Chicago Justice

- Can I help you with something? - ASA Anna Valdez.

You have a prisoner... Adrian Carrera.

That we do.

Uh, his defense attorney should be with him.

That he is. Arnold Rifking...

Total bottom feeder.

Hey, Duarte,

escort ASA Valdez upstairs to the drunk tank.

Uh, Mr. Carrera was pretty loaded

when they hauled him in this morning.

- Thanks. - Mm-hmm.

Good news, bad news, Arnold. Which do you want first?

- How bad's the bad? - Very.

I'll take good for $500, please, Alex.

Stone authorized a plea of 20

for Carrera today only. Take it or leave it.

On a simple assault? We'll pass.

Brings us to the bad.

Mr. Carrera's victim in the barroom brawl

died at Chicago Med.

- We're filing murder charges. - I barely touched that guy.

Shut up, Adrian. Let me talk to my client.

Nothing to talk about. And I need to get out of here.

And I need a shower. Look!

That punk ass puked all over me!

I don't hear from you by 2:00,

I'm putting the case into the grand jury.

Uh, what do you have for Boozy the Clown here?

Justin Wilkes... possession of a controlled substance?

You represent him too?

It's a matter of time. He took my card.

Yeah, good luck with that.

Peter... Rifking called.

Carrera said we should shove it.

Well, look on the upside.

You're first chair on a homicide.

Really?

Why not?

- Peter, I wanna... - Anna, I'm eating.

- Valdez? - Hey, it's Arnold Rifking.

Sorry, Arnold, you're too late.

Boozy the Clown... Kid in the cell... he died.

What?

Yep.

I'm here as counsel to Mrs. Wilkes.

Her son, as you know, is my client.

Mrs. Wilkes.

I'm very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Wilkes.

It's an honor to meet you, Reverend Fitch.

I only pray that your office investigates

Justin's death thoroughly.

Sir?

Clearly, Mr. Wilkes didn't die of natural causes.

He was in police custody.

Next thing we know, he sustained fatal injuries.

I assure you we will look into the circumstances of his death.

You're going to investigate?

A child... no older than my Justin.

Mrs. Wilkes simply means that we expect

the maximum effort from your office.

Of course.

Go. Say good-bye to him, Donna.

Tell Mark I'll be calling.

Wilkes was brought in on a drug charge

with a side of resisting arrest.

Nine hours later, he's dead in O.R. at Lady of Hope.

Cops, paramedics, doctors...

Any one of them could be responsible.

We can expect some sort of public reaction.

- In the form of Reverend Fitch? - Well...

what did you think of the man, Anna?

I've seen him on the news. He was a bit...

well, intimidating.

Like you're talking to some sort of prophet

right out of the Old Testament?

Nothing like the ambulance chaser

representing Mrs. Wilkes.

Well, William Fitch won't put up with that for long.

And he won't stop pushing either.

That's why you gotta get out in front of this immediately.

Start at the hospital, and work your way backwards.

Assistant State's Attorney Peter Stone,

meet the suprasternal manubrium,

or... or a... sliver of it anyway.

Manubrium's part of the sternum.

So someone hit him in the chest?

Someone or something.

Lot of this going around in fatal car accidents.

The bone punctured the aortic isthmus,

causing an osseous pinch.

He bled to death.

Has the lab sent over tox screens?

Not yet, but drunk or not,

once that sliver of bone pierced the aorta,

unless we received prompt medical attention,

Mr. Wilkes here was a dead man walking.

Oh, FYI, I'm checking the homicide box.

We had seven gunshot victims,

a boating accident with multiple immersions,

then a guy whose head was used for batting practice.

So that's why it took five hours

- for you to get to Mr. Wilkes? -

This is a busy hospital.

Sometimes we're forced to do triage.

Passed out drunks aren't on the top of our list.

All due respect,

how did you know he was drunk if nobody examined him?

Some of our best customers are drunks.

Anyway, that's what the paramedics said.

And you took their word for it?

Are you sure you're with the SA's office?

'Cause you sound like Slip and Fall Attorneys.

Probably the next knock on your door.

What killed him anyway?

Technically, exsanguination.

Caused by?

Not my department.

Thanks.

Call came in from the 21st.

We loaded Wilkes to the bus exactly 11 1/2 minutes later.

He was unconscious,

but his breathing wasn't labored,

his pulse was normal, and his pupils were reactive.

Any treatment on the way to the hospital?

We administered a saline line.

- And? - And nothing.

En route to Hope, we got a call about an eight-year-old kid

from Hyde Park... Pulled from the lake.

No pulse. Pupils were fixed and dilated.

Hold on.

You went to the lake with Wilkes still in the ambulance?

The dude was covered in vomit, and stinking of booze.

We figured he wasn't going anywhere.

Turns out you were wrong.

Remind me not to get sick.

Remind me not to be a black male.

Hey... that kid from the lake...

- He made it. -

Thanks for asking.

- - What?

Stone got us the name of the arresting officer.

This won't be fun.

How you doing?

Hey.

Look what the cat dragged in.

You just couldn't stay away, huh?

How's the SA's office treating you?

Hey, how much caviar can you eat?

Yeah, tell me about it.

We're looking for Atwater.

You better be going to gym to work on that three.

Hey, I wouldn't have to,

if I had one guard that knew how to make it to the bucket.

Yeah.

This place still smells the same.

Yeah. Oh, and speaking of smells,

my condolences for having to ride

with Mr. Salami For Lunch right here.

Air up high,

window open, you can hardly tell.

Well, you're a better man than me.

So, what's the occasion?

Justin Wilkes.

Yeah, you know, I-I pinched him.

- Yeah? - Yeah.

Uh... what... I was at a stop sign on Flournoy,

and he was selling H, like, 7:00 in the morning.

You know, I know his mom from back when I was in uniform.

She's real good people.

So I'm like, "Hey, I'll give him a warning."

You know, "Next time I catch you serving...

blah, blah, blah."

But he sees me get out of my car,

and he takes off running.

And you chased him down?

Yeah. You know, I'm...

He's tossing little baggies all over the place,

and, uh, he was running pretty good too.

I mean, it took me about a block

before I took him down.

Hard?

Wait, what? Wilkes isn't crying foul, is he?

What happened?

I just cuffed him, I loaded him up, and that's it.

Hey, listen, if he says anything different than that,

that's a lie, bro.

Wilkes died, Kev.

Damn.

Um, you don't... you don't think

you should've opened up with that?

Hey...

nobody's blaming you.

I'm...

no, but I-I just feel like you just kind've worked me

a little bit.

We had to ask.

Then ask.