An hour and a half later at the station, Renko looks at his partner. "Bobby, what do you make of that captain from Michigan Ave.?"
"It's not in our place to ask questions, Renko."
"That man was shakin' like a leaf on a tree. It was as if he caused that accident himself."
The double doors to the station open with Capt. Furillo returning. Wearily, he leans an arm against the main desk. Officer Raymond looks at him from in between the bouquets and baskets.
"Tell everyone, if they want any of the baskets or flowers they can… They can have them." Furillo takes a deep breath. Feeling like an utter failure for not being able to complete LaRue's final request, he pulls off his scarf.
Goldblume rushes through as if its an emergency. "I heard you came back." He looks at the tired captain. "Frank, you're never going to believe this. Come with me in the interrogation room.
"Can I at least put my coat back in the office?"
"Yeah. Just meet me in 'B' when you're done."
Furillo goes to his office. He finds Washington standing next to the door with his arms crossed when he's done.
"A child, wasn't it?" The detective says.
Furillo eyes the floor as his response.
"Kind of figured if it had to do with a stewardess. J.D. was always saying how lucky he was that none came forward. Who knows how many are out there?"
"Deirdre Jennette Hastings. D.J. Eight years old. Her mother doesn't want anything to do with him. She has a good husband and is stable."
Furillo shuffles away. Washington shakes his head, watching him. Goldblume puts a hand on the captain's arm. "Frank, we got a visitor. I didn't know if I should try to call you. For that matter I didn't even know where you were. Capt. Pete Mitchell came by…"
They disappear around the corner, down the hall, into the interrogation room. Several officers glance over. Belker slowly makes his way to the doorway of the squad room. Lt. Hunter does the same. Bates stays behind with Washington. Everybody stays quiet, hoping they can hear what's going on. Muffled yelling comes from the interrogation room. Two officers jump back at the sound of a loud thud. They hear Goldblume yell. Renko swallows back hard. Officer Chen's jaw stays unhinged while listening. Garcia glances up at Buchanan to see what he thinks.
Chatter ensues.
The door to the interrogation room opens. Furillo talks in a soft restrained tone. "I'm going to call…"
Goldblume trails behind. "Frank. Don't do anything rash."
"No. No. I'm not. I'm going to call the mayor and governor. Then I'll call Midtown, a judge, and the courthouse. Get all documents from Mitchell and if he doesn't cooperate, I will have him subpoenaed."
Furillo begins his trek down the hallway. Coming in through the double doors, Chief Daniels walks in. He looks at the condolence gifts which have proliferated since his previous visit. Glancing over, he sees the various officers nearby.
"You still have nothing to do?"
Lt. Hunter steps up to him with Belker following.
"Chief Daniels by all means, those two men who lost their lives today were our friends."
Daniels answers as he slowly makes an angled turn towards the squad room. "And I'm sorry about that."
Everybody else pours back into the room before the captain comes back. A couple though stay nearby.
Upon hearing the chief's voice, Furillo walks forward with the focus of a stealth fighter jet pilot. His arms flash out like switchblades, hands grabbing around the throat of one Fletcher P. Daniels. Quickly, the chief tries to back-peddle, first against the doorway frame where Garcia gets bumped. Clenching his teeth, Furillo leads him in through the squad room. "You're sorry?" He asks.
"Fra..ngh! Whas got…ten innu?" Daniels tries to say, feeling his windpipe tighten.
"You knew." Furillo stares at the hapless chief, struggling in his grasp. "Twice you came in my precinct, and you knew all this time." He feels his own erratic breath come out while seething inside.
Officers stand in shock over the sight of their captain in a position he's never shown towards the chief.
Still, Chief Daniels walks backwards with Furillo leading him past several desks.
Gritting his teeth, he continues. "You knew everything. You knew it all because you set it up! You cost two men their lives!"
Daniels takes the initiative to move in a direction that stops him in front of a desk. Furillo shoves him until the chief loses his balance, being taken over the top. Furillo's hands never let up. "You shoved his file in my face, but all along it was to cover up for your sorry hide." He breathes heavily until crying out, "HE WAS AT EVERY TUESDAY NIGHT AA MEETING FOR SEVEN YEARS! And you take out his file like some kind of a criminal!" He shoves the chief again. "All of this when it was your fault! You had them both killed! It was for your political gain! Yes it was. Don't you dare deny it." Out of breath, he exerts with force. "You traded an endorsement to become Mayor. When Mitchell balked at your pathetic exhibition, you offered to do anything in return. And what did you do? You expunged the records of Denver Johnson, Bryce Kincaid, Lou Jolevitch, and Ryan Gelman of two reckless endangerment cases each."
Officers stand back, gasping in horror. Bates stands covering her mouth in shock. Washington stares with jaw dropped.
"Fra…" Daniels tries to say.
"We had a nice little visit from your buddy, Capt. Pete Mitchell from Michigan Ave. I guess the guilt was more than he could stand. You though, came here three times. No conscience whatsoever." Furillo tightens his grip harder around Daniels' throat until he hears tighter gasps. Everyone else continues to stare, barely a blink or a breath. Nothing to help the chief. "Saint Francis. I'd like to see what Briscoe would think. Going to jail on homicide charges would be my pleasure. It would mean getting out from under your thumb FOREVER! Do you hear me, Fletcher?" Furillo feels the tears of rage build up. "No more. Do you understand me? NO MORE! I don't care if you promoted me to captain. I'm through with you." He clears his eyes, breathing hard. Slowly, he releases the chief. "No more." Furillo breathes heavy, wanting to cry. Only, his anger stops him. "You're no better than criminals I've put away. You're worse! You call yourself…Chief?"
Daniels quickly feels around his throat. Straightening his tie, he gives Furillo a long hard look as if he's been stripped. He stops to catch his breath. He pleads, sitting up. "Frank, I didn't know."
Out of the crowd of officers nearly formed into half a circle, Bates emerges from the crowd. Numbly she approaches the chief.
Daniels turns to Furillo. "You gotta believe me, I jus…"
Bates breathes back, "You son of a bitch." She delivers a walloping open-handed smack to his face. She steps back and starts crying.
Daniels slowly puts a hand to his throbbing cheek. He straightens his posture, getting off the desk. Calmly he says, "You just cost yourself a job, Sergeant Bates. I order you to turn in your badge and gun. Just like former Lt. Norman Buntz. Welcome to the unemployment line." He looks around at all of the officers who don't make a move or a sound. "You all saw! You're all witnesses! Every last one of you!"
By now, Washington offers Bates comfort. She huddles close to him, breathing hard between cries.
Furillo looks at the two of them, feeling their undeniable pain.
Daniels says, "Frank! You saw it! Worse than an insubordination charge. Assaulting the Chief of Police! I want her badge."
The captain tries to console Bates, putting a hand on her back as he stares back at Daniels. In a restrained though shaky tone he quietly replies. "I want you to hand in your resignation by the end of today. I want a copy on my desk too. If you don't agree, I will personally testify in court everything you ever did wrong. You like to go through personal files. Yours will be a Pandora's box. Every racial remark. Every sexual innuendo. Harassment. The botched drug bust to cover up your rejected hurt feelings from Patsy Mayo. What you tried to do against former mayor, Ozzie Cleveland. How you were willing to sacrifice officers that were innocent. Others that you put down for personal reasons. Barnes scandal. Keenan death. Charlie Weeks. The Wade investigation. And that's just the tip of the iceberg."
Daniels slowly looks at Furillo with defeat in his eyes. He slumps back. Bates' eyes peek from Washington's arm holding her. Hunter, Goldblume, and Belker stare as the chief slumps into the chair. Hill and Renko look on with pity.