The Rookie

- Hey, you're not nervous I'm gonna embarrass you

in front of your old captain, are you?

Of course not.

I don't know why I'm so anxious.

Russ has always been one of my biggest champions.

He's the one that pushed me to go to officer candidate school

after my first tour.

- Well, I'm sure he's not coming all the way to LA

so that he can tell you he's disappointed in you.

I just wish he would give me

some sort of idea what this is about,

but that's Russ.

- There she is. - Hey, Russ!

It's so good to see you! - Ah!

- Hey. - John Nolan.

- Colonel Russell Wilkes. Please, call me Russ.

It's a pleasure to finally meet the man behind the stories.

- Yeah, likewise. Sit down. - Thank you.

I really appreciate you being here, John.

I know I didn't give away too much over the phone,

but what I'm here to discuss would affect both your lives.

Seems only fair to include you in the conversation.

The Sec Def has tasked me with putting together

a working group inside the Pentagon.

Wow.

- A team of my own choosing that will spearhead

bringing battlefield medicine into the 22nd century.

It's the most consequential assignment of my career,

and you are the first person I'm asking to be a part of it.

- I mean, it's an honor just to be nominated.

Totally. Russ is a genius.

He could recruit anyone for this working group.

And the fact that he called me first--

I mean, that's-- that's pretty great.

Yeah, 100%. That's so cool.

But, I mean, our life is perfect right now.

There's no way we're messing that up.

No way. It's perfect.

Police! Get down!

This is Bailey Nune, LAFD.

I need an RA to Central Station Market.

We have a male GSW victim

who's been shot in the head and the back.

- Two suspects--black hoodies, masks, and pants.

One headed east towards Broadway.

In pursuit of second suspect.

Move! Move!

Why are you texting me when I'm right here?

- Letting you sleep. - That's sweet.

Wait, are you looking at real estate?

We have to upgrade.

We need more room--

a second tub, a closet that fits all our clothes.

- I mean, yeah, sure, that would be nice, but...

we created our family here.

- Which I love, but now we're bursting at the seams,

and Mama's ready to crack open that trust fund and get crazy.

- Mm, I'm not sure I like the sound of that.

Tough.

We have money. - Uh, no.

We have some money.

But housing prices in LA are insane.

I guess it couldn't hurt to see what's out there.

- I love that you've learned to roll with me,

rather than resisting.

- Yes, you have successfully broken my spirit.

- Yay. - Yay.

Quickie before the kids wake up?

Oh, um, well...

Mm.

Mom, come here!

Too late.

I like this one.

I bet you could hang a swing set

from that tree right there in the back.

- That was my favorite until I saw this.

It has a pool and a gym and a screening room.

- Wait, hold up. You got screening room kind of money?

- Depends on which one of us you ask.

Wesley is the king of frugality,

so he would definitely say no,

but I lived on credit cards until I met him,

so I'm way more comfortable pushing the envelope.

- Hey, Nolan, did you tell Officer Hart

that the shooters last night were furries?

- No, I said they were wearing hoodies.

Are you taking the case? - Yeah.

Do you mind just walking us through it?

- Yeah, uh, Bailey and I were coming back from dinner

at Central Station Market.

- Date night? - No.

Her former commanding officer came to offer her a job--

a Pentagon think tank.

- Wow, you really married outside of your league.

I know, right?

- So is she going to take it? - No.

It would mean relocating to D.C.,

so it's a nonstarter for us.

- I mean, it might be a nonstarter for you,

but I guarantee you that your overachiever of a wife

is seriously thinking about it. - No, actually.

She was laughing it off when we talked about--

oh, my God, she's actually thinking about it seriously.

Okay, well, no, no, if that's something

she really wants to do, relocating to D.C.

could be cool. - It's not.

I spent time there during my joint-ops days.

It took me about three weeks to unclench

every time I came home.

- Thank you for that insight. - Mm.

- So any clarity on the victim?

Fred Wilson, 48, CPA,

married, no kids, no criminal record.

- Making him an unlikely candidate

for a targeted assassination.

- Is there anything else about the shooters

that you didn't give Hart?

- Sorry, I did not get a good look at them.

What about CCTV? Anything there?

They were pretty covered up.

But take a look at this.

- Uh, looks like the letters SF.

That would make him Southern Front.

No visible tattoos on the second shooter.

Huh. - Yeah.

- So why would a member of a white supremacist gang

partner up with a Black man

to execute a civilian in broad daylight?

- Told you he'd spot it. - You trained him well.

- Could be that our innocent CPA

was helping the Southern Front to launder money,

or maybe he had a drug problem and owed them money.

- We're trying to get the ME to rush the tox screen,

but he's dodging our calls. - Oh, say no more.

I'll go deliver the ask in person.

Let me collect my boot.

Hey.

Do you know what this is? - An iron?

- You know what it's not? A machete.

I am due in court in two hours to testify

about a man attacking people on a bus with a machete.

- Okay, something must have got switched around

in the evidence locker-- we'll figure it out.

- No, no, no. The case is time not waived.

If we don't find it fast, that psycho is going to be let free.

- Okay, have you told the prosecutor?

No. It's Wesley.

And I am just trying to keep him in blissful ignorance

as long as possible.

Help me.

That's the case number.

- No, I know, but it's wrong. - The case number isn't wrong.

The item might be wrong, but numbers are just numbers.

Fine.

Um, so the--the point is, I have to be at court,

uh, and--and I need that machete, like, ASAP.

- Case number? - Oh.

- We're not gonna find it by using the case number.

The numbers got switched.

- Well, if you don't have the case number,

then I can't help you. - Oh, Wesley's gonna kill me.

- It's--relax. Maybe it's just a typo, right?

The first eight numbers are the date.

The crime was on January 20th? Try 20-10-2026.

Try 02-01-2026.

- Wow. - 20-01-2025.

- Are you sure you used the new data-entry procedure?

We changed it a few months ago. - Of course I did.

But I wasn't the one who logged the entry

because you wouldn't approve the overtime.

I had Smitty do it.

- What the hell is your problem?

Uh, good morning?

- I have bent over backwards to treat you well,

and this is how you repay me. - I don't--

I'm sorry, I don't know what's happening right now.

Like hell.

You know, your little innocent act

would be a lot more believable if they weren't in your office.

Just know this: if you go through with it,

I will do everything in my power

to absolutely destroy you.

Hi. Who are you?

What are you doing in my office,

and why has it sent Vivian into a rage spiral?

- Rita Sanchez. This is Bradley Worth.

We work with the Democratic Party,

and we want you to run for district attorney.

And now it makes sense.

That's a hard no for me, by the way,

but thanks for stopping by. - You obviously know

that Vivian Eckert's running unopposed

since Del Monte dropped out of the race.

- Yeah, but that was a month ago--why come to me now?

- Candidly, we've been having a hard time finding someone

to take up his mantle.

So I'm your last choice. - Hardly.

Look, Mr. Evers, I wish there was time

for us to do our usual dance of seduction and ego stroking.

But as you rightly pointed out, we're up against it.