Law & Order Special Victims Unit s03e06 Episode Script
Redemption
In the criminal justice system, sexually based offenses are considered especially heinous, In New York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad known as the Special Victims Unit, These are their stories, Detective Stabler, you stated under oath that you tested everyone who had any personal contact with Leslie Bello.
Is that correct? Yes.
Did you test Mr.
Hernandez, her teacher? No.
No? Did you test her bus driver, Mr.
Campbell? No.
Well, did you test the plumber who fixed the bathroom drain when Leslie was home sick from school? No.
So, in fact, everyone who could've been alone with Leslie was not tested.
Leslie did not identify the plumber as her rapist.
And 8-year-olds, they never lie.
Objection.
Withdrawn.
No further questions.
Redirect, Your Honor.
Detective Stabler, whom did Leslie Bello identify as her rapist? Her grandfather, Frederick Bello.
Thank you.
Was it scary? Piece of cake.
All you gotta do is tell the truth.
Will you come with me? Well, you know, I can't, but I'll wait right here until you finish.
Leslie Bello? Is he in there? Yeah, but he can't hurt you anymore.
Just look at the person who's talking to you and answer their questions, okay? Morning, Elliot.
Hey, how'd it go? They let him walk.
You're kidding me.
Grandfather rapes his granddaughter, no big deal, even though he was the only one in the house with gonorrhea.
Who the hell do they think gave it to her? Juries screw up.
Whole system's screwed up.
It's a load of crap.
It's a rape-homicide, Victim's Jennifer Walton, 25.
The body was discovered by her friend this morning.
The landlady let her in.
Any signs of forced entry? No, but take a look.
Did some damage.
That's only the beginning.
How did it end? Found her tucked into bed, hands bound behind her back with pantyhose, face pummeled, throat slit and raped.
Any fluids? Too much blood to tell, but there is perineal bruising.
We'll test the sheets for semen.
Look at this.
A romantic psycho.
And I thought my day couldn't get any worse.
How do you spell that? D- U-M-A-S.
How well did you know Jennifer? We're both dog lovers.
We'd exchange stories sometimes at the dog run.
Did she ever mention a boyfriend? Last month she said she was going away for a weekend with someone named David.
She asked me to take care of her little puppy, Max.
I bet he wants his breakfast.
Did you ever meet this David? Well, not formally, but I saw him sometimes standing outside her door right there.
What's he look like? Tall, graying hair.
He brought her flowers, so I figured it was him.
What kind of flowers? Begonias and daisies, roses.
He stop by last night? I think they were fighting.
About what? He was yelling so loud.
Something about she was trying to ruin his life.
I should've checked up on her.
What store? Wheaton's Department Store.
We planned to meet for drinks.
When? Around 9:00.
said a friend stopped by from work and she'd be late.
She mention a name? No, but I heard a man's voice in the background.
What'd it sound like? Did he have an accent? Did he sound angry? I don't know.
What about Jennifer? Was she upset, nervous? I'm not sure.
Is there anything you're sure about? We only talked for a moment.
Elliot.
We'll be in touch.
Looks like she was entertaining.
One glass with lipstick.
Our perp a teetotaler? Neat freak.
Found the other glass in the kitchen on the drying rack along with a carving knife, both washed totally clean.
So much for evidence.
Well, we've got blood.
Probably landed the first blow here.
Then he dragged her from the couch into the bedroom.
Surprised he didn't shampoo the rug.
Victim's clothes folded nice and neat.
Buttons are all gone.
After he ripped them from her body.
Bag them all.
There's no sign of a struggle here.
The blow must've stunned her, maybe even knocked her out.
So, he lays her on the bed, and he ties her up.
He beats her and he rapes her.
I'd say you're looking for a lefty.
He drew the blade across her throat, slicing the left carotid, sending the spray against the wall.
Kitchen knife looks good for the weapon.
When he's finished with her, heads for the bathroom.
Hey.
Hey.
Found traces of blood in the sink and also around the shower drain.
Okay.
So, he showers.
He gets dressed.
He washes the wine glass and the knife, strolls out the front door, takes his dirty towels with him.
You got it all figured out.
At least I'm trying.
Check the drain traps.
Hear that? Get the tub and the sink.
You're thinking crime of passion? Really did a number on her.
Hell of a lot of rage.
But he wasn't out of control.
Still had the presence of mind to clean up after himself.
Maybe that's because the violence is actually soothing to him.
You see, the initial outburst triggers a flood of serotonin to his brain, which calms him while he acts out his anger.
The more he maims, the better he feels.
Exactly, and then once his rage dissipates, he's gentle, he's loving.
He tucks her into bed.
He folds her clothes, puts a flower on her pillow.
So, what are we looking for? Well, he wooed her before he killed her.
He's intelligent, articulate, maybe even charming.
Any leads on the boyfriend? Elliot and I are heading to Wheaton's to follow up on her visitor from work.
Munch, Fin, stick with forensics.
As meticulous as this guy was, let's hope he left something behind in all that carnage.
Multiple facial and mandibular fractures.
Knocked out four front teeth, two embedded in the soft palate.
Any idea what he beat her with? His fists, by the bruise patterns.
He could have cut himself on a broken tooth.
I'll canvas the ERs for hand injuries.
Anything else? Traces of spermicide, most likely from a condom, but no semen, and something odd.
Two circular incisions on her chest where the dermis was excised.
What's his game? I don't know, but the hell this woman went through, death was a blessing.
You gotta find whoever did this, We're looking for someone who might be able to help.
A guy by the name of David.
You mean David Stedman? He work here? He's the manager in Women's Shoes.
Were he and Jenny involved? He's a married man.
Not that it ever stopped him.
Stopped him from what? Chasing women.
He's shameless.
Even after Tammy filed that harassment suit.
Who's Tammy? She worked in Cosmetics.
She told him she had a boyfriend, but he wouldn't back off.
She finally had to transfer to the Brooklyn store.
Is that when David turned his attentions to Jenny? Yeah.
He started coming around on breaks, asking her to lunch.
I warned her, but she insisted they were just friends.
But you didn't believe that? It's impossible for David to be "just friends" with a woman.
Is he working today? Up the escalator and on your right.
Look what this shoe does for the line of your leg.
Very sexy.
I don't know.
They're awfully expensive.
But you're worth it.
David Stedman? Be right with you.
We'd like to talk to you now.
I'm with a customer.
She'll understand.
I think you better talk to them.
What happened to your hand? I broke a knuckle.
How? Banged it against a door.
She really must have pissed you off.
Who? Jennifer Walton.
Neighbor saw you go into the apartment, heard you two arguing.
You get off on beating up women? Make you feel good? I never touched her.
Well, we saw the hole in the door.
Is that what this is about? 'Cause I'll pay for the damned door, okay? What set you off there, shoe boy? She was gonna file a complaint with my boss.
She said I was harassing her.
That's a bad habit of yours, harassing the ladies, isn't it? I only asked her to dinner.
You murdered her.
What? She's dead? No more dancing.
Elliot.
You tried to get into her pants, and she wouldn't go for it, so you smacked her.
No.
No? Then, tell me what happened, huh? Elliot.
Huh? Just tell me what happened.
She laughed at you, 'cause you couldn't get it up? No! Elliot, knock it off.
She made fun of your manhood, and then you decided to teach her a lesson, so you pounded it into her, and then you raped her and you sliced her throat.
No, I punched her door.
Elliot.
You raped her.
You sliced her throat.
She threw me out, I swear.
What time? Yeah.
puts you there at 8:30.
No.
No.
I was at the hospital by 8:00.
You don't believe me, call the ER at Mercy General.
What are you doing? You itching for a lawsuit? Just cutting through the crap.
He's calling his lawyer.
Well, God bless the lawyers.
Elliot, hey, it's my ass, too.
Don't worry about it.
I'll make sure it's covered.
David Stedman, signed in 7:47 p.
m.
, discharged 12:52 a.
m.
What took so long? It's a busy night.
And he would've gotten in sooner if he hadn't kept hitting on me.
I saw his wedding ring.
Every time he made a move, I dropped him to the bottom of the list.
Great.
Thank you.
So, we start over.
Face pummeled, 5-inch lac to the throat.
How deep? Carotid partially severed.
BP thready.
Take her to 3.
We're on it.
What? That was Munch calling from the crime scene.
I think we just met victim number two.
Celia Mitchum, second victim, 25, teacher's aide at Thornton Elementary.
Landlord found her tucked into bed, hands tied, face beaten, throat cut.
After which the perp took a shower, did the dishes and left a white rose on her pillow.
Just like the other one.
Have you seen this MO before? Not around here.
We're checking with VICAP.
He's got his act down.
He's too organized to be a first-timer.
And he knows what he likes, blonde, blue eyes, petite, both worked with children.
Mother fixation? I'd say more like a romantic ideal.
He shared a bottle of wine with Jennifer.
He lit a candle.
What about Celia? Having coffee, munching on some chocolates.
Don't forget the roses.
White roses.
The symbol of innocence and purity.
Unfortunately, no woman fulfills his fantasy.
So, his frustration just keeps escalating until he can't contain himself.
What else? He tailors his approach.
Wine for Jennifer, chocolates for Celia.
This means that he studied them.
He possibly knew them.
He's white, educated, probably middle-management.
Why didn't you pick up on this before? 'Cause the pattern didn't emerge until the second victim.
How long's he been doing it? Long enough to perfect a pretty sophisticated MO.
Five, maybe 10 years.
You'll have to go a hell of a lot farther back than that.
Elliot.
John.
What do you need? A few minutes with your boss.
Detective Hawkins? Captain Cragen.
Come on in.
Elliot, join us.
Who the hell is that? Wyatt Earp.
Shut the door.
You two know each other? I took his class at the Academy.
Always had him figured for Homicide.
I guess he had other ideas.
What's this about? Detective Hawkins has some information he thinks bears on your serial killer.
Okay.
You remember the SoHo Strangler? Roger Berry, early '80s.
Beat and raped his victims, and then he strangled them.
You put him away.
He's out.
Paroled six months ago.
Well, our guy doesn't squeeze their throats.
He cuts them.
Tucks them into bed? Yeah.
Leaves a white rose on their pillow? Okay, maybe we got a copycat.
I wouldn't count on it.
We never released that little detail about the rose or the fact that he tied his victims' wrists with a Navy slipknot.
Berry was a biter.
Still is.
Only now he cuts the bite marks off their chests, so you can't match them to his dental records.
Roger's had a few years to sweat the details.
Okay, well, thanks a lot.
We'll check it out.
You can ride with me.
Brass called this morning.
Detective Hawkins has a lot of experience with Berry.
He's been temporarily reassigned here.
Oh, so, now I need a babysitter? It's no reflection on you.
This isn't right, Captain.
It's how it is.
Yeah.
His name's Roger Berry.
I miss one damn parole hearing, and the morons let him walk on good behavior.
I see you've met everybody.
Hawk's a real take-charge kind of guy.
What makes you think it's Berry? Fits his signature.
I read up on the first victim.
What've you got on the second? Scene wiped clean, except for a contact lens on the bathroom floor.
Victim's med records says she's Where exactly do we find this Roger? His PO's got him working at a flower shop on 32nd.
They sell white roses? Check it out.
Benson.
Yeah.
We'll take Roger's apartment.
Okay.
That was the lab with forensics.
So, go.
Elliot and I can take care of ourselves, can't we? Coffee cups, chocolates, roses, silverware.
Wasn't able to get anything.
Same nothing as the first crime scene.
He did use the same Navy slipknot on both victims.
What about the contact lens? Contact lens.
Whoever lost it is lucky he didn't walk into any walls.
We calibrated the prescription at 20/150.
Any DNA on it? No, but we found hair samples in the drain traps from both apartments.
They didn't belong to either victim, but they matched each other.
The killer.
Good news is the barb was still attached to one of them.
If there's enough DNA, we can run it against the sample they took from Roger Berry when he was paroled.
Now all we have to do is find him.
See you.
Your partner always so friendly? Well, she just doesn't like you.
Wail till she gets to know me.
Here we go.
Hey, Roger, it's your old buddy, Hawk.
Open up.
Roger.
Probably out walking his dog.
You got a warrant? Don't need one.
PO's prerogative.
Well, I don't see a parole officer, unless that drunk we stepped over has got a badge.
He'll be here.
You sure this is Roger's apartment? Oh, yeah.
Yeah, well, our shrink said our guy's middle-management.
Oh, he did, did he? Oh, he did, and he also said that he's meticulous.
Meticulous? Check the bed.
Hospital corners.
"Happy birthday.
Love, Mom.
" We got a pair of running shoes.
You think she knew we were coming? Well, well, lookie here.
Guess he didn't have time to put them in his scrapbook.
Jennifer Walton and Celia Mitchum.
You're late.
Hey, cross-town traffic's a bitch.
Detective Stabler, Eddie Tobias, Roger's PO.
How you doing? Where's our boy? You were supposed to be keeping track of him.
He wasn't at work today.
Home was the next best bet.
When he's in trouble, he usually runs to Mama.
She still in that shotgun house out in Queens? Couldn't pry her out with a crowbar.
The neighbors tried to when they found out what her little boy did.
Thanks, Eddie.
Close the door on your way out.
You.
That's right, Mrs.
Berry.
It's me.
I got nothing to say.
Your boy's at it again.
He raped and killed two more women.
You're trespassing.
Where is he? I'm not gonna let you railroad him like you did before.
Roger confessed.
You tricked him.
He didn't know what he was doing.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
You stole 18 years of his life.
Ma'am, he surrenders himself, he gets a fair shake.
I give you my word.
You're all liars! I find out you're hiding him again, I'll run you in for accessory after the fact.
You don't scare me.
It's gonna be a lot easier if you give him up now.
Roger keeps running, he's liable to get hurt.
Go to hell! You trying to kill her? No.
She's tougher than she looks.
Last time, she hid Roger in her basement for three weeks, meanwhile two more women wound up dead.
Sure as hell ain't gonna help us now.
You think she would? Sometimes finesse goes a long way.
Finesse is for fairies.
Look, I don't care how many strings you pulled to get here, but you're working my case.
My case.
So, from now on, we do it my way, you got that? You hungry? What? Roger used to eat at this restaurant every day about the same time.
Thought we'd grab a bite.
You hear me? Yeah.
But if I don't get something in my gut before long, I'm gonna pass out.
You drive.
Oh, yeah.
Roger.
He started coming in a few months back.
Orders the same dinner.
Cheeseburger and a root beer.
Takes it to his favorite table.
Yeah, he's got a standing reservation? Well, you know, he's a little off.
It's gotta be that table or nothing.
He'll wait an hour for people to leave.
So, I put a little sign up, save him the trouble.
How are the cheeseburgers, still the same? Big and greasy.
I'll take two.
One for me and one for my partner.
My treat.
To drink? Double bourbon.
Neat.
Beer.
A bottle of domestic.
We'll have our burgers, nail our perp and be home for the 11:00 news.
You're awfully cocky for someone who's been striking out all day.
Well, Roger's a creature of habit.
He'll be here.
Whatever you say.
You wanna talk about that bug up your ass or just let it fester? I just don't like grandstanders.
I thought you were gonna say grandfathers.
That was a tough one to lose.
That jury sent him home to rape that kid all over again.
You make your case? I had him nailed.
Then you did your job.
Well, that's not good enough anymore.
Well, it has to be, because that's all there is.
I told that little girl everything was gonna be okay.
And I told the parents of Roger's victims he'd rot in prison.
Well, at least you put him away for 18.
Yeah, well, at least you gave that little girl a few days' peace.
We never win this war, Elliot.
Just so tired of losing.
Then what're you gonna do? Huh? Quit? I don't know.
All that's required for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.
Here's to a few good men.
Stabler.
Yeah, John.
Really? Well, we'll let you know if he shows up here.
Wasn't a total bust at the flower shop.
The owner told Munch that Roger made deliveries to Jennifer Walton's apartment building a week before she was murdered.
That's the way he accessed his victims last time around.
He also said that Roger got fired for threatening a customer.
Our boy's late.
Sometimes he gets caught up watching the boats.
Yeah, where? Pier 41.
Damn.
Hey, who's gonna pay for this? Roger? It's me, Hawk.
Turn around real slow, and we'll handle this like men, all right? Stay away from me.
Can't do that, Roger.
I won't go back there.
That's not an option, Roger.
No.
Roger.
I won't.
No.
Come on, Roger.
No, I won't go back! Get up.
No! Damn it, Roger.
Hold still.
Your collar.
Roger Berry, you're under arrest for the murders of Jennifer Walton and Celia Mitchum.
No.
You have the right to remain silent.
No.
If you give up that right, anything you say can We almost lost you, there, Roger.
I don't want to talk to you.
I don't really want to talk to you, either, but we've got some loose ends we gotta tie up.
Where were you night before last? It was my birthday.
I was with my mother.
All night? After we ate cake, I went home.
What time? Lights out by 10:00.
You stop by Celia Mitchum's on the way home? Who's that? That's that nice lady you brought flowers to day before yesterday.
I bring flowers to lots of nice ladies.
Yeah, but this one you killed, Roger.
No.
What about Jennifer Walton? I didn't kill anybody.
Then why'd you cut their stories out of the paper? See here? My mom gave me those.
She said, "Be careful.
" You was gonna try to put me back in jail.
Roger, you're not going back if you didn't do it.
You lie just like he lied.
Here we go.
You said if I signed that paper, I could go home.
We don't send murderers home, we send them to prison.
Now, admit it, Roger, you took those girls flowers.
No.
You pretended to be their friend No.
No and then you raped them and killed them.
No! I want my mom.
Your mama can't help you now, boy.
Hawk.
You're going back to jail, and this time I'm gonna see to it they strap you down and put a needle in your arm.
No.
I saved your sorry ass so you can die my way.
My way! Hawk.
Hawk.
Stay here.
I want my mom.
Cut him loose? The DNA's not back.
We've got nothing to hold him on.
It's Roger's signature.
It's the killer's signature.
Meaning what? The guy's borderline retarded.
You think he's capable? Roger's smarter than you think he is.
You give me some time alone with him, and I'll have him singing a different tune by lunch.
Nobody's talking to Roger alone.
His mother reached out to Legal Aid.
He's lawyered up.
And with no DNA, we've got no grounds for arrest.
Well, while you all sit around with your thumb up your ass, I'll take Roger's mug out to recanvas.
You remember, police work.
It's hard to make a case for a copycat when the signature wasn't released to the press.
There is another explanation.
Roger Berry's not the SoHo Strangler.
Hit the archives, take a fresh look at the old strangler files.
If this strangler's been out there all this time, he must have left a scent.
Hawk would never admit that he's wrong, especially if he hears it from a woman.
He's old-school.
He's a drunk.
I talked to a cop at Manhattan South.
They said that nobody will ride with him.
Well, maybe they don't have the guts.
Well, maybe they just want to stay alive.
Maybe they should shut up and do their I'm just telling you to watch your back.
Sorry, Detectives, the files already been checked out.
Under what name? Detective John Hawkins, Manhattan South Homicide.
Son of a bitch, he's covering his ass.
Wait a minute.
I'll handle it.
I didn't mean John, it's Elliot.
You in there? You just wanted her to stop screaming, I didn't want her to scream, You tied her up, grabbed her by the throat, I don't It's open.
Damn it, Roger, Stop screwing around, I want the truth, If I say it, can I go home? Tell me what happened, Okay, Okay, what? I grabbed her, You raped her, I raped her, Then you put the flower on her pillow and left, I gave her the flower and left, You left her dead, Dead, Just spending some quality time with my old friend, the SoHo Strangler.
You and Roger? Found a neighbor that alibied him.
Puts Roger at home when Jenny and Celia were killed.
I don't need any DNA to tell me the rest.
We'll get the guy.
You know, when I first caught this case, I had my shield only for one year.
Wanted to show everybody what a kick-ass cop I was.
Six murders later, I'm still drawing blanks.
So, as usual, the media's up our ass, talking about taking me off.
Then we catch a break.
A neighbor sees a flower delivery man leaving Larissa Cutler's apartment.
I go down to the flower shop, search his truck, strike the mother lode.
Women's underwear, porno, the same kind of rope used to tie their hands.
You made your case.
Not without a confession.
I wanted that so bad.
I put Roger in the box and I grilled him over and over and over, till I convinced myself he'd been in those apartments.
I fed him every detail of the case.
And then I told him that if he signed that confession, he'd go home to his mother.
Poor dumb son of a bitch believed me.
You have a chance to make this right.
I took 18 years from an innocent man.
God knows how many women died because of it.
You can't make something like that right.
Okay, so, what are you gonna do? Quit? You wanna drink yourself to death? I can't stop you.
But what are you gonna tell the parents of those girls? You made a promise to them.
If you're the man that I think you are, you'll keep it.
Hawk.
Hawk! You don't have to shout.
I think I found something.
Believe me, I've been over that stuff till my eyes bled out.
If there was anything to find, I'd have found it.
Arthur Blessard? Huh? Do you remember a guy named Arthur Blessard? Yeah.
He's one of the neighbors that ID'd Roger.
Ann Chilsen's date book three weeks before she was murdered.
She had an appointment with her tax man.
"AB.
" I'll be damned.
Come on.
It's a long shot.
Everything's a long shot till you connect the last dot.
What are we looking for? These are my notes on the strangler case.
I used to sketch faces to keep the interviews straight in my head.
Son of a bitch.
Who's this? Artie Blessard.
Guy was blind as a bat.
Like the guy who left his contact on Celia Mitchum's bathroom floor.
The last dot.
We traced the MO from the 1983 strangulations to the current murders.
VICAP came back with 12 more hits from five different cities.
Arthur Blessard's employment history puts him in the vicinity of seven of those murders.
They show the evolution of Arthur's MO over time.
We're still contacting local PDs, but all we can come up with is Chicago is where he began to mutilate his victims to hide the bite marks.
And he started slitting throats in Atlanta.
In every case, the signature matches.
So, where is this Arthur Blessard now? Well, he quit his job at some storefront tax outfit in Hartford last month.
Hawk is out checking with the Feds, see if they have any info on subsequent employment.
Already done.
Where? bastard's working for the IRS.
His desk is right over here in the corner.
Where the hell is he? Probably out in the field.
He's one of our busiest auditors.
Oh, really? Excuse me.
What? Hey.
Hey, what are you doing? Don't you need a search warrant? Got it covered.
Here we go.
Jennifer Walton.
Celia Mitchum.
He's using their tax return as a dating service.
Employment, marital status, home address.
He's even got their photos from the DMV.
Got an appointment book.
Beverly Parsons.
341/2 West 23rd Street.
5:00 p.
m.
It's 4:45.
This is it.
Police! Don't move.
Oh, my God! Hi, Artie.
Remember me? Spread your legs.
What is this? Arthur Blessard, you're under arrest for the murders of Jennifer Walton and Celia Mitchum.
Murder? Did he hurt you? No, I cut myself when I dropped the vase.
Artie was helping me clean it up.
Yeah, Artie's a real neat guy.
And a hopeless romantic.
Since when is it a crime to bring a lady flowers? You got a date with me now, boy.
Artie first contacted me a week ago about irregularities on my tax return.
I'd just moved here from Ithaca and couldn't afford to fly in my accountant, but he said that was okay.
He thought the discrepancies could be cleared up without much trouble.
And then, so, you met with him? At his office.
He seemed really nice.
He'd found more problems with my return, and when he saw how nervous that made me, he offered to take me to lunch.
I felt sorry for her.
You know, audits can be nerve-racking.
But when you're in a new city and no family or friends, it can be downright terrifying.
You give that kind of personal attention to all your audits? We're not all soulless bureaucrats, Detective.
He called me at the hospital, I'm a pedes nurse, and said he'd accidentally double-booked.
He apologized and insisted on making it up to me by taking me to dinner.
Dinner was her idea.
Well, aren't there rules against fraternizing? Her audit was winding down, and she seemed like a nice enough girl.
So, I said, "What the heck?" That's when things got weird.
He started asking me a lot of questions about my personal life, and then tonight he showed up at my apartment with flowers.
I shouldn't have let him in, but I thought I could let him down gently without screwing up my taxes.
So, why'd you come back, Artie? Temptation too great? I don't know what you're talking about.
Come on.
Roger Berry.
I put him away for what you did.
His parole gave you carte blanche to murder again.
You knew he'd be the prime suspect.
This time we've got DNA evidence, Artie.
You know what that means, Artie? It means we've got you.
This is crazy.
You know what's crazy, Artie? Sitting in your 8x10 cell eating your last meal.
Or walking down the hallways to that little room with the gurney.
Are you trying to make me confess? You want to save your ass, don't you, Artie? I'm not going to lie.
We can tie you to both victims.
I did their taxes.
In their bedrooms? That would be a breach of ethics.
Keep it up, Artie.
Keep it up, and I swear to God, I'll put your head through that wall.
I'll be sure and tell that to my lawyer.
I didn't say anything.
We searched Artie's apartment and found a lens case with a single contact.
Also found a receipt from Jean's Flowers.
The same flower shop where Roger works.
It's obvious he was setting Roger up.
Any luck with Artie? He lawyered up.
Can we hold him? Unfortunately, we have nothing to hold him on.
What about the flowers and the contact? Circumstantial.
Well, what about the DNA from the hair? He will argue he was an invited guest.
That's a stretch, isn't it? He had legitimate business with both victims, just as he did with Beverly.
Circumstantial or not, we've made cases on less.
This time we have to contend with history.
Roger Berry, SoHo Strangler.
Roger didn't do it.
His convictions are a matter of public record, which provides a very compelling argument for reasonable doubt.
He had access, opportunity, and according to his arrest file, the same signature.
So, Artie just walks? If we take this to trial and he's acquitted, he gets a lifetime pass.
So, unless we can tie him more definitively to these murders, the answer is yes.
Wait a minute.
What about the old murders? Artie wasn't as experienced back then or nearly as neat.
You thinking he might have left a deposit? It's 18 years ago, but those evidence boxes are still at Pearson Place.
We went over everything with a fine-tooth comb.
The rope, lingerie, fingerprint slides, all useless.
What about the bite marks? Only subcutaneous bruising of petechiae.
Nothing we could match to a suspect.
There's gotta be something.
We took a closer look at this bed sheet.
It belongs to the first victim, Marcia Johnston.
The bookstore clerk.
Correct.
According to the inventory, a mixture of blood and semen was typed from this spot.
We were able to extract enough DNA to run a panel.
The only problem is, is the sample is mixed.
Meaning what? Meaning we need DNA from both the suspect and the victim to make an accurate analysis.
But the victim's been dead and buried for 18 years.
Unbury her.
No.
I won't allow it.
Let Marcia rest in peace.
I know how difficult this must be for you, Mrs.
Johnston, but No, you don't.
There isn't a day goes by I don't think about my daughter.
There was a time I couldn't even do that, because I couldn't bear the thought about the horrible way she died.
I finally got to the point where I could look at her picture without breaking into tears.
Mrs.
Johnston, I put the wrong man away for 18 years for your daughter's murder.
Now I've gotta carry that burden along with the deaths of all the other daughters since then.
I promise to put Marcia's killer away.
I can't do it without your help.
How many others? Seven that we know of.
If I don't get it right this time, there's a man out there that's gonna keep on killing.
What exactly will you have to do to her? We need to extract a sample of DNA for analysis from one of her bones.
And there's no other way? Unfortunately, Marcia's our last hope.
My last hope.
Blessard's gonna be awfully surprised to see us.
I can't wait to see that son of a bitch's face.
Get the back.
Arthur Blessard, open up.
Police.
One, two, three.
Hawk? Hawk! Hawk! Hawk, don't do this.
Don't do what, partner? You know this isn't right.
We both know the system sucks.
This way, it's just natural selection.
No! Please! Hawk, you do this, you're no better than he is.
He sure as hell won't kill anybody else.
This is no way to end it.
Come on.
He's an evil man, Elliot.
And all it takes for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.
Please! No! You gonna make an old drunk do all the work? Give me a hand.
Your collar.
Arthur Blessard, you're under arrest for the murders of Marcia Johnston, Jennifer Walton and Celia Mitchum.
You have the right to remain silent.
Anything you say can and will be used
Is that correct? Yes.
Did you test Mr.
Hernandez, her teacher? No.
No? Did you test her bus driver, Mr.
Campbell? No.
Well, did you test the plumber who fixed the bathroom drain when Leslie was home sick from school? No.
So, in fact, everyone who could've been alone with Leslie was not tested.
Leslie did not identify the plumber as her rapist.
And 8-year-olds, they never lie.
Objection.
Withdrawn.
No further questions.
Redirect, Your Honor.
Detective Stabler, whom did Leslie Bello identify as her rapist? Her grandfather, Frederick Bello.
Thank you.
Was it scary? Piece of cake.
All you gotta do is tell the truth.
Will you come with me? Well, you know, I can't, but I'll wait right here until you finish.
Leslie Bello? Is he in there? Yeah, but he can't hurt you anymore.
Just look at the person who's talking to you and answer their questions, okay? Morning, Elliot.
Hey, how'd it go? They let him walk.
You're kidding me.
Grandfather rapes his granddaughter, no big deal, even though he was the only one in the house with gonorrhea.
Who the hell do they think gave it to her? Juries screw up.
Whole system's screwed up.
It's a load of crap.
It's a rape-homicide, Victim's Jennifer Walton, 25.
The body was discovered by her friend this morning.
The landlady let her in.
Any signs of forced entry? No, but take a look.
Did some damage.
That's only the beginning.
How did it end? Found her tucked into bed, hands bound behind her back with pantyhose, face pummeled, throat slit and raped.
Any fluids? Too much blood to tell, but there is perineal bruising.
We'll test the sheets for semen.
Look at this.
A romantic psycho.
And I thought my day couldn't get any worse.
How do you spell that? D- U-M-A-S.
How well did you know Jennifer? We're both dog lovers.
We'd exchange stories sometimes at the dog run.
Did she ever mention a boyfriend? Last month she said she was going away for a weekend with someone named David.
She asked me to take care of her little puppy, Max.
I bet he wants his breakfast.
Did you ever meet this David? Well, not formally, but I saw him sometimes standing outside her door right there.
What's he look like? Tall, graying hair.
He brought her flowers, so I figured it was him.
What kind of flowers? Begonias and daisies, roses.
He stop by last night? I think they were fighting.
About what? He was yelling so loud.
Something about she was trying to ruin his life.
I should've checked up on her.
What store? Wheaton's Department Store.
We planned to meet for drinks.
When? Around 9:00.
said a friend stopped by from work and she'd be late.
She mention a name? No, but I heard a man's voice in the background.
What'd it sound like? Did he have an accent? Did he sound angry? I don't know.
What about Jennifer? Was she upset, nervous? I'm not sure.
Is there anything you're sure about? We only talked for a moment.
Elliot.
We'll be in touch.
Looks like she was entertaining.
One glass with lipstick.
Our perp a teetotaler? Neat freak.
Found the other glass in the kitchen on the drying rack along with a carving knife, both washed totally clean.
So much for evidence.
Well, we've got blood.
Probably landed the first blow here.
Then he dragged her from the couch into the bedroom.
Surprised he didn't shampoo the rug.
Victim's clothes folded nice and neat.
Buttons are all gone.
After he ripped them from her body.
Bag them all.
There's no sign of a struggle here.
The blow must've stunned her, maybe even knocked her out.
So, he lays her on the bed, and he ties her up.
He beats her and he rapes her.
I'd say you're looking for a lefty.
He drew the blade across her throat, slicing the left carotid, sending the spray against the wall.
Kitchen knife looks good for the weapon.
When he's finished with her, heads for the bathroom.
Hey.
Hey.
Found traces of blood in the sink and also around the shower drain.
Okay.
So, he showers.
He gets dressed.
He washes the wine glass and the knife, strolls out the front door, takes his dirty towels with him.
You got it all figured out.
At least I'm trying.
Check the drain traps.
Hear that? Get the tub and the sink.
You're thinking crime of passion? Really did a number on her.
Hell of a lot of rage.
But he wasn't out of control.
Still had the presence of mind to clean up after himself.
Maybe that's because the violence is actually soothing to him.
You see, the initial outburst triggers a flood of serotonin to his brain, which calms him while he acts out his anger.
The more he maims, the better he feels.
Exactly, and then once his rage dissipates, he's gentle, he's loving.
He tucks her into bed.
He folds her clothes, puts a flower on her pillow.
So, what are we looking for? Well, he wooed her before he killed her.
He's intelligent, articulate, maybe even charming.
Any leads on the boyfriend? Elliot and I are heading to Wheaton's to follow up on her visitor from work.
Munch, Fin, stick with forensics.
As meticulous as this guy was, let's hope he left something behind in all that carnage.
Multiple facial and mandibular fractures.
Knocked out four front teeth, two embedded in the soft palate.
Any idea what he beat her with? His fists, by the bruise patterns.
He could have cut himself on a broken tooth.
I'll canvas the ERs for hand injuries.
Anything else? Traces of spermicide, most likely from a condom, but no semen, and something odd.
Two circular incisions on her chest where the dermis was excised.
What's his game? I don't know, but the hell this woman went through, death was a blessing.
You gotta find whoever did this, We're looking for someone who might be able to help.
A guy by the name of David.
You mean David Stedman? He work here? He's the manager in Women's Shoes.
Were he and Jenny involved? He's a married man.
Not that it ever stopped him.
Stopped him from what? Chasing women.
He's shameless.
Even after Tammy filed that harassment suit.
Who's Tammy? She worked in Cosmetics.
She told him she had a boyfriend, but he wouldn't back off.
She finally had to transfer to the Brooklyn store.
Is that when David turned his attentions to Jenny? Yeah.
He started coming around on breaks, asking her to lunch.
I warned her, but she insisted they were just friends.
But you didn't believe that? It's impossible for David to be "just friends" with a woman.
Is he working today? Up the escalator and on your right.
Look what this shoe does for the line of your leg.
Very sexy.
I don't know.
They're awfully expensive.
But you're worth it.
David Stedman? Be right with you.
We'd like to talk to you now.
I'm with a customer.
She'll understand.
I think you better talk to them.
What happened to your hand? I broke a knuckle.
How? Banged it against a door.
She really must have pissed you off.
Who? Jennifer Walton.
Neighbor saw you go into the apartment, heard you two arguing.
You get off on beating up women? Make you feel good? I never touched her.
Well, we saw the hole in the door.
Is that what this is about? 'Cause I'll pay for the damned door, okay? What set you off there, shoe boy? She was gonna file a complaint with my boss.
She said I was harassing her.
That's a bad habit of yours, harassing the ladies, isn't it? I only asked her to dinner.
You murdered her.
What? She's dead? No more dancing.
Elliot.
You tried to get into her pants, and she wouldn't go for it, so you smacked her.
No.
No? Then, tell me what happened, huh? Elliot.
Huh? Just tell me what happened.
She laughed at you, 'cause you couldn't get it up? No! Elliot, knock it off.
She made fun of your manhood, and then you decided to teach her a lesson, so you pounded it into her, and then you raped her and you sliced her throat.
No, I punched her door.
Elliot.
You raped her.
You sliced her throat.
She threw me out, I swear.
What time? Yeah.
puts you there at 8:30.
No.
No.
I was at the hospital by 8:00.
You don't believe me, call the ER at Mercy General.
What are you doing? You itching for a lawsuit? Just cutting through the crap.
He's calling his lawyer.
Well, God bless the lawyers.
Elliot, hey, it's my ass, too.
Don't worry about it.
I'll make sure it's covered.
David Stedman, signed in 7:47 p.
m.
, discharged 12:52 a.
m.
What took so long? It's a busy night.
And he would've gotten in sooner if he hadn't kept hitting on me.
I saw his wedding ring.
Every time he made a move, I dropped him to the bottom of the list.
Great.
Thank you.
So, we start over.
Face pummeled, 5-inch lac to the throat.
How deep? Carotid partially severed.
BP thready.
Take her to 3.
We're on it.
What? That was Munch calling from the crime scene.
I think we just met victim number two.
Celia Mitchum, second victim, 25, teacher's aide at Thornton Elementary.
Landlord found her tucked into bed, hands tied, face beaten, throat cut.
After which the perp took a shower, did the dishes and left a white rose on her pillow.
Just like the other one.
Have you seen this MO before? Not around here.
We're checking with VICAP.
He's got his act down.
He's too organized to be a first-timer.
And he knows what he likes, blonde, blue eyes, petite, both worked with children.
Mother fixation? I'd say more like a romantic ideal.
He shared a bottle of wine with Jennifer.
He lit a candle.
What about Celia? Having coffee, munching on some chocolates.
Don't forget the roses.
White roses.
The symbol of innocence and purity.
Unfortunately, no woman fulfills his fantasy.
So, his frustration just keeps escalating until he can't contain himself.
What else? He tailors his approach.
Wine for Jennifer, chocolates for Celia.
This means that he studied them.
He possibly knew them.
He's white, educated, probably middle-management.
Why didn't you pick up on this before? 'Cause the pattern didn't emerge until the second victim.
How long's he been doing it? Long enough to perfect a pretty sophisticated MO.
Five, maybe 10 years.
You'll have to go a hell of a lot farther back than that.
Elliot.
John.
What do you need? A few minutes with your boss.
Detective Hawkins? Captain Cragen.
Come on in.
Elliot, join us.
Who the hell is that? Wyatt Earp.
Shut the door.
You two know each other? I took his class at the Academy.
Always had him figured for Homicide.
I guess he had other ideas.
What's this about? Detective Hawkins has some information he thinks bears on your serial killer.
Okay.
You remember the SoHo Strangler? Roger Berry, early '80s.
Beat and raped his victims, and then he strangled them.
You put him away.
He's out.
Paroled six months ago.
Well, our guy doesn't squeeze their throats.
He cuts them.
Tucks them into bed? Yeah.
Leaves a white rose on their pillow? Okay, maybe we got a copycat.
I wouldn't count on it.
We never released that little detail about the rose or the fact that he tied his victims' wrists with a Navy slipknot.
Berry was a biter.
Still is.
Only now he cuts the bite marks off their chests, so you can't match them to his dental records.
Roger's had a few years to sweat the details.
Okay, well, thanks a lot.
We'll check it out.
You can ride with me.
Brass called this morning.
Detective Hawkins has a lot of experience with Berry.
He's been temporarily reassigned here.
Oh, so, now I need a babysitter? It's no reflection on you.
This isn't right, Captain.
It's how it is.
Yeah.
His name's Roger Berry.
I miss one damn parole hearing, and the morons let him walk on good behavior.
I see you've met everybody.
Hawk's a real take-charge kind of guy.
What makes you think it's Berry? Fits his signature.
I read up on the first victim.
What've you got on the second? Scene wiped clean, except for a contact lens on the bathroom floor.
Victim's med records says she's Where exactly do we find this Roger? His PO's got him working at a flower shop on 32nd.
They sell white roses? Check it out.
Benson.
Yeah.
We'll take Roger's apartment.
Okay.
That was the lab with forensics.
So, go.
Elliot and I can take care of ourselves, can't we? Coffee cups, chocolates, roses, silverware.
Wasn't able to get anything.
Same nothing as the first crime scene.
He did use the same Navy slipknot on both victims.
What about the contact lens? Contact lens.
Whoever lost it is lucky he didn't walk into any walls.
We calibrated the prescription at 20/150.
Any DNA on it? No, but we found hair samples in the drain traps from both apartments.
They didn't belong to either victim, but they matched each other.
The killer.
Good news is the barb was still attached to one of them.
If there's enough DNA, we can run it against the sample they took from Roger Berry when he was paroled.
Now all we have to do is find him.
See you.
Your partner always so friendly? Well, she just doesn't like you.
Wail till she gets to know me.
Here we go.
Hey, Roger, it's your old buddy, Hawk.
Open up.
Roger.
Probably out walking his dog.
You got a warrant? Don't need one.
PO's prerogative.
Well, I don't see a parole officer, unless that drunk we stepped over has got a badge.
He'll be here.
You sure this is Roger's apartment? Oh, yeah.
Yeah, well, our shrink said our guy's middle-management.
Oh, he did, did he? Oh, he did, and he also said that he's meticulous.
Meticulous? Check the bed.
Hospital corners.
"Happy birthday.
Love, Mom.
" We got a pair of running shoes.
You think she knew we were coming? Well, well, lookie here.
Guess he didn't have time to put them in his scrapbook.
Jennifer Walton and Celia Mitchum.
You're late.
Hey, cross-town traffic's a bitch.
Detective Stabler, Eddie Tobias, Roger's PO.
How you doing? Where's our boy? You were supposed to be keeping track of him.
He wasn't at work today.
Home was the next best bet.
When he's in trouble, he usually runs to Mama.
She still in that shotgun house out in Queens? Couldn't pry her out with a crowbar.
The neighbors tried to when they found out what her little boy did.
Thanks, Eddie.
Close the door on your way out.
You.
That's right, Mrs.
Berry.
It's me.
I got nothing to say.
Your boy's at it again.
He raped and killed two more women.
You're trespassing.
Where is he? I'm not gonna let you railroad him like you did before.
Roger confessed.
You tricked him.
He didn't know what he was doing.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
You stole 18 years of his life.
Ma'am, he surrenders himself, he gets a fair shake.
I give you my word.
You're all liars! I find out you're hiding him again, I'll run you in for accessory after the fact.
You don't scare me.
It's gonna be a lot easier if you give him up now.
Roger keeps running, he's liable to get hurt.
Go to hell! You trying to kill her? No.
She's tougher than she looks.
Last time, she hid Roger in her basement for three weeks, meanwhile two more women wound up dead.
Sure as hell ain't gonna help us now.
You think she would? Sometimes finesse goes a long way.
Finesse is for fairies.
Look, I don't care how many strings you pulled to get here, but you're working my case.
My case.
So, from now on, we do it my way, you got that? You hungry? What? Roger used to eat at this restaurant every day about the same time.
Thought we'd grab a bite.
You hear me? Yeah.
But if I don't get something in my gut before long, I'm gonna pass out.
You drive.
Oh, yeah.
Roger.
He started coming in a few months back.
Orders the same dinner.
Cheeseburger and a root beer.
Takes it to his favorite table.
Yeah, he's got a standing reservation? Well, you know, he's a little off.
It's gotta be that table or nothing.
He'll wait an hour for people to leave.
So, I put a little sign up, save him the trouble.
How are the cheeseburgers, still the same? Big and greasy.
I'll take two.
One for me and one for my partner.
My treat.
To drink? Double bourbon.
Neat.
Beer.
A bottle of domestic.
We'll have our burgers, nail our perp and be home for the 11:00 news.
You're awfully cocky for someone who's been striking out all day.
Well, Roger's a creature of habit.
He'll be here.
Whatever you say.
You wanna talk about that bug up your ass or just let it fester? I just don't like grandstanders.
I thought you were gonna say grandfathers.
That was a tough one to lose.
That jury sent him home to rape that kid all over again.
You make your case? I had him nailed.
Then you did your job.
Well, that's not good enough anymore.
Well, it has to be, because that's all there is.
I told that little girl everything was gonna be okay.
And I told the parents of Roger's victims he'd rot in prison.
Well, at least you put him away for 18.
Yeah, well, at least you gave that little girl a few days' peace.
We never win this war, Elliot.
Just so tired of losing.
Then what're you gonna do? Huh? Quit? I don't know.
All that's required for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.
Here's to a few good men.
Stabler.
Yeah, John.
Really? Well, we'll let you know if he shows up here.
Wasn't a total bust at the flower shop.
The owner told Munch that Roger made deliveries to Jennifer Walton's apartment building a week before she was murdered.
That's the way he accessed his victims last time around.
He also said that Roger got fired for threatening a customer.
Our boy's late.
Sometimes he gets caught up watching the boats.
Yeah, where? Pier 41.
Damn.
Hey, who's gonna pay for this? Roger? It's me, Hawk.
Turn around real slow, and we'll handle this like men, all right? Stay away from me.
Can't do that, Roger.
I won't go back there.
That's not an option, Roger.
No.
Roger.
I won't.
No.
Come on, Roger.
No, I won't go back! Get up.
No! Damn it, Roger.
Hold still.
Your collar.
Roger Berry, you're under arrest for the murders of Jennifer Walton and Celia Mitchum.
No.
You have the right to remain silent.
No.
If you give up that right, anything you say can We almost lost you, there, Roger.
I don't want to talk to you.
I don't really want to talk to you, either, but we've got some loose ends we gotta tie up.
Where were you night before last? It was my birthday.
I was with my mother.
All night? After we ate cake, I went home.
What time? Lights out by 10:00.
You stop by Celia Mitchum's on the way home? Who's that? That's that nice lady you brought flowers to day before yesterday.
I bring flowers to lots of nice ladies.
Yeah, but this one you killed, Roger.
No.
What about Jennifer Walton? I didn't kill anybody.
Then why'd you cut their stories out of the paper? See here? My mom gave me those.
She said, "Be careful.
" You was gonna try to put me back in jail.
Roger, you're not going back if you didn't do it.
You lie just like he lied.
Here we go.
You said if I signed that paper, I could go home.
We don't send murderers home, we send them to prison.
Now, admit it, Roger, you took those girls flowers.
No.
You pretended to be their friend No.
No and then you raped them and killed them.
No! I want my mom.
Your mama can't help you now, boy.
Hawk.
You're going back to jail, and this time I'm gonna see to it they strap you down and put a needle in your arm.
No.
I saved your sorry ass so you can die my way.
My way! Hawk.
Hawk.
Stay here.
I want my mom.
Cut him loose? The DNA's not back.
We've got nothing to hold him on.
It's Roger's signature.
It's the killer's signature.
Meaning what? The guy's borderline retarded.
You think he's capable? Roger's smarter than you think he is.
You give me some time alone with him, and I'll have him singing a different tune by lunch.
Nobody's talking to Roger alone.
His mother reached out to Legal Aid.
He's lawyered up.
And with no DNA, we've got no grounds for arrest.
Well, while you all sit around with your thumb up your ass, I'll take Roger's mug out to recanvas.
You remember, police work.
It's hard to make a case for a copycat when the signature wasn't released to the press.
There is another explanation.
Roger Berry's not the SoHo Strangler.
Hit the archives, take a fresh look at the old strangler files.
If this strangler's been out there all this time, he must have left a scent.
Hawk would never admit that he's wrong, especially if he hears it from a woman.
He's old-school.
He's a drunk.
I talked to a cop at Manhattan South.
They said that nobody will ride with him.
Well, maybe they don't have the guts.
Well, maybe they just want to stay alive.
Maybe they should shut up and do their I'm just telling you to watch your back.
Sorry, Detectives, the files already been checked out.
Under what name? Detective John Hawkins, Manhattan South Homicide.
Son of a bitch, he's covering his ass.
Wait a minute.
I'll handle it.
I didn't mean John, it's Elliot.
You in there? You just wanted her to stop screaming, I didn't want her to scream, You tied her up, grabbed her by the throat, I don't It's open.
Damn it, Roger, Stop screwing around, I want the truth, If I say it, can I go home? Tell me what happened, Okay, Okay, what? I grabbed her, You raped her, I raped her, Then you put the flower on her pillow and left, I gave her the flower and left, You left her dead, Dead, Just spending some quality time with my old friend, the SoHo Strangler.
You and Roger? Found a neighbor that alibied him.
Puts Roger at home when Jenny and Celia were killed.
I don't need any DNA to tell me the rest.
We'll get the guy.
You know, when I first caught this case, I had my shield only for one year.
Wanted to show everybody what a kick-ass cop I was.
Six murders later, I'm still drawing blanks.
So, as usual, the media's up our ass, talking about taking me off.
Then we catch a break.
A neighbor sees a flower delivery man leaving Larissa Cutler's apartment.
I go down to the flower shop, search his truck, strike the mother lode.
Women's underwear, porno, the same kind of rope used to tie their hands.
You made your case.
Not without a confession.
I wanted that so bad.
I put Roger in the box and I grilled him over and over and over, till I convinced myself he'd been in those apartments.
I fed him every detail of the case.
And then I told him that if he signed that confession, he'd go home to his mother.
Poor dumb son of a bitch believed me.
You have a chance to make this right.
I took 18 years from an innocent man.
God knows how many women died because of it.
You can't make something like that right.
Okay, so, what are you gonna do? Quit? You wanna drink yourself to death? I can't stop you.
But what are you gonna tell the parents of those girls? You made a promise to them.
If you're the man that I think you are, you'll keep it.
Hawk.
Hawk! You don't have to shout.
I think I found something.
Believe me, I've been over that stuff till my eyes bled out.
If there was anything to find, I'd have found it.
Arthur Blessard? Huh? Do you remember a guy named Arthur Blessard? Yeah.
He's one of the neighbors that ID'd Roger.
Ann Chilsen's date book three weeks before she was murdered.
She had an appointment with her tax man.
"AB.
" I'll be damned.
Come on.
It's a long shot.
Everything's a long shot till you connect the last dot.
What are we looking for? These are my notes on the strangler case.
I used to sketch faces to keep the interviews straight in my head.
Son of a bitch.
Who's this? Artie Blessard.
Guy was blind as a bat.
Like the guy who left his contact on Celia Mitchum's bathroom floor.
The last dot.
We traced the MO from the 1983 strangulations to the current murders.
VICAP came back with 12 more hits from five different cities.
Arthur Blessard's employment history puts him in the vicinity of seven of those murders.
They show the evolution of Arthur's MO over time.
We're still contacting local PDs, but all we can come up with is Chicago is where he began to mutilate his victims to hide the bite marks.
And he started slitting throats in Atlanta.
In every case, the signature matches.
So, where is this Arthur Blessard now? Well, he quit his job at some storefront tax outfit in Hartford last month.
Hawk is out checking with the Feds, see if they have any info on subsequent employment.
Already done.
Where? bastard's working for the IRS.
His desk is right over here in the corner.
Where the hell is he? Probably out in the field.
He's one of our busiest auditors.
Oh, really? Excuse me.
What? Hey.
Hey, what are you doing? Don't you need a search warrant? Got it covered.
Here we go.
Jennifer Walton.
Celia Mitchum.
He's using their tax return as a dating service.
Employment, marital status, home address.
He's even got their photos from the DMV.
Got an appointment book.
Beverly Parsons.
341/2 West 23rd Street.
5:00 p.
m.
It's 4:45.
This is it.
Police! Don't move.
Oh, my God! Hi, Artie.
Remember me? Spread your legs.
What is this? Arthur Blessard, you're under arrest for the murders of Jennifer Walton and Celia Mitchum.
Murder? Did he hurt you? No, I cut myself when I dropped the vase.
Artie was helping me clean it up.
Yeah, Artie's a real neat guy.
And a hopeless romantic.
Since when is it a crime to bring a lady flowers? You got a date with me now, boy.
Artie first contacted me a week ago about irregularities on my tax return.
I'd just moved here from Ithaca and couldn't afford to fly in my accountant, but he said that was okay.
He thought the discrepancies could be cleared up without much trouble.
And then, so, you met with him? At his office.
He seemed really nice.
He'd found more problems with my return, and when he saw how nervous that made me, he offered to take me to lunch.
I felt sorry for her.
You know, audits can be nerve-racking.
But when you're in a new city and no family or friends, it can be downright terrifying.
You give that kind of personal attention to all your audits? We're not all soulless bureaucrats, Detective.
He called me at the hospital, I'm a pedes nurse, and said he'd accidentally double-booked.
He apologized and insisted on making it up to me by taking me to dinner.
Dinner was her idea.
Well, aren't there rules against fraternizing? Her audit was winding down, and she seemed like a nice enough girl.
So, I said, "What the heck?" That's when things got weird.
He started asking me a lot of questions about my personal life, and then tonight he showed up at my apartment with flowers.
I shouldn't have let him in, but I thought I could let him down gently without screwing up my taxes.
So, why'd you come back, Artie? Temptation too great? I don't know what you're talking about.
Come on.
Roger Berry.
I put him away for what you did.
His parole gave you carte blanche to murder again.
You knew he'd be the prime suspect.
This time we've got DNA evidence, Artie.
You know what that means, Artie? It means we've got you.
This is crazy.
You know what's crazy, Artie? Sitting in your 8x10 cell eating your last meal.
Or walking down the hallways to that little room with the gurney.
Are you trying to make me confess? You want to save your ass, don't you, Artie? I'm not going to lie.
We can tie you to both victims.
I did their taxes.
In their bedrooms? That would be a breach of ethics.
Keep it up, Artie.
Keep it up, and I swear to God, I'll put your head through that wall.
I'll be sure and tell that to my lawyer.
I didn't say anything.
We searched Artie's apartment and found a lens case with a single contact.
Also found a receipt from Jean's Flowers.
The same flower shop where Roger works.
It's obvious he was setting Roger up.
Any luck with Artie? He lawyered up.
Can we hold him? Unfortunately, we have nothing to hold him on.
What about the flowers and the contact? Circumstantial.
Well, what about the DNA from the hair? He will argue he was an invited guest.
That's a stretch, isn't it? He had legitimate business with both victims, just as he did with Beverly.
Circumstantial or not, we've made cases on less.
This time we have to contend with history.
Roger Berry, SoHo Strangler.
Roger didn't do it.
His convictions are a matter of public record, which provides a very compelling argument for reasonable doubt.
He had access, opportunity, and according to his arrest file, the same signature.
So, Artie just walks? If we take this to trial and he's acquitted, he gets a lifetime pass.
So, unless we can tie him more definitively to these murders, the answer is yes.
Wait a minute.
What about the old murders? Artie wasn't as experienced back then or nearly as neat.
You thinking he might have left a deposit? It's 18 years ago, but those evidence boxes are still at Pearson Place.
We went over everything with a fine-tooth comb.
The rope, lingerie, fingerprint slides, all useless.
What about the bite marks? Only subcutaneous bruising of petechiae.
Nothing we could match to a suspect.
There's gotta be something.
We took a closer look at this bed sheet.
It belongs to the first victim, Marcia Johnston.
The bookstore clerk.
Correct.
According to the inventory, a mixture of blood and semen was typed from this spot.
We were able to extract enough DNA to run a panel.
The only problem is, is the sample is mixed.
Meaning what? Meaning we need DNA from both the suspect and the victim to make an accurate analysis.
But the victim's been dead and buried for 18 years.
Unbury her.
No.
I won't allow it.
Let Marcia rest in peace.
I know how difficult this must be for you, Mrs.
Johnston, but No, you don't.
There isn't a day goes by I don't think about my daughter.
There was a time I couldn't even do that, because I couldn't bear the thought about the horrible way she died.
I finally got to the point where I could look at her picture without breaking into tears.
Mrs.
Johnston, I put the wrong man away for 18 years for your daughter's murder.
Now I've gotta carry that burden along with the deaths of all the other daughters since then.
I promise to put Marcia's killer away.
I can't do it without your help.
How many others? Seven that we know of.
If I don't get it right this time, there's a man out there that's gonna keep on killing.
What exactly will you have to do to her? We need to extract a sample of DNA for analysis from one of her bones.
And there's no other way? Unfortunately, Marcia's our last hope.
My last hope.
Blessard's gonna be awfully surprised to see us.
I can't wait to see that son of a bitch's face.
Get the back.
Arthur Blessard, open up.
Police.
One, two, three.
Hawk? Hawk! Hawk! Hawk, don't do this.
Don't do what, partner? You know this isn't right.
We both know the system sucks.
This way, it's just natural selection.
No! Please! Hawk, you do this, you're no better than he is.
He sure as hell won't kill anybody else.
This is no way to end it.
Come on.
He's an evil man, Elliot.
And all it takes for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.
Please! No! You gonna make an old drunk do all the work? Give me a hand.
Your collar.
Arthur Blessard, you're under arrest for the murders of Marcia Johnston, Jennifer Walton and Celia Mitchum.
You have the right to remain silent.
Anything you say can and will be used