Ka-blamo, scrubs.
I nailed it.
I solved
Captain Holt's brain teaser
and found the location
of our secret meeting.
The answer? The broom closet.
In your face.
- In whose face now?
- Yours.
Gina and I have been here
20 minutes.
Though my presence
is not puzzle-related.
I just followed Terry
into a dark closet.
Hey.
You solved the puzzle before me.
Nerds.
They solved it first.
They're the nerds.
I'm cool like you.
Wait. Where's Captain Holt?
Where's Amy?
She should be
the first one here.
Doesn't she go to an adult
puzzle camp every summer?
Yes, but please don't
bring that up.
I've been throwing out
her mailers.
Guys,
if those two aren't here,
I think we must be
in the wrong place.
No, we're
definitely in the right place.
I'm 100% sure about this.
Well, guess who
solved the puzzle?
- Who?
- We did.
- Oh, we did?
- We're in the wrong place.
Thank you for all
finally showing up.
Let's recap. As you know,
Jimmy "The Butcher" Figgis
put out a hit on Adrian Pimento,
which the mob believes
succeeded.
For his safety
Pimento has gone off the grid.
Remember, the only people
we can trust
with this information
are in this room.
And Genevieve.
We can trust Genevieve.
We share a life.
I tell her everything.
Fine, the people
in this room and Genevieve.
Genevieve's mom also knows,
but she's in a coma,
dead any second, we're good.
Okay.
Unfortunately, we can't just
arrest Figgis,
because he has
a man inside the FBI.
The good news is,
we have a lead that's gonna
break this case wide open:
Maura Figgis, Jimmy's sister.
She's currently serving
in a maximum security prison
in Texas.
A white woman in prison,
in Texas?
She must be bad.
She murdered three people,
and she knows
Figgis's operation,
so we're sending a detective in
undercover as an inmate
to get close to her.
Yeah, and guys,
this isn't one of those
women's prisons
that we've all seen
being all sexy
on late-night cable.
You know, with the ladies
touching each other's bits,
and there's kind of
some lame jazz playing.
When these chicks fight,
it's for real.
So be mature.
- Peralta is gross, but correct.
Mm.
This facility is a violent place
filled with hardened criminals
We need to send someone
who can blend in.
Sir, I would be honored
to take on
this challenging assignment.
Why is everyone laughing?
I can be a badass.
You're raising
your hand right now.
We're in a meeting.
I just assumed Diaz
would be the prisoner.
Nothing personal,
it's just, you know...
she's terrifying.
- Thank you, Sir.
Mm-hmm.
Dismissed.
Hey, that was crazy, right?
I mean, I can be scary.
Oh, yeah.
I watch "Jeopardy" with you
and you're a straight-up psycho.
Aww. Thanks, babe.
I'll take "Awesome
Girlfriends" for 500, Alex.
I know you're being sweet,
but don't disparage "Jeopardy."
Okay.
- All right, listen up.
You're not gonna try to
convince us
Mahler was the original
punk rocker again, are you?
No, the music is a classic
counter-espionage maneuver.
I don't want to be overheard.
But, since you mention it,
Mahler was one
in-your-face bad boy.
Right, um, so,
what's going on, sir?
Oh, I have a plan
to draw out Figgis's
man in the FBI:
Throw a funeral for Pimento.
Now, before we, quote, unquote,
bury Pimento,
we need to, quote, unquote,
open an investigation,
find a, quote, unquote, corpse,
and obtain a, quote, unquote,
death certificate.
Kind of feel like you could have
just used "air quotes."
I can also wear short pants
and drink from a jug
that says "XXX."
Fake funeral's a good idea, sir,
but where are we gonna find
a corpse?
We don't need one.
We need pictures
for the case file.
If I may,
imagine Pimento's dirty,
pale body
being pulled out of a manhole
after a couple days'
sewer bloat.
- Mm.
Now squint your eyes...
and look at Hitchcock.
Oh, yes.
I believe
we've found our corpse.
You positively glow.
- How do you feel?
- Great.
I could smother somebody
in their sleep with this thing.
Pregnancy's dope.
Whoa, bup, bup.
That big old womb
is not a weapon, okay?
It's just an excuse
to talk to your doctors,
AKA, Charles and me, in private.
If you need to chat,
just schedule an appointment
with Brent Kennedy, ob-gyn.
And I'm Glen Kennedy,
ob-gyn.
We're twins, like
"Property Brothers,"
but for gynecology.
- No, I said no to that idea.
You are Isaac Schwartz,
my older Jewish mentor,
and you are Isabel Cortez.
You're in for
stabbing a man on the subway
46 times in the trachea.
Tight.
The pregnancy
stuff is my area of expertise.
Since Genevieve started
fertility treatments,
it's all we talk about.
Now... show me your waddle.
Mm-hmm.
- Mm-hmm, okay.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Okay, okay, okay.
Nice.
Good work.
You really look like a corpse.
And I'm not even wearing makeup.
Time of death: 8:26 p.m.
Now all I have to do
is sign as the coroner.
You are disturbingly
good at this.
I grew up forging report cards.
If people knew how smart I was,
it would have been harder
to control them.
Now all we need
is the death certificate
officially notarized.
You want me to break
the sacred oath I took
to become a notary?
It's not a problem.
'Cause... I'm a badass.
Just like Rosa.
So...
I am going to stamp this, and...
- violate my oath...
- [stamp clicks
You can keep talking,
but we're done here.
Adrian Pimento
is officially deceased.
Excellent.
All this sneaking around
is exhilarating.
I can feel the adrenaline
coursing through my body.
Coursing.
Isabel Cortez,
welcome to your new home.
- This is gonna be fun.
- Really?
What are your weekends like,
Diaz?
All right.
It's time, Detective.
Don't forget,
you're seven months pregnant.
Your cervix is ripening
as we speak.
Mention my cervix again
and I will rip your throat out.
I don't understand.
You don't like it
when he talks about
your cervix ripening?
Okay, have fun.
They grow up so fast.
Okay, fresh meat.
You're being transferred here
because you made trouble
in your last prison.
That won't fly here.
Stay in your lane.
Hey. You're that cop
who arrested me
three years ago in Brooklyn.
Uh...
Amy Santiago,
you're going to prison.
I don't know.
Is anyone gonna buy it?
I mean, do I look pregnant?
I mean...
I guess I can see it.
I think it's amazing.
Oh, Jake and Amy and baby
makes three.
I don't know
if I believe in God,
but I have prayed for this.
That is psychotic.
All right, Ames, let's
go over your cover story again.
Okay.
My name is Isabel Cortez,
I'm in for murder,
'cause some perv on the subway
tried to touch me
and I was like,
"Did someone order
a tracheotomy?"
Okay, I think that's
a little too technical.
We need to work on your
tough talk.
So, what are you in for, Cortez?
None of your damn business.
Nice. Keep going with that.
I'm gonna split you
like a sundae with Grandpa...
bitch.
- Okay.
- The "bitch" part was great.
Yeah.
Although, mean threats
generally don't involve
having desserts
with your grandparents.
So, just try again.
Keep telling me what to do
and I'll stab your face off.
- Hell yes!
- Damn!
Like that.
Okay, now,
here's the plan.
Instead of you
approaching Maura,
we're gonna get her
to come to you.
Yeah, try and spread the word
that you've got a connect
on the outside
that gives you access
to contrabands:
- cigarettes, burner phones...
- Pornography.
Amy, women don't watch...
- They do.
Mm.
- Oh, yeah.
- Oh, wow.
- Mm-hmm.
- Huh.
Well, that's an exciting
revelation for me.
Mm-hmm.
Huh.
Sorry prison didn't work out.
Eh, I'll find another use
for that shiv.
Also, I'm sorry about Pimento.
I mean, I know how hard it is
to have a fiancé disappear
because the mob and the FBI
want 'em dead.
I mean...
Actually, I can't relate at all.
It's the saddest story
I ever heard.
Look, you wanna talk,
I'm a good listener.
There's nothing to be sad about.
Pimento's gonna come back,
we're gonna get married
and we're gonna have sex
on Figgis's grave
just like we planned.
- Cool honeymoon.
Mm-hmm.
Well, since you're not
in prison, you can help us.
We're gonna throw a fake funeral
- to draw out our FBI guy.
- Good plan.
I always thought
it would be funny
to kill somebody
at a funeral.
Also, you're gonna have
to play the grieving fiancé.
- What?
- So you may not be sad,
but you're gonna
need to look it.
Fine.
Boo hoo.
Maybe we'll get you
a real thick veil or something.
Cellmates!
All right, our camera
is up.
We have picture and sound.
Amy should be meeting her
new cellmate any second now.
- Sup.
Good, she's abbreviating,
just like we practiced,
even though she hates it.
- She's gonna do just fine.
- Oh, yeah.
I drilled her for hours. Ew.
I'm sorry, I just realized
what that sounded like.
It's okay, Jake.
I wish we'd talk like that more.
No.
Where you from?
Passed around the system.
Never stayed anywhere
long enough to call it home.
Ooh, that's a good answer.
Yeah, that one was mine.
I speak the language
of the streets.
It was actually from
"Girl, Interrupted."
Yeah.
Oh, it's happening.
She dropped the contraband.
Hey, where you get that crap?
I got a hookup on the outside,
so I can get anything
for a price.
This is yours...
if you can get the word out
about my store.
Okay, I can do that.
Cellie for my cellie.
Oh, no. Wordplay? Abort.
Cellie? I get it. Funny.
- Oh, it actually worked.
- Huh.
People are really starved
for entertainment in here.
- Jail is hell.
- Yeah.
All that we know about
Figgis's man in the FBI
is that he's a white male
of average height and build,
and according to Jake,
he has a scar on his hand.
Oh, this is a long-shot,
but if his name is Joe,
could we call him Scar-Joe?
Scar-Joe.
Never heard that before.
I like it. We'll use it.
Now, funeral assignments.
Gina and I will greet people,
shaking hands and checking
for the tell-tale scar.
Excuse me, sir.
Are you sure you want to be
on the receiving line?
You hate small talk.
No, I can turn it on
when it's called for.
"The Bachelor"
is a television show, hmm?
Andre Agassi's at it again.
I, too, avoid gluten.
Okay.
I want the rest of you
checking out the crowd
for anyone suspicious.
Oh, I'm sorry.
Am I interrupting?
No, we just all
came in here separately
and then started chatting,
you know, breezy stuff.
"The Bachelor"
is a television show.
Andre Agassi's at it again.
I, too, am avoiding gluten.
Do you see Amy? How is she?
Great. She just got lunch,
double helping of spinach.
Baby's gonna love
that folic acid.
You are so strange.
All right, this is her first
time eating in the dining hall.
Where she chooses to sit
is very important.
Oh, good, she's headed towards
that table of hot blonde girls.
Wait a minute. No.
They're Nazis.
The hotties are Nazis.
They're hot-zis.
Swerve, Amy, swerve!
Good, good, good, good.
Okay, and...
All right, sitting alone.
Bold choice, bold choice.
Oh, here comes Maura.
Hey, Cortez.
I hear you can smuggle in crap
from outside.
Nice, it's working.
That's right, baby.
- What do you want?
- What I want...
is for you to back the hell off
because I'm the only store
in this prison.
Wow.
Well, I didn't see your name
on the outside of the prison,
unless your name is
Texas State Penitentiary
Comma Spring Valley Unit.
Oh, this is bad.
I can't believe
I'm gonna say this,
but she should have sat
with the hot-zis.
Hey, what's going on?
I was talking to Figgis
and then the guard said
I had an appointment.
I'm not supposed to check in
until tomorrow.
People might get suspicious.
Look, we called you in
because your first contact
with Figgis was a disaster.
Why? Because our smuggling plan
backfired
and she wants to kill me?
Yes, every single detail
of what you just said.
- We need a new plan.
And I've got one.
- I need to step to her.
Step to her?
Amy, this isn't
"High School Musical."
Yeah, Amy, this isn't
"High School Musical 2."
Yeah, and it isn't
"High School Musical 3:
Senior Year."
All right.
Point is, it's not
a high school musical.
- That's right.
I got it.
Figgis is seriously
dangerous, all right?
She's killed more people
in prison
- than she did on the outside.
- I know,
and if I back down now
she'll never respect me
and we'll get nowhere with her.
Trust me, I've got this.
Okay, I can see
that logic,
but in the interest
of keeping you
as un-shanked as possible,
I think maybe we need a signal
in case things go south.
Ooh, I know.
Scratch your butt.
No, that's no good. What if
her butt itches for real?
I think I can handle it.
I've made it through
20 years of adulthood
without scratching my butt
in public.
- Amy.
- Come on.
Come on.
All right.
Never? Ames, come on.
Come on.
Hello, thank you so much
for coming. High five?
Detective Pimento didn't want
his funeral to feel stuffy.
Condolences, my man.
What's going on, sir?
Why are you high-fiving
the bereaved?
The handshakes weren't working.
You couldn't see the inside
of the thumb webbing.
Gina came up with
an artful solution.
I'm very sorry for your loss.
Get some.
The system works.
Any sign of Scar-Joe?
Not yet.
I don't know how much more
of this I can take.
All these jerks keep on
asking me how I'm doing.
This shouldn't be so difficult.
Your fiancé did really leave.
Just act sad about it.
Fine, I'll pretend to be sad.
I'll make myself cry.
That's not how this works.
Or is it?
Suck it, Sarge.
Hey.
Give me those 20-pounders.
Wait your turn,
Baby-Sitters Club.
No weight lifting.
You can shoot that baby
across the room.
Come on.
What's going on?
I was stepping to her.
I know, but it wasn't
a good time.
She was holding
a 20-pound weight.
That's basically
Thor's hammer, babe.
- I can handle myself.
Cool, yeah.
Just, you know, don't
confront her when she's armed.
Fine.
Seriously? She was at lunch.
She didn't have a weapon.
She had a fork.
That's like
four tiny shivs on a stick.
What the hell?
Socks are just a noose
waiting to be braided.
We were playing hearts.
In the wrong hands,
every playing card
is like a throwing star.
She was alone,
her hands were empty,
and I think she was napping.
So what was the big threat
this time?
You did the signal.
You scratched your butt.
Right, Boyle?
Uh, I don't know.
I was focused on her waddle.
Which you are nailing,
by the way.
Well, I know for a fact
that I didn't scratch my butt
because my right cheek
was actually itchy
and I fought through it.
I know what's really
going on here.
You don't think
I'm tough enough to do this.
Okay, you know what?
Fine, you're right, I don't.
But it's only because Maura
is so much more terrifying
than we anticipated. I mean,
she has a full back tattoo
- of herself stabbing a guy.
- He looks like Tom Hanks!
Yeah, and that's America's
male sweetheart.
I can't believe this.
You wouldn't tell Rosa
to stand down.
Well, yeah, because she's Rosa.
I mean, one time,
I saw her eat a whole apple
using a knife,
just like in the movies.
Get over the apple thing.
That was three years ago.
I know, it was just so cool.
Look, I'm your handler,
all right?
You have to just trust me
on this.
My job is to keep you safe.
It's the right call.
Fine, I'll slow-play it.
But people are getting
suspicious,
so you can't come running in
every time I'm in the same
room with her, okay?
Yeah, okay.
Are we good?
Yeah, we're good.
This is so sweet.
Now kiss her belly.
Boyle!
So let us all bow our heads
and join together
for a moment of silence.
This church is so quiet.
Pretty normal
for a moment of silence.
Captain has eyes on a guy
he thinks might be Scar-Joe.
Okay, be cool.
Let's check him out.
Please make me
defile this church.
What do you want?
Take off your gloves
and show us your hands.
And no scar.
He's just a glove-wearing freak
with beautiful hands.
Why did he run then?
He's a pickpocket.
I guess the bereft
are easy targets.
Also, Scully,
here's your wallet back.
How's Amy doing?
Is she paying enough attention
to her pelvic floor?
Ignoring that.
She is keeping a low profile,
just like we discussed.
I'm really impressed
with you two.
You disagreed
with the best strategy,
but talked it through
like adults.
The key is trust.
I trust her to stay
out of danger,
and she trusts me
not to interfere.
Oh, my God. She just
pushed Figgis into the garbage.
She's in danger.
I must interfere.
What the hell
do you think you're doing, huh?
Showing my unborn baby
how an ass gets kicked.
All right, Cortez,
time for your checkup.
- No, thank you, I feel fine.
No, you don't.
It's your uterus,
it's... gonna explode.
- What?
- Come with me.
Stand back, everyone.
You're all in the splash zone.
- This ute's gonna boot.
Here we go.
- What the hell?
We agreed you weren't
gonna do that.
You disobeyed a direct order
from your handler.
Yeah, I did.
Because that order was crap.
I did the right thing
and it's insulting
that you don't see that.
Hey, hey. The baby can hear you
yelling and it's upsetting him.
It's a fake baby, Charles.
I meant me. The baby's a cover.
Okay, stop.
You're right.
I'm 100% in the wrong.
The truth is, I'm the one
that's not tough enough
to be in here.
I mean, watching
the woman I love,
unarmed, locked up
with all these murderers.
It's just too much for me.
Oh, my God.
Amy, go to him.
- I screwed up.
No, you didn't.
I get it.
Being a cop and dating a cop
it's harder than I thought
it would be.
I worry about you too.
Oh, my God. Jake, go to her.
Look, I was just trying
to keep you safe,
but I wasn't letting you
do your job.
I'm sorry.
Why aren't you
going to each other?
I think I have to take myself
off of this assignment.
Are you sure?
Absolutely. You got this.
Hopefully, I haven't already
blown your cover
by dragging you
into my office so many times.
Also, I'm pretty sure
a lot of people heard me say
that your baby's
blood type is "OG."
Yeah, you're a pretty
terrible doctor.
Mm-hmm.
But... I think I know
how to get things back on track.
Hey, Cortez, you're late
for your appointment.
Quit touching me.
Oh! Ugh!
I don't need checkups
every two seconds,
you dimple-chinned freak!
Oh! Aah!
You're so tough and I'm
just a beautiful intellectual.
Hey,
I love beating up doctors.
- Can I get in there?
- No! He's mine.
All of you, back off!
I'm kicking for two.
Sorry that wasn't Scar-Joe.
I don't want to talk about it.
Talking about your feelings
is for losers.
I guess Adele's a loser
in your world.
Look, the funeral's
almost over,
we basically pulled it off.
All you've got to do
is give a convincing eulogy.
Roger that.
Pimento's dead.
Thanks for coming.
Adrian Pimento
was very special to me.
And now he's gone.
And I'm starting to realize...
there's nothing I can do
to bring him back.
I guess life is just
gonna suck for a while.
But it's nice to know
there's a room full of people
who is sucks for too.
I'd also like to add...
the next person who hugs me
gets their necks snapped.
And... she's back.
Okay, this is it, I'm leaving.
You're in charge.
I'll take extra good
care of her, Jake.
Just let her do her thing.
But this is Texas,
so also make sure
she doesn't somehow get
the death penalty.
Mm-hmm.
Stay tough, Cortez.
You're touching her boob.
Should I turn away, or...
I'm not touching her boob.
She's tiny on the screen.
I'm just saying good-bye, man.
You know, why don't I turn
and give you privacy?
No, don't turn.
That's what makes it weird.
Ugh!
Well, we pulled it off.
Nice eulogy.
I thought it was dumb. Sergeant?
- Excuse me?
- You said there's nothing
you can do to bring him back,
but you're wrong.
None of us are gonna stop
fighting until he comes home.
Thanks.
And if you ever need to talk,
or get drunk,
or throw stuff off a roof,
I mean,
I don't know your process.
Am I hitting on anything here?
The roof thing
sounds pretty good.
Very well. Let's throw
something off the roof
and then we'll get back to work.
High five.
I quite like them now.
What are you looking at?
You got a problem?
Whoa. Cool it, killer.
I just wanted to say good job
on beating the crap
out of that doctor.
Oh. Thanks.
I like you. You got balls.
Maybe you should come
work for me.
I could use a bruiser
on my crew.
I'm not a bruiser.
I'm a psycho.
Even better.
Nice job, Cortez.
Oh, I touched her boob.
I've got to tell Jake!
- Not a doctor.
- Shh.