Blue Bloods - Thirteenth Season

Really? A '71 Chevelle?

- Yep. - The SS with the 350 V8?

- Whitewall rally mags. - Wow.

Who knew Sergeant Straight-Laced drives such a bitchin' car?

Hey, I drive it, too.

- Give me my money! - Oh, well, at least someone

- exceeds the speed limit in it. - Help!

Help! Police!

- Hey! - Hey! Whoa! Hey!

- Hand it over already! - Hey!

- Calm down. Calm down, sir. - Hey.

- She stiffed me on my change. - Whoa.

Let me guess. To buy more booze?

Screw you.

He gave me ten. I gave him three back.

- That's correct change. - You only gave me two!

- Hey! Hey, hey. - Hey! Hey!

Then why do you have three bills in your hand, smart guy?

Give me my money!

- Whoa! - Okay.

Put your hands behind your back. Hands behind your back!

You're making a big mistake. I'm gonna ruin your damn lives.

Yeah, yeah, we've heard that before.

- Let's go. - Come on, tough guy.

One word:

Catnap.

I'm pretty sure that's two words.

However many words it is,

it's the only thing that got me and Linda through our babies.

Reagan.

Yeah, I know Maggie Gibson. Why?

Okay.

Yeah, thanks, Detective.

Something wrong with our psychic?

Maggie was stabbed.

She's being rushed to the E.R. right now.

We got to go.

What's this?

They said I was headed to Central Booking.

Right after you chat with our FIS, Sergeant Reagan.

FIS?

Field Intelligence Sergeant.

Whatever that means.

Well, what's more important is

what you have for me.

If you can give me something good,

I may be able to convince the D.A. to go easy on your...

catalytic converter theft.

Yo, I don't know how that got in my truck.

Car parts just falling from the sky these days?

I blame climate change.

You're out there ripping off hardworking people, Gilbert.

Do something good for a change and help me help you.

A'ight.

You know all those guns flooding these streets recently?

Yeah, everyone here does.

I know the dude who sends out a text

for buyers to show up at a certain corner.

Dude pulls up, pops his trunk, game on.

By the time 5-0 gets wind, dude is long gone.

Dude got a name?

Sheree Shea. That sounds like a woman's name.

Okay, I don't know his name, but Sheree's his boo.

This is getting thinner by the second.

Yo, I swear, I saw Sheree last week,

and she says her man is a one-stop Glock shop.

Now, they hang 24/7, so if you follow her...

It leads right to him.

And Lieutenant Doyle from the Ceremonial Unit

needs 15 minutes when you can about the Connors funeral.

End of day.

Oh, Forty-Three's send-off's gonna be a pip.

I mean, the racket afterwards.

Who or what is Forty-Three?

Bill Connors, the late P.C.

Who called him Forty-Three?

Well, he called himself that.

He was the 43rd NYPD commissioner.

So his friends started calling him that, too.

And so it was his enemies who called him "Con-Game Connors"?

Hey, respect.

Listen, he wasn't perfect, but he was loyal as they come.

Loyal to who?

To his fellow cops.

In transit, where he started.

In this office, where he ended up.

Right up to the end.

And he never missed a single walkout

or racket when a cop retired.

That's one way to look at it.

Moving on.

There another way?

Yes.

You want to call it?

Maybe we put a pin in this?

You might want to ask yourself, if he was so great at the job,

why did he suddenly resign?

And why did his chief of department... me...

Get called up to replace him the next day?

Mistakes were made.

That's an understatement.

Knives were out.

I'd like to take a moment of silence

in memory and respect for Forty-Three.

*BLUE BLOODS* Season 13 Episode 03

Episode Title: "Ghosted" Aired on: October 21, 2022.

Mrs. Connors, sir.

Thank you, Baker.

Mrs. Connors.

Oh. Julia, please.

It's been 14 years since I was Mrs. Connors.

Please have a seat.

My condolences.

Thank you.

You wanted to see me?

I know something that you don't know.

Pretty much everybody does.

About the circumstances of

my husband's resignation from this office.

Yeah.

Water under the bridge.

All cards on the table.

As you wish.

If you remember, the investigation started

with a tip to Internal Affairs from an anonymous source.

Oh, I remember.

Whose identity was never revealed.

Until now.

Christmas bottles of scotch turned into cash deposits.

The golf outings at Beth page

turned into full-blown junkets in the Bahamas.

Again, water under the bridge.

Really?

How?

What's done is done,

and Bill Connors has passed.

He kept up thousands of close friendships in this department.

So I'm told.

He has two grown children.

One's a sergeant in the Miami P.D.,

another an EMT in New Haven.

Well, that is a fine legacy of service.

The point is, anything less than the full-blown

police commissioner's send-off for him...

is gonna speak volumes.

What makes you think I'd do anything less?

Well, I've kept up friendships in this department as well.

The head of your Ceremonial Unit

was a Thanksgiving orphan for us many times

when he was under Bill's command.

I understand it's gonna be less than a full salute.

All cards on the table?

Please.

He was an effective cop and front and center as P.C.

during one of the most difficult times

in the history of this city.

That's a real part of his legacy.

The other part is...

he dishonored the department

and especially this office in the end.

With his eyes wide open and both hands grabbing.

There's another thing I know and you don't know.

After his resignation and up until his death,

he worked for God's Grace to All,

the food bank, 60, 70 hours a week.

For one dollar a year.

And never told a soul.

I think it's only fair you add that

to the right side of his ledger.

Thanks for your time.

Really? Is he being released?

Oh, hello, Officers.

Come to apologize? The apology owed is yours

for harassing that vendor and taking a swing at my partner.

If my client was such a public menace,

would he be released on a desk appearance ticket?

Influence doesn't equal innocence.

Either way, we're leaving.

Don't worry. I'll see you again.

So young. Such a dick.

Maybe the next one will be a sweetheart.

Um, I'll meet you at the car.

Yeah.

Whatever's making you so happy, I want some of it, too.

I got a lead on that mystery gun dealer working our streets.

Better yet, I just found out the woman who's gonna lead me

to him is already conveniently parked on Rikers.

You sure you're all right?

It's only one stab wound, and the doctor said

that it sutured up beautifully.

Don't forget your concussion.

Oh, it's minor.

Well, don't worry, we will find this guy.

Eventually.

No prints, no witnesses.

And your building's security system is on the blink.

And you saw nothing during the attack at all?

He came in from behind,

- and-and all I saw was a blur. - Okay.

But you told me before that sometimes you get flashes