Scott Rowe.

What were you doing with Rowe?

So that puts me in pretty illustrious company.

No one touches anything.

I saw you hit Rowe with a pipe.

And inspired by what I learned from Nathaniel,

This is a phase change material.

Whoever killed him might have done him a favor.

Chow denied knowing Rowe.

Scott Rowe's prints were lifted postmortem by the ME.

Boss, we went through Scott Rowe's bank statements and brokerage accounts.

He's all yours. You're under arrest for the murder of Scott Rowe.

ED Awl, also, good that the leather crafter's guild is here.

Driver's license and car registration ID him as Scott Matthew Rowe.

How do I know you're not going to doublecross me like Rowe did?

Yeah, our anonymous tipster was Scott Rowe, Our dead guy.

Rowe would have made a fortune on the stock market when the navy discovered the radar didn't work.

Gather up at dawn my melted wax and read in it whom to mourn, what to be proud of.

Those candles are dripping wax all over your mother's creation.

I found myself growing outraged that someone

I made it, from melteddown stubs,

Five weeks ago, Scott Rowe's and Jonathan Chow's credit cards were swiped at the same Georgetown bar within minutes of each other.

And so I went back to London, and I went and saw this chap, Jude Law.

I wrote a program to crosscheck credit card charges, ran Scott Rowe's against corporate cards issued to IRT execs, limited my search parameters to the last six months under the assumption...

Ulysses knew that when the sirens come he will be temped, so he tied himself to the mast, asked his men to tie themselves to the mast and to put beeswax in their ears, so that they wouldn't be tempted, either.

I started an organization on Skid Row of musicians called Street Symphony, bringing the light of music into the very darkest places, performing for the homeless and mentally ill at shelters and clinics on Skid Row, performing for combat veterans with post traumatic stress disorder, and for the incarcerated and those labeled as criminally insane.

And at the very core of this crisis of mine, I felt somehow the life of music had chosen me, where somehow, perhaps possibly in a very naive sense, I felt what Skid Row really needed was somebody like Paul Farmer and not another classical musician playing on Bunker Hill.