you and rafe were in philly the week your son was murdered. (sniffs) yeah, well, i don't have to talk to you. no, you don't. it's just your kid who's dead. and yet you keep jerking us around. keep it up, i'll have the da pile on conspiracy, and extend your stay. not like i got anything waiting for me out there. well, there's always vodka. my mom liked hers straight, you know, in those plastic bottles that don't break when you pass out. gin. mm-hmm. hey, i get it. i mean, my mom was no june cleaver. the messed-up thing was... i still loved her. and in her own way, she loved me. what do you want from me? i want to know why you went to philly. because i missed my son. hey, baby. where's mick? thought you were gonna bring him. i couldn't. uh... rafe is here, isn't he? i told him to stay in the car. you're wrong about him. okay, i mean, he's, he's got me on the straight and narrow. is that why you smell like gin? you ask me to come all this way so you can judge me? i want mick to come live with me. what? you don't know the first thing about raising