Benson and Stabler walk past police tape. Apparently the body of an eight-year-old boy named Ryan Davies has been found. In case we weren't horrified enough, the crime scene is a public park. In case we're still not outraged, it turns out that two more boys found the body when they went to get a ball out of the bushes. Benson talks to them. Stabler goes over to the bushes where the body bag is lying. "Kid was assaulted, strangled, left in a shallow grave," the cop on the scene tells him. "How old?" asks Stabler. "Around eight," cop says. Stabler sighs, squats down by the body bag and hesitates a few moments, as if deciding whether he should look. He unzips it a little and his stoic expression flinches a little. Benson and Stabler go to notify the kid's parents, who freak out very realistically, in case we're still not completely depressed.
Oh yeah, and then the opening credits laden with headlines and creepy photos, in case we forgot that the city is filled with sickos.
And then the commercials, in case we don't have a soul and would rather just have a Bacon Cheddar Whopper.
At the station, Stabler is looking through snapshots of Ryan Davies. He lingers over one where the boy is holding a soccer ball and smiling. Cap'n Cragen pops out of his office: "All right, people, what have we learned?" "That nobody can handle crimes against children," says Benson. "Yeah, and [those with] less than two [offenses] get out after two years," adds Jeffries (who seems to be allergic to nouns). "And no one can handle the children," says Stabler, still looking at Ryan's photo. Everyone discusses the details of the crime, in case we missed the first five minutes because we were out getting a Whopper. Ryan's body was found with ligature marks around his neck, and no weapon or other evidence was found; crime probably occurred in the park, attacker was probably a stranger. The camera keeps cutting back to Stabler, who appears stony-faced and detached; this episode it’s his turn to Take It Personally. "Last time his parents saw Ryan was after school -- he went to a comic book shop in search of Pokémon cards," says Benson, making sure to put a tad of bitter emphasis on the word "Pokémon." "Who lets an eight-year-old out alone?" sighs Jeffries. "You watch over them twenty-four hours a day, you wind up with safe little neurotics," says Munch, like he's Dr. Benjamin Spock. Cragen ends the meeting: "Well, let's canvass the neighborhood." Everyone goes back to their desks or whatever, but Stabler doesn't move. He's obviously upset and thinking about his family. I know this is really not the time to say this, but man, he's hot.
Rrrrring! goes a school bell. The sound editors wisely decide not to chung-chung! here. Munch and Cassidy are outside an elementary school. "Ever think of having kids?" Cassidy asks. "Why?" says Munch, "I have you." Aww. They approach three girls and two moms sitting at a table; apparently part of a Girl Scout troop. "Cookies for sale!" perks up one girl. Munch greets them; Mom #1 barks, "Who are you?!" Moms everywhere agree: Munch is creepy. The detectives introduce themselves and ask the moms if they know anything about Ryan Davies. "I know I won't let her out of my sight," says Mom #2, putting her hand on her daughter's shoulder and glaring. "How much are the cookies?" Cassidy asks. "Five bucks!" chirps one of the Girl Scouts. Cassidy buys four boxes. Savvy cop that he is, he knows that the Girl Scout posse don't talk on the street until you deal. As we get a better look, we see that the cookies so prominently featured are not the Girl Scout cookies we know and love, but are in fact big honking bags of President's Choice Decadent Chocolate Chip cookies. What are these children up to? Are they Girl Scouts or are they the Product Placement Junior Brigade? Cassidy squats down and talks to one of the little girls who knew Ryan. "Do you think you can remember someone who might have talked about what has happened? Have you heard anything?" The little kid glances at her friend, then at her mom, and answers, "Boys. Older boys." "Who?" asks Cassidy. The kid looks around again. She does just the cutest rendition of L & O Witness Who Knows Something. Finally she says, "Mike D -- and Jimmy G?" Cassidy asks her if she knows where they "hang out."
Munch and Cassidy hit the hang-out spot and approach someone leaning against a fence. We discover that the Girl Scout was actually being really ironic when she said "older boys," because this "boy" is one of the most geriatric teenagers to ever grace the small screen. The guy must play shuffleboard with David Boreanaz; he looks older than Cassidy. He looks older than Munch. "Are you Jimmy G?" they ask him. "No, I'm Mike D," he says, in a deep, manly voice. "Who wants to know?" The detectives flash their badges. Just then Jimmy G scoots up on a skateboard. "What's up?" he asks. Jimmy G, though not nearly as wizened as Mike D, is nonetheless some kind of husky freakish man-child who could easily find work as a tavern bouncer. "Did you know Ryan Davies?" asks Cassidy. "I lived like two houses down from him," says Jimmy G. Cassidy: "Did you see anything on Friday night?" "We saw a lot," says Mike D, snottily. I won't bother transcribing Munch's usual convoluted bitchy repartee, since doing so actually sucks the life force out of me. Anyway, the "teens" mention what they've seen. "There's a weird guy," says Jimmy G. "An old guy, riding his bike by the school," adds Mike D, not even kidding. They tell the detectives the rider's name is "Turbin, or something." As Munch and Cassidy walk off in their dark suits, Mike D calls out, "You know, I thought Men in Black sucked!" Munch turns around. "Better than appropriating black culture for your own bad self," he says. Munch, the word is "badd," okay? Obviously, though, Mike D is appropriating YOUTH culture for his own REALLY OLD self.
Chung-chung! The Horseshoes of Suspicion are tossed in the general direction of Bill Turbit, 100 Linwood Street. Or something. Turbit is a mild-mannered guy with a receding hairline who smiles pleasantly enough through the tight deathmask that passes for his face, like Friendly Mr. Skeletor. He offers Stabler and Benson glasses of water as he tells them about how he likes the park. "I like the trees and grass," he says. "The granite outcroppings." Benson glances around the place and you can practically see her nostrils taking in the faint whiff of "Dork." Stabler asks Turbit, "Why the playing field?" "I -- don't understand," says Turbit. Stabler repeats, "Why do you ride your bike by the playing field?" Turbit thinks for a moment before he launches a campaign of geek subterfuge: "I love city parks! You get a sense of history . . . Central Park was a sheep meadow before Olmstead --" Stabler cuts in: "Usually only kids hang out by the playing field." Turbit gets the gist: "I see -- it's unusual for a grown man to be hanging out where kids play." "Some might even say inappropriate," says Stabler. Turbit blinks and sips from his glass of water with that certain je ne sais quoi of the socially maladjusted. He says it's a public space, and he rides through on his way home from work; it helps him clear his mind. "What do you do?" Benson asks; Turbit says he works at the recycling center, sorting out plastic bottles. "The clear from the colored," he says. "The green . . . the blue . . . the red . . ." Benson has a really annoyed look, as if someone actually fixed her up on a blind date with this guy. Turbit goes on to say that bike-riding is better for the environment, then he starts bragging about his old classic bicycle. "I think someone must be jealous of it," he says. "It's been moved, the chain's been stolen, you name it." "It's a tough city," Benson practically snickers.
Finally Stabler tells Turbit that they're investigating the murder of a boy who was found dead in the playing field. Turbit's expression changes as he realizes why the cops are talking to him, and he sinks down onto the couch. "Oh . . . no," he says. "Did you see anyone on your way home these last few days?" asks Benson. "No," says Turbit, a little too quickly. He says that after work on Friday night he went to a tavern to have a few drinks. "You like to drink?" Stabler asks him. "No! No!" says Turbit, not in response to the question, but because Stabler was about to set his water glass down on a wooden display box. "That's my -- stamp collection," Turbit says sheepishly. Stabler and Benson look at each other as if to say, Jeez! "My old man used to collect stamps," says Stabler, as he and Benson leave the building. "I never saw the appeal," says Benson. Then she spots Turbit's bike chained to a fence to the building. They hustle over and lift the tarp off Turbit big red Dorkcycle. "I wonder if the dirt on these wheels matches the dirt in the field where they found Ryan," says Benson. "Let's find out," says Stabler. They take out brushes and evidence bags and scrape the wheels as gleefully as if they were deflating the tires.
Back at the station. "My parents told me never to eat sweets," says Munch. "So, now, as an adult, you overcompensate?" says Cap'n Cragen, as he picks up a bag of President's Choice cookies off a desk laden with bags of President’s Choice cookies. Munch nods. Cassidy picks up one of the other bags of President's Choice cookies. "I guess your parents also said you should never get married," he says to Munch. The SVU is focusing its case on Turbit. "The guy was definitely very strange," says Benson as she eats a cookie. "The two kids put him at the playing field at about five p.m. -- the time of Ryan's death," says Munch. "Friday night, Turbit says he was drinking," says Stabler, looking pensively at the label on a bag of President's Choice cookies. "We're going to have to get a positive ID on Turbit," says Cragen, gesturing with -- I am not kidding -- A COOKIE. Everyone goes off to round up the eyewitnesses and get a lineup in place. I'm thinking Dick Wolf's parents told him never to do product placements.
Five schmucks in a lineup. Mike D IDs Turbit. Jimmy G IDs Turbit. During questioning, Turbit repeats his story: "Friday night I was at the tavern." "What were you doing there?" asks Stabler. Turbit sighs, realizing he has to make yet another really nerd-ass confession: "I have just acquired the Inverted Jenny -- number C3A." It's a stamp. "You know? The airplane? Upside down? Twenty-four cents." Turbit glances around excitedly to see if Stabler and Benson are impressed. They are so not. Turbit goes on: "It was in poor condition but it was a remarkable deal -- and I wanted to celebrate." Meanwhile Stabler and Benson are thinking, can we please give him a swirlie now? Instead, though, they fire a bunch of questions at him: did he know Ryan Davies? What he was drinking? Who did he talk to? Turbit stammers his way through the answers; he says he was playing cards with some guys but he doesn't know their names. "I, I usually keep to myself," he explains.
Just then Jeffries bursts in and calls Stabler and Benson into the hallway. She's been checking the records, and as usual she makes a huge deal out of the fact that she can work a file cabinet. She's found out, ooh, that there are nine registered sex offenders in Turbit's precinct! Cragen comes in and adds: "And only one of the sex offenders’ MOs matches this case," "Turbit was convicted eleven years ago," says Jeffries. She goes on: Turbit did his time, was paroled, and filled out his paperwork with the sex offender monitoring unit like a good little sex offender should. "He's been in the neighborhood about a year," says Jeffries, looking through a file folder. "What was he convicted of?" asks Stabler. Jeffries doesn't hear him at first and keeps blathering on some more about the registry. The camera pans in on Stabler as his face tenses up: "What was he convicted of?" Jeffries looks up. She speaks slowly for emphasis, or maybe because these lines are the last ones she gets to speak for the remainder of the episode: "Child. Molestation. A boy. A boy two months older than Ryan Davies." She turns, and we can see Turbit through the window of the interview room, sitting stiffly, as we suppose any pederast would. Stabler glares.
Stabler and Benson go to search Turbit's apartment and find uniformed cops trying to calm down about a dozen angry neighbors in front of the building. The extras yowl caterwauls of outrage and shake their fists. A handful of neighbors confront the detectives: "Why weren't we informed about this?" wails a woman. "You let a child molester move in among our children!?" barks a man. Stabler has to shout to be heard: "Sir, I'm not going to argue with you because I agree with you. Unfortunately, I am not the parole board!" Outraged Man yells back: "I let my son be alone with him!" Outraged Woman: "That damn stamp collection! He used it to lure my daughter inside!" Stabler tries to move past to enter the building, when Outraged Woman grabs him, howling, "Aren't you listening now!?" "I'm sorry," Stabler says, coldly, and goes up the steps.
Shit hits fans. Cragen, Stabler, and Benson meet with Turbit's prison psychiatrist and a precinct captain. "Not all sex offenders are repeat offenders," says the psychiatrist. "Well, you show me a first-time offender, and I'll show you someone who's never been caught before," says Stabler. "I'd met with Dr. Lloyd and Mr. Turbit. In my opinion, he wasn't a threat," insists the precinct captain. "Is that why you didn't do a door-to-door notification when he moved into the neighborhood?" Cragen asks. The other captain gets defensive: "You saw what happened today! A neighborhood finds out there's a sex offender among them, he becomes a target." "So, it's the rights of a community versus the rights of an individual," says Benson. Mark off "civics lesson" on your episode checklist, people. The captain points out that anyone who wants to know can go to a sex offenders Web site and find out plenty about Turbit. Dr. Lloyd adds that he thinks Turbit has had "a complete turnaround." Stabler snaps back: "One year out and he molests another kid, only this one dies -- this is your idea of a turnaround?" Dr. Lloyd shakes his head. "That doesn't sound like the Bill Turbit I knew," he says. Cragen and Benson insist that people are different in prison; Stabler starts bringing up really chilling details about Turbit's original victim. Dr. Lloyd says that at the time Turbit was on a "psychedelic STP cocktail" that made him psychotic. We learn that Turbit had attacked a kid who had come to his door selling candy, and when neighbors heard screaming and called 911, the police found Turbit having a hallucinatory freakout. "It wasn't the boy's screams the neighbors heard," says Dr. Lloyd. "It was Turbit's." The room falls silent. Mark off "squidgy shudder-inducing moment" on your checklist. Stabler remains stony-faced.
Stabler walks through the lockup with Turbit's lawyer (a woman who I swear was a girlfriend on Seinfeld), arguing about getting a blood test from Turbit. "It's completely unnecessary," she says, much in the same way she would say something like, "No, Jerry, I do not want a doggie bag for that steak!" But Stabler says that they plan on comparing the sample with DNA material under the boy's fingernails. The lawyer bitches on: "These new laws protect the public at the expense of the individual's constitutional rights. My client did his time, but you wouldn't know it -- he had more freedom inside." Stabler tries to ignore her. In a room down the hall, Turbit is struggling with med techs who are trying to pull up his sleeve. "Please don't -- please -- don't!" Stabler comes in: "Mr. Turbit, we have a court order to obtain a sample of blood from you. Now we can do this one of two ways: my way or your way." Oooh, Stabler: your way is MY way any day. But Turbit doesn't see it that way: "I -- don't like needles," he says. Just then one of the med techs whips out a big old needle and Turbit leaps up screaming, "No!! Nooo!!" so that Stabler and a guard have to pinion his arms and wrestle him to the table, where he continues to scream, "No! Nooo!! No!!!" while they draw blood, and at last he just whimpers and makes pathetic animal noises.
Chung-chung! Ryan's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Davies, walk Stabler and Benson to their car, in case we forgot that they're really freaked out. Mrs. Davies grabs Benson's arm: "My son wore glasses -- have you seen them?" "I'm sorry," says Benson, "we haven't, but we do have officers searching the area." "He -- can't see without them," says Mrs. Davies. Stabler says they're doing their best. Benson and Stabler exchange sad looks.
Stabler meets his family in the park. He kisses his Light of His Life Wife while his three daughters set out food at a picnic table. All of them have hair of gold, like their mother. "Sorry I'm late," says Stabler. "We waited as long as we could," says The Light of His Life Wife. Stabler looks around for his son. "Where's Dickie?" he says, worried. "I'm sure he's playing ball," says Lovely Daughter #1. Stabler turns and sees a woodsy area that looks an awful lot like the spot where Ryan was found, and he starts running towards it in a panic as the hand-held Every-Parent's-Nightmare-Cam jerks along behind him. Finally, though, he sees Dickie playing ball with a group of kids. He rushes over and scoops him up. "What's the matter, Dad?" says Dickie. "Are you mad at me?" Stabler just hugs him, tries to catch his breath, and looks both angry and relieved. Aww, Stabler! Can I also say how cute it is that a detective would name his child "Dickie"? Unless it's a shout-out to Dick Wolf.
The investigation continues at a tavern called "The Tavern": there's the old chung-chung! followed by the chik-chik! of billiard balls. Stabler is talking to the bartender. It turns out that Turbit was in on Friday. "Was he playing cards with anyone?" Stabler asks. Like Michael Jackson? Mary Kay LeTourneau? The bartender looks up: "I gotta tell you something. I have a little girl, about a year older than that Davies kid. She lives with her mom. I was up all last night thinking of what could happen to her." "I know," says Stabler, "believe me, I know. But did Turbit play cards with anyone that night?" The bartender says he didn't see him playing. "What time did he leave?" Stabler asks, and the bartender stops and thinks. "You know," he says, "he left for a few hours and then he came back. Seemed real upset about something." Wheels begin turning in Stabler's head.
Outside Turbit's place, police cut the chain lock on the Dorkcycle. Cassidy takes the chain in an evidence bag, then wheels the bike up the street. Munch and Cassidy continue to talk about having kids (not, like, with each other). Munch doesn't want kids: "I never want to give a kid the responsibility of ME," he says, though, really, he probably doesn't want to bring any child into a world where the nickname "Buttmunch" exists.
Later, Stabler and Benson talk to a forensics guy who has taken the entire Dorkcycle apart, because everyone knows forensics people have total autopsy envy. Forensics guy tells them that due to the nature of the local soil they are only able to place Turbit in the general neighborhood of the crime -- only circumstantial evidence. Ryan's glasses haven't shown up yet. But the forensics guy's face lights up: "I wanted to show you something!" he smiles fondly, as if he were about to give them a puppy. Instead, though, he points to some enlarged autopsy photos showing the strangulation marks on the victim's neck. Oh. The news is that the marks have an "unusual pattern" -- well, if you call a chain-link pattern unusual. Stabler wonders if the chain-link pattern could be -- "a chain?" Benson pulls the bike-lock chain out of the evidence bag and holds it up to the marks on the life-size photos. It's a perfect fit.
Cragen, Stabler and Benson talk to the ADA du jour, a young black woman with kick-ass braids a la Elena on Felicity. Together they go over the case so far against Turbit: the DNA reports on the bike chain haven't come back, but the chain obviously fits the ligature marks; eyewitnesses have placed Turbit at the scene; the bartender has blown a hole through Turbit's alibi; Turbit committed a similar assault twelve years ago, and he rides a big goofy red bicycle around and gives everyone the heebie-jeebies. But it's not quite enough. ADA Du Jour tells Stabler and Benson to talk to Turbit's first victim, who is twenty-one now. "Get his story, compare MOs, and we'll put this guy away," she says.
Chung-chung! over to the home of Christopher James and his mother. In case we weren't sure that Turbit's first victim is completely scarred for life, he's been dressed up like Little Lord Fauntleroy with a natty little sweater-vest over a starched shirt and tie, and he has a high voice and an awkward haircut and God, does he hate it all. He sits and talks with Benson in his mother's parlor which, with all its doilies and ticking clocks and porcelain tchotchkes, is decorated in Early Victorian Unresolved Anxiety. Christopher's account is a creepy tale of candy bars and horsey games, and he mentions that Turbit had wrapped a belt around his neck, indicating a similar MO with Ryan's attack. "You never told me your first name," he says to Benson, once he finishes his story. "Olivia," she answers. "Olivia -- origin of the name Greek, four syllables, means 'olive tree,'" he says, really sweetly, but Benson just smiles sadly at how twisted he is.
Chung-chung! back to the street in front Turbit's apartment, where Benson and Stabler lead Turbit out in handcuffs. A handful of outraged citizens are clapping some kind of catchy na-na-hey-hey-child-molester-goodbye chant. As they put him in the car, a man approaches Stabler and Benson. It's the bartender from The Tavern. "I wasn't entirely straightforward with you the other day," he says. "The night Ryan vanished, Turbit was in my bar." "He was in your bar the whole night?" says Stabler, tensing up. The bartender takes a deep breath: "Yes, the whole night. He was babbling about postage or something." Stabler cuts in, angrier: "The whole night. He didn't leave -- not even for an hour?" Yes, the bartender admits, "he was playing cards." With some nuns, no doubt. Stabler looks pissed and stalks off towards the car with Benson. The bartender calls after them: "He didn't do the Davies kid, he'll do some other kid, you know he will!" Stabler gives him a dirty look and gets in the car.
At the station: "We can't hold him anymore," Cragen tells Benson, Stabler, and ADA Du Jour. It turns out that bail was denied, but it's only a matter of time before Turbit's attorney finds out the bartender's story. "He'll have Turbit out of here in two hours," says ADA Du Jour. Stabler explains with disgust in his voice that the bartender fessed up because he had a guilty conscience: "He's a retired transit cop and he just couldn't live with himself after he made a false statement to a fellow officer." "Let's check Turbit's alibi anyway, just in case," says Cragen, as the phone on his desk rings. It's the DA's office. Chung-chung! Now the hammer of Law clanks against the anvil of Order! Or something.
Cap'n Cragen goes to the office of State Attorney General Morris Klein. He sits down, wondering why he's there. "Used to be, you'd catch 'em, we'd cook 'em," says Klein. Now, he says, "we can't just be prosecutors, we gotta be politicians too." He smiles a big smarmy smile. "Schiff asked me to talk to you," he says. "We need you to hold the child molester." Oh, ew. "If your people have any new evidence, I'd be glad to," says Cragen. Klein hands him a copy of The New York Post with the huge screaming headline THE MONSTER AWAKES and a blurry picture of Turbit getting into the police car. "It's not enough the neighbors weren't informed, now we're letting him go?" Cragen replies that Turbit's alibi checked out and he's legally a free man. Klein chuckles: "He's a poster boy for the 'lock up all the perverts' movement." Nice poster that would make. Just be sure you don't hang your Hanson poster too close to it. Finally he gets to his point: "Right now, there's a rider to a mental health bill in Albany that would give the state extremely wide latitude in keeping sex offenders off the street." "By holding them indefinitely?" says Cragen. "You've got to be kidding." Klein explains that under this law, just before a sex offender is released, a psychiatrist could convince the parole board to send the offender to a mental institution for the rest of his life on the grounds that he "can't control his impulses" and is likely to rape again. Cragen is appalled: "How can a man be found sane enough to stand trial, be convicted and do his time, and then upon release be found insane and locked up again?" "It's called 'Civil Commitment,'" says Klein. Cragen suddenly gets it: "And they need a test case." He gets up to leave, saying, "Last I heard the rule was, 'you do the crime, you do the time.' And Mr. Turbit did his. Why don't I just release him with a giant 'M' on his back?" Wow -- did Cragen take that Early German Cinema class in college, too? Klein insists that they need Cragen to just buy them some time. "This goes against everything I believe," says Cragen. "You've got twenty-four hours, not a minute more."
At a playground, Stabler watches over Dickie as he climbs a jungle gym. "When are you going to come talk to my class?" Dickie is asking him, as he flips over the rail into Stabler's arms. I install a set of parallel bars in my apartment and begin practicing my flip. "Maybe I could bring your badge up to show-and-tell!" Dickie says. "Uh, yeah, we'll talk." Stabler says. Then he glances across the playground and sees a man in a business suit sitting on a bench with his trouser legs hiked up above his knees, evidently in the process of putting one of his socks back on; obviously one of your classic voyeuristic exhibitionist sock-fetish foot-fondling self-gratification sandbox-fixation NAMBLA pervos. Dickie notices that Stabler is looking around. "Looking for pedophiles, Dad?" he asks. Heh heh! So cute the way he says "pedophiles"! "Where did you get that from?" Stabler asks him. "Danny Baker! He says you spend your time looking for pedophiles!" "And what did you tell Danny Baker?" asks Stabler. "I told him that you were a cop. But you can tell him yourself when you come to our class!" "Deal," says Stabler. He hauls Dickie up to play on the high monkey bars. We get a warm feeling inside.
Turbit and his lawyer walk past the detectives' desks on their way out the door. Cassidy slams a file drawer and gives Turbit the stink-eye. Stabler steps in Turbit's path and gives him the stink-eye. Benson gives him a look like, "Ew!" as he passes by. Man, even Munch is grossed out! Finally Turbit reaches his beloved and reassembled Dorkcycle. He wheels it out the door and looks back with a faint smile as he leaves. Munch turns to look at everyone as if to say, "You thought I was the freak?"
Stabler and Benson bring flowers to the parents of Ryan Davies. "The case is not going very well," Stabler tells them. Mr. Davies gets upset and paces around. "It's my fault! I should have never let Ryan go!" The detectives inform them that they haven't found the right person yet, but there will be a hearing to try and lock Turbit away. "Who else could have done it?" says Mrs. Davies, frantically. "We have some solid leads," says Benson, which judging by her tone really means "that wall we've hit is solid."
Stabler is showing his badge to his son's classroom and talking about the importance of checking the ID of someone who claims to be a cop. "Don't be afraid -- demand that they show it to you, not just flash it at you." The little tykes begin to pass the badge around as Stabler continues, "The two things that the, uh --" he pauses, uncomfortably, not knowing what to say. "Child molesters," the teacher finishes for him. "Child -- molesters," repeats Stabler, going on to say that the child molesters count on play-acting, impersonating cops or doctors, et cetera. "Or, they might say, 'Hey, I've lost my kitten, can you help me find him?'" I have to admit right now that I'd go off with Stabler even if he said he needed help finding a pit bull with dysentery. Stabler goes on and warns the class to never get into a car with someone they don't know. "What if you do know them, and they do something bad to you anyway?" asks one little boy. "Tell someone you trust," says Stabler. He tells the class how to say no. "Can everyone say it now, loudly -- NO!" "NO!!" the whole class repeats. Except for this one voice going "Yes! Yes, Stabler! YES!!!" Oops, sorry -- I guess that's me. ["And me. And Pooh." -- Sars] "What if your dad's the one that's hurting you -- then what?" asks one little boy. Stabler pauses and crouches down to look him in the eye. "Then you tell Dickie, and he'll tell me. Okay?" The kid smiles and nods. Oh, Stabler! We love you so.
Chung-chung! The civil commitment hearing. Turbit's lawyer is asking Dr. Greenblatt if Turbit ever attacked anyone while in prison. "Not to my knowledge," says Shrink Greenblatt, dressed today in Gestapo Business Casual. The Seinfeld-girlfriend lawyer is on the warpath: "So it's for this one crime, for which my client paid his debt to society --" "-- and which, to a extreme degree of likelihood, he will repeat," cuts in Greenblatt. "In your opinion!" says the lawyer, gleefully, because she gets to show off her Lawyer Acting Chops at last. "In fact, Doctor, isn't this whole legislation just a cheesy end-run around the cherished concept known as double jeopardy?" She rattles on and on until the judge says, "We get your point." So do we. The judge goes on to say that he needs time to review the case so they'll reconvene tomorrow. "Until then, Mr. Turbit, you're a free man." Turbit looks around with the blank, feral, nervous look of a guinea pig cornered by a whole class of third-graders.
Outside the courthouse, Turbit walks out with his lawyer to him telling him, "You did fine." Behind them, Stabler and Benson are walking out arguing: "You don't have kids, you don't understand," says Stabler. "I understand the concept of double jeopardy," says Benson. "You want guys like Turbit playing on your swingset?" asks Stabler. "You want to lock them all up?" Benson replies. "Yeah, I do," says Stabler. "Where does it stop?" bitches Benson. Hmm, maybe with that guy running up the courtroom steps who's whipping out a gun? The gunman is Mr. Davies, and he empties a whole round into Turbit. His lawyer screams. Stabler and a uniformed cop wrestle Mr. Davies down to the steps; the extras duck and shriek and get to be hysterical some more. Benson goes to check on Turbit, who is now a human colander. And pretty dead.
Back at the station house, the SVU recites one of the Lessons For Today: "This eye-for-an-eye crap works in principle, not in practice," Cragen growls. "Especially when you shoot the wrong eye," says Munch. "Look," says Stabler, "in the eyes of Mr. Davies we failed." And so on. "What's going to happen to the guy's stamp collection?" asks Cassidy. Cragen says they'll sell it and donate the money to the crime victims' board. But what about the Dorkcycle? Nobody's saying. Cragen asks the unit where the hell the case is going. "Back to square one," says Munch. "Two eyewitnesses," says Benson.
Jimmy G, that lovable lughead teen thugfest, is in the interview room. Cassidy comes in. "Aaaay, Jimmy G, whassup?" he says, as if he and Jimmy G. were just going to "hang" together, you know, like two of tha boyz! He turns his chair around backwards and straddles it so as not to look, you know, all "wack." He opens up a soda for Jimmy G. "So you were, like, really helpful before, man, so cool," says the C-Dog. Jimmy G tries to look relaxed. They start talking about Turbit. "Guy was kind of a freak, wasn't he?" asks Cassidy. "The way he rode his bike around?" Jimmy G happily takes up the dork-bashing: "Always by the playing field! Sometimes he would, like, stop and stare at us." Cassidy asks him which side of the playing field Turbit rode on. Jimmy G thinks for a second: "The woods side, by the field where they found Ryan."
Munch is taking to the elderly Mike D. "You ever talk to Bill Turbit?" he asks Mike D, who says no. "All those times he rode by -- not even once? Not even, 'go back to the planet you came from’?" "Maybe this world is another planet's hell," says Mike D, smugly. Munch comes back with: "Aldous Huxley also said 'But I like the inconveniences.'" Mike D's smile fades, realizing that if Munch can see though his literary quotes, maybe he'll also notice that he, Mike D, is not a teenager at all, but a twenty-nine-year-old with desperately tousled hair. Munch sits down and asks him what side of the playing field Turbit rode on -- by the woods or by the river. "By the river," says Mike D. "Their stories don't match," says Benson, from the other side of the two-way mirror. She and Stabler and Cassidy spring into action.
Back at the park, Stabler and Cassidy watch as cops with metal detectors search for a chain that matches the ligature marks on Ryan's neck. Cassidy is asking Stabler if it's hard to go home to his kids after working on a case like this. Stabler replies that it's not any harder than trying to make love after hearing some of the victims' stories. Cassidy lowers his voice. "Sometimes . . . it's just hard . . . I can't . . ." "I know," says Stabler. "Instead of seeing a woman, you see a uterus, cervix?" Cassidy nods. "It's a clinical phase." says Stabler, sighing. "Lasts a long while." Guys, you just need to get back on that horse! Call me! Okay?!! One of the metal detectors starts whistling. Cassidy hops over the railing to where cops are searching among the tall grass by the riverbank. "It's just a quarter," says the cop whose detector went off. Cassidy and Stabler exchange frustrated looks. Suddenly Cassidy notices something at his feet and bends down to get it. "Elliot!" he calls. Stabler comes over as Cassidy picks up a pair of broken glasses -- Ryan's.
At the forensics lab, Stabler and Benson compare a fingerprint on the glasses to one of Jimmy G's prints. "It's a match," says the forensics guy. Back at the river, police find a bike chain near the spot where Ryan's glasses were found. Munch and Cassidy stand nearby and watch. "I think Mike D's the smarter of the two boys," Munch is saying. "Not just book smart, I think he's the one with a conscience." And a senior citizen discount. The forensics lab again. There's a DNA match on the bike chain, and evidence under the victim's fingernails matches the DNA on one of the teenagers. "Which one?" asks Stabler . . .
Cut to another interview with Jimmy G, who is telling Benson that he and Mike D have been friends since they were kids; Mike had gotten a scholarship to a fancy private school, "but he came back to me," Jimmy says proudly, so that we smell some creepiness in their friendship. "If you don't tell us what happened," says Benson, "you know Mike will." Yep. When they interview Mike D, he's beginning to get snivelly and pouty with guilt. He tells Stabler and Benson that it all started when they were surfing the web and they "fell into" this sex offender Web site. "That's where we found Mr. Turbit," says Mike D. God, I hate it when I try to type out the URL for the Encyclopedia Britannica website and accidentally slip up and type "www.americasmostwanted.com/sexoffenders.html." Don't you?
Cut back to Jimmy G's interview. "That's when we found out this freak lived in the neighborhood," he says. Back to Mike D: "The site was very specific about what Mr. Turbit had done -- so specific that it was like directions we could follow." "It just sort of took over our minds," said Jimmy G. We get it now: Leopold and Lughead. As they continue their stories, we find out that they stole Turbit's bike chain. Then, the night of the crime they were smoking in Jimmy G's garage and they saw Ryan riding his bike back and forth. Jimmy G says, "We started making fun of him, like 'who let the retard out on his own?' 'How many candy bars did he have to sell to get that bike?'" Then the dark side of Mike D and Jimmy G took over, and they grabbed Ryan and took him to the park. "We were just fooling when we took him out by the marshes," says Mike D. "I'm not gay," Jimmy G says defensively. He's the cold, angry one, while Mike D. is the frightened, remorseful half: "He wouldn't be quiet, I was begging him to be quiet." Finally Jimmy G says he took the bike chain and killed Ryan with it. "He just lay there, still," says Mike D, as if he's genuinely surprised. "Kid was a loser anyway," Jimmy G snarls. The room falls silent. Powerful close-ups of Stabler and Benson as they stare at horror in front of them, as they try to comprehend that the face of evil is named . . . "Jimmy G."