Previously on Original Sin...
- No. No, no!
Now, the department needs an informant who can gain insight
into the Estrada organization.
Laura Moser.
I kept you out of jail.
Got you home to your kids.
My son, Brian, and this little angel is Dexter.
You're my C.I. and I'm married.
We've almost gathered enough evidence to put Estrada away.
We just need you to get a meeting with him.
Would you like to meet your daughter?
Harry, you're a father again.
You need to end it. You can't see her anymore.
Hey, ladies. My mom got it for me last week.
First one off the lot.
Hurry up. We don't want to wake Tiffany.
No beauty sleep for Tiff tonight.
Going on double dates together,
my brother and my bestie.
Turns out dating was fun.
Hey, Sarge, have you heard about Judge Powell's kid?
Jimmy Powell's killing appears professional.
Cause of death, ice pick to the back of the head.
We've got a terrified public out there
and I need to tell Judge Powell and his wife something.
- Aaron. - Becca?
- I'm a little busy. - Too busy for your son?
- That's not fair. - Nelson's been to see...
Don't say that prick's name to me.
- He's my fiancé. - He's a fucking homewrecker.
- Come here.
- Thank God you're okay. - Find him. Please.
My son got snatched from me, from everything that he knows.
And he is out there somewhere,
scared shitless, and that's killing me.
So many killers still on the street.
Levi Reed deserved to die.
Yeah, he shot the parents point blank,
and the little girl in the back as she ran for the stairs.
I had prepared
and nothing was gonna get in my...
- Clark.
Hey, Officer Sanders.
I was just... out with some friends.
- Hey, gorgeous. - Oh.
Why did you kill them?
I wanted to see them beg for their lives.
My dad gave me a Code.
I only kill the ones who deserve it.
You deserve it.
Former home invasion killer,
- soon to be alligator food.
I've got a body in the back of the truck.
There's cops everywhere.
What could be worse?
Sir, I'm gonna need you to turn around.
This is an active crime scene.
In that split second,
I decided the best thing I could do was...
act like I belonged.
I'm with Forensics. Why else would I be here?
But working a crime scene
at my victim dumping grounds,
with Levi Reed's body in the back of my truck...
was basically asking to get caught.
I wondered if I'd get life in prison or the electric chair.
I could never decide which was the lesser of two evils.
You rubbing one out in there?
Thought I was flying solo tonight.
Let's go, minion. I got tons for you to do.
The one thing I could decide, my last meal.
A porterhouse steak. Blood rare.
And a milkshake. Chocolate.
Make that two milkshakes.
Watch your step.
Got active gators all over the area.
- No, no!
Morgan.
Thanks for joining us.
Happy to lend a hand.
Oh, I get it. Hand.
Good one.
Those fingers aren't gonna print themselves.
Uh, I don't know.
Prints feel unlikely considering
the waterlogged, partially decayed fingers.
Pop quiz. Who's in charge when Tanya's not here?
Me. So just do it.
They were intact enough
to produce at least partial prints.
And Ferrer's prints could lead Homicide to me.
Those prehistoric monsters didn't care who Tony Ferrer was,
they just needed to feed.
Was I any different?
Bon appétit.
No other body parts?
Nope. We did a full sweep, but...
Morgan!
What happened?
Alligator came out of nowhere.
I'm lucky I got out of the way in time, but...
it took the arm.
- Swam off.
How the hell could you let this happen?
He could've died, Detective.
Well...
What next?
No evidence to book.
Who's in the mood for Moons Over My Hammy?
You hungry?
No, thanks. I'm good.
As much as I would've loved to eat,
I still had garbage to take out.
Not now, Sofia.
Good riddance, Levi Reed.
Three hours from now,
his body would be lost in a sea of trash.
Right where it belonged.
Ugh. The fuck is that smell?
Mystery solved.
I don't know what's nastier.
How much you reek or that you can eat right now.
It's spaghetti.
The fuck happened to you?
Oh. Some crime scene out in the Everglades.
It was super dark and I fell into a swamp.
A swamp? What swamp smells like a hobo's asshole?
Hey, any idea why Sofia keeps sending me these random numbers?
Duh.
It's beeper code, dumb-ass. Here.
Give me your pager.
Okay. 1-2-3 means "I miss you."
2-1-3 means "Do you miss me?"
And the latest,
220 means "Why haven't you called?"
Wait, why haven't you called?
Didn't know I was supposed to.
Of course you're supposed to. You're her fucking boyfriend.
When was the last time you talked to her?
Not since our double date.
You haven't called her since she blew you?
Jesus, you're even dumber than I thought.
Morning, Seminole.
Wait, it's official?
No. Dad's just overeager,
but things are looking pretty good for my scholarship.
Full ride. That's my girl.
Nothing's a lock yet.
They still want to see me in the playoffs.
Shouldn't be a problem. You kill under pressure.
We had that in common.
What does 9-9-2-2 mean?
Ugh, I got to get away from you before I blow chunks.
9-9-2-2 means "I don't care!"
Ugh!
God, I thought your sister forgot
to take the garbage out again.
Long story.
All right, let's get some fresh air.
You can tell me all about it.
All right. So you faked
an alligator attack to get rid of Tony Ferrer's arm,
but the reason you were there in the first place was
to dump Levi Reed's body?
More or less...
Mainly more.
You had a dead body in the back of that truck
and you were surrounded by Homicide detectives?
Yeah. But it's not like anybody knew.
Oh, oh. Jesus.
What if somebody needed to load equipment
into the back of the truck?
Or-or Masuka asked for a ride? You could've been caught.
Please...
don't tell me Levi's body is still in the truck.
He'll be buried in a landfill by now.
All right, well, that explains the smell.
- Yeah.
You dodged a bullet this time.
Your goal should be to not get shot at
in the first place.
I'll do better.
Promise.
All right. Go shower.
Burn those clothes and, uh, I'll see you at work.
Harry was right.
No victim dumping ground meant no killing.
And no killing was...
no good.
Why haven't you been answering any of my pages?
Do you think you can just hook up with me and not call?
No. That isn't...
I was working a crime scene.
- All night. - Oh.
Now I feel kind of dumb.
Was it a...
murder?
Yeah.
At Alligator Alley.
I almost got eaten by one, too.
Oh, my God. I'm so glad that you're okay.
- You poor baby. - Yeah.
What's this?
You probably shouldn't touch that.
Is this why you've been ignoring me?
Because you're cheating on me?
Uh, it must've gotten stuck to my shoe at, uh...
the crime scene.
At the swamp? God!
I can't believe you had me feeling sorry for you.
Dickhead!
It was fun while it lasted.
But I had more important things on my to-do list
than memorize beeper codes.
What the fuck, Sofia?
A room full of Miami's finest.
I needed to come up with a dumping ground
they'd never find.
Somehow.
Hey.
- Bobby, Angel. - Yeah.
Fill the team in on what we talked about this morning.
Listen up!
Regarding the murder of Jimmy Powell
and the kidnapping of Nicky Spencer,
we're pursuing every avenue to find the Los Tigres safe house.
Pulling in all of our informants.
Knocking down doors to see if anyone's willing to talk.
The next step is liaising with the D.A.'s office
to negotiate reduced sentences for incarcerated cartel members
who are willing to give up any information.
It's been four days since Nicky was taken.
It's the same amount of time between
when Jimmy Powell went missing
and his finger showed up.
Every second counts.
God only knows what Nicky's going through.
We've had 24-hour surveillance on Becca's house.
And me and Bobby, we're gonna relieve Franklin and Muszynski.
Yeah, we think that it's important we're there when...
well, in case anything shows up.
Great. Thanks, guys.
I'm counting on you to really make something happen
out of this shit show.
So, where are we at with the arm
that was found at Alligator Alley?
- The John Doe. - Nowhere.
We weren't able to get any fingerprints
before the evidence was... eaten.
My bad.
That is a hell of a way to lose evidence.
Okay... let's get it done.
Excuse me.
- What about my cases? - What about them?
I think we're dealing with a serial killer.
My office. You, too.
Hey!
What was with you ditching me this morning?
I had to hitchhike.
Some old creep made me listen to Steely Dan.
Shit.
What's wrong?
- Dexter's cheating on me. - Dexter?
My brother Dexter?
It's not funny.
I found a condom wrapper in his truck.
So?
What do you mean "so"?
How could it have been there if he wasn't fucking some skank?
I don't know. He probably got bored
and wanted to make some balloon animals.
Sof. You got to trust me.
Dexter wouldn't cheat, okay? He's not a player.
I literally had to convince him to go out with you.
Excuse me?
Fuck. That's not what I meant.
I'm just saying, he's a fucking dweeb when it comes to girls.
So I had to, I don't know, like... nudge him a bit.
But he likes you, I swear.
I can't believe you're taking his side over mine.
I can't take your side all the time.
He's my brother.
Fucking shit.
Hey, Dexter.
- Got a minute? - Sure.
I, um...
I just wanted to talk to you about last night.
Outside the bar.
So, um,
nobody here really knows.
Oh. Right. Well...
No big deal. That's cool.
Yeah. Tell that to my parents.
That bad, huh?
I mean, um...
That's why I moved to Miami.
I get to be myself here.
Well, except when you're at work.
True.
Look, I-I've learned that it's better
to keep those two sides of myself separate.
But at least I don't have to choose between them.
Your secret's safe with me.
Thanks, man.
You're shitting me. A serial killer?
No one is shitting you, Captain. The last three...
Do you have anything that resembles evidence?
An M.O.? A pattern of killing? Anything at all that...
Okay, if you would let me speak, I will tell you.
The last three NHI murders... as you call them...
have striking similarities.
All the victims come from high-risk populations.
All loners.
Nothing was taken from them, so robbery isn't a motive.
As I understand it, each one of these vics
was killed in a different way.
That doesn't say one killer to me.
That's because the killer's methods are escalating.
He's-he's experimenting.
He's becoming more violent.
He's figuring out what he finds most pleasurable.
You haven't said much.
What do you think?
I think she's on to something, Aaron.
I think it's worth pursuing.
I look forward to being amazed.
He's got a real talent
at making "yes" feel like "fuck you."
He's got a lot on his plate. LaGuerta...
Don't worry. We got this.
It's gonna be all right. You just have to trust me.
It's been almost a year now.
When is it gonna end?
It's a fucking miracle I have made it this far.
As soon as we get Estrada on the wire
talking about his operation, you're out.
I promise. I promise.
What if I just say no? What if I walk away?
You know what happens.
You'll go to jail, and they'll put the boys in foster care.
I guess that's it then.
You should probably get home, to your family.
Daddy.
No, that's not your Daddy, baby.
Say goodbye to Mr. Morgan.
Mm.
Didn't expect you home so early.
I meant it when I said it was over.
Do you want to know how it happened?
I don't.
I think we should talk about it.
- I think you need to hear it. - No, Harry,
that's what you need.
If we're gonna stay together
as a family,
we have to find a way through this and love each other
because I still love you.
Doris, please.
I'm sorry.
That's the first time you've actually said you're sorry.
I...
Hey, no. I got her.
I've got her.
Daddy's here.
Oh.
There you go.
Coral Gables?
Too many nosy geriatrics.
South Beach? Too many tourists tanning on the sandy strands.
Biscayne Bay would've been great,
but I didn't have a boat.
- Yet.
I wish there was a Rand McNally for body disposal.
Uh, these need to go to Records, right?
Uh, sure.
Well, I can take them down.
If you think you can handle it.
Hey, man. What you up to?
I'll show you.
Ah, our John Doe.
Boy, I'm never gonna hear the end of that one.
That's no John Doe. Look.
See that snake ring? It belongs to Tony Ferrer.
That hijo de puta I told you about,
back at my cousin's restaurant.
I don't know. I mean, that ring could've belonged to anyone.
No. No way. I'd recognize it anywhere.
You and me both.
I'm gonna file a new evidence report.
Ferrer, he isn't just some random bad guy.
Not to me, anyway. I got to know what happened.
The last thing I wanted to deal with
was a murder investigation when the killer was me.
You know, unfortunately, the evidence is gator shit.
And let's say that was Tony
who was fed to the alligators.
Sounds like justice was served to me.
That's the wrong kind of justice.
You show that photo to the family of Tony's victims,
I bet they'd think it's justice.
Instead of spending time on a dead man,
maybe you should focus on the cases
that actually deserve your energy.
Like Nicky Spencer.
That kid needs all of us.
He needs you if he's going to survive.
Maybe you're right.
Thanks for talking me off the ledge, amigo.
Another bullet dodged. Barely.
Okay, great. We're on our way.
We got a hit on our BOLO.
Unis have their eyes on a black and gold Pontiac
- with stolen plates. - Where are we headed?
- Allapattah. - Let's go, papi.
You're gonna have to come in here
and make me eat them, motherfucker!
Let me go! Let me go!
My father's a cop, and he'll...
Officer Jablonski.
You want us to come with you?
Why don't you hang back,
but be ready for our signal.
Thanks.
- There's the Pontiac. - Yeah.
So how do you want to play it?
Simple knock and talk.
We selling cookies or catching a serial killer?
What do you want?
We're detectives with Miami Metro.
We just have a few questions about the Pontiac
parked in the street.
What about it?
So it's yours?
Annemarie?
- Yeah, Dad? - Come here, sweetheart.
These nice officers want to ask you about your new car.
That's yours? The black and gold vehicle right there?
Yes, sir. Am I in trouble?
Of course not, baby girl.
How long have you had that car?
For, like, two days.
It was a sweet 16 gift from her mother and me.
We saw it sitting on the side of the U.S. 1.
300 bucks.
Unfortunately, we're gonna have to impound it as evidence.
Oh, my God. Why?
We suspect it's been used
in the commission of a crime.
No wonder you hate cops.
- You don't understand... - Keys, please.
Thank you.
Did you happen to get the seller's name?
- Any information? - Nope.
All right, well, we're gonna need you to tell us everything
you can about the man who sold you that vehicle.
Are you trying to arrest my daughter
for legally buying a used car?
We're done.
Thought I'd brush up and look to the greats
for solutions to my body disposal problem.
Ed Gein, the Butcher of Plainfield.
There's lots of uses for a human body.
Yeah... Thanks.
David Berkowitz.
And then you just leave them?
John Wayne Gacy.
The Killer Clown of Chicago.
Buried victims in his crawl space.
Mm, just one problem.
What's that, pal?
My dad would kill me
if I buried my victims under our house.
My research wasn't as enlightening as I hoped.
Here we go. Communicate.
You fucking bitch!
That little prank of yours messed up my car.
I have no idea what you're talking about.
You and your greasy little boyfriend
got sand in the engine.
It totally screwed up my transmission.
You told her?
Well, I just, I was trying to calm things down.
Her parents were gonna call the cops.
You sold me out.
You're supposed to be my best friend.
I can't take your side all the time.
Bummer, Morgan.
There goes your last friend.
You really shouldn't be captain of a team that hates you.
At least I don't look like Pippi Dick-sucking.
Morgan!
My office now.
Yeah, so I gave my Reeboks a quick pump.
Ran over to Dexter
and pulled him away from those gator jaws of death
- in the nick of time. - Wow, Dexter.
You're lucky Masuka was there.
Yep.
My hero.
Got to admit, Alligator Alley's
a pretty good place to dump a body.
Was a good place.
What'd be other good ways to get rid of a body?
I mean, hypothetically.
If it's a hot girl, taxidermy.
I'd invite Hannibal Lecter over for dinner.
Muszynski was never very helpful.
What about you?
I'd dump them at a construction site.
Night before they pour the cement.
Not bad, but I'd have to wait
for a new skyscraper for every kill.
Hey, what are you knuckleheads talking about?
- Uh, nothing. - We were just talking
about the best places to hide a dead body.
Not exactly the right time for gallows humor, is it?
Get back to work.
- You're not gonna check that? - I don't speak beeper code.
- May I? - Knock yourself out.
"I hate you."
Whoa, lady killer. What's her name?
Sofia, who I think was my girlfriend,
but now I think she might be my ex-girlfriend.
Wait, you're paging her?
Don't worry.
I got a code that wins
over the babes every time.
What'd you send?
Masuka, Morgan, my office.
And close the door behind you.
- Aaron, Aaron... - No, come on.
- That's my... - Captain, Captain.
- Let Tanya handle it. - You got to let me... Come on.
Let's give them a minute to work, okay? Come on.
I'd come to anticipate
how violence against children made me feel.
This was a monster I couldn't understand,
and I needed to get him on my kill table.
What can I do?
Just give us a minute, Morgan.
Stand by.
Visible damage to the bone.
Anything under the fingernail?
Negative.
It looks like the finger was severed using pruning shears.
Just like Jimmy Powell.
Could this be the killer's blood?
Uh, what'd you say?
Based on the location and the angle of the drip,
it doesn't match the blood inside.
Doesn't match?
Uh, severed fingers tend to be messy.
I mean, it's a long shot,
but any lead's worth exploring.
Let's pull both samples so we can test.
Good eye, Dexter.
I was always good at seeing things others couldn't.
Have a drink, Aaron.
Try to be patient.
How the fuck do you do patient
in the middle of this shit?
No.
Come in.
We ran the print, and it matches school records.
I'm sorry, sir, the finger does belong to your son.
The methodology also matches Jimmy Powell.
So, as we all suspected, the cases are connected.
The perp...
What?
What is it?
I'm sorry, uh...
I'm just, I'm trying to spare you the details.
Don't.
I want to know everything.
Whoever did this used spring-loaded pruning shears,
based on the cut and the trace amounts
of WD-40 that we detected.
The good news is, we do know from the blood
that Nicky was alive when his finger was severed.
- He still is alive.
Aaron, we're gonna find him.
That's it? There's nothing else?
Unfortunately, there were no prints to pull from the box.
No hairs or fibers to test.
But we did notice a small spatter of blood
on the outside of the box.
It's important to understand that the probability is low,
but there's a chance that it could be the perp's blood.
I don't know, maybe he nicked himself in the process.
We're running the sample against Nicky's.
It could give us a blood type to compare against any suspects
brought in, ultimately narrow down our leads.
That's great work, Tanya.
Actually, it was Dexter who noticed the spatter.
Your boy.
When will we get the blood test results?
We're expediting the labs.
We should have them first thing in the morning.
Thank you, Tanya.
Of course.
- Thank you.
We're doing everything we can.
- Do more.
Absolutely.
- What's this? - The Pontiac is registered
to a Paul Petrie in Tampa.
So what's our move, Detective?
I think the element of surprise
- is in our favor. - Hmm.
Don't want to tip Petrie off that we're on to him.
Agreed.
Tampa's about 280 miles away.
Usually takes about four hours to get there.
- I can do it in three.
Road trip mañana?
Sounds good.
Get in.
Sure, I'll just drop these inside.
Leave them.
Where are we?
Follow me.
Take off your clothes.
Laura Moser, meet Hector Estrada.
100 laps a day maintains discipline
and unclouds one's vision.
Do you swim, Laura?
Um, sometimes.
Join me.
Apologies, but in my line of work,
I find it is the safest way to know who I can trust.
I'm impressed on how you've been able to expand your clientele.
Very enterprising.
Thank you.
Most are happy to remain in the middle ranks, but you,
you have a... a hunger.
What is it that drives you?
My family.
I want to provide a comfortable life for them.
Brian and, um... What is it?
Oh, yes, Dexter.
Interesting name.
Family is a noble cause, but if comfort is what you seek,
there are many other ways to provide
that are far less treacherous.
I want more than just... comfort.
I want... this.
Anything and everything at the drop of a hat.
I'm expanding my territory to the Northeast.
There's a large shipment going out next Tuesday.
I'd like you to be at the shipyard
to learn more about the operation.
Thank you, Mr. Estrada.
Will you be there? I-I just
know I could learn a lot from you.
We will see each other soon.
It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Laura.
The pleasure's mine, Mr. Estrada.
Keep an eye on her.
I couldn't stop thinking of Nicky, locked away,
alone, scared.
Hmm. Don't need help translating that one.
The severed body part.
A hesitation cut.
No hesitation cut on Jimmy's finger.
I hoped when the blood test came back in the morning,
it'd be the missing puzzle piece I needed.
- Hey.
How come you're not at practice?
Got kicked off the team
and suspended from school.
Whoa, back up. T-Tell me everything that happened.
Not much to tell. Tiffany was talking shit.
She shoved me, so I punched her in the face.
I didn't raise my daughter to solve problems with violence.
Little late for that.
What about the scholarship, huh?
I mean, doesn't the-the scout need to see you at the playoffs?
Maybe team sports aren't for me.
That scholarship is the only way I can send you to FSU.
Then maybe I won't go.
Guess I have a lot of thinking to do.
And I'm gonna do that thinking at Gio's.
- Don't wait up. - Hey.
You go out that door, you're grounded.
So what you're saying is,
if I leave this house, I can't leave this house.
Good one, Dad.
Hey. Where you off to?
Anywhere Dad isn't.
He threw a hissy fit because I punched Tiffany in the face.
For?
For being a fucking colostomy bag.
How much trouble are you in?
With Dad, grounded.
With school, suspended and kicked off the team.
All in all, not my best day.
You want some advice for next time?
Sure.
Don't get caught.
Great.
Thanks, asshole.
The only thing that could pull me from my to-do list
was helping take down this child killer.
What was the captain doing at my desk
so early in the morning?
It's a damn shame your theory didn't pan out.
Same blood type.
You know, statistically speaking,
34% of people are A-positive.
So the killer could just have the same blood type as Nicky.
Hmm. That's true.
My boy's running out of time.
Actually, I, uh, found something else.
I noticed a small hesitation cut
on Nicky's finger, but not on Jimmy Powell's.
- What do you think that means? - Not sure yet.
But off the top of my head, it could be the work of, uh,
an inexperienced or nervous cartel member.
- Hmm. - Or maybe even
someone who feels some kind of connection to Nicky.
I thank you for everything you're doing
to try to help Nicky.
- Ouch. - Hmm?
Oh, yeah.
This is what I get for trying to fix
the air conditioner in my shitty apartment.
I haven't been able to sleep very well lately.
If you have any other theories
that could help me find out who did this to Nicky,
come to me directly.
Doesn't match the blood inside.
Small hesitation cut on Nicky's finger,
but not on Jimmy Powell's.
Someone who feels some kind of connection to Nicky.
How had I not seen this before?
I suddenly realized
I might need a new victim dumping ground
even sooner than I thought.
Hmm. These are really popular.
They any good?
My kid loves 'em.