[sighs] You know when I first came to Vegas over twenty years ago... I haven't thought about this in a while, Jeff McKeen was a detective then. He invited us all to Mt. Charleston to his cabin, you know, all the new guys, have a barbeque, cook some steaks, have a few drinks, get to know each other, you know?. And it was a nice place, you know, but not too nice for detective pay. I mean, my radar's already up I came from Jersey, you know, guys took more than they gave, and they made it an art form, how not to push it, how not to make it showy, you know. Anyway, Jeff is sizing me up, he's sniffing around, he's telling me how great Vegas is, how great it'd be for my career... But I let him know, without bustin' his balls that I wasn't in a game, I wasn't for sale and it's a good thing that I took a look around up there at Mt. Charleston because I never got invited again, no more barbeques for me.
Let's say that McKeen saw the interview video. The time that Warrick left the PD to the time that Warrick got killed was like an hour, hour and a half. Is that enough time to frame Pritchard? For all we know Pritchard's not even in Vegas.
Yeah, but if Pritchard gets picked up somewhere else, that gives him an alibi, and McKeen is screwed.