Lena: What am I looking for?
Ray: A fucking murder. Just do it, Lena.

Talking about my cancer isn't indelicate. Coming here after you've fucked my husband, that's indelicate.


Abby: So, you fucked my husband because you're dying?
Sonja: You're very blunt.

I'll take a mountain of evidence over a confession any day.


If the glove doesn't fit, you must acquit. An inhaler doesn't fit the way we see a crazed killer trying to stab someone 22 times between hits off of his ventolin.


Ray: I'm not a soldier.
Avi: Don't kid yourself, Ray. You're a soldier.

Chandra: You didn't interview Duane Reade?
Box: Someone at Duane Reade?
Chandra: An individual named Duane Reade.
Box: Is that a joke?

Box: What we have here is the same situation as Andrea Cornish, would you agree?
Detective: Your basic up down misdemeanor homicide.

It's not our place to question a confirmed order from the Commander-in-Chief. But my guess is POTUS has lost faith in your senior command.


Never once did I waver on what I knew to be right.


The new kid thinks my intentions may not be completely impartial.


I don't comment on conjecture.