Firefighters bust down the door of an apartment currently being destroyed by a raging inferno, and find a woman unconscious on the floor. But since this Special Victims Unit and not Arson Investigation Squad, she's got the telltale panties down around the ankles as the firefighters carry her out.
Farewell, Jenna Ludlow, 25. We know more about you in death than we did in life, that you were assaulted and raped, and dead before the fire had a chance to cremate you, as the detectives learn, partly thanks to Warner, when they show up on scene. Also, she was pregnant. Not very far along, judges Warner. "Wonder if Jenna knew she was pregnant," says Olivia. Well, she's dead, so unless this is a Medium crossover, you're not going to be able to ask her.
The detectives pick their way through the crime scene, but there's not much evidence to gather, since what wasn't burned has been washed away. Olivia does manage to sniff out some Gucci and Prada in the closet, so Jenna must have been living the life. The fire marshal tells them the fire was deliberately set, using jellied methyl alcohol -- Jenna had some Sterno under the sink.
Then they catch a break, courtesy of the fireproof dishwasher. Two wine glasses. Jenna had company last night, huh? Olivia's skeptical, saying those glasses could have been there a week, and asks us to trust her perspective as a single woman with a busy job.
Back at the precinct, Munch is justifying his salary by Googling Jenna Ludlow, and watching a web video that advertises her services as a personal stylist, saying she can make your $250 suit look like two grand. "Size doesn't matter, guys. The size of your budget, that is," she says, snapping a tie. Chester notes that the real tragedy is that Jenna died before she could help Munch. Cragen interrupts the good-natured joshing to ask about how much money Jenna could make as a stylist, and Olivia says "big bucks." Well, she only had $300 in her account in her business account, and hadn't made any deposits in months. Her personal account is another story, with $10,000 wired from an untraceable account in Lichtenstein. Cragen figured the payments started around the time Jenna got herself knocked up, so the theory is Jenna was blackmailing a Lichtensteinian sugar daddy, who then raped her and killed her. So how they find "Count Lichtenstein", asks Cragen. "Go to heaven," says Munch, clarifying that Jenna's been writing a cheque for $200 to a Heaven Moscowitz, and the memo line reads "therapy." "Heaven only knows who Jenna's been sleeping with," says Olivia, and that's quite enough lame jokes on this contrived name, thank you.
Fin and Munch (in a rare field trip) visit this Heaven person, who tries to claim "doctor-patient privilege" since she's a doctor of "angel healing." "Guess you didn't get the 411 from on high," snaps Fin, and tells her that Jenna was murdered this morning. Heaven is skeptical, since Jenna's guardian angel should have protected her. And in case you're skeptical, Heaven assures the detectives she taught Jenna how to speak to the angels. Which is lucky, because Jenna needed the angels' help in making a choice. Heaven claims not to listen to Jenna's words, saying she only spirits them "to the other side," but goes into a little trance and comes up with "Africa, possibly Ethiopia," "great body," "Pierson," and "try the commodities exchange."
So Olivia and Elliot head over to the commodities exchange. I take it Fin and Munch are on the plane to Africa, possibly Ethiopia? After relaying the angel healer's clues to some suit on the floor, he figures they're looking for Pierson Bartlett, a coffee trader. The suit takes the detectives up to the grading room, where the coffee traders sample the coffee and cocoa to make sure it's up to trading standards, and points out Pierson Bartlett, aka Reverend Camden of 7th Heaven, who probably knows a thing or two about angels himself. Oh, and is totally guilty.
He makes the detectives wait while he finishes his last sample. "Great body," he says, straightening up. "Excuse me?" says Olivia. Pierson says he was talking about the coffee, and then offers up the oily opinion that Benson's is probably "smooth and robust." RevCam, noooooo!
The detectives finally introduce themselves as such and ask him about Jenna Ludlow, who Pierson says was his son P.J.'s fiancée; she temped in their office. The detectives want to speak to P.J., and find out if he's a more special guest star than Stephen Collins (and therefore the murderer), but P.J.'s in Brazil, and while Pierson assures the detectives P.J. will come back right away, but it's still a ten-hour flight, and he agrees to let the detectives know when his son gets back.
Back at the forensics lab, Warner reveals that Jenna had lots of folic acid in her system, so she definitely knew she was pregnant (and was planning to keep it). I don't know -- you mix a little folic acid with some Jack Daniel's? That's a goddamn Saturday night right there. More clues are revealed in Jenna's ripped-up clothing; her clothes were shredded, but there wasn't a mark on her. Whoever ripped the clothes off started each tear using scissors before ripping away. So it would seem like a stranger raped her, rather than someone she knew well enough to have sex with.
Elliot wants to make sure the fiancé didn't jet back for a booty call, so the detectives check out the company jet's flight records, which left the country days ago and is coming back today. The only thing out of the ordinary, noted by the aviation guy, is that they've scheduled a refueling stop in Aruba, even though the jet could go to Tokyo without a pit stop.
Back at the station, the detectives find out that Jenna's employment record is one of job-hopping from company to company -- surgeon's offices, Fortune 500 companies. I ain't saying she's a gold digger. Because Elliot is. She apparently sued a surgeon for breach of promise when he dumped her after proposing to her, which he might have done, because, as Munch has found out, improbably included on her Personal Stylist business pages is shots of a bikini-clad Jenna doing upside-down tequila shots and making out with women during spring break. What kind of payday did Jenna have in store with the Bartletts? Well, the family's worth a quarter of a billion dollars, points out Fin. Elliot and Stabler head off to the airport to talk to P.J., who should be landing soon.
Out at the airport, Pierson's meeting his son getting off the company jet. "Thanks for the heads-up you promised," says Elliot, and Pierson says it slipped his mind. Olivia asks for P.J.'s passport, and he hands it over. Olivia finds there's a stamp for Aruba but not Brazil, and the detectives accuse Pierson of sending his son to Aruba so the company jet could pick P.J. up on the way back and make it look like he'd been in Brazil all along. The detectives hustle the Bartletts into the waiting squad cars, but for obstruction of justice.
At the station, Casey tells the detectives that the obstruction charges are flimsy, and if they want homicide charges to stick, they'll have to find some way to tie P.J. to the murder. Elliot and Olivia get on it, while Cragen and Casey decide to stall the Bartletts (it's two in the morning -- so the detectives have been questioning the Bartletts for 11 hours?).
The fetus is P.J.'s, as is the semen found inside her -- Ryan matched it to cells pulled from fingerprints on the wine glass (which match the fingerprints provided by P.J., as traders are apparently required to do before they're bonded). Great -- so the detectives are able to prove that Jenna's fiancé has been in her apartment. Olivia urges Ryan to keep at it, since the Bartletts are still being stalled back at the station (which is bullshit, since surely the Bartletts would have been all "charge us or we're out of here" hours ago). But Pierson slags the station-room coffee, and Munch drags him into a conversation about making a good cup of joe.
Meanwhile, the investigation cost is skyrocketing as Ryan is now in a darkroom developing prints of charred receipts and documents through some sort of magical process, and has found what looks like a prenup.
Olivia and Elliot go after Pierson and P.J. respectively, with Pierson expressing surprise that P.J. was giving Jenna $10,000 a month, and P.J. saying Jenna wasn't pressuring him to get married, and went ballistic when he showed her the prenup. Olivia suggests Pierson was worried about Jenna getting her hands on the family money, and told P.J. to handle it. P.J. admits that he and Jenna fought, and he just wanted to get away, so he went to a family house in Aruba. He says he didn't know what happened to Jenna. "I wouldn't kill Jenna. I loved her." In bustles P.J.'s lawyer, who greets him with a hug. Well, they're old college friends, so there's nothing untoward going on, right? Of course not.
Casey tells Cragen that the lawyer, Avery Hemmings, usually handles SEC violations in federal court. Cragen says she's in over her head on this one, since P.J.'s DNA matches the semen and the fetus. Warner pops by all, "My bad! I jumped the gun on that!" Turns out the DNA matches the semen, not the fetus. Ah, shocking incompetence for the sole purpose of providing a plot twist.
So who's the father? Well, given the only other male character in this episode apart from the detectives is Pierson, and Pierson is Reverend Motherfucking Camden, take a wild guess.
The detectives stroll out into the squad room, where Avery is conferring with the Bartletts. "Congratulations, P.J. You were going to be a big brother," says Olivia. "If this is some kind of trick..." snaps Avery, all overacting. Elliot says the DNA proves it: "Big Pierson here's the baby daddy." "You screwed my fiancé, you son of a bitch?" says P.J. Pierson goes for the "hey, she was drunk, she came on to me" routine, which earns him a punch in the jaw, and he and his son mix it up, with Pierson père shoving his son's head through a door's glass window. Just like Christmas holidays at my house!
Over at the hospital, Avery chews out a nonchalant Casey because of their little stunt baiting the Bartletts. (Wasn't Baiting the Bartletts a celebrated documentary at Sundance not too long ago?) She also says the word "shenanigans," which pleases me. Pierson, sporting a shiner, tells Avery he wants to apologize to P.J., but Avery says he doesn't want to talk to his dad, and Pierson wants her to convince him. Pierson says to Casey and Olivia that he and his son have his differences (Well, I suppose, if "in favour of plowing my son's fiancée/not in favour of Dad plowing my fiancée" counts as a "difference") but P.J.'s not a killer.
That's a conclusion Olivia's already coming to, and Casey wonders if they should be looking at the dad. But as they observe father and son embracing, Olivia realizes they're not going to be able to turn son against pop, so they're going to have to find something tying Pierson to the murder.
So that means Elliot heads over to Jenna's apartment to harass Ryan the Forensics Wizard who's dutifully trying to find some fingerprints in the charred remains. Nothing yet, but he's recovered some more burnt fragments from Jenna's desk. Elliot shuffles through them, and a particular e-mail catches his eye. "We were wrong," he says, and we cut to a conference back at the station, where Casey informs Avery and the Bartletts that she's charging them with conspiracy to commit murder.
She slides over the printed e-mail, which she says outlines the Bartletts' plans to buy a coffee plantation in El Salvador, which would make them significantly richer. Casey wants to know how Jenna got her hands on it. Pierson also inquires of his son how Jenna (or, in his words, "stupid tramp") had it, and P.J. says she must have stolen it from his briefcase. Pierson calls his son stupid, and they bicker until Avery finally shuts them up. Casey says Jenna was going to spill the beans on their top-secret deal, and Pierson should get his own lawyer.
It's trial time! Pierson sings a different tune about the importance of the e-mail fragment as he says the D.A.'s rumblings of a sinister plot sound like something out of a "trashy beach novel." Casey questions him about the El Salvador plantation, which would be producing a new "Arabica hybrid," which is mild, low caffeine, class one quality. Under Casey's questioning, he admits they stood to make "many millions" off the deal, but denies it would be a financial disaster if Jenna blabbed about the plantation and one of his competitors bought it out from under him, saying they'd only lose their initial investment. Casey figures the $10,000 a month in hush money wasn't enough for Jenna, and she got greedy.
On the stand, P.J. says that money was for the baby. Nuh-uh, says Casey, who establishes that the e-mail was dated Feb. 10, and Jenna told him she was pregnant on Valentine's Day. Unfortunately, the autopsy report estimates the fetus's age at ten weeks, meaning Jenna got knocked up in late March. "By your father!" roars Casey, wheeling around and pointing at Pierson. More ridiculous theatrics from Casey: she whips out another report showing that Pierson's sperm were "immotile," and asks if he knew he was "shooting blanks." Then she says the phrase "funky sperm" which I hope I never hear again. Casey says Jenna was boinking Daddy since he couldn't "deliver the goods" and then she yells a whole lot, trying to get P.J. to admit Pierson killed her. Avery should be pretty much repeating "objection!" over and over again, but I guess I can't blame her since the one time she does she gets overruled. P.J. just finally says he doesn't know if his dad killed Jenna, which prompts Dad to get angry, and now the judge has to yell.
And now more yelling, with Avery yelling at Casey as they walk down the hall to her office, and Casey tells her to stick to white-collar crime, since a first-year law student wouldn't have missed the age of Jenna's fetus in the report, and says the trial's over; it's just a matter of how long the jury takes. And then she slams her door in Avery's face.
So of course Casey gets her comeuppance when the jury comes back after nine days of being deadlocked, and the judge declares a mistrial. "We're refilling immediately," Casey tells a newly smug Avery, who chirps, "Why waste everyone's time? The verdict's not going to change."
Casey goes to talk to the bailiff, whom she knows by name, of course, on the pretence of complaining about a deadlocked jury which was 11-1 to convict. The bailiff calls it a "crazy-ass" jury, since everyone was yelling at the holdout, juror number four. The bailiff says she felt sorry for her -- not because she's a "moron" who screwd the case, as Casey puts it, but because she's a single mom with a disabled kid.
Over to Debra Jackson's apartment, where she tells Casey about her son with cerebral palsy. "Must be tough," says Casey. "We get by," says a nervous Debra, who asks why Casey's here. "I checked your bank account," says Casey. Can she just do that? Anyway, she did that, and Debra deposited $25,000 the day the jury started deliberating, and another $25,000 this morning. Debra starts to sob about how she got an "interest-only" mortgage which was fine until the rates went up, and she's going to lose her place, and her son can't go into a shelter.
Casey's all, "Well, where's he going to go when you're doing four and a half years for selling your not-guilty vote." Then she promises Debra she won't spend a day in jail if she tells Casey what happened. Debra says a man called the day she got the case, saying he knew all about her money problems, and could help. Casey asks the guy's name: Roger Fromm, a private investigator.
At Robert Fromm's place, a secretary is merrily feeding documents into a shredder, and informs Olivia and Elliot that Roger Fromm retired about three hours ago, to the Dominican Republic, saying he'd come into some money. Olivia bitches about the cross-cutting shredder, since those documents are gone for good, and then threatens the secretary with jail time unless she tells them who her boss was working for. The secretary is completely unfazed and says the cheap bastard didn't tell her anything about the business.
Elliot, meanwhile, says he knows who paid Roger. He pulls a framed photograph off the wall, or Roger Fromm with Pierson Bartlett. Olivia looks stunned, but ... I mean, wasn't that what they figured?
"I didn't bribe anyone!" says Pierson, who admits that Fromm was his vice-president of security but was fired four years ago because he couldn't keep his mouth off the business end of a bottle. Pierson's lawyer asks if Fromm's prepared to testify against Pierson, obviously knowing full well Casey doesn't have Fromm, and he and Pierson get up to leave. Casey musters up a halfhearted "we're not finished!" but yeah, yeah they are.
Back at the station, Olivia's showing off a bunch of photos recovered from Fromm's hard drive, which was erased but not scrubbed, or something. Whatever, they've got photos of P.J. canoodling with many different women, most of whom aren't Jenna. Turns out Fromm had been keeping tabs on P.J. for years. Casey wants the detectives to talk to P.J., this time as a special victim (of "stalking").
P.J., who, as it turns out would rather be an artist than a coffee trader, says his dad is a control freak and "has to be the boss of everyone and everything." And it turns out this isn't the first time he'd slept with one of P.J.'s girlfriends, since everything had to be a competition with the old man. Still, though, they weren't in a conspiracy to murder Jenna. "He killed her because, because he was jealous," he says. Elliot asks if Pierson bribed the juror because he didn't want P.J. to go to prison for something he didn't do. "He bribed that juror to save his own ass, not mine, and I hope he rots in hell," says P.J. Olivia asks him if his father has a set of the surveillance prints (which would tie him to Roger Fromm).
And so, in Pierson's office, Ryan fires up a blowtorch and is all set to go to work on a giant wall safe, over Pierson's objections, when Avery strolls in just in time with an injunction invalidating the detectives' search warrant, saying the judge saw through their charade of interviewing P.J. as a victim, not a perp.
Strolling back to the squad room, Casey says Avery doesn't know what she's talking about, but reversing the junction will likely be pointless, since by then Pierson will have gotten rid of anything incriminating in the safe. Casey's confident it doesn't matter, though, since they now have the son rolling over on the father.
Only in the squad room, the elder Bartlett has shown up, and is apparently rolling over on his son. "What a mess," whines Casey, saying first they couldn't get either one to talk, but now they're flipping on each other. "I'm never going to get a conviction," she says. Elliot grouses that it's no big deal, because if Jenna were alive they'd be charging her with blackmail. He calls her a hustler. Olivia rolls hers eyes and says hustlers deserve justice too.
Aw, Elliot didn't really mean it! He's watching Jenna's personal stylist web video over and over again, looking for clues, and then spots the bedroom lamp she was clubbed with. He asks Olivia why, if the video was shot in her bedroom, they didn't find any trace of videotape or camera?
And it's back once again to what's left of her apartment, where Elliot, Olivia and Ryan rip open mattresses and dig in toilet tanks, and finally find an SD card in -- naturally -- a jar of coffee beans.
It's Jenna and Pierson in bed together -- and Ryan, searching the bedroom, finds a hole in the wall where the camera was stashed (recording from a remote lens that must have been destroyed in the fire). And there's another card in that one.
We're not going to see what's on it, though, until the Bartletts and their lawyers do.
Olivia turns on the "booty cam" and Pierson admits Jenna had threatened to sell the sex footage to the tabloids. P.J. had no idea, and Pierson says he was trying to protect him. Still, P.J. can't believe Olivia's going to make them watch it, and Olivia says it's just the encore, when the killer showed up after P.J. left. "Turn it off!" snaps Avery. "Why? It'll prove us innocent," says Pierson. Avery stomps off, saying she doesn't have to listen to this.
So you can see where this is going, sort of. P.J. and Pierson watch, horrified, as Avery confronts Jenna at the apartment, calling her a money-grubbing whore, and finally grabbing the lamp and clunking Jenna over the head. Pierson can't believe they're letting Avery get away, and Casey calmly says the only way out is the front door, and she's already alerted security. Hilariously, an emergency alarm starts blaring, and everyone hustles up to the roof.
Avery's on the ledge, wailing about how she loves P.J., and all the other whores just wanted his money, and she hired the private investigator, and she bribed the juror, the whole bit. Pierson's about ready to push her off the ledge himself, but P.J. is in the process of talking her down. However, Avery snarls at Pierson that she's not going to let Pierson hurt P.J. ever again, and she somehow, despite weighing half what P.J. weighs, lifts him up over the ledge, and down they plunge, to splatter cinematically on the hood of a passing car.
Well, I didn't see that coming. "No, no," wails Pierson, although a nice, dramatic "Noooooooooo!" would have been much better.