Blue Bloods

A three percent rise in domestic violence calls?

Start of Thanksgiving week always brings an uptick,

families starting to gather, in-laws in town...

If the Pilgrims and Indians could find a way...

Maybe the first Thanksgiving was 'cause

they were just too worn out to fight anymore.

Where's the file I asked you for?

It's on your desk, sir.

Oh.

Thank you, Baker.

What about this Raymond thing?

- (door shuts) - Corporation Counsel

was served today with a lawsuit

alleging police brutality.

It claims that two days ago

Raymond assaulted an eight-year-old boy

living on the same block as his partner, Officer Donohue.

- Is the boy okay? - After two hours

in the E.R. and multiple stitches.

His father, an attorney named

Preston Morris, says his son is

"totally traumatized by the attack,"

and went straight to the media after filing the suit.

And we have no idea why it happened.

Not even from his partner.

Far as anyone can tell, Raymond just snapped.

Goes without saying, the optics are bad on this.

Sterling record, decorated twice for heroism.

This is not that.

He is entitled to the same presumption of innocence

afforded any other member of my department.

You'll let Legal handle it?

Yes, Mrs. Reagan.

Moving on.

Vic was a hell of a cop.

But he would be the first to say he wasn't the best

in the family.

That would belong to Colleen over there.

In fact,

we partnered for a while.

And then she was assigned to Vic,

who said that that was the happiest day of his life.

Until, of course, Brendan and Meara came along.

May the Lord bless Vic McGuire

and keep his family in His heart.

: You did good, Reagan.

Thanks, Roy.

Fly was open the entire time though.

: Up yours, Roy.

Thank you, Henry.

How you doing?

I'm hanging in there.

This place already seems so empty without him.

You'll see him again one day.

Don't be a stranger.

Okay.

: This doesn't make sense.

: Brendan, I am not imagining things.

- What you're saying is crazy. - I'm...

Hi, kids.

Hey, Mr. Reagan.

Look...

I've been through this a little bit.

You got to go day by day.

But it will get better.

Go on. Say it.

Say what?

Unless Dad didn't just die.

What do you mean?

I think Mom might've had something to do with his death.

Meara, your father died of cancer.

He's been sick for the last eight months.

No, but he was better last week.

Mr. Reagan, she is just upset.

And you're not?

Listen to what you're saying,Meara.

It's your mother.

I know how it sounds, and maybe she didn't do anything to Dad.

But I think she did.

How the hell can you not love Thanksgiving?

Six hours of cooking, ten minutes of eating

and then a food coma?

- What's wrong with a food coma? - Give me

any other holiday, please.

- Detectives. - What do you got, Sarge?

Hispanic male, stabbed to death,

found by the owner of this bar over there.

Yeah, I came out to take out some empties,

and I almost stepped on him.

You ever seen him before?

Just inside, watching the football.

I'm missing a football game tonight?

- I think he means soccer. - Yeah, Venezuela versus Chile!

Right!

: Soccer's not football.

And it looks like the game is officially over for this guy.

Wallet...

appears to be intact.

Wasn't a robbery.

Single stab wound to the chest.

Judging by the angle,

the killer is left-handed.

Gabriel Vega, 26 years old.

He lives about three blocks from here.

I'd say Mr. Vega came out for a smoke,

killer approached to bum one,

stabbed him before he lit up.

- You psychic? - 'Cause I only see the one.

Uh, no. There's another one right there.

Saw it on the way in.

You got security cameras here?

No, I don't but other businesses in the area do.

All right. Uh, Sarge,

can you have your guys round 'em all up, everything within

- a five-block radius? - Of course.

Well, if this isn't a robbery,

you got a motive for why somebody wanted him dead?

Maybe he was cheering for the wrong soccer team.

Step aside. Kill those TVs.

Please, sir, this is one of my biggest nights of the year.

Not anymore it isn't. Por favor...

- (groaning) - Terry Giondo here for Master Blend 3000.

Hey! A minute left in the half!

- Shut up! - And we're kicking their asses!

Shut up!

Now, here's how it's gonna go down.

I want Chile fans over there on the bench,

Venezuela fans over here on the bar.

Move your asses. Let's go. Let's go!

20 possibles in that bar and not a suspect among 'em.

Remember when staying up

- all night was fun? - Oh, yeah.

Reagan, Baez. How's your Spanish Harlem slaying?

Ask me after my nap, Sarge.

Not till you go through those.

- Security tapes? - Mm-hmm.

Maybe we'll get a look at our killer.

TARU just dropped 'em off so get crackin'.

I'll divvy 'em up, you make the coffee?

Okay.

Oh, and, uh... good morning!

Mr. Reagan.

Hi, Meara.

I'm so glad you called.

Your mom isn't here?

No, she's at the store.

Okay.

Are you, uh...

you feeling any better?

I tried. Brendan says I'm wrong.

But he didn't see what I saw.

- Which was? - The way Mom's been recently.

I saw her reading Dad's life insurance policy

over and over.

And a week ago Saturday, I swear to God,

she was on this computer doing a search on euthanasia.

Well, people look up all kinds of things online.

Even when your husband is dying?

Meara,

what you're describing

is a crime and a mortal sin.

I know that.

I'm neither a cop nor a priest.

Well, you better show me.

She searched "euthanasia"

and clicked on this link.

"Last Exit Collective, helping you face the end with dignity."

"Doctor consultation. How to order

pentobarbital and methaqualone."

Oh, my God.

Did your dad ever talk about ending it all?

Never. You saw him last week.

He was sitting up, he was making jokes.

Has she received any parcels recently?

She got a box last week.

It had a U.S. Customs stamp on it.

Then she was shredding something.

Oh, Meara.

I'm not sure what you want from me here.

Please prove to me my mom didn't do this.

Meara?

- You home? - In here, Mom.

Honey, I wanted you to help me

with this...

Henry.

What are you doing here?

Well, I got all the way home last night and realized

that I left my glasses right here on your kitchen counter.

Henry,

I sweated enough perps in my life to know

when I'm getting fed a line.

You told me not to be a stranger.

Did I tell you he was the flirtiest partner I ever had?

- And that includes your father. - (chuckles) Doesn't surprise me.

Come on. Help me unload the car, Romeo.

That's not Raymond.

Commissioner Reagan.

Officer Donohue.

Raymond's kenneled, per protocol.

I'm just helping out with Kurtis here and...