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Special Victims Unit
Observation Room
Wednesday, July 7th

Sven Adler sat calmly waiting in the interrogation room while Cragen stood outside in the observation room with his detectives. Cragen was talking to them about how he wanted Sven handled and he was obviously more than a little nervous about the fact that the boy wasn't a U.S. citizen.

"Munch, Fin; you gotta take this slow. We're on thin ice here already. We've got no evidence pointing to him and until Amos gets here for the lineup, you've got to make sure you keep him on our side. We're lucky he's cooperating with us at all, considering how your last talk with him went." At this, Cragen gave Munch a look.

"Don't worry, Captain," Munch said jovially, acting oblivious to Cragen's warning, "We'll be nice to the Nazi."

"That's what I'm worried about," Cragen replied as the two detectives opened the door and entered the room which contained Sven.

The German youth looked up at the detectives. "Have you made any progress with the case? I assume that is what you wanted to speak to me about."

"Yeah, actually," Munch replied as he and Fin sat down at the table. "We just caught a break, didn't we, Fin?"

"Yeah, we looked up one of Eve's friends and asked him about that party you mentioned," Fin said as he sat back in his chair with a leisurely appearance.

"What did you find?" Sven asked.

"Apparently, he saw you there."

"Was?" Sven's brow furrowed and he shook his head. "Nien. I was not there. He's wrong."

"See, Sven, buddy, we're having a hard time believing that," Munch said. "So, to help us clear up this little misunderstanding; where were you Sunday night?"

"Home."

"And your host family was there?"

Sven shifted uncomfortably at this. "Nien. They went to ein restaurant that night."

"Why didn't you go?" Fin asked.

"I was feeling sick."

"And you were feeling all better by Monday?" Munch asked.

"Ja."

"Well enough to go give your girlfriend a visit?"

"Nien! I told you yesterday. I did not see her after Sontag." His German accent was becoming thick as he was growing visibly agitated.

Fin leaned forward. "Well, this guy who saw you at the party says you and her were fightin'. What was it about?"

"I was not there."

"Okay. You weren't there," Munch said, trying to sound agreeable. "But if you had been there, what would the two of you been fighting about?"

"If I was there, which I was not, we would have probably been fighting about the fact that she was there."

"That made you angry, right?"

"Ja, like I said before, I was upset that she went."

"Did it make you angry enough to kill her?"

Sven glared at Munch. "Geh zum Teufel." He shifted his gaze straight forward, refusing to look at the detectives anymore as he announced, "I will no longer cooperate with you."

"Why?" Fin asked. "You got somethin' to hide?"

"Nien. I do not like you."

The sound of someone tapping on the one-way mirror from the other side was heard and Fin stood up and left the room. Munch did not watch his partner go, instead looking at Sven and saying, "I believe our witness has arrived. If you've got nothing to hide, thrn I'm sure you won't object to a lineup."

Sven was suspicious. "For what purpose?"

"We want to see if the guy who was at the party saw you and not some other person fighting with your girlfriend," Munch explained. "If he doesn't finger you and your story checks out, we'll stop bugging you."

Sven considered the proposal for a moment as he eyed Munch for any signs of deception. "And I have your word on this?"

"Yeah, for what little it's worth," Munch answered and he could tell the German teenager was more than a little disconcerted by the smile he had on his face.

…

"Amos, when the guys come in, pick out the one you saw arguing at the party with Eve if he's there. If he's not, let us know," Elliot told the teenager.

"Yeah, yeah," Amos said dismissively. "C'mon, let's get this over with. I gotta go back to work."

Elliot nodded and in just a few moments, the men for the lineup walked into the room. Amos looked them over for a second before shaking his head. "No, man. He's not there."

"Are you sure?" Elliot asked. "You only looked at them for a couple seconds."

"Look, I'm positive. The guy I saw weighed at least a hundred pounds more than these guys. He was built. Like a football player. He even had one of those jackets. These guys are all scrawny. Totally wrong body type."

Elliot hung his head in defeat, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck in order to ease the tension there. Then, something hit him. "Wait. Football player type, you said?"

Amos nodded. "Yeah, real bulky. Not fat. Just big."

Elliot turned and exited the room, beckoning Amos to follow him. He dug through a box of Eve's stuff that was present in the squad room, quickly locating her yearbook. He flipped open to a marked page and handed the book to Amos. "Anyone there look familiar?"

Amos rolled his eyes in frustration but dutifully scanned the page. Halfway through, he paused and scanned again. Jabbing a finger at a picture, he announced, "That's the guy."

"His name?" Elliot asked, although he already knew to which picture Amos was pointing.

"Tony Laird."

…

Elliot parked the squad car by the public basketball court. "There he is," he said with a flick of his chin in the direction that Tony stood, shooting hoops alone. "How do you wanna take him?"

"Let's try not to spook him," Olivia replied. "Just tell him we need to ask him some questions down at the precinct and get him to come with us willingly."

"Right." Elliot nodded and they exited the car. Walking along the chain-link fence, he called out, "Hey Tony."

The teen paused and turned to look at them. "Yeah?"

"NYPD." Elliot showed him his badge. "We need to ask you some questions about your neighbor."

Tony turned and shot at the hoop, asking, "What specifically?" as the ball missed and rebounded off of the fence.

"Just some stuff about her boyfriend," Olivia replied, watching his reactions closely. "Do you know him?"

"Yeah, he's a pussy." Tony shot again and this time the ball went through the hoop.

"Do you know if they'd been fighting?"

"No more than is usual."

"We heard that there was a party on Sunday that they went to," Elliot said in a casual tone. "Did you go?"

"Don't think so." The ball missed the hoop again.

"Don't think so?" Elliot repeated.

"Okay, no." Tony turned to look at the detectives, holding the ball against his body with the crook of his arm. "C'mon, enough chit-chat. What do you want?"

"We want you to come to down to the precinct with us," Olivia said.

His eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Just for some routine questions," Elliot replied.

"'Routine questions'?" Tony shook his head. "No."

"I'm afraid that's not an option." Elliot tried to keep his tone firm, but non-threatening. However, there was no escaping the obvious meaning of his words.

Tony stared at the detectives for a minute, letting the basketball he held drop to his hand as he considered his limited options.

"Hey," Elliot started as he remembered something Munch and Fin had mentioned earlier, "wasn't your left arm in a sling a few days back?"

Suddenly, without warning, Tony raised the ball up in his hand and launched it at Elliot's head where it collided with a loud cracking noise. The detective dropped to the ground on the stop and Tony quickly turned and took off towards the fence, obviously intending to scale it and run. Olivia drew her gun while glancing with concern at her partner, who quickly waved her on, and then took off after the boy.

"Tony! Get down or I'll shoot!" she yelled at the teen who was already half-way up the tall fence.

"Fuck that, bitch!" he yelled back, continuing to climb.

Olivia took careful aim and fired. With a howl, the teen dropped to the ground, clutching his arm in pain. Olivia moved over him, still aiming her gun at the downed teen, and took out her cuffs with her free hand. "Roll onto your stomach," she growled. He weakly complied and she snapped the cuff onto his good hand, hooking the other one to the fence. Putting her gun into her holster, she pulled out her cell phone and quickly dialed for help as she ran back to her wounded partner.

'Geh zum Teufel' is roughly equivalent to 'Go to hell.' And when Sven asked 'Was?' at the beginning, I mean it as in the German word meaning 'what?'