For most people, a burrito is a delicious meal
wrapped in a tortilla, but for one NYPD officer,
it turned out to be a mouse wrapped in a nightmare.
So I order a grande steak.
I get back to my car, take a big bite, and crunch.
That's when I see it... a dead mouse.
A dead mouse that Frank O'Sullivan,
the President of the Patrolman's Union,
says was put there on purpose.
This was an act of political violence
organized by a group of radical anti-cop Antifa anarchists
working out of The Burrito Haven.
This is bogus.
The officer called in a to-go order under the name Tom.
The restaurant had no idea he was a cop
when they made the food or packed the bag.
So, clearly, he wasn't targeted for "being a police officer."
I've always wanted to try mouse meat.
- I hear it's really tasty. - From who?
The union made it up as a power move.
O'Sullivan wants me to issue
a statement of public support for the officer,
to give them all extra hazard pay
and to wear this Never Forget Burrito ribbon.
Weird. It's the exact same color
as my Color Blind Awareness ribbon.
No, it isn't. I won't give in to any of their demands.
The union is powerful, but I'm sure
that most of our uniformed officers understand
this incident is nonsense.
It is, as Peralta would say, "No big 'whoop.'"
I appreciate the shout-out, sir,
but I actually don't pronounce the H in whoop.
Sir, all the uniformed officers just left.
They're staging a walkout.
Well, it seems I was wrong.
The "whoop" is big after all.
It is.
Again, though, there's no H in whoop.
It's silent.
"Whoop."
- Whoop. - "Whoop."
Am I crazy? How do you say it?
- I say "whoop." - Okay.
Sync & corrections by emeline-whovian www.addic7ed.com
How is it possible that every single uniformed officer
got sick at once?
They're not actually sick.
They aren't actually allowed to strike,
so they made up a medical excuse.
It's called a Blue Flu.
Without uniforms on the street, crime's gonna go up.
Do we have to negotiate with the union?
No. I haven't gone through decades of hell
to become a captain in the NYPD
just to cave to a clown like O'Sullivan.
We can't let him win, and we won't.
But how? What are we gonna do?
I'm initiating Operation Trident.
Cool. Just like the sugarless gum...
Because we're gonna chew them up.
No, like the famed weapon of the sea,
forged by the Cyclops for Poseidon himself.
The trident has three prongs, like my approach.
Ah, not to interrupt,
but Aquaman's trident has five prongs.
That's absurd. The prefix tri means three.
What this aquatic-man carries is better termed a "pentadent."
No, it's a trident.
They call it that in the original theatrical release
and the Snyder cut.
So you're 100% wrong, and everyone's laughing at you.
Well, regardless,
Operation Trident has three prongs.
Prong one, Boyle and Peralta.
Oh, nice, the most important prong.
- Mm-hmm. - Wrong.
Prong two, the center prong,
is the most important prong on a trident.
It's the longest and straightest
and breaks the least often.
Are you just mad because
I questioned you about the Aquaman thing?
Yes. The officers all had doctor's notes.
Prove those notes are fraudulent,
and they'll be forced back to work.
- We're on it. - Prong two...
Jeffords and Santiago, your job is to keep crime down.
Figure out how we police this precinct with no police.
Prong two, baby... the best prong.
I mean, we're all in it together.
It's not like this is a competition between prongs.
Says the prong who breaks the most.
Prong three is proving they faked the mouse in the burrito.
If we can demonstrate this was a media stunt,
the uniforms will have to come back to work.
But this investigation must be done unofficially
with an investigator from outside the NYPD:
aka Rosa Diaz.
It's a good idea, but she's not gonna like being
- one of those dinky side prongs. - That's a good point.
I'll make hers the sharpest. Dismissed.
What? No! I want to be a sharp prong!
That's not fair!
All these notes are from the same doctor.
Everyone got a blood test, and they all had mono.
That seems really improbable.
Yeah, nobody gets mono at this age.
You get it as an eight-year-old, and then you're immune.
Wait, you get it as an eight-year-old?
Mono? The kissing disease?
No, it's the cousin's disease.
You get it by kissing your cousins.
- Oh, I guess we're both right. - No.
Wait a minute... if you're immune,
then you can tell the doctor you're from the Nine-Nine,
and when he gives you a mono diagnosis...
We'll have proof that his notes are fake.
Wow.
I can't believe all those lazy childhood afternoons
playing hide the yam finally paid off.
- You see, you take a yam... - I don't want to know!
Prong two update... I brought in
our night-shift detectives to handle the dispatch calls
and respond to major crimes...
Sorry. That's Terry's tummy.
I'm feeling a little nauseous.
Must've been something I had for breakfast.
Well, do you have to go home, or can you tough it out?
So, if Terry goes home, he's not tough?
Here we go.
Lieutenant, we don't have the time today to make this
about some larger insecurity
you have regarding your toughness.
First of all, I'm not insecure about my toughness.
Secondly, being sick has nothing to do with being tough.
Thirdly, if I wasn't tough, would I be daring Amy
- to punch me in the stomach? - Wha...
Come on, Amy! Give me your best shot!
Fine. Just so that we can move on.
See? I'm fine.
Now, if you'll excuse me,
I'm gonna go for a walk in the fresh air
with my best friend, the trash can.
I'll be back 'cause I'm tough!
Let's talk quickly before he returns
and makes this all about himself again.
Okay. We can't use uniforms from other precincts
because they'll call out sick, too.
So I asked the other captains in the district
to lend us some detectives.
Smart. They have a different union.
And they each sent us two people.
They said they were happy to do it.
Huh. That's odd.
I wouldn't be happy to give up two of my detectives, unless...
Dear God.
They sent us their Hitchcock-and-Scullys.
It's a nightmare.
So you've been feeling fatigued?
Yeah. I think I have mono.
I'm from the 99th precinct.
Ah, yeah, I've heard
they've had some kind of outbreak there.
Mm-hmm. So now that you know where I'm from,
can you just write me a note?
Uh, no, actually, I need to order bloodwork
- and do a full exam. - Ah.
- Lift up. - Oh, yeah.
Oh. Now, that is interesting.
Oh, did you find a sign of mono?
- No, it's your testicle. - My what?
The left one is enormous.
Oh, well, can't one testicle be larger than the other?
Well, yes, but it shouldn't be that large.
And also of concern is the shape and the color...
Yeah, that doesn't sound good.
And the texture.
Wow! Oh, that is ice cold!
- So... - So...
- You heard all that? - I did.
Even the part where he's talking about my huge...
Yep. Yep, yep, yep. All the parts.
- You okay? - Yeah.
I mean, could be cancer. Might have spread.
But I'm fine. I can handle this.
You sure about that?
'Cause you're still wearing your hospital gown there, bud.
So I am.
Ah, there she is.
My sweet secret prong three.
- What the hell? - Oh, right.
You weren't there when I explained Operation Trident.
So, uh, what did you find?
Nothing yet, and if you want me
to keep digging, we need to talk about my fee.
I need cash. Most of my other work is pro bono.
This is unofficial. I can't pay.
Right, but there is something you can give me,
something just as valuable as money.
- I want to see your tattoo. - That's just as valuable?
It is to Jake. He's offered a significant reward.
Wow. It is so ridiculous how much weight
you've all given to my silly tattoo,
like it's some huge secret that I'll take to my grave.
I notice you haven't said yes yet.
'Cause no one can ever know.
Okay, fine.
If you can prove how that mouse got into that burrito,
I'll tell you what my tattoo is.
- I need a photo of it. - You're a monster.
Wait. I may not have to deal with you.
Santiago, how's prong two looking?
Well, the good news
is the Scully-and-Hitchcocks actually work well together.
That is good news.
The bad news is it's at making a back-scratch circle.
I always wondered what it would be like to have
a tight-knit work family.
- Nine-Nine! - Nine-Nine!
Ah, there they are... prong one,
my most important prong.
Oh, thank you. Nice of you to finally recognize
what our prong brings to this.
Life is a cruel prank played on the living.
Death mocks us all.
Time to go tell my son he'll be an orphan... again.
So, yeah. Prong one pretty much broke immediately.
I'm gonna call HR. Get ahead of that butt.
Here's where we stand. The Blue Flu continues.
O'Sullivan and the union won't budge
on their mouse-burrito demands.
Also, arrests are down.
Santiago, Jeffords, what on earth happened yesterday?
The new detectives won't do anything I ask.
- And I've had to work solo. - Sorry.
I was feeling a little sick, but I am much better now.
You look like garbage.
Now, I know you're trying to tough this out,
but I've always believed that true toughness
means acknowledging your own limitations.
It's okay, Terry. Go home.
Thank you, sir. I'll be back in a jiffy.
I can't believe he bought that drivel.
True toughness means working through pain.
Everyone knows that.
Peralta, where are we with the doctor?
We're gonna tail him and see if he contacts O'Sullivan.
Smart. And, uh, what is going on with Detective Boyle?
Is he okay?
Oh, you mean why is he face-deep in cheese?
Yeah, it's made from the milk of a Balkan donkey
and apparently it's quite expensive.
Spent 12 thou on ass cheese.
Also, he's pretending like
he doesn't know what ass cheese sounds like.
Are you sure he should be working?
His doctor said there's nothing to worry about
until we get the actual test results back.
And Charles said that work
is the only thing keeping him from thinking about death.
Coat's to keep me warm...
in my grave.
I mean, he's not doing great.
Oh, you guys still have lunch together?
Twice a day, every day.
Look, I need help figuring out
how to inspire these new guys.
What motivates you?
Well, I'd do anything to retire
and spend the rest of my days with Hitchcock in Brazil.
Huh. That's actually pretty helpful.
That's the dream...
Scully and me on the sex barge I'm building.
Okay. Scully was already helpful.
You don't have to keep talking.
These are pedometers,
which will prove that you're actually walking your beat.
But whoever gets the most steps in
will receive seven days of overtime.
Therefore, you'll be one week closer to retirement.
And one week closer to a couple's massage
with your best friend on his sex barge.
Sir, guess what.
Lieutenant, I thought you went home.
I did, but some uniforms heard that I called out sick,
and they assumed I was joining the Blue Flu.
They invited me to a meeting tomorrow to talk strategy.
You could go record them
admitting that they don't actually have mono.
- That is, if you're up to it. - Hell, yeah.
Terry's gonna tough it out.
Terry's also gonna drink some raspberry leaf tea
that Sharon uses to help her with menstrual cramps.
Oh, looks like we're adding a prong.
Operation Trident is now Operation Fork.
Isn't there a cooler word than "fork"?
I mean, something more like "trident."
Oh, no, did everyone assume I was trying to be cool?
Is that why things are going so poorly?
Damn it, I've got to call Peralta.
No, Operation Fork is definitely not cool.
Uh, yeah, things are going good here.
We're just staking out the doctor
and trying to keep a low profile.
Sorry about that. Just had a bit of a noisy neighbor.
You know what, sir? We have another noisy neighbor.
I'm just gonna call you back. Bye.
All right, Charles, I get it. You're scared.
But sometimes it helps to say our fears out loud.
You know, if you put words to them,
it can take away some of their powers.
So come on.
Stop bottling up those fears and get them out in the open.
Okay, well...
I'm scared that whatever's in my testicle
has spread and that I'm gonna die.
And then I'll never get to see Nikolaj grow up.
And I won't know what kind of man he becomes.
Also, my time with you will be cut short.
No more stakeouts or drinks after a long shift
or midnight calls when you've had a breakthrough in a case.
I've always had this image of us in our 90s
hunting down criminals at the retirement home.
But I guess that was just a dumb fantasy...
because soon I won't be here anymore...
because I'll be dead and gone
and you won't ever see me again.
- Jake, are you crying? - No.
Yes.
Diaz, why the hush-hush meeting?
Because in one minute,
you're gonna be showing me your tramp stamp.
- I don't have a tramp stamp. - Prove it.
Show me your lower back.
Hmm. Seems I didn't know what a tramp stamp was.
But I'm not gonna show you anything
until you've solved the case.
Surveillance footage of McCaffery
entering a pet store and buying a mouse
an hour before he found it in his burrito.
He set the whole thing up.
Diaz, you did it.
And now...
my payment.
Okay, O'Sullivan, there's McCaffery
coming out of Perdue Pet Supplies
with the mouse that he put in the burrito.
So there's no need for tactical gear
or a Never Forget Burrito ribbon or any of that.
You need to call off the Blue Flu.
Are you crazy? My guys are under attack.
No, I just proved that it wasn't an attack.
He faked it.
Not that attack, this attack...
The one where you call a policeman a liar.
He is a liar.
Oh, dear, my God. You just did it again.
Do you understand the worst thing you could do
to another person is to call that person a liar?
You hate cops. That's a fact.
I-I-I just thought
the Blue Flu was about a mouse in a burrito.
Well, it was, but now it's about you saying it wasn't.
- That doesn't make any sense. - So you're calling me stupid?
- That's not what I said! - You're calling me a liar?
I just don't know how to talk to someone like you.
Someone like me?
Wow. That's racist.
Oh, this is a very frustrating conversation.
The union can't be reasoned with.
I need an update. Prong one.
More broken than ever.
Ah, well, I never had any faith in you anyway.
Santiago, how's prong two doing?
We're killing it.
According to the pedometers I put on the Hitchcock-and-Scullys,
they're out walking their beat.
And it's all thanks to these guys.
- Hey. - Screw you, Amy.
No, I was complimenting you.
- Well, screw you anyway. - Yeah.
As for prong four, Jeffords is recording
the officers' secret meeting as we speak.
And I expect he'll be bursting into my office any minute
with the proof we need to end the Blue Flu.
I got the proof we need to end the Blue Flu.
- Wait, really? - Why so surprised?
That was the plan.
Yes, but earlier, I was talking to the squad,
and I put a lot of pressure on this moment,
which I then regretted.
I feared I might be hoist on my own petard.
No petard hoisting here.
They talked about everything in front of me...
How they planned the whole thing,
how long they were gonna pretend to be sick.
You recorded it all, despite your own illness.
I must say, I'm impressed.
Because of how tough I am, right?
The toughest.
Okay, first things first. We got to get...
What... what is that?
I had the mic close to my chest.
So I guess it must have picked up my stomach noises,
but I'm sure it stops eventually.
More stomach.
It's all stomach.
And there it is...
the petard.
I need your help. Our arrests are still way down.
But according to the pedometers,
our Hitchcock-and-Scullys
are out there logging miles on the beat.
How are they not seeing crimes?
How do you know they're walking?
I just told you...
Their pedometer numbers are through the roof.
Oh, poor, simple Amy.
It's like you've ever had to mess with a medical device
in order to trick your life insurance agent.
Watch and learn.
They're just using
the massage chairs to jiggle their pedometers.
Life always finds a way.
- To do what? - To do nothing.
Dr. Mintleman's just working his normal job
and not being a criminal.
I can't believe this is how I'm spending my final days.
Maybe it doesn't have to be. Screw this case.
What's something you've always wanted to do?
Do you have a bucket list?
Well, yeah, but, I mean, it's only one item.
Great. Whatever it is, we're doing it.
- Live to be 110. - Come on!
I thought I found a loophole!
Okay, how about this?
We go on a cross-country road trip...
Me on a motorcycle, you in my sidecar?
Or we enter a cooking competition,
and you "Ratatouille" me from inside of a giant chef's hat?
I track down Diane Wiest,
and you finally try and use your hall pass?
You're smiling, so I guess that one's it.
Oof, going with Wiest, huh? I got to be honest, Boyle...
I'm not so sure you can pull that off.
I mean, her career is red hot.
She just did a movie with Streep.
No, Jake. That's not why I'm smiling.
I'm smiling because you know me so well.
Yeah, we're best friends. Of course I know you.
Well, as perfect as all your ideas were,
nothing tops sitting here with my best friend.
I mean, why would I want to go to town on Diane Wiest
when I can go to town with you?
- What? - Hang out. Go to town with each other.
It's a common friendship phrase.
Haven't heard it.
Oh.
Oh, God. It's my biopsy results.
- What does it say? - I don't know.
I'm too nervous. I can't read it.
- It's not cancer. - Not cancer.
It's an infection, and it's highly treatable.
- I'm not gonna die? - You're not gonna die!
Oh, we got to celebrate.
Does it say if it's safe to ride a two-person banana boat?
I don't know. Let me check. It doesn't say.
Oh, well...
And also, I think just figured out
how all those officers got their fake diagnoses.
Tell us what's written there.
Patient's left teste
is gnarled and shows discoloration.
No, not that. There, at the top.
ShareChem Medical Laboratory. Yeah, so?
So we thought it was the doctor handing out
fake diagnoses, but he's clean.
However, the officers knew you used ShareChem Lab,
and that lab is owned by David Share,
brother of Nine-Nine officer Michael Share.
The lab faked the blood results.
None of the officers are actually sick,
which means they have no excuse to miss work.
Well, unfortunately, that is...
Stop. I know you're gonna twist my words
into some vicious attack on you and the NYPD:
So, before you do that,
I'd like the pleasure of making the vicious attack myself.
Sir, your insults are kind of known
to be little too think-y, maybe you should just let...
O'Sullivan, you are a,
and I hope your get shoved right into your.
Wow. Well, that was definitely not too think-y.
Okay, okay, okay. You got me.
The men didn't have mono. They weren't sick.
- Damn right. - But they are now.
What?
It seems they had a meeting, and somebody showed up
with a very bad stomach bug and gave it to everyone there.
I believe the officer's name was a, uh, Lieutenant Jeffords.
The petard.
It just won't stop hoisting.
Hey there, sir. You missed the morning briefing.
And I see you found Charles's cheese.
Mmm, it pairs well with despair
and also this 1976 Chateau Haut-Brion.
Doesn't seem like the kind of bottle you're supposed to chug.
I bought it the day I joined the force
with the intent to open it when I became commissioner.
Oh, my gosh, this is big news.
Congratulations, sir.
No, he's not becoming commissioner, Scully.
We can still fight the Blue Flu.
It's over, Lieutenant.
I have to cave to O'Sullivan's demands.
Sir, you can't give up
on all your hard work because of one setback.
I'm a realist.
I knew I wouldn't be able to fix every problem,
though I always imagined I could fix some of them.
But as a realist, I can now see I haven't fixed a damn thing.
The NYPD will never change.
Sir, if I may... when I thought I was dying,
all I could think about was what a disappointment
my life had been.
But then Jake went to town with me.
Common friendship phrase.
And it helped me realize you can't focus
on the things you didn't do.
Focus on what you did do.
And, more importantly, focus on who you did it with.
Boyle, you're absolutely right.
I am? My speech turned your life around?
No, I found it trite and uninspiring,
but something you said resonated.
Focus on the things you didn't do.
I said not to focus on the things you didn't do.
Again, your speech meant nothing.
I'm just picking out individual words.
Sure, sure, yeah.
Hot damn.
I know how to end the Blue Flu.
I found a fifth prong.
So I gather you're ready to cave to my demands.
- Why would I do that? - Give me a break.
Your arrests are way down,
and your CompStat numbers are terrible.
I think those numbers look great.
- No, you don't. - Well, not those numbers.
Obviously, they make it look like we haven't done much
at all this week.
But a friend of mine told me something
unintentionally interesting... focus on what you didn't do.
So here's what we didn't do this week.
With fewer officers at our disposal
and none of them trying to hit CompStat numbers,
we made fewer bad arrests.
Number of complaints against officers, down 32%.
Number of cases thrown out at arraignment
for insufficient evidence, down 34%.
And here's the most important thing we didn't do.
We didn't make the community less safe.
Rates of major and violent crime,
what actually matters, stayed the same.
What are you saying?
I'm saying the Nine-Nine just became a case study
for how a police force
can work better with fewer police.
Are you actually talking about laying off cops?
If these numbers persist, I may have no choice.
Then I'll just end the Blue Flu.
Great. That's what I want.
Then I won't end the Blue Flu.
Great. Fewer cops. That's what I want.
You just said that...
This is a very frustrating conversation.
I'd like to officially announce
that the Blue Flu is over.
The uniformed officers are at work,
and we sent the Hitchcock-and-Scullys
back to their home precincts.
So everything's back to normal?
No, the opposite.
We're gonna use what we learned this week
to change the way the NYPD polices our streets.
Okay, awesome. Very inspiring.
Now, on to more important things.
I have obtained from Rosa a photograph...
of Captain Holt's tattoo.
Oh.
I'm sorry, Captain, but there's nothing you can do
that will stop me from revealing
that your secret and embarrassing tattoo is...
- a dot? - Huh?
It's a decimal point.
Ah, what a first-thought mathematical symbol.
Might as well have gotten a greater-than or equal-to sign.
I can't believe I spent $2,000 on a dot.
- You did? - I know, Amy!
We're both upset about the same thing!
I got to call Rosa.
Thank you for giving Peralta the doctored photo.
My allegiances are to the highest bidder.
And you'll never tell anyone what you saw?
They wouldn't believe me if I did.
I mean, come on, sir. It's a picture of...
Sync & corrections by emeline-whovian www.addic7ed.com