The Mysteries of Laura

Thank you. Reynaldo!

Detective.

Hit and run. Died on impact.

No wallet. No ID.

Just once, could a victim carry

at least a library card?

Maybe he was robbed.

I don't think a thief would have left this behind.

Okay, so, no tire marks,

so our driver either fell asleep at the wheel

or we're looking at...

Intentional vehicular homicide.

Anything to work with? School books? iPod?

Only thing in his bag was a set of keys

and some very kind bud.

Excuse me?

- Marijuana. - "Kind bud"?

Is that what the kids are calling it these days?

That's what the kids have always called it.

I knew that.

And $1,500, all hundreds. All hundreds.

Oh, the plot thickens.

That's a lot of walking-around money for a teenager.

Unless the teenager was a drug dealer

taken out in a turf war.

Is that what that famous Diamond gut tells you?

I'm going to leave my gut out of this one.

Stomach's still queasy

from the bacon, egg and cheese I scarfed.

Speaking of scarfing,

how was your date with Food-truck Tony last night?

You take out, or did he deliver?

Wait a minute,

how did you even know that I had a date last night?

Are you having me followed?

It's hardly worth the trouble considering,

and just ask the grumpy, old babysitter.

Of course, my father.

Benedict Arnold Diamond, your source on the inside.

What'd it cost you?

Just a, uh, gift card from Bagel World.

The man sure loves his everything flagels.

Unbelievable.

My date went fine, thank you very much.

Better than fine.

I'm so sorry to interrupt this super-awkward moment.

Um, prints came back.

Hit-and-run victim is Miguel Santos, 17, of Greenpoint.

Arrested for tagging when he was 12.

Dad's on his way in.

- School record? - Miguel hadn't shown up

to Van Wyck High School since last May.

How does a kid not show up to school

without a parent going ballistic?

Who would do that to Miguel?

How well did you know your son, Mr. Santos?

I know him like...

Like he's etched in mi corazon.

- You understand, detective? - Si, si.

__

_

__

_

__

_

__

- What? - And he hasn't been to school since May.

That's impossible. They would've notified me.

I believe they did. Isn't this your signature?

Yeah.

Well, he... he gives me things to sign from school,

you know, permission slips, and I...

working two jobs, I don't always have time to read through them.

Mr. Santos, we believe

that Miguel could have been selling drugs,

- and that's why he was killed. - No!

- Mr... - No! Miguel was a good kid!

Maybe he was a good kid that got into some bad things.

- Those aren't his. - What?

These keys are not his. Look, I know my son, okay?

I know him.

And maybe we didn't have time to talk all the time,

but he was a good, decent boy.

Sir, I was raised in a single-parent home,

and my mother, she was on me

about eating my vegetables,

getting good grades, but you know what,

she was a 5th-grade teacher in Brooklyn

and we lived in the Bronx.

There were a lot of things that I got into

that she never knew about.

Sometimes, kids keep secrets

from the people they love the most.

Is it possible that, maybe, that's what happened here?

Thank you so much.

Okay, info from narcotics

places Miguel's body squarely

in Trinitario gang territory.

Did they say if Trinitario is active

in the sale of kind bud?

- Yeah. - Extremely active.

Well, at the DEA, we call it cannabis.

Alejandro, to what do we owe the pleasure?

I was up in vice,

thought I'd swing by, and say, "hey".

- Hey. - Hey.

I'll let you two do... whatever.

Trinitarios work the area from Battery Park City

to 34th Street.

Thanks for the intel.

I'm glad you stopped by.

Are you and the captain still not together?

Last time I checked.

So, does that mean

it's safe to inquire if you're free for dinner some time?

- Are you asking me out? - I am.

I'm kinda seeing someone.

- Ah. - What took you so long?

I wanted to a while back, but, um...

Jake called you off?

Something like that. Exactly like that.

Unbelievable.

Okay, so you cleared that up?

Where do we find the Trinitarios?

Most recent intel puts the gang's headquarters

at a laundromat in Spanish Harlem.

- All right. I'll go. - Oh, perfect!

You can't go empty-handed.

Here, take these for me.

You keep dirty laundry in your desk?

Sometimes, I spill on things.

Where should I keep them? Your desk?

- I should get back to my file. - Of course.

- Good luck with your case. - Thanks.

Bad luck with your sort of boyfriend.

I'm holding out hope.

Yeah.

Just give me one second. Dropping something off.

Okay. Excuse me.

Which one of these machines has a cold-rinse option,

I would hate for my blouses to lose their shape.

Are you not speaking because you don't speak English,

or because you don't speak laundry?

Wow, you would suck as a Walmart greeter.

Is there a manager here, stone-face?

You should take your business elsewhere, booha.

Aw, you did that.

What?

I think you have me mistaken for someone who's not a cop.

- Go! Go! - Towards you.

Police! don't move!

It's me again, busting your ass.

From the way you ran away from me,

I am guessing you know something

about the murder of Miguel Santos.

- Miguel's dead? - Don't play me, Carlos.

I'm not playing!

- Damn. - Did Miguel sell for Trinitario?

Nah. He hung out with some of us in middle school,

but that boy had too much brains to sling.

And he, like, cared about everyone, even the addicts.

He would've made a bad corner boy.

Heart and brains. Sounds like he had a future.

More than most of us. Any of us.

Then how do you explain this?

If he wasn't dealing for your people,

who was he dealing for?

That's prime.

Ain't nobody in the 212 sellin' bammy like that.

I'm telling you, detective, Miguel was not running for nobody.

And I have a hard time believing that

with prime bammy and 1500 bucks staring me in the face!

Look, one of my boys says he runs into Miguel once in a while...

Now we're getting somewhere.

But he didn't say nothing about him slinging!

Where did he run into him exactly?

City Center ice rink.

So what? Miguel came in here to develop a customer base?

Everyone has a dream.

Maybe Miguel's also involved hockey.

Yeah, or hockey was a cover-up.

Victor said he didn't recognize Miguel's keys,

which makes sense if this is where the kid kept the stash.

Agreed. Any one of these could be a locker

full of laughing grass.

You looked up weed nicknames online, didn't you?

- No. - Yeah, you did.

I did not.

Meredith told me Alejandro was sniffing around the precinct.

Are you trying to impress him with a little hipster druggy lingo?

Okay, maybe I did a incy-wincy little Google search.

Mmm-hmm.

Boom!

- Come to mama. - Let's see what we got.

All right.

No stash.

Calculus, physics...

All the books you'd think would be in his backpack.

Look at this. Wendsworth Academy?

Looks like our kid was going to school after all.