the occasional moment

 

where I do miss the late J. Donald.

 

But then I just go on the computer

 

and buy myself something.

 

And that helps me feel better.

 

Now, listen, Freddy.

 

I've been seeing your face all over the news

 

the past couple days.

 

I'm so sorry that the police figured out

 

you stole all those identities.

 

Yeah. Me, too.

 

Don't think I'll be back in Phoenix for a while,

 

or even the U.S.

 

Aww. I'm gonna miss you so, so much.

 

I'm so glad to get to hear your voice.

 

Mmm.

 

But, Freddy, listen, if you ever need anything...

 

maybe a loan to keep you afloat wherever you are ...

 

I'm only a phone call away.

 

Actually, Mallory, I'm pretty well set for money.

 

I've been working something else

 

since I went underground.

 

Well, I'm glad you're doing all right, Freddy.

 

But I'm gonna have to get off now, okay?

 

It's my late husband's business manager,

 

and I've been waiting for him to confirm

 

that the last of the assets are in my name now.

 

Sure. You go.

 

But the business guy's not calling

 

to tell you you're swimming in money.

 

He's calling to tell you you're dead broke.

 

That's not funny.

 

It's true, Mallory.

 

Every single penny is gone.

 

I cleaned you out.

 

See, I didn't like having to steal

 

from all those innocent people,

 

but I knew there was no other way

 

to get that juror in our pocket.

 

I needed you to get off

 

so you'd have access to your husband's money.

 

Then I'd have access to it, too.

 

You-You messed with my computer, too?

 

What did you think was gonna happen, Mallory?

 

You and me'd live happily ever after?

 

Couple billion dollars goes a long way where I am.

 

I'm feeling so flush

 

that I even returned the 200K I stole

 

from those poor working stiffs, plus 7% interest.

 

It only seemed right.

 

What about me? How the hell am I supposed to live?

 

You'll figure something out.

 

After all, you've still got your looks.

 

You okay?

 

Yeah.

 

Honey,

 

what is seven percent of $25,000?

 

It's a little over $1,700. Why?

 

Oh, nothing.

 

I'm just starting to wish

 

that Fred Rovick had been able

 

to get that money out of our account.

 

We could have come out ahead on the deal.