A Killer Within Page #3

Thank you.

Your neighbor Sarah Moss went

over to your house...

to baby-sit around 7:30

and noticed the broken window.

Jesus. I forgot to call her.

I heard my wife calling my name.

I rushed over.

Did you see anyone?

No. I got Christopher,

took him back to my house...

dialed 911,

went back to check on Becky...

We live just a few houses down.

The rest you know.

"We're even now" written

on the wall.

What do you think that means?

I don't know.

Do you remember Sonny Bruton?

The DNA evidence in this case

is irrefutable.

The defense is arguing

that there are...

extenuating circumstances

because Sonny Bruton...

was abused as a child.

My heart goes out

to that boy of long ago.

When you two were

with the D.A.'s office...

you prosecuted Sonny Bruton

for the rape and murder...

of three college girls.

He tied them to their beds

with their own underwear...

the same way your wife

was found.

Sonny Bruton is serving three

consecutive life sentences...

without parole.

He was released five days ago.

- What?

- Cut a deal with the State.

- Austin politicians.

- You didn't know about that?

No, I didn't know about that.

Seeing as how you were

the prosecuting attorney...

the Parole Board contacted you

the day after he was paroled.

You're gonna find him, right?

You know, Bruton spent

six years in the slammer...

ratting on everybody he can

to get out.

The first thing he does when

he's free is kill your wife?

He must really hate you.

Well, lucky for us,

your son survived...

and when he recovers,

he'll probably be able...

to identify the killer.

He's four.

He's a witness, my only witness.

Thank you, gentlemen.

One more thing, Terrill.

Bruton likes to take souvenirs.

Your wife was strangled with one

of her own stockings.

We'd really like to find it.

Jesus. Sonny Bruton.

I'm worried when he finds out

he didn't kill Christopher...

he's gonna try again.

- Well, just forget about it.

- No. I got to find him.

Addison, you're not

going anywhere.

Addison, stop!

Your son needs you.

I need him, too.

This is a community

gripped with fear.

Last night, Rebecca Terrill,

the socialite wife...

of former district attorney

Addison Terrill...

was found brutally murdered,

and their son was left for dead.

Police say they are continuing

to gather evidence...

but that this case

may be related...

to one of the cases that

Addison Terrill prosecuted...

as district attorney.

We have company.

This is not

an appropriate time, Lieutenant.

We can go downtown

if you'd be more comfortable.

We understand

that your son is awake.

We need to talk to him.

He's recovering from an assault,

and his mother

has been murdered.

And he might identify the man

who killed her.

He's four years old,

you a**hole.

Take it easy, Larry.

What about Sonny Bruton?

We'll find him...

but first, we have some

more questions for Mr. Terrill.

- No.

- It's OK.

The autopsy report indicates...

that the cause of death

was strangulation.

Your wife wasrt raped.

There were no bruises...

in the usual places.

In other words,

Bruton raped three women...

but he didn't rape your wife.

This is not necessary.

The report also says the victim

had a.15 blood alcohol level.

That's a lot of alcohol

for a happily married woman...

or maybe she wasrt

so happily married.

What are you getting at?

What I'm getting at is that

you have a girlfriend...

and we know that she visited you

at your office...

the day of the murder.

That was my wife, Lieutenant.

Come again.

We were trying to have

another baby.

She came to my office

dressed as a client.

It was a game we played.

A footnote to

the medical examiner's report...

said that her tubes were tied...

so you were trying

to have a baby...

with a woman who couldn't?

She didn't tell me about that.

When did you find out?

F*** this!

You said Sonny Bruton

broke his parole.

You don't know where he is?

We'll find him.

But you don't think he did it.

We'll ask him when we find him.

Call us when you do...

because right now

this bullshit is over.

Counselor.

Counselor, don't let

your client leave town.

So what do you think,

Lieutenant?

Let's find the girlfriend.

They're sportfishing.

Garrett has a hard-on for you.

He was Jesus Vargas'

partner, remember?

Yeah.

They're not looking for Bruton.

No rape, no DNA.

No DNA, anyone is the killer.

- I got to go after him.

- That's insane.

Look. I don't have

a choice, Sam.

Addison, you can't find

your keys in the morning.

How do you expect

to find Sonny Bruton?

I'll go back to the notes

on the trial.

I'll speak

to the arresting officer.

- Jesus Vargas?

- Yeah.

Sh*t.

Who is it?

Addison Terrill.

I've been waiting

five years to do that.

What do you want?

I just wanted to talk.

Talk about what,

religion, politics...

or this certain case

I've been listening to...

on the police radio?

You're quite the talk

of the barrio, shyster.

Lieutenant Garrett thinks

I killed my wife.

Did you ever know a wife

who didn't' give her husband...

a reason to kill her?

Come on. You go home.

Wait. Wait. Come on.

I need your help.

What, you need my help?

Why don't you go get

the real cops?

Look. Your son already

lost his mama.

You want him to lose

his daddy, too?

Don't do this to me, Vargas.

Oh, f*** you, Terrill!

It's because of you

I ain't a cop no more.

I don't owe you sh*t,

and sh*t is all I've got.

I'm looking for Sonny Bruton.

You have a contact

from when you made that arrest.

I want a name.

You want a name?

Angel Zamora.

She hangs out at Los Tiburones

on Fairpark.

Sorry. Hi. I need some help.

Are you lost, mericon?

Actually, I'm looking

for somebody.

Angel Zamora.

Never heard of her.

What do you want?

I'll take a Dr Pepper.

Carlos.

Do you want chips with that?

That's OK.

Hey. Are you looking

for Angel Zamora?

Yes. Yes, I am.

Well, she don't work here

no more...

but I know where she is.

Great. Great. Do you have

a number or an address?

Let's go outside.

He's looking for Angel Zamora.

How's it going?

Let me see cash.

Hey, hey, come on.

What about...

OK.

I'm not looking

for any trouble, all right?

Soon you won't be looking

for nothing, pendejo.

Come on, papa. Come on.

Give me the f***ing money.

That's it.

Man, you ain't a cop no more.

And you ain't no altar boy.

Thanks.

This ain't right, man.

He comes to our place,

he pays gringo fee.

- Pay him.

- Pay him? For what?

Pay him for not killing you.

- This is extortion.

- It's street law, shyster.

You want to dance the Macarena,

you got to pay the band.

Let's go.

I still need to get

that address.

Wait a second.

Come on, man.

Just give me the address.

This meeting never happened.

Running a string of b*tches

out of the Oasis Motel...

1313 Ortiz Street.

Put that sh*t away before I take

it away from you.

Where's my car?

You got to be kidding me.

Come on, man. Come on.

I'm parked down here.

Where to, 1313 Ortiz Street?

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