Cold cases, to me, always seem to be the worst ones.
They're open for years, shoved to the back burner, 'cause we're all
Living in a city where the crime rate seems to rise and fall and rise again,
Depending on the mood people are in.
Looking at someone cross-eyed can get you shot,
Talking smack can get you stabbed…
That sort of thing.
The cold cases that involve children shouldn't be cold cases at all,
Wouldn't be if not for lack of evidence,
Should be the first on our priority list,
And a lot of the time, aren't, because there's so much else to do.
It's not that we don't care, it's just that the city's too damn big.
The discovery of a body sticks me with Vizcarrando, and
We go out trying to find out exactly what happened.
And all it does is lead us to another cold case, 'cause somehow,
These things are all connected, and she's only here because
There was this case that took over her cop father until he finally passed on…
This kid in a box.
No one knew his name, where he'd come from, what he was doing there.
All she wanted was an answer.
Could've told her that there are rarely any easy answers.
Life is one of those things that everyone takes for granted,
Everyone thinks it'll last forever.
That they have time, to do as they will and then make amends for it.
Not how it works.
Suppose the least we can do as cops is try and close the cases that got left behind
But some of them aren't meant to be closed,
No matter how much it hurts.
And it does hurt.
Makes me want to go to where my kids are, and hold onto them,
And never let them go, for fear something like this will happen,
Because if it ever did, I would never see them again,
And if this separation hasn't killed me,
Then losing one of them, all of them…
That definitely would.