Smoke

Telephone

Calling me

Who put all that shit in your head?

Saying things

Telling things

Till you break

Filthy water

Bubbles up

Who put all that shit in your head?

It's not that my mother...

My mother...

It's not that she did what she did to me.

It's that, somehow, in the eyes of my family,

in the eyes of a lot of the neighborhood, I'm somehow the bad guy.

And what's your crime?

I don't know. I was twelve.

Well, you embarrass them.

You know, bad people create stories

to deny that they are, in fact, bad people.

But then something, or someone...

becomes irrefutable proof that they are, in fact, pieces of fucking shit.

And it holds up a mirror that they can't look into.

And so they take the mirror off the wall

and they cover it with a sheet because it embarrasses them.

That's me, huh?

I'm afraid so.

- I swear... - It's not working...

It's not working... It's not me...

What she did to me...

It's not me... It's not me...

...it told me that I had no value.

It's not working... It's not me...

My skin, my lungs... my face.

None of it.

Any of it.

Yeah?

And she's making you feel like that all over again.

God, do I hate your fucking family, Michelle.

I don't.

How about I drop by?

That won't help.

Well, it won't hurt.

Yeah, it will.

Hey, Michelle, you may have some trouble grasping this...

but I'm your best friend.

Shit, Steve.

I don't have any trouble grasping that. Trust me.

Well, then let me be that to you now.

You are.

You're being perfect.

Right where you are.

Fuck.

Okay.

Okay.

You're not better than me.

Did I say I was?

Ms. Egg-White Omelet, wheat toast, black coffee.

There she goes. I happen to like black coffee.

Put this shit in and tell me it doesn't taste better.

Do it. Taste it.

This shit's pretty good.

You would make a good police officer. You got that solid command presence.

"Do it."

You could stop this.

What? You're gonna live with her?

Eat with her? Watch TV with her?

It's your house too.

She's old. She needs a place to stay. She's his mom.

She's a fucking monster.

Okay, so she's both.

A lot of people got a lotta things in 'em.

Yeah, Sophie's got a lot in her too.

You put her in a house with that woman, she will wring it all out.

One day you'll come home, you'll find a kid who isn't a kid,

just some tiny adult waiting to be old enough

- for a fucking antidepressant. - Okay, don't talk about my kid.

- You don't know her. - I was her.

I'm her mother.

You wanna rewind a 20-year-old drama? Go ahead.

But you're not 12 anymore.

And Sophie's not you.

Step into my business again, I'ma call you "Karen."

You and your fucking egg whites.

Want a bite of my bacon?

You know I do.

Were you scared?

My heart was racing, but years of running into dangerous situations,

it teaches you to harness your fear into focus.

You know, the thought of leaving my wife alone...

I mean, that trumps any fear.

Well, you're a hero to all of us.

I hope you can take some time to be with your family.

Oh, yeah. I hope so too.

And I hear you're writing a book?

I am. That's right, Jan. It's about an arson investigator.

- How exciting. I can't wait to read it. - Yeah.

When does it come out?

We're still working on that,

but I think I got a good idea for the ending now.

Jason, a word.

Yes, Ms. Boswell?

Deal with that, please.

I understand David Gudsen queried us a few months back

and we passed on his book.

Is that correct?

Yes.

You're an intelligent young man.

Thank you, Ms. Boswell.

So I'm just trying to understand how this could've happened.

I felt that his sample wasn't up to our standards.

Get Gudsen on the phone. Now.

When life give you lemons, you got to make lemonade.

You had to let him become a hero.

You let him become a fucking hero.

We had DNA on a cancer stick.

And we got stipachio fucking ice cream, whatever.

Meanwhile he closes the Milk Jug Arsonist,

and what do we have on our resumes, huh?

I'll tell you what. Nada. Culo. Dick.

- Are you done? - Oh, yeah, I'm done, princess.

Hello?

This whole fucking thing is done, all right?

Why hasn't he gone back home since the car wreck?

The ATF detail says that he's at the Cascade Motel on Route 6.

And the morning I met him, he'd slept in his office overnight.

Yeah, well, he never could hold on to his women.

The Old Sully's lawsuit files.

Anything useful?

Mostly transcripts of hearings and expert reports.

Gudsen's report that the cause was an electrical fire.

Post-fire photos of the pallet of molten barbecue grills

blocking the emergency exit.

And the other ones.

There's the photo of the emergency exit right before the grills blocked it

and the other ones prior to the fire.

No record.

No, that's impossible. Let me see. It's in there.

It's gotta be in here.

Gudsen uses it all the time in his lectures.

None of it matters, okay? It was ruled an accident.

It's done and dusted.

So what we have here, just so that I'm clear,

is one vagina hair less than nothing.

I understand that. Ms. Boswell, could you please repeat that?

My agency's interested in Investigator Gudsen's book.

Can you put him on?

What kind of agency is that?

I'm a literary agent.

Ma'am, this is Police Captain Steven Burke.

We will have a unit to you in the next half hour to discuss this matter with you.

Is this some kind of joke?

No, it is no joke.

So please do not make any effort to contact Investigator Gudsen

until our team arrives. Okay?

Okay.

English Major, tell me about the literary world.

What are you doing?

Hey. Making you a frittata.

Did you see the news?

You know, I heard from an agent who wants to talk to me about my book.

Clean up and get out.

Ash, couples argue.

We both did shit, said shit we didn't mean.

We meant it.

Hey. Hey!

I love you.

What about that?

Your stuff's in the garage.

How long we been in here?

Approaching four hours now. Day two.

Four hours, plus a whole day, Mr. Fasano.

And you can't say one word?

You are aware that the death penalty exists here, Fred?

Why don't you tell us about some of the other fires?

We could put in a good word.

You're gonna do life, sure, but

three squares a day and your family could visit.

Of course, he'd have to tell us about all the fires.

Well, yeah.

The guy who caught you, Fred, he's been chasing you a long time.

He likes you for... what'd he say, twenty?

Twenty-two.

Twenty-two fires in Trolley Town. Damn.

That's a career.

Yeah. Kind of impressive.

You know what he gave us, Fred?

He gave us the glove that you left at a torch job on 77th Street last January.

I can't wait to get the DNA results back on that.

What my partner's saying, Fred, is we own your ass.

We got you.

What's his name?

The guy who caught you?

His name is David Gudsen.

I'll talk to him.

Dude!

Hey.

You beautiful motherfuckers. Thank you. Thank you.

- Finally, huh? - Oh, shit.

There he is. Mr. MVP.

Oh, shit.