L.A.'s Finest

Can you keep the car straight, please?

If I see you make that duck face one more time,

I'm slamming on the brakes.

What are you doing, anyway?

- Dating. - Online?

Don't judge me just because you're out of the game.

I'm not out of the game. I won the game.

- I'm married. - Uh, you did not win the game.

The game played you.

Well, does the game make you breakfast in bed

or fix a leaky faucet?

My building has maintenance, and food can be delivered.

Oh, whoa. Check that out.

Oh. Is that a Toblerone?

- Guess again. - Oh, God.

It just goes from like, "hey, what's up?"

to "here's my penis." You know, I just feel like

Izzy's never gonna be able to experience... I don't know...

like, like, courtship or...

Right. Uh, speaking of Izzy, about tonight...

No. You can't bail on us, not again, Syd.

I can't make it.

I love Izzy, but I-I got to draw the line at book club.

I mean, she really likes you.

You got to show up.

Well, I-I can't.

- I'm sorry. - Lame.

Hey, pull in right here, please.

No. I'm not an Uber. We're on duty.

Come on, McKenna. It will just take a second.

No.

I'll buy you some Skittles.

You can't really blame me for this.

Oh, I can, and I do.

No personal business on duty.

There's no way I could have known.

Get the money! Let's go! Come on!

"Come on, McKenna. It will just take a second."

Is that how you think I sound?

Girl, my voice is sexy.

- Mellifluous. - Spell that.

Is all this attitude because I'm missing family book club?

Come on! Move! Let's get out!

LAPD! Drop the gun!

Don't make me shoot you,

because I'm not missing family book club.

It's just you and your family talking about books, right?

Hey, homeless Jared Leto.

- You ever heard of anything like that? - What?!

Why are you bailing on us again, anyway?

I'm not telling you, 'cause you know how you get.

How do I get?

Shut up and drop the guns!

That's how you get.

That's why we stopped here?

Yeah. I got a date, all right?

You're going straight to hell.

- Anything else? - Yeah.

Some Tropical-Fruit Bubblicious.

Oh, and some Skittles.

You're up early.

Oh, Howser called a last-minute meeting.

Oof.

A meeting before 8:00 A.M.? Rough.

Yeah, well, he, uh... he was out a few days.

Probably just dropping extra cases on me.

Morning, Izzy.

Morning.

What?

Is that my credit card?

We gave that to you for emergencies.

A draconian dress-code policy

enforced by a slut-shaming patriarchy-enabler

is an emergency.

Help me out here.

Vice principal Roth finally got her way

with the, uh, skirt-length policy.

It's got to be a credit card from the knee.

It is also a commentary on the commodification of female bodies

and the shortcomings of consumer culture.

- I like that. - Thank you.

Babe, that does not help.

Oh, I'm blowin' up.

Me, too.

It's that parent group chat.

Is this my forensic textbook?

How did they get these?

I swear to God, Isabel.

Izzy, did you use my death book for a school presentation?

I did a health report on the opioid crisis.

I thought it would be a good deterrent

to the other kids in class

to see what happens to a body after an overdose.

They loved the book and took some pics, so...

- But you didn't have to use Nancy's... - Photographic evidence?

Isn't that what you use at work every day, Counselor?

They can get all the same stuff online. Look.

- Oh, stop. - No. Stop it.

Nobody wants to see that.

Got to go.

B-plus.

If it even matters.

Oh, my God.

Uh, B-plus is better than a "D."

Oh, the, uh, to-go cups are right there.

I thought I'd stay a while, have some coffee, talk.

Oh, Reggie, I was really clear.

All sex and no strings.

There you go.

- Seriously? - Seriously.

It's been fun, but, you know...

- Wait. What? - All right.

Hey! Hey!

What the hell is wrong with...

T-Tina needs help.

Someone call 911!

- How was your night? - Fine.

- Still mad, huh? - Not mad.

Damn! What is she so mad about?

- I'm not mad. - No, there was a tone.

- Little... - I missed family book club.

- Oh, why would you do that? - Did you say family book club?

- I know. - Why are the Bens here?

I'm not sure, because we have closed more cases in four months

than you have in seven.

Okay, L.A.'s finest. Tell you what...

close this case, the other team does the paperwork.

Lame. Close this case, I get the hellcat.

- Hell no! - Hell yeah.

- That's my ride, man. - No, that is not your ride, man.

- No, that's my ride. - It's city property.

- Paperwork for a month, and you're on. - Deal.

Oh! You're gonna have a pissing contest,

don't do it on my shoes, okay? Listen up.

Units responded to a TC on PCH,

only to discover the driver crashing through traffic,

trying to save his nanny.

Kyle Smith... right there.

Hasn't said a word since the crash.

He's got an overworked single mother out of town on business.

We're looking for her now.

No other family. Just her, the nanny.

Until we get hold of Kyle's mom, DCFS is gonna babysit.

I want you to find whoever did this, and find them fast.

Can you give us a minute?

Yeah. Sure.

Am I in trouble?

No.

None of this is your fault.

No.

You were so brave.

Not brave enough.

Tina's dead.

And I couldn't help her.

But you could still help us.

- You get it up yet? - Sounds like you last night.

Oh, you got jokes now, huh?

So, we good?

Yeah.

Okay. What do we got?

Two bangers trolling Malibu, searching for an easy target.

She tries to flee. They shoot.

Only they didn't count on a kid being in the car.

Chevy body, triple-unit rear-light assemblies.

That's a '69 Impala.

Huh.

What? I like cars.

I see this. So, we got a partial plate.

We got the make and model of the car.

We just need to, uh, search the DMV records.

DMV warrants take forever.

What if it didn't have to take forever?

Yeah, but they do.

I got a way around that.

Around that?

Uh, McKenna.

Listen. A few of us got a pool going

about why Syd got booted from the DEA.

Now, my money is on she sucker-punched her boss.

- And I say mental breakdown. - Mm.

Look, Black-man and Robin, if you have a question for Syd,

put your big-boy pants on and ask her yourself.

What's wrong with my pants? Why are you always

- talking about my clothes? - No, no, no, no, no.

You know something.

Aren't you guys supposed to be looking for Kyle's mom?

Found her. We just sent you the information.

- Yeah, check your e-mail. - Claire Smith.

She's on a flight out of Cyprus.

Phone's off. Homeland Security is reaching out.

This a lot faster than an official request.

Fletch used to do this for us all the time back in Miami.

Kind of missed him when he switched coasts.

Oh, yeah? Well, let me take you to a Laker game.

- I know a guy. - I'm a Heat fan.

- What? - I know a guy.

- What about you... - No.

Okay, found your '69 Impala.

It's registered to a Victor Morales, Boyle Heights.

That's East Side Diablos territory.