Chance

Previously on "Chance"...

So, it sounds pretty fun.

Friday night?

I don't know if it's gonna work.

People have been talking.

Something they heard about that happened at your old school?

You ever have one of those cases that keep you awake at night?

This one's mine.

Ryan Winter.

Fucking Hynes is obsessed.

Whole timeline on his wall about murder

and where this Winter was when.

You broke in to his place?

I'm gonna need you to get into Ryan Winter's head for me.

I have some pictures that I'd like to show you.

Tell me what you see.

Josefa, how's it going?

He caught me wearing makeup.

My husband, Ronny.

I'm looking for Josefa Pefaur.

I'm her psychiatrist.

We had an appointment. She didn't show.

Is she inside? Is she okay?

I need you to go back downstairs, sir,

right now.

No, I thought it was two.

Her husband, Ronny.

Was it a robbery?

Hey. Hey. Are you Ronny?

Stay the fuck away from me.

I'm trying to help you.

- What do you want? - I'm Dr. Chance...

I don't know who the fuck that is, okay?

Look. I'm Josefa's therapist

at the Victims of Violent Crimes Unit.

You know what that is?

- - Don't run!

Ronny, don't run. They'll think you're guilty.

Just stay where you are.

I didn't do this, man!

I didn't do this, okay?!

I... She was my wife. I loved her!

I-I did stuff, okay?

I did stuff, but I ain't no fucking murderer, man.

I know. I know. I know you didn't do it, Ronny.

You just got to let me help you. Where were you?

Where you in the building?

Fuck. I'm so fucked, man.

Hey! Don't move.

You got to tell me quick.

We don't have a lot of time. Tell me where you were.

I'm so fucked. I'm so fucked.

Put your hands up. You the husband?

- Uh, yeah. - We're just talking, Officer.

- Who are you? - Josefa Pefaur's therapist.

Detectives need to speak to you, Ronny. Come on, now. Let's go.

What, I-I'm under arrest?

It's up to you. Y-You're being detained.

What? Hey!

What? I-I didn't do anything!

What?

Detectives gonna want to speak to you, too.

Did Mrs. Pefaur ever tell you

that her husband had threatened to kill her?

No.

"No, not in those words," or...

Just no. She... Uh, in no words, no.

Did she ever say she was worried

her husband might kill her?

Does Ronny Pefaur have an alibi?

Is that a "no"?

Plenty more where this came from.

Yeah, I know. I know what Josefa went through.

And I know "addressing the welfare of the patient"

means protecting confidentiality in perpetuity,

but right now,

a lady who everybody's saying was kind of an angel

is dead with her head almost cut off.

So here we are.

Ronny Pefaur's alibi is

he says he was playing cards

with some friends at a chop shop in Bayview.

You don't believe him?

You know what, Doc? I really don't.

But how 'bout you tell me why you seem to?

I...

I have another patient

who was in group therapy with Mrs. Pefaur.

Now, recently, I gave him a projective psychological test

involving interpreting images.

When I saw Josefa's body, it was posed...

it was posed exactly like one of the images.

I can get you a copy.

This patient...

if I run him, am I gonna find any violent priors...

assault, rape, abuse?

No.

Okay.

Has he ever said he was going to kill Mrs. Pefaur?

No.

Has he ever said he was gonna kill a woman, kill anybody?

- No, I... No. - Okay.

What we're left with, then, is a feeling in your gut

that something kind of looks like something else.

Put up against a guy on probation for battery

with a history of beating his wife,

whose neighbors called 911 on him for her

26 times in 3 years.

You've got your gut, Doc, and I've got mine.

And here, mine's the one that matters.

[HORN HONKS, CONSTRUCTION EQUIPMENT RATTLING IN DISTANCE]

The truth is the job won't let me take

this sick, murdering fuck down the aboveboard way,

so I'm doing what needs to be done.

I envy you.

At least you know who to be scared of.

- You must get tired. - You need my trust.

Talking about this so much...

And I want to give it to you.

...nothing changes.

You don't know what you're doing.

What if it was this Ronny?

Why is that so crazy? The guy's a shit stain.

No, this was Winter, D.

If you'd seen the way he's zeroed in on Josefa...

Not because he was commiserating or sharing out of empathy.

Hard-ons aren't a gateway drug for murder.

We know Winter's a sick piece of shit.

Does Ronny really have an alibi?

Yes, actually, he does.

You ever have one of those moments

where, suddenly, everything makes sense?

Fuck me.

You know what would be interesting

is if we were compare this shit

to the coroner's report on Blackstone.

Depth of cuts, nature of wounds

as in what caused them...

single blade, double blade,

serrated edge, curved versus straight.

Hell, I'd say you pretty much have them all covered here.

And here, I thought I'd found a pal.

I saw a soul in distress.

You had my sympathies, and you still do.

Save it, Pops.

You know, I remember what was bugging me at the bar now.

You're that natty, older gentleman

who crashed his car

into some Romanians out at the beach.

Manny, Moe, and Jack.

So, what's that make you? A dirty, blackmailing cop.

Josefa Pefaur.

What the hell does that mean?

She was a patient of mine at the clinic.

She was murdered in her apartment.

I was at the crime scene.

I got a glimpse of the body.

It was posed to mimic a drawing that I had shown Winter.

He reacted to something in her story,

and then the drawing provoked

something he couldn't articulate.

So, what now?

How about now, Winter goes away?

Meaning what, exactly?

Meaning somebody stabs him in the fucking eye.

He goes away when I say he goes away,

in the court of law where I can see it.

Now, if you've got a problem with that, say so right now.

He doesn't. Neither do I.

Well, fantastic. So, where do we start?

Well, first thing is that I have to keep Winter out of the clinic.

Your problem is that the cops decided to hang this

on Josefa's husband, Ronny.

He has an alibi, but no one seems

that inclined to believe it.

Well, did he tell you what it was?

I believe it.

Well, I have Legal Aid lawyer who actually owes me a favor,

and he'll actually be jazzed

to have a client who didn't do it.

I'll call him tomorrow because tonight,

we're gonna go corroborate the husband's alibi.

And if you're riding along, big fella, know this...

You ever break into my apartment again,

I'll stab you in the fucking eye.