The Blacklist

You sure this is his place?

According to his student record, this is it.

Then who is that?

I'm guessing his roommate.

I'll go say hello. You check the bedrooms.

Whoa! What the...

I'm sorry to startle.

We're looking for Andrew Kennison.

Who the hell are you? How did you get in here? Shh.

I should clarify.

I'm not taking questions.

That's unfortunate.

What's your name? Marcus.

Marcus. Relax.

Our business is with Andrew. Andrew's not here.

You're his roommate?

Yes. We're in the same graduate program.

Ah. Then you must be a smart young fellow, Marcus.

Smart enough to tell us where Andrew is now.

But I don't know.

When do you expect him back?

I don't know that either. Andrew's missing.

Missing?

It's been a few weeks.

He left to go to the library at 5:00 p.m. to study.

We had a Phys-Chem final the next day.

He never came home. Nobody knows where he is.

Andrew, please try to understand.

How can I understand when you haven't given me any information?

I've told you what I can. You've told me nothing.

That my life is in danger? What does that even mean?

I mean, if someone's threatening me,

I-I deserve to know...

And I've tried to explain. I can't tell you more

without compromising a federal investigation.

Mr. Kennison, I came when the Marshals called because I know you're upset.

I didn't get to say goodbye to anyone.

My wife suffers from mental illness.

She's in a facility in Bethesda.

I'm finishing my graduate degree.

I'm missing classes and exams.

I'm aware, and I'm sorry,

but keeping you safe is the Bureau's primary concern.

How long? How long do I have to stay here?

I don't know. We're still investigating.

My hope is that we can have a quick breakthrough,

get you home very soon.

It's not good enough.

I'm not under arrest.

What if I want a lawyer?

What if I just leave?

We won't stop you.

But then again, we won't be able to protect you.

I'm asking you for more time.

Believe me, I don't want you to be here for one second longer

than is absolutely necessary.

How'd it go with Kennison?

Not well.

He's threatening to leave protective custody.

And you think he'll do it?

He's understandably upset.

I bought us some time, but if I don't tell him

something soon, he's gonna walk.

Our conversation was consumed

by confusion, anger, fear.

His or yours?

Both.

This whole thing makes me sick to my stomach.

So, please tell me you found something.

You tell me.

Our working theory is that

whoever is blackmailing you

is a New York City detective,

but that's about

5,200 suspects to start with.

But of those, about 2,600 are white males,

which is how the bartender described him.

How many were working the night Doug Koster was killed?

1,400, which leaves about 1,200 names on that list.

Now, it's a lot, but odds are,

one of the names on that list is behind this.

I'll take a look. Maybe I'll recognize one.

But if there's an NYPD detective

willing to frame me for murder,

I have no idea why.

I got Weecha's text.

She said you have a case.

I do. Fine. Tell me where and I'll come meet you.

Not this time, Harold.

Assemble the troops. I'll come to you.

Does that mean you found something?

You all know we've been tracing the origins

of this device we recovered from Elizabeth.

Have you figured out who made the tracking device?

I have. But it's not just a tracking device.

That's one of its features,

but it was designed

to help people,

not to stalk them.

Who exactly was that thing supposed to help?

Patients. In this particular case,

those with certain severe psychiatric disorders.

It's both a delivery and monitoring system.

Its capsule is loaded with medication,

and as Aram previously discussed,

when it makes contact

with the patient's stomach acid,

it sends a wireless signal confirming compliance

and the location of the patient.

To whom?

Doctors. Loved ones.

Some patients have trouble remembering

if they've taken their medication,

or even where they are

or where they might be going.

If we're talking about the most severe disorders,

skipping meds can cause serious problems.

It can.

And in this case, it did.

Aram, Weecha sent you a profile.

Oh. Sent me an e-mail.

The designer's name is Andrew Kennison.

Several years ago, his young wife,

over the course of multiple days,

failed to take doses of the powerful

anti-psychotic medications

that her doctors had prescribed.

The result was horrific and tragic.

She took the lives of her sister and her mother

when they came to stay for a holiday visit.

Oh, my God.

Afterward, Andrew Kennison went back to school,

a graduate program at MIT.

He designed this, hoping that it might prevent

what happened to his wife and family

from ever happening again.

So, it wasn't him?

I mean, he designed the device,

but it sounds like he has no connection to Liz.

I don't know, Donald, because I can't ask him.

Why not? We can just go get him. You said he's at MIT.

He's missing. Since when?

A few weeks.

He left the school library and hasn't been seen since.

That's probably not a coincidence.

I agree. Which is why Andrew Kennison

is the next name on the Blacklist.

There's a chance he's dead. A good one, even.

At this point, all we know is that someone took him,

someone who didn't want him found, and we need to know why.

So, where do we start?

His roommate reported him missing to the Campus Police.

They've been investigating ever since. I'd start there.

Harold?

What? You okay with that?

Yeah. I mean, yes, of course.

Agent Ressler, Agent Zuma,

head on up to Boston right away.

Harold.

I want you to know, I realize

how difficult all this must be for you.

You do? Of course.

I know how much you loved Elizabeth,

how hard it's been to move forward.

When I came back, I knew what it meant to go down this road.

I knew what searching for the truth might do to me.

But I was so focused on my own need,

I didn't think enough about what it might do to you.

You're apologizing? To me?

Commiserating, really.

We all want the same thing.

Closure. Accountability.

And I'm confident

that we will find whoever did this,

and when we do, they will be the one who is sorry.

Agents Ressler and Zuma?

Ted Morrison. I'm the officer assigned to the Kennison case.

Thank you for meeting with us.

Are you kidding? I've been trying to

get ahold of someone at the Bureau for a while.

Thank you for sharing information.

I'm not sure we follow.

We're not here to, uh, share information with you.

We were hoping you could update us on your investigation.

Update you? Okay.

W-What's going on? Is this some kind of joke?

Hey, man, nobody's joking. We're here to help.

Okay. Well, these are surveillance images

from outside the campus library.

Andrew Kennison finished studying at 10:00 p.m.

When he exited the building,

he was confronted by an unknown man.

They spoke for a few minutes,

and then they both got into that sedan and left.

You run the plates on the sedan?

The first day. And guess what?

It's a federal vehicle.

Registered to the U.S. Marshals Service.

I've been calling them and the FBI for weeks