Good morning, boss. Victim's name was Walton Parsell.
Owner of the jewelry store found him here this morning.
Says Walton bought a necklace from her around closing time.
So not a robbery.
No, cops say there was a jewelry store burglary across town last month.
- No signs of a break-in. - Check the surveillance footage.
- What do we know about the victim? - He's a prison guard from Carson.
- You sure? - Yeah.
Hmm.
- What? - Oh, okay.
It's in his hands. Yeah. Bit nails, not too callused.
Blue-collar job, high stress, no heavy lifting. Prison guard.
- Thought I was losing my touch there. - God forbid.
Clothes tell a different story. Check out those formal boots...
and the cheap business suit.
Looks, uh— Looks a little like a detective, don't you think?
He kind of does, doesn't he?
- Yeah. - This is not a cheap suit.
Hey, I'm not saying anything about your suit. You're the real deal.
But this man here, he was aspirational.
He had hopes to be a lot more than a prison guard.
- Too bad the job killed him. - The job? How so?
Well, he worked at a prison. That's where they keep killers.
- An ex-inmate, probably our best bet. - There are a lot of stab wounds.
That's how they learn to kill in prison. Shanks have points, not blades.
They use them to puncture bowels, cause sepsis.
Charming. Well, the question is this:
Why would you use a prison shank outside of prison?
I'll run a check of all the ex-inmates from Carson in the area.
It's a wedding invitation.
- There a dinner? - Salmon or prime rib.
- I'm in. - Heh.
- Who am I sitting with? - You're next to Cho.
- Where are we with Parsell? - Grew up outside of Hangtree.
Parents are dead, no close relations.
Started up at Carson on his 21st birthday.
I used his call history to track down a girlfriend.
Shelley Dillion. She's a hairdresser in town.
I'll talk to her. Cho, you go to the prison.
Where are we with Jane's hunch that there's an ex-con involved?
The prison sent the list you asked for.
Ex-Carson inmates still living in the county.
If Jane's right, one of these guys is responsible.
Somebody should check it out.
Take a look at that? I'm on it.
- All right. - Want a partner?
Guess not.
I need to talk to you about a murder investigation I'm working on.
Keep walking, pig.
I got nothing for you.
Hello, Dad. Good to see you too.
You're still here, huh?
- You want a beer? - No.
Of course not.
Surprised you knew where to find me.
I make it my business to know exactly where you are.
Really? Keeping tabs on me, huh? Ain't that sweet?
So you still in Sacramento?
I just need to ask you a few questions.
Procedure.
I'm talking to everyone on this list of ex-Carson inmates.
Cops.
That guard's been dead less than a day and you're already grasping at straws.
- So you know about the case. - Know about it?
Hell, boy, walking around town 10 minutes...
I could tell you who the killer is.
But not cops. They got procedures.
- Look, I have to know if you or anyone— - I get it.
No, sir, officer, I did not kill anyone last night.
Then tell me where you were.
The Cat and the Fiddle on Delaware.
They ought to remember me. Heh.
- You working? - I get by.
Smuggling cigarettes? Dealing meth again?
My own flesh and blood, a lousy cop.
Makes me wanna puke.
I don't wanna see you back in jail.
You always were a self-righteous little bastard.
That comes from your mom's side of the family.
No matter how many times I straightened you out...
I never could fix you of that.
It's in the blood, I guess.
If you have nothing more to say about Walton Parsell...
thanks for your time.
I guess I'm in shock. I feel like I'm numb, you know?
- How long had you known Walton? - Two months.
That's pretty long for me.
- When was the last time you saw him? - Two nights ago. We had dinner out.
Quick Chinese, nothing special.
He was supposed to call me last night.
But he didn't.
I thought he was done with me.
You know, like, that was it.
Walton had bought a gold necklace just before he died...
and you were worried he was gonna leave you?
Because he was a good person?
- He wasn't your usual type, was he? - Yeah, tell me about it.
I don't know if I'll meet another guy like Walton.
Yes. Your taste for bad boys...
is a sad relic of your childhood mistreatment.
- No need to pick it back up again. - Oh, gee, thanks for the advice, Dr. Phil.
Just because you've heard it before doesn't mean it's not good advice.
- Tell us about Walton. - Walton had a plan.
He wasn't floating. He was taking night classes at the community college.
- Criminology. - Wanted to be a detective.
Can you think of anybody who may have wanted to hurt Walton?
No.
No. Nobody.
Okay. Well, if you think of anything else, just give us a call.
I will.
Oh, uh, Shelley, there is one more thing.
Have you ever stolen supplies from work here?
No. No. Of course not.
Good girl.
Walton meant well, that's for sure.
- But? - Heh.
Well, he had these dreams of being a detective.
He just didn't get that's not what we do here.
We're not detectives, we're zookeepers.
He was overzealous.
Look, I don't want my men looking for trouble.
I want them to finish their shifts with nobody getting hurt...
including themselves.
Did you know Walton was studying criminology?
Yeah. That was a big part of the problem.
That school was just spurring him on.
Just last month he told me he was already building a case...
to transfer one of the inmates to one of those Supermax facilities.
Getting help from, uh, one of his professors.
- Which inmate? - Walton wouldn't tell us.
"It's confidential," he says.
He wanted to present his case to us and the warden at the next staff meeting.
Did the inmates know what he was doing?
The inmates know everything. More than me.
That's something else Walton didn't understand.
And studies constantly show that eyewitness identification...
is wrong as often as it is right.
Because the human brain is not a computer.
Can anyone tell me what day of the week May 31st, 1976 fell on?
- Tell me quickly. You see— - Monday.
Pardon me?
Monday. It was a Monday. My brain is a computer.
It's a steel trap.
- A computerized steel trap. - Professor Huff, I'm Agent Lisbon.
This is Patrick Jane. We're with the CBI.
We're investigating the murder of Walton Parsell.
I was very sorry to hear about it. How can we help you?
Uh, we know that he was looking to transfer an inmate at the prison and—
Yes. The inmate was involved in extortion and racketeering...
and we analyzed the legal framework required to take action.
Did he give you the inmate's name?
We deliberately don't use real names in our conversations.
I'm sure he probably mentioned it, but I don't recall.
- I'll take over from here, if you don't mind. - Um—
Hello, class.
Memory is unreliable because the untrained brain...
has a crappy filing system.
It takes everything that happens to you and throws it all into a dark closet.
When you go looking for something, all you find...
are the big things, like when your mom died.
Or stuff you don't need, stuff you're not looking for...
like, uh, the words to "Copacabana."
You can't find what you need.
But don't panic, because it is still there.
Now, if we may, my, uh, lovely assistant and I...
will help you rummage through your magic closets.
Somewhere in there lurks a name.
So start digging, and sorting, and pulling things out and weeding through.
It may be connected to, uh, the way that Walton laughed...
or the smell of his breath.
You just thought of something.
The inmate must have tattoos.
Walton said the guy had beat up a tattooist for spelling "Aryan" wrong.
There we go. Excellent.
Walton asked me questions about crime in my hometown, Fontana.
Very good. We're getting somewhere here.
Just let your mind go wherever it wants.
He may have lent you a pen. He may have worn an ugly shirt.
No, no, he was always very buttoned-up and very neat, like a soldier.
Um, like a Roman soldier. A general.
Caesar.
Julius. I know, wait, uh—
Brutus. Marcus. The inmate's name was Marcus.
So an inmate with white gang tattoos from Fontana whose name is Marcus.
- That'll help. - Excellent work. A-plus.
Class dismissed. No homework.
Oh!
Her name was Lola. She was a showgirl.
Marcus Lansdale. He was a member of the White Trash Lowriders from Fontana...
when he shot a highway patrolman during a traffic stop 10 years ago.
- Patrolman's in a wheelchair. - Walton picked a winner.
They suspect him of running the prison's protection racket.
Protects drug dealers from gangs, takes care of snitches.
- They can't prove it. - If Walton asked questions...
Lansdale heard about it. Jane and I will talk to him.
If he's involved, that means there's a hit man on the outside. Rigsby.
Jane's hunch about the ex-Carson inmate pay off?
I checked out everyone on the list. Nothing hinky.
We need to check Lansdale's known associates.
Boss, can I, uh, talk to you for a minute?
- Sure. - In your office.
All right.
I've never talked to you about my father.
Sit down.
I know about your dad. I'm your boss.
Steven Robert Rigsby, convicted of manslaughter, assault, drug dealing.
Your father was on that list, wasn't he?
I checked out his alibi. No special treatment.
- If you wanna send someone else— - I trust you, Rigsby.
However, if you ever come into contact with your father on a case...
next time, you bring somebody with you.
Yeah, okay.
We need to get a list of Lansdale's known associates.
- Get it done by morning. - You got it, boss.
We're here to talk to you about Walton Parsell.
- We've read your file. - I haven't. I'm getting to it.
I've read your file. I know that you're running...
the protection racket here at Carson.
Walton was planning on moving you to a higher-security prison.
California law used to say...
that a man sentenced to life in prison is legally dead.
That's a fact. Legally dead.
And...?
I've been a dead man for 10 years.
The outside world's got no hold on me.
You think some screw poking into my business bothers me?
Ach, you're not so tough. There's always bigger fish.
- Not in my pond. - Well, Walton wanted you transferred.
You might have ended up in a pond with a giant pike, or snapping turtles. Oof.
I have defended myself very successfully...
against charges that I am a security risk.
So whatever Parsell wanted to throw at me would have gone the same way.
Did you know what Walton was gonna do?
Not until you told me.
Maybe one of your friends on the outside told you.
Oh, I can take care of myself. That's how you ought to know I didn't kill him.
How so?
Because if I want a guard dead...
you will find him in a broom closet right here in Carson...
in my cellblock.
I think he's made some good points.
Marcus, it's been fun.
- I got places to go and people to meet. - Oh.
I think you got the cheekbones that can support something short.
I mean, it'd look great on you. You've got a great skull.
I really wish you'd stop.
We brought a photo as a reference.
- What? - There.
Why didn't you tell us you had a brother in prison?
I don't tell anyone about Marcus.
How'd you know?
Well, you share some of the same recessive genes.
Same earlobes. And you both have the same tell before you lie.
You were dating a guy who was trying to transfer your brother.
He ends up dead. It doesn't look good.
Wait, wait, wait, you think I killed him? That's— That's crazy.
- Not really. - Convince us.
Where were you last night?
Annie from the salon's bachelorette party.
You know what, it doesn't matter. I never would have hurt him.
But you lied to him.
Marcus knew Walton was trying to get him transferred.
So he asked me to get to know him...
and see what his weaknesses are.
One day, I followed Walton from Carson.
He went to a coffee shop, I went in after, we got to talking.
We had our first date a few days later.
You thought Walton was a sucker.
You could help your brother out, get a few free meals.
What you thought was weakness you realized was kindness.
And then you got to like the guy.
Did Walton find out about you?
No, he never found out and I wasn't gonna tell him.
When Marcus called me last week, I told...
You told him you couldn't do it anymore, and he got mad.
Did he threaten you?
- You don't know what he can do. - I think we do.
Walton's dead. Your brother couldn't have done it from prison.
- Walton's killer is on the loose. - Well...
- Well what? - I'm not so sure. There's a—
Make a statement.
Maybe we can get your brother to talk, find out who killed Walton.
No.
I'm sorry, that's my brother.
I can't.
I talked to Shelley's coworkers. Her alibi checks out.
Figures. She didn't feel right for it anyway.
Still, she could be an accomplice. Where's Jane?
Uh, he had Cho take him back to Carson.
What for? Lansdale isn't talking and the killer's on the outside.
Whatever. Any breaks on finding Lansdale's hit man?
I talked to Hangtree P.D. Don't have any ideas about a murder-for-hire candidate.
Lansdale's associates on the outside are a small list. His gang's in jail.
I read the file from the jewelry store burglary last month.
There's nothing there. We need a new angle.
What is it?
There is one angle I could try.
I thought you'd be back.
But I didn't think you'd bring a gift.
We just need a moment of your time.
- Can I get you something to drink? - No.
- I wasn't talking to you. - No, thank you.
You get on that yet?
- I warned her you'd be crude. - Heh.
Couldn't close the deal, huh?
We need your help finding the killer of Walton Parsell.
You said you could find the killer in 10 minutes.
If I wanted to do that, but why would I?
To show me you can. To show me you're not just full of big talk.
The least you could do is ask nice. I know you know how to ask nice.
Please, Dad. I need your help.
All right. We need to find a woman by the name of Rocket.
Old flame of mine. She knows everything that goes on in Hangtree.
- Rocket. Real name? - Elaine Hamilton.
Got an address?
Well, I don't know where she sleeps, but I know where she lives.
This jailbird bar in town.
- Can you take us to her? - Yeah. I can do that.
Just give me a second. I'll get my keys.
He was trying to transfer Lansdale? Ha, ha.
See, that's Walton for you. Meant well, but naive.
Lansdale sounds like a good target for transfer.
Lansdale is the muscle at Carson. Nobody was gonna talk to Walton.
Don't wanna find themselves on the bad end of Lansdale's knife.
He did his own dirty work?
He who holds the knife gets the respect from the guys.
You wanna stay on top, you gotta back it up.
Wow. This is great. Reality TV at its finest.
Everything that happens in Cellblock C is right here on these monitors.
Lansdale's too hard-core for a small place. You didn't think about transfer?
We're guards, not supermen.
Having a shark like Lansdale in the tank keeps all these guys in line.
He did your job for you. That's nice.
So you disapproved of Walton going after Lansdale.
I didn't have any knowledge of that.
Walton's agenda. That would be supposition.
Okay.
You see these two?
They're about to punch each other.
Look at the way their shoulders are set, primal.
So are we done here? I got work to do.
- Jane, you have anything else? - Oh, there they go. Look. Fight.
We've got a fight in Northwest Hallway B.
Somebody, break it up. Okay. I'm on my way. Lock the hallway down.
Jane, we need to get out of here.
No, you go. I'll get a ride home somehow. This is way too good.
- All right. - Way too good.
- You gonna be here all day? - Oh, there you are.
I don't wanna scare you, but, uh...
I did some time myself once.
- Really? - Mm-hm.
Oh, yeah. Anyway, uh, when I was inside...
there were prisoners with privileges. You call those trustees?
- Yeah. - You have some here?
- Yeah, we have a few. - I'd like to talk to them.
Okay. Let's go.
Those guys in the blue, those are trustees from Cellblock C.
- That's Walton's block. - Hmm.
The bald man with the tattoo. He got long left on his sentence?
Velasquez. Down to his last year.
I'll take him.
Jorge. Over here.
Best take two. Keep them honest.
Uh, the guy on the other end. Other side of the table.
Nick Monaco. Another short-timer.
- He's not a murderer, is he? - No. Nicky's a second-story man.
A thief. Got clean hands.
- Him too. - Nicky. Over here.
This is the place, all right.
- You wait here, I'll go get her. - No, we'll get her.
You two go walking in there looking like the Cop Family Robinson...
the joint will clear out and you'll never find Rocket.
Okay. You're not back in two minutes, we're coming in.
You got it, officer. Yes, sir.
Yes, sir. What's up, peckerwoods?
You know that game that kids play...
My Dad Can Beat Up Your Dad?
No one ever played that with me.
He's a...
- ... character. - Yep.
Maybe this will bring you two closer together.
Don't hold your breath.
Hey! Put it down!
You get her. I'm going in.
Stop!
- Aren't so bad now, are you? - Lower your weapon, now!
- Get on out of here, boy. - I'm a cop. Everybody stay calm.
He's got a knife.
Yeah, I can see that. What's going on?
It seems Andy over here was a little mad over the last time we crossed paths.
Wanted to fistfight, only I don't do fistfights.
They're a waste of time. Right, Andy?
Let me go. Please.
Just put the knife down. Let me handle this.
- The hell with that. - Dad, nobody needs to get cut.
Nobody gets to get shot. Just put the knife down.
Old Andy here ain't gonna be taking any more pokes at me, that's for sure.
You. Get out of here.
Your turn.
Put the gun away, we'll call this a wash.
Better.
Let's go.
What are you trying to do, embarrass me?
Never get between me and my business again.
- I just saved your life. - What, that clown?
- He wasn't gonna pull the trigger. - Really? How do you know?
Weakness, son. Weakness. Lives in the eyes.
Meet Rocket. She's faster than she looks.
- What the hell, Rigs? - I told you to play nice.
You know something about a prison guard getting killed?
No. No, sir, I do not.
If I'm lying, I'm dying.
Tell them.
Butch Carwin.
Came into the bar last night.
He flashed a wad of cash would choke a mule.
Said he dropped some prison guard for the dough.
Where can we find Carwin?
Well, he owns some land out near the quarry...
off Route 23.
All right. Thanks for your assistance.
- You some kind of VIP or something? - Something.
But you boys can relax. I'm an ex-con myself.
Writing wolf tickets, talking out your neck, I'm hip.
Whatever you say, pal.
Okay. That's an interesting tattoo.
- Looks fresh. You just get that? - Yeah.
- My cousin just landed in here for drugs. - Nice.
He's a real artist.
Well, maybe Nick could use his services.
Not me. I'm not into all that ink.
Old-school. I get it.
- I take care of myself. So what? - Nothing wrong with that.
What's through there?
It's a loading bay for the laundry.
Let's go take a look, shall we?
We do the laundry for every hotel and restaurant in Hangtree.
Wow. Must keep the prisoners very busy.
Three shifts a day.
All us trustees work as supervisors here in the laundry.
You must know the movers and shakers around here, huh? Guys like Lansdale.
I know to mind my own business.
You know, you seem like a smart guy.
- Don't be an idiot. - Excuse me?
If you know something, maybe about Lansdale and his reign of terror...
then tell me.
I can get your sentence shortened.
Listen here.
I got six months left in this joint and then I'm free.
I'd like to spend those six months unstabbed.
I get it. I've been down.
Snitches get stitches.
See, now, that's a popular misconception...
because stitches are for live people.
Got it.
Is that him?
Mask doesn't help, but, yeah, I think so.
Looks like Butch Carwin's got himself a good old-fashioned meth lab.
And he's armed.
That's probable cause, we could take him in.
- We should call for backup. - No need. This is easy.
- You don't need to prove anything. - Huh?
Your father is the last person you should be trying to impress.
You're a good person in spite of him. You don't owe him anything.
I don't give a damn about my dad.
I'm just saying we can take Carwin down now, no problem.
CBI! Down on the ground, Carwin! Get down!
- The ground! It'll pass. - Who's there? Can't see.
- Get down on the ground now! - Okay, okay. Son of a bitch.
Face down on the ground! Arms out to the side now.
- Pretty good trick. - Yep.
Always worked on my dad.
We've got you for production of methamphetamine and illegal weapons.
Who knows what else we're gonna find?
I'm just no damn good. That's the truth.
You recognize this man?
I might have done a piece of time with a fellow like that once.
Lansdale.
- What about this man? - Him, I don't know.
Looks like a cop.
He's the man you killed for Marcus Lansdale.
Okay, hold up. I did what now?
Murder for hire. It's a capital crime.
You finger Lansdale, you'll just go to jail for a long time.
I don't know who's telling you what. I never seen that fella in my life.
Why don't you tell me where you were two nights ago?
I was cooking up meth.
Hang tight, Butch. It's gonna be a long day.
- Hello? - Lisbon, it's Jane. I'm in jail.
- Come join me. - You're still in Carson? Why?
Uh, I'm catching the killer, of course.
We got a good suspect in holding. You'd know that if you answered your phone.
These places aren't built for their reception. Anyway, trust me, Lisbon.
Get your car keys, get in your car—
An—
Lisbon?
What's this about?
Uh, the gentleman with the shaking leg. Right there.
Tomas. Come on.
Man.
It looks like heroin.
Uh, and I think if you check the water fountain, you might find...
Huh?
- Bingo. - That's not mine, man.
I'm sure it's not. Let's go. Let's go.
Don't be so sure. Let's go. Let's go.
You had me drive all the way out here to watch you bust a drug dealer?
It wasn't a bust. I just had to check to see if my informant's info was good.
Informant?
I got a prisoner talking. Gonna give us Lansdale.
- Which prisoner did you get talking? - Nick. The thief.
Yeah. I did the old razzle-dazzle on him.
It was very cop.
He's ready to make a statement as soon as we can get him out of here.
- Nobody likes a snitch. - Let's get him out of here.
- Take it. - The drug bust in the cafeteria.
- I know who talked. - Who?
Nick. The thief.
Nick?
- The cop said he's giving you up next. - No, he's not.
You get me a knife just before lights out.
And you be ready.
Lab techs finished going through the stuff we seized from Carwin.
- Oh, yeah? - Yeah.
It's turning out to be a pretty nice case.
Meth lab, a garage full of stolen stereos...
and about 600 cartons of untaxed cigarettes.
Looks like your dad came through for once.
- Wait, what? - I said it looks like your dad—
- Untaxed cigarettes? - Yeah. So?
Cover for me. I gotta go.
- Kind of busy here, boy. - Your lead was crap.
Butch Carwin didn't kill that guard. But he is smuggling cigarettes, like you.
- That's a weird coincidence, huh? - I think I'll freshen this up.
Yeah, you should.
She lied for you to help take out a rival.
Only thing a cop's ever good for, getting rid of the competition.
Besides, you got yourself a nice big bust for you and the redhead.
Everybody's happy.
You used me.
Hey, what's family for?
You know, I think your mom would be—
You don't talk about Mom. You shut up. You shut up.
Well, now.
Thinking that maybe taking a punch at the old man will fix you up right?
Give you some inner peace?
But before you swing, you remember what I said before.
I don't do fistfights.
Come ahead, son.
Locking up in 15 minutes, gentlemen.
Kill that snitch.
Nick, I'm coming for you.
Drop the knife, Lansdale.
Don't make me have to pepper-spray your ass.
You know the drill.
This enough to send him to Supermax?
Heh, heh. I gotta say, Walton would have liked to see this.
Don't worry, we'll pack your bags for you.
Yeah, you can all go to hell.
And that goes double for Nick.
It's all over this place that he was the one snitching on me.
Get him out of here. Get him out of here.
I know somebody's gonna get that rat!
Take him out of here. Lock the cellblock down.
You better move Nick to an isolation unit.
We put him in the laundry room on the night shift. Let's go.
Time's up, Nicky.
Nick.
Where'd Nick go?
- You seen Nick? - He was just at the desk.
Well, he's not now.
We got a missing convict. Put us on lockdown.
Lockdown in Cellblock C. Inmate missing.
What is it, a rabbit?
Yeah, it's a rabbit.
A rabbit dancing?
- Rabbits don't dance. - Cho, we've got our laundry truck.
Guys, light them up.
Sir, I'm gonna need you to step out of the vehicle.
Olly, olly, oxen free!
Son of a bitch!
I had to run. You made everyone think I was a snitch.
Yeah, sorry about that. My bad. I thought it was the best way for you to show us...
how you sneak in and out of prison.
Just like you did the night you killed Walton.
I got nothing to say.
Well, we have ways of making you talk.
What the hell are you doing here?
Keeping warm.
You burn my whole stash?
Yep.
Hard-core.
I do you, you do me. That's the way it should be.
So does that make us even?
No.
All right, son.
Just this once, I'll give you a fair chance.
Too much damn cop in you, boy.
We're not done yet.
I should've used the knife.
See you around, son.
The laundry truck driver is in the other room singing like a bird.
Save us some time, we'll move you to the East Coast...
- ... where nobody knows you're a snitch. - I never snitched.
This guy here made that up.
Oh, well, have fun explaining that to the boys on the cellblock.
What the hell?
I'm cooked, right?
I was supposed to get out in six months.
I wanted to have something waiting for me.
Found a jewelry store in town.
I promised that driver a share if he'd sneak me out.
Yes, his poor taste in jewelry was a very early clue.
So I robbed the place.
It went smooth. So I figured, let's do another one.
And that's when you ran into Walton.
Kid didn't have to be a hero.
He could have just left it alone.
I guess that's just how he was, you know?
He had to try and do the right thing.
I thought I got away clean.
I figured someone getting in and out of prison must have the trust of the guards.
Hence, a trustee.
And the laundry, well, that's just the smartest way out.
- It could have been any one of us. - Yes, but you and Jorge stood out.
That's why I chose you both.
His tattoo was far better work than the average prison work you see.
And fresh. Then he mentioned his cousin, the artist.
Which leaves you and your perfectly manicured digits.
There's not a nail salon in prison, is there?
I like to look right.
I'm old-school.
I never killed anyone on any of my jobs. I never had to.
I was too good to need violence.
But still, you took a knife with you.
Someone stands in front of you...
gonna take away everything, you gotta put them down.
I mean, right or wrong, you put them down.
You get that.
Don't you?
Hey.
Hey. What happened to you tonight?
- Something with your dad? - Yeah.
I was gonna make coffee. Wanna go to the shop down the street, talk about it?
No, I'm fine.
I'm better than fine, actually.
All right.
Wait. There's just one more thing.
I'm sorry, but I'm not gonna be at your wedding.
Oh, uh—
That's too bad.
You have something else planned that day?
No.
You see, the problem is, I'm still in love with you.
- You can't— - Hold on.
I'm not trying to win you back.
You're marrying a good man, and that's not gonna change.
But neither am I.
This whole thing where we pretend that we're just friends? It—
It doesn't work.
I don't know what will work...
but I know one thing:
I can't watch you marry another man.
Hey.
You have a good day.
And a good life.