"In the criminal justice system, the people are separated by two separate, yet equally important groups: the police, who investigate crime; and the district attorneys, who prosecute the offenders. These are their stories." Chung chung!
Fade up on a radio car, where a middle-aged uniform is irritating his younger female partner with 1) tips on how to scam the city for overtime pay and 2) observations on a couple they can see talking outside a bar -- the younger cop thinks the woman is trying to ditch the man, but the older cop thinks they're negotiating price, and he's being an antediluvian sleaze about it. A little later, they're taking a coffee break (read: "the older cop is jamming half a cruller into his piehole") when the radio tells them to respond to a call -- man down, shots fired.
At the scene, the guy from the crime scene unit gives Logan the bullet: John Doe, shot in the heart, pockets picked except for tickets to a fight. Another CSU guy holds up a shell casing from a .32, but who should part the curtains of smoke coming up from manhole just then but one Detective Leonard Briscoe, crabbing at the CSU guy to put the casing back where he found it, then implying that he was enjoying some time with a lady friend when he got the call. (Briscoe was, not the CSU guy.) He continues bitching about the compromise of the crime scene while Logan makes "well excuuuuuuuse me" faces; the first CSU guy helpfully expositions that Briscoe is Logan's new partner. Logan grunts, "It's temporary."
Heading over to the uniforms from before, Briscoe bugs Logan some more. Older Cop reports that they got there "pretty quick," and he's obviously lying, which Briscoe busts him on, asking meanly if they were at Oscar's Donuts, then asks if they saw anything before that. Older Cop says they didn't. Logan tells them to wait, then snipes at Briscoe that "it isn't about donuts"; Briscoe's like, it is when he has powdered sugar on his uniform. He smirks at Logan and walks off.
Credits.
Logan and Briscoe are interviewing the bartender. There were several dozen people in the bar, and he heard the shot and went outside to investigate, but he only saw the guy lying there -- no cars, no bystanders. He didn't know the guy and doesn't know if he was even in the bar. Logan and Briscoe disgruntle on out of there...
...and back to the car. On the way, Briscoe "nicely" tells Logan he has no problem with Logan's jinx -- you know, how Logan's had two partners get shot. He did? ...Ohhhh yeah, Greevey. Anyway, we then get our very first mention of Briscoe's notorious ex-wives, both of whom are evidently "thrilled" that he got partnered with Logan because they mistakenly think he's "heavily insured." Aw, Briscoe's ex-wives. Drink! Logan's like, har dee har har, but "don't forget, it's a temp job" -- when Cerreta comes back, Briscoe and his exes are SOL. Briscoe's like, fine, but I'm not kicking down any doors for you. Then they're off to track down the fight tickets the victim had.
Cut to Gleason's Gym, where a trainer named Doc knows the vic -- a guy named Tommy Duff who's not the most politically correct guy in the world, but isn't in any trouble with bookies. They refer the detectives to his wife, who waits tables "over by the docks"...
...but it turns out she and Duff split up almost ten years ago. They didn't get divorced -- "you know the Church," she tells Logan wearily -- and she goes on for a while about how Duff used to come in every now and then for breakfast, "dressed sharp from the night before." She calls Duff a "sport" who used to go out to the bars, "chasin' skirts," which is probably what killed him, and instead of informing her that she's not actually in a Jimmy Cagney movie, Briscoe confines himself to remarking that it hasn't killed him yet. (Briscoe, not Cagney.) Lighting a cigarette (inside, in a restaurant, which tells you how old this episode is), the estranged wife says that Duff stopped drinking, but it didn't give him any more sense in the woman department: "He probably fell to a jealous husband." Or a jealous wife, Logan says, and asks where she was the night before. She was doing something churchy with some monsignor, so Logan asks about Duff's work.
Now we're in a dingy, crowded office with a grizzled guy who's talking about hookers and bomb sights. I don't know. Duff used to sell liquor and smokes to bars around the city; Grizzly doesn't know where he got the stuff. On the list of customers: PJ Smyth's, which is the bar Duff got iced in front of.
Back at the bar, Logan and Briscoe confront the bartender for lying; they clearly think Duff's inventory "fell off a truck," and while the bartender confirms that Duff is "connected" to a racketeer named Jimmy Scanlon, this seems like a red herring...
...which is dragged through the scene, in which the detectives question Scanlon himself (Alan North of, among myriad other projects, Police Squad). Scanlon naturally denies even knowing Duff, as well as any involvement with bagman-y activities.
Back at the cop shop, Logan says the M.E. confirmed Duff's ID, and Duff has priors. Then he snaps at Briscoe for using a drawer in Cerreta's desk, denialing that Cerreta will be back within the month. Enter Cragen -- looking not one day younger than he does now, 15 years later -- to complain that a city councilman just chewed his ass over their visit to Scanlon. Briscoe says the shooting "quacks like" a Mob hit, and hands him Duff's sheet. Logan adds that Duff couldn't keep it in his pants, and Briscoe announces by way of disagreeing that "your Italians and Hispanics kill for love -- micks kill for money." Damn, I didn't remember Briscoe being...that guy. Cragen agrees, telling him he has one day to "come up with something better than ethnic slurs." Briscoe rolls his eyes, and as Cragen heads back to his office, Logan follows him to ask sotto voce when Cerreta's coming back. Cragen: "Okay, what's your problem?" Logan blusters, but Cragen reminds Logan that he doesn't deal well with change; he didn't love Cerreta initially either. Logan says he can handle it, but just wants to know how long he'll have to; Cragen makes a crack about his mother-in-law living with them. Just then, Briscoe walks up to say that there's a discrepancy in the reports filed by Older Cop and Younger Cop.
In the interrogation room, Younger Cop says nervously that maybe her version is wrong. Briscoe's like, you're just saying whatever Older Cop is saying, and Older Cop objects, but the threat of a disciplinary hearing is enough to make Younger Cop admit that they did see Duff before he got shot -- not afterwards, like Older Cop's report claims -- and they slowed down because she thought Duff was harassing the woman; Older Cop disagrees with this assessment, and there's a little he-said (just hitting on her, harmless, et cetera) she-said (she was trying to get away, he was scaring her), but Younger Cop continues to contend that although the woman with Duff was being polite, she looked afraid.
After the break, the detectives eat pizza and spin theories about jealous husbands and whatnot. Logan suggests going back to the bar to question the regulars; Briscoe is skeptical. Then there's a bit of business about how Briscoe didn't pay for their lunch because the manager is one of Briscoe's snitches, and Logan's kind of rookie-miffed about it.
Hospital. Logan, a box of amaretto cookies under his arm, finds Cerreta dozing in a chair in his room. Logan waxes optimistic about Cerreta's recovery and how he'll be good as new real soon, blah blah, and of course Cerreta has to tell him gently that he's not coming back to the homicide unit. Logan protests, but Cerreta's taking an administrative desk at another precinct. Logan is horrified at the prospect of having to deal with Briscoe, like, forever, but tries to act happy for Cerreta, especially when Mrs. Cerreta comes in and beams that now she and Cerreta can have lunch together. Cerreta looks at Logan all, "...Sorry, dude," and Logan looks back at Cerreta all, "Yeah, well."
Logan glary-pantses back to the precinct to find Briscoe going over credit-card receipts from the bar. Logan's like, are you planning to send them Christmas cards? Let's go already. Briscoe's like, chill, I was waiting for you. Logan, somewhat less crankily, gives him to understand that Cerreta isn't returning.
At an accounting firm on Park Avenue, the detectives question a bar patron, Mr. Ennis (played by Hey, It's That Guy! Peter McRobbie, who's like a taller version of Armin Shimerman and frequently turns up on the various L&Os as a judge). When Logan pointedly suggests that he might be more comfortable down at the precinct, Ennis admits to seeing Duff, and adds that he was talking to a woman with "a nice figure...my wife is very full--figured." Thank you for sharing that with us. Anyway, Ennis sent over a drink, but she sent it back "with a nasty look," and then Duff came in. Logan: "And what kinda look did he get?" Hee. Ennis saw them kissing by the men's room.
Caroline Aaron! She's in a robe with a towel around her head, joking about dancing with a lampshade on her head. She was at the bar, but she doesn't remember anything. Logan shows her a Polaroid of a bloodied Duff: "Remember him?" She's shocked; she knows Duff, she "used to meet him" at PJ's, but that "stopped right at the door." She claims not to have noticed much about the woman Duff left with, but she's giving off a "...that bitch" vibe, so Briscoe's like, "Right -- just like I can't remember whether the guy I caught in the shower with my first ex-wife is a natural redhead." Drink! Caroline Aaron's like, okay, fine -- blonde woman, "she didn't have a great face but -- pfff, terrific makeup." Briscoe's like, "terrific" how, and Caroline Aaron explains that it was like a model or an actress would have -- she followed the mystery blonde into the ladies' and complimented her on her makeup, and the mystery blonde "braaaagged that it was Jacques Dessange." Hee -- "Jacques Dessange" is a running gag with me and Wing Chun. "Where'd you get that gloss?" "Jacques Dessange." "Well, your makeup is fabulous." We're nerds. The point: it's a high-end makeup that you have done at the salon.
Jacques Dessange. A poor man's Katherine Helmond is blathering on about the "total concept" behind their product line, which you can only buy there at the salon. Logan and Briscoe could not care less about this if it were a baby shower, and press her for a client list; after some stonewalling, she produces a before-and-after photo book.
At the precinct, Caroline Aaron reviews the pictures. Cragen comes in to report that the lab found traces of Jacques Dessange makeup on Duff's face. Caroline Aaron doesn't recognize anyone in the photos, and when Cragen says that maybe the mystery blonde borrowed the makeup from a friend, Caroline Aaron says no: "Her makeup was fabulous." Drink! Caroline Aaron says it looked professionally done. "Maybe we're talking a...Jacques Dessange professional," Logan says.
Back at Jacques Dessange, Caroline Aaron tells the detectives, "That's her," so they march over to a station on the end, where Mary Kostrinski (played by Lisa Eichhorn, whose most famous role besides this is probably Mo in Cutter's Way, and if she isn't the worst murderer-of-the-week actor in L&O history, she's at least in the bottom five) is waiting for them with an inappropriate Mona Lisa smile on. Having deployed the first in a long series of questionable acting choices, she then asks if she can call an attorney.
Said attorney is, of course, Elaine Stritch, and in the scene she's standing with Cragen outside the lineup room, asking acidly if this is "the access channel's tryouts for Chorus Line." Yes, Cragen says, "and the winner gets a 25-year run at Ossining." Snick. Stritch Esq. is pissed because nobody else in the lineup looks anything like her client. Younger Cop then identifies said client as the woman they saw. Robinette (aw, I miss that guy) looks on silently as Logan says that's a positive ID from both cops. Stritch isn't impressed; she isn't impressed with the IDs of patrons who saw Kostrinski and Duff kissing, either, and describes Kostrinski as a hard-working, churchgoing widow whose contractor husband got mushed by a crane, so they can't charge her for wanting to have a little fun -- "unless you crave abuse. Do you?" Logan snorts, but Robinette sighs, "Let her go," at which time Logan's sarcastic smile melts and he turns to give Robinette a WTF look. Heh.
In the hallway, Stritch is twitting Robinette and Logan about having to let Kostrinski leave when Briscoe turns up to continue the Broadway-show metaphor, saying that forensics just gave Kostrinski "a rave review" -- and I don't recalling seeing him in the prior scene, when that metaphor started, but it's probably a shout-out to the storied theater careers of both Stritch and himself, so I'll let it go. Kostrinski's print is on the shell casing they found at the scene. Kostrinski pulls another inappropriate-affect face, this one resembling the tiny bride that goes on top of a wedding cake, and we go to the break.
Fade back up on Ben Stone's office, where Stritch wants Stone to let Kostrinski off with probation, and is acting like she's doing him a favor by proposing it. Stone cops his customary "um, a man is dead" attitude, but Kostrinski is claiming that Duff tried to rape her. "People at the bar said you looked friendly," Robinette observes mildly, and Stritch snarks that she's sure "Mike Tyson was a perfect gentleman in the hotel lobby." That reference aged about as well as post-eyelift Liotta. Drink! Kostrinski reviews what happened -- after a few drinks, she'd had enough Duff, so she tried to leave, he followed her out, he wouldn't back off, he grabbed her, she shot him. Stone: There was no sign of a struggle, and Duff was unarmed. Stritch: He was twice her size and "she reasonably believed she was going to be attacked. That's all the statute requires!" Stritch asks again for probation, saying that if Stone doesn't go along, she's going to pump his ass full of feminist buckshot.
In Adam's office, Adam eats a sandwich and mutters about he-said-she-said, "only the he's not around anymore." Stone paces and says it's on the defense to justify the shooting, which they can't do, but Adam points out that if Stritch convinces the jury, they'll "be putting Kostrinski's face! On a silver dollar." Stone's like, it's not about politics, but Adam's like, beleaguered widow vs. connected womanizer full of booze, game over. Stone asks if Adam wants him to drop it; Adam makes a Thelma & Louise reference (drink!) and tells him not to bother, but then Robinette walks in to confirm what The Sort-Of-Ex Mrs. Duff said earlier, to wit: Duff's blood alcohol was zero. "So she lied!" Stone naives, and Adam shouts, "Standard is subjective! She saw him drink, thought he was drunk," and works a piece of bread out of his dentures. I don't miss that guy at all. He's like Grampa Simpson, but not funny. Robinette adds that the M.E. didn't find any gunpowder residue on Duff's clothes, which means Kostrinski shot him from at least a little distance, and that means he wasn't holding her or grabbing at her like she said. Adam doesn't think that's going to cut much ice with the jury, and asks if Stone has something against "this woman." "If she's trigger-happy and a liar, yes," Stone says. It'll go to a battle of the expert witnesses, then. Adam flops back on the couch and chews his sandwich angrily.
Dr. Olivet is interviewing Kostrinski, who claims she's had sex against her will: "Haven't we all?" Olivet flinches (that hard-to-watch episode where she goes undercover at the GYN and records him assaulting her during the exam, "Helpless," is just three episodes before this one). Kostrinski claims also that Duff kissed her but she didn't kiss him back, and when Olivet asks if it's possible that Kostrinski encouraged Duff in some way, she gets angry, saying he had no right to assume things just because she let him kiss her. Olivet says she knows that, and asks if shooting Duff seemed like Kostrinski's only option. Kostrinski lays down some rhetoric about how surviving is job one in a rape situation...
...and then Olivet is giving Stone the recap: Kostrinski may have had some assault or abuse in her past, but she's not pathological. Stone reminds her that Duff was unarmed and didn't touch Kostrinski; Olivet reminds him in turn that Duff weighed twice as much as Kostrinski: "His size was his weapon." Stone bitches that you can't shoot people on a hunch, and Olivet, who's starting to Take! It! Personally!, leans forward to ask how long Stone wants Kostrinski to have waited before defending herself -- until he grabbed her, or penetrated her? Until there's more than her word to support the self-defense claim, Stone snaps. Olivet tells him that what Kostrinski did "resonates" with more women than he'd like to think. She says she'll write up her report, but Stone shouldn't use her as a witness. Robinette, entering as Olivet is leaving, regards the slammed door, then Stone, quizzically: "She wasn't objective?" Stone bitches that Olivet thinks Kostrinski's justified. "Maybe she is being objective," Robinette muses. Stone looks at him all, the hell? I don't know what that meant either, really. Let's get to the trial.
Stone examines Younger Cop on direct, eliciting from her that she didn't see any behavior she considered "criminal." On cross, she admits that she wishes she'd "stopped to make inquiries." "Because Mr. Duff's behavior concerned you," Stritch prompts. Yes, she had some concerns.
Now for the he-said portion, where Older Cop says Kostrinski appeared to be laughing. Contrasting what women might sense about a situation like that with what men might choose to see instead, addressing the fact that women are socialized to make nice with the Duffs of the world so as not to make a scene, and so on -- it isn't terribly subtle, the way they do it here, but it's miles more deft than you'd see it done today, particularly on SVU. I like that show, but a light touch isn't one of its strengths. Older Cop admits that they changed their reports to avoid embarrassment over not stopping to intercede before someone got shot, but points out that Kostrinski could have waved them down if she felt threatened. Older Cop got suspended for three days for falsifying the report, which Stritch hammers him for, alleging a dereliction of duty because he didn't stop Duff's harassment of Kostrinski. Stritch continues in this vein, pointing up the difference in male and female perceptions of the same incident; Stone objects, and Stritch withdraws the question.
The bartender is on the stand, testifying that Duff and Kostrinski were gettin' friendly at the bar. Stritch and her crazily shoulder-padded vest-tie combo imply that the bartender couldn't really have seen what was going on with several dozen other customers in the bar, and he didn't see them leave together, so for all he knows, Kostrinski was trying to escape from Duff. "Look, when a woman comes into my bar, I don't think she's trying to get away from guys," the bartender shrugs. "I see, so, every woman who goes into a bar alone is Looking For It," Stritch enunciates. Stone objects; it's withdrawn. Stritch draws herself up to glare at the bartender, and gets the bartender to say that Kostrinski didn't accept drinks from anyone else; nor did she talk to anyone else, just drank the same Manhattan for three hours and periodically asked the bartender for the time. Stritch is like, so she took a drink from Duff -- that means she wanted to have sex with him, "that she wanted him to rape 'er." Objection! Withdrawn.
On the street, Stone notes that Kostrinski repeatedly asking for the time sounds like she was waiting for someone; he doesn't think it's a coincidence. Robinette agrees that it sounds like she was waiting for...Duff. Stone says they should try to find a connection between them, and a runner hands Robinette a note saying that Stritch is calling Olivet to the stand as their expert witness. Ben looks ill.
And how did Stritch know Olivet's expert opinion? Stone and Robinette accidentally included a summary of Olivet's report in the material Stritch got during discovery, which Adam is reaming them for when we return from the break: "What are we running here, the '62 Mets?" Then he announces that the jury has to know about Olivet's rape. Ben's like, gross -- but at least let me warn her before I lay into her on the stand. Adam says no, it's witness tampering. Ben repeats that Olivet deserves a heads-up because she's a colleague. Ben says the Court of Appeals isn't going to feel that: "You want to play nursemaid? Save it 'til after the trial." Asshole!
Olivet is on the stand, Stritch is in a Bea Arthur sweateroid contraption, and Olivet is telling Stritch that her examination of Kostrinski revealed normal, appropriate responses. "Including shooting Mr. Duff?" Olivet shifts uncomfortably before saying she wouldn't go that far. "You did in your report," Stritch says, and puts on a pair of ginormous eyeglasses in order to read from it. For real, they're like Carrie Donovan mated with a pair of rave goggles. Olivet's report states that the intensity of Kostrinski's stated fear is consistent with survivors of sexual assault and attempted assault, and as Stritch reads, Olivet squirms some more. In Olivet's opinion, did Kostrinski believe she was about to be raped? Olivet hesitates, but says yes. Shot of Kostrinski looking like she ate a bug. Now it's Stone's turn, and he starts with a softball about whether Olivet's evaluations have a subjective element. She begins to say that her professional training allows her to put firsthand experiences aside, but he wants to get this over with and interrupts to ask if she herself was raped in the last year. Stritch, horrified, leaps up to object. Ben, hating himself, explains that it is in fact relevant; Stritch's mouth is hanging open, but she sits down as Olivet, her eyes filling with tears, says the answer is yes. Does she recall her emotions after the rape? She does. Can she describe them? Anger, rage. Any feelings of vengeance? Yes. Shot of Robinette unable to meet Olivet's eye. Could Olivet's feelings have influenced her evaluation? Possibly. She stares blankly as Stone sits down; the judge has to prompt her that she's excused, and she gets up, glaring at Stone, as the judge adjourns the court. Robinette murmurs that Kostrinski's family is unhelpful, so Ben advises him to interview the neighbors to see if anyone saw her and Duff together.
At Kostrinki's apartment building, Robinette learns from the building manager that Kostrinski is never late with the rent and nobody ever complains about her -- she's a dream. Robinette shows him Duff's picture; the manager says he got what he deserved, and he never saw Duff, or any other man, visit Kostrinski. She's a lady, the manager says, because obviously if a woman does have the occasional gentleman caller, she's not justified in defending herself. Idiot. Anyway, the manager adds that when the building went co-op, he prayed that Kostrinski would buy a place, and she did, "just after this happened." Uh oh. Robinette wonders where she got a $40,000 down payment; the manager says it was apparently a gift, and produces the paperwork, signed by "Mr. Sean McCarrick -- she said he's a friend of the family."
McCarrick is actually a VP of Scanlon's trucking business, as Robinette reports to Stone on the courthouse steps. Stone is skeptical that they can prove the money was paid in exchange for killing Tommy Duff, and after running through a few ideas, Stone suggests checking The Sort-Of-Ex Mrs. Duff's bank accounts.
Cut to the diner, where Robinette is informing TSOEMD that she didn't make two hundred and seventy grand in tips. He lays out the chain for her -- she steers fenceable goods in the direction of Duff, who steers them away from Scanlon, then gets killed for his trouble -- but she's not saying anything else about Scanlon. Robinette's like, the thing is, if we prove that money was made illegally, we'll take the lot of it. TSOEMD basically dares him to try it.
Adam grouches that they have means and motive, but it isn't enough to get Scanlon. Stone says TSOEMD is tough, and can fool Stritch, but Adam thinks she's not that dumb, so now the question is whether to tell her she's using a feminist defense for what's actually a contract killing, because she'll want to remove herself as counsel but the judge won't allow it. Ben wants to bring her into the cone of silence, saying she'll do the right thing, "and quitting isn't it."
At lunch looking out on the Williamsburg Bridge, it's a table for four: Stone, Stritch, Stritch's huge spectacles, and the giant bow on Stritch's blouse. The latter three read over a file as Stone lays it out for her: "Duff steals from Scanlon. Scanlon pays Kostrinski thirty grand. Kostrinski shoots Duff." They've been using Stritch to cover that up. Stritch says that if she puts Kostrinski on the stand, she'll win the case; Stone says that's suborning perjury. "Well...maybe the principle's worth it," Stritch says. "Is it worth your career?" Stone asks, telling her he could have brought this out in court instead of privately. Stritch snipes at him a little, levels him with a stare, then says she'll see him in an office in an hour...
...whither we cut to find Stone offering manslaughter in the first degree, 15 to life in Bedford. Kostrinski snots that she'll spend 15 to life in her condo, and asks if he reads the papers -- she's winning. While she's lipping off, Stritch gives her the hairy eyeball. She's only winning because the jury hasn't heard about Jimmy Scanlon yet, Stone says; he knows all about the hit, and so does Stritch. Kostrinski's placid drama-club expression doesn't change, but she cranks her head around to Stritch to say that Stone's bluffing. Not so much, Stritch says. Kostrinski robots that Stritch is her lawyer and is supposed to argue her case. Stritch, doing more acting with a split-second "don't bullshit a bullshitter, kid" eye-roll than Kostrinski has done in her lifetime, says she won't perpetrate a fraud on the court. She's not putting Kostrinski on the stand, she's not making a closing argument, "and the jury is going to wonder why." Kostrinski lowers her lids as if preparing to receive communion. Man, this is bad acting. Stone says she's got no choice but to give him Scanlon, and Stritch pipes up that she just spent two hours getting Kostrinski only 15 years; if they go to court, she'll get 25, but it's her call. Stone asks what Scanlon has on Kostrinski, and after we sit through approximately three days of acting business with her hair, she gives it up with nary an ounce of believable emotion: her late husband used to beat on her. Scanlon ran the docks with her father. When she told Scanlon the story, he "took pity on" her. Stone is confused: "Your husband died in a work accident." Kostrinski looks away, then back: "You know the Church and divorce." Stone shoots Stritch a "wow, nice client you've got there" look; she responds with an "eeeesh" face. The Law & Order Minor-Chord Strings Of What The Fuck Is Wrong With People swell on the soundtrack as we cut to Briscoe and Logan busting into Scanlon's office to arrest him; he's on the phone, and Briscoe tells the caller, "He'll call you back in 25 years." Obviously. "Call the lawyers!" Scanlon yells. "Good move, you're gonna need 'em," Logan wise-asses. Obviously.
Later, Robinette tells Stone that Scanlon didn't get bail despite the machinations of his lawyers. "Small comfort for Mary Kostrinski," Stone mutters. Tell it to her acting coach. Although evidently she shot his ass, too. Then Stone spots Olivet walking past; he tells Robinette to park Kostrinski upstate until the trial, and flags Olivet down to apologize. Before he can say anything, she tells him he was right. He blames his distrustful nature, and apologizes for "what happened in court." Olivet knew it was coming. Stone says by way of comfort that Kostrinski fooled a lot of people. "But not for the same reasons she fooled me," Olivet says, and gets in the elevator. Stone looks sad.
Precinct. Logan, walking over to his desk, trips over a box of Briscoe's stuff; he picks it up and pointedly tells Briscoe to put it away, "like maybe in your drawers?" Briscoe starts to unpack, but pauses to hand Cerreta's nameplate to Logan: "Phil might want this. By the time the one-ten buys him a new one..." Logan chuckles, "Yeah," and regards Briscoe all, "You know, you're all right." And thusly a great love story began.