Chicago Justice

Hey, look, this is to your last week as a free man.

All: Booyah!

Why don't I just give you guys the bottle?

- Sounds good to me. - Works for me, Dad.

- Hey, whoa. - Whoa.

Hey, Mr. Nichols, Trev told us you were in

'Nam back in the day.

Smack in the middle of primetime, 1968.

- Man, that must've been rough. - Yeah.

- Let me tell you squids a story. - Oh, not that old chestnut.

Now, we were on recon. It was raining so hard

we couldn't see five feet in front of us.

I stepped in a bed of bamboo vipers.

One of them gets me by the leg. I grab my K-bar

and I cut the damn snake's head off.

- No way. - Not only that.

Little bastard's been holding up my pants ever since.

- - That's nice.

Have a round with us, Dad, before we head out on the town.

All right. To wives and sweethearts.

May they never meet.

- Never. -

I told Trevor to be outside at 0600.

Well...

we don't get on the road soon, we're not gonna get our blind.

Trevor?

Trev?

Oh, God!

Mike! Jake!

Oh, my God.

My son. He's dead.

Get him out of here.

Come on!

Mr. Nichols, come on.

We came in for Trev's bachelor party.

We're staying at an Airbnb a few blocks away from here.

We were supposed to go deer hunting today.

Trevor's dad went inside the house...

and he found him there.

Is his dad still here?

No. He went home to tell his wife.

Thanks. Stay close.

Got the call about an hour ago.

I responded to the alley,

saw the lock on the back door was jimmied.

Did you happen to see a murder weapon?

No, but there's a knife missing from the butcher block.

- Hey, Drummond. - Dawson.

There's a tan line. No watch.

Find a wallet anywhere?

I haven't checked his pockets yet.

Ooh.

Hmm.

We braced ourself for this day

when Trevor was deployed overseas.

But we never thought that...

How long has your son been out of the Navy?

18 months.

He enlisted the day he graduated from high school.

He was in ten years.

He had an honorable discharge.

And since then?

He was a personal trainer at one of those ritzy gyms

down the loop.

He wasn't getting rich, but he looked forward

to going to work every day.

His wedding was next Saturday.

Instead we're planning a funeral.

It's not much consolation,

but I have our best people on it.

You damn well better.

I just can't believe Trev's gone, just like that.

It's so unfair.

When was the last time you saw him?

We had dinner Thursday.

Things were good between you two?

We were about to get married.

Trev was really looking forward to the wedding,

partying with all of our friends and families.

Right before I got married, I freaked out a little.

- I almost had a fling... - Trev wasn't like that, okay?

I hate to bother you with this, Mia,

but we found these at Trevor's house.

I just want to confirm that they're yours.

No, they're not.

I mean, they must have been there from before we met.

You're probably right.

It's unbelievable.

Four tours, and Trevor gets killed

in his own place in Chicago.

What'd you guys do for your big night out?

We started at Trevor's place for beers.

We had drinks with Mr. Nichols at his bar,

and after that went to some joint

where all the waitresses wear bikinis.

- Big Mel's Bikini Bar? - Yeah.

That's the place.

So, what happened at Big Mel's?

Trevor got hammered, and this waitress hit on him.

Angela. Total smokeshow.

Sorry, ma'am, she was on him like honey on a hot biscuit.

- Was Trevor into her? - Yeah.

Oh, yeah, he said he was gonna hang around

till Angela got off of work, so me and Mike bounced.

You left your friend that was about to get married

with Miss Smokeshow?

Some wingmen.

We'd like to speak to Big Mel.

What can I do you for?

We're looking for Angela.

The girl in the yellow bikini.

The Sex on the Beach is pretty sweet.

The Climax is very popular.

But my all-time fave is the ménage à trois.

Angela, come on.

Come on.

How's it going, Angela?

I'll let you know. What's up?

What did you do after work last night?

- Went home. - With him?

Alone.

So, how did your underwear wind up in his pocket?

Did something happen to him?

You know what cops call panties?

Lie detectors.

Hairs, fluids, and lots and lots of DNA.

He was getting married. His buddies tipped me 50 bucks

to slip him my thong. And that's all?

Trevor wanted to hang out after I got off of work,

so I took him to a fight club.

The one in Humboldt Park on Le Moyne?

That's right. I thought he just wanted to watch,

but once we got there, he said he wanted to fight,

so they set up a match for him.

He kicked some dude's ass.

I wasn't planning to hook up with him,

but after he took his shirt off and dominated in the ring,

I was like, "Come to mama."

Seriously?

You should've seen him.

I did. In a body bag.

That's...

Wow.

So, what happened when you left the fight club?

We got in an Uber, started making out,

and then he got all weird,

said he didn't want to screw things up with his fiancée.

So I dropped him off.

- And then? - I went home.

And took the edge off, lady-style.

Adele, a glass of Amaro, and the happy rabbit.

Uber driver confirms Angela's story.

- She never got out of the car. -

Stone.

Prelim autopsy's back.

We need to meet him at the morgue.

Penetrating knife wound to the left femoral artery

did most of the damage.

- Most? - Bruising and edema

to his face, arms, and torso.

He put up a hell of a fight.

Two, actually. The first one for cash,

the second one for his life.

Blood alcohol was 23.

I'm sure he wasn't on top of his game.

So, an intoxicated, unarmed man was overmatched

by a knife-wielding assailant?

There's just one anomaly.

Check out the X-ray.

What's that in his stomach?

Based on my analysis, looks to me

like a computer thumb drive.

There was no corrosion from digestive agents.

The ME is sure he ingested it right before he died.

I doubt it accidentally fell into his corn flakes.

If he swallowed it at the time of the break-in,

maybe he was trying to hide it from whoever killed him.

I can read the drive, but I can't get in.

- Password protected? - It's a video file,

but it's encrypted up the wazoo.

Something you can handle?

This is NSA-level cloaking.

We farm it out to the private sector, maybe we'll get lucky.

This was no run-of-the-mill home invasion.

Let's find out what Trevor Nichols was hiding

the old-fashioned way.

Trevor was first team, All-City tight end.

That's not too shabby.

Yeah, this guy was still in great shape.

How did someone get the jump on him?

Passed out from too many tequilas, intruder with a knife?

I don't like his chances.

Electric bill,

junk mail from Bucktown Savings Bank.

When was the last time anybody actually got a letter?

Let me see the bank one.

You can't open a dead man's mail.

You're probably right.

Let's see. Let's see.

"With your average monthly balance of $250,000, you qualify