♪ Well, there ain't pleasing you ♪
♪ Whoo-hoo-hoo ♪
♪ Whoa-oa-oa ♪
♪ Angel flirting with the dark side ♪
♪ The devil's floating in the glass ♪
(talking, squealing) Guys, chill.
I can't concentrate.
Totes buzz kill...
Selfie time!
Hash-tag NOLA-bound!
Holy crap!
(tires squealing)
(screaming)
Oh, my God...
(grunting)
(grunts)
Um...
guys... Uh...
♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪
♪ Bang, bang, bang, bang ♪
♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪
♪ How, how, how, how ♪
♪ Hey, hey ♪
♪ You gotta come on. ♪
Punch buggy! Hey!
No punch backs. No what?
Come on, everybody knows Punch Buggy.
Right, King?
We called it Slug Bug.
Me and my brother, we used to play
for hours in the car.
By the time we got to the lake,
our skin were all kind of black and blue.
What about you, Brody?
What'd your family do on car trips?
In our family, road trips meant getting dumped off
at boarding school every September.
(whistles) That's kind of...
...depressing, I know. Moving on.
(phone ringing)
BRODY: Linda.
Mm-hmm.
(phone continues ringing) Are... are you gonna...
answer?
Just gonna let it go to voicemail.
She wants me to...
go see another couples therapist with her.
Well, that's great y'all keep working on things.
Guessing you're not here
to settle up your poker tab, Agent Pride.
Considering you robbed me blind last time?
Not a chance, Lieutenant.
You were in over your head.
Just like, uh, Agent Lasalle was
the last time we went drinking.
I had a cold. Hi, I'm Addie Watkins.
SECO out of Naval Air Station, New Orleans.
Special Agent Meredith Brody.
Catch us up, Addie.
Armored transport bus
carrying four Naval Brig detainees
from New Orleans to Charleston
traveling northbound at approximately 8:30 a.m.,
crossed over the double yellow
until point of impact.
Rolled once...
...landed here.
Marshals are still sifting through the wreckage,
but, so far, we have three dead,
three unaccounted for.
We're waiting for the prison manifest to confirm names.
Any witnesses?
The girls were making a pilgrimage to New Orleans
when the bus nearly hit them head-on.
Bourbon Street or bust. Bust, clearly.
ADDIE: They pull over to see
if they could help, that's when the prisoners
jacked their car and took off.
Because of the time-sensitive nature of this case,
Lieutenant Watkins is here
to expedite anything we may need from the Navy.
Y'all just let me know what you need,
I'll get it done.
Excuse me.
Okay, one of you go over there
and take statements from the young ladies, please.
All you, Lasalle.
Guess I'll take one for the team.
Sweet Loretta...
what is the story, morning glory?
Story is three dead.
Guards were shot at close range.
Prisoner's C.O.D. is unclear.
Holster's empty.
Yeah, it's likely they were killed
with one of their own weapons.
So that means, likely,
that our escapees are armed.
All right.
Do a thorough sweep,
top to bottom,
before it gets hauled off site.
Prison manifest, hot off the press.
According to this, our three escapees
are Lieutenant Ted Nash,
Seaman Recruit Levon Dalton...
...and Matt S. O'Feeney.
BRODY: Why are you so focused on that last name?
Who's Matt S. O'Feeney?
He's an anagram,
is who he is.
Matt S. O'Feeney.
Rearrange the letters...
"enemy of state."
Glad to see you're still doing the morning crosswords.
Every day, Gibbs. Keeps me spry.
VANCE: So SECNAV just confirmed:
Matt S. O'Feeney is none other than Dmitry Babakov.
The arms dealer?
That's one of his many talents.
Smuggling, extortion,
human trafficking, espionage.
Gibbs and his team had been tracking Babakov
in conjunction with the CIA
and Homeland Security for a year.
Three weeks ago, Babakov was captured
in a top-secret raid off the west coast of Africa.
VANCE: We placed Babakov aboard the U.S.S. Birmingham
for transport to New Orleans.
We then put him on an armored bus
headed to Navconbrig Charleston, to await sentencing.
Unfortunately, that trip got cut a little short.
We'll make it right for you, brother.
VANCE: Pride...
Babakov's capture offered
a rare opportunity for the DOD
to gain insight into a vast network
of combatant operations.
Mission's clear, Dwayne. Find Babakov...
Bring him in alive.
All right.
We got three escaped convicts on the loose,
all certified Navy-issue.
Agent Gibbs is coordinating with interagency
to get us the most up to date information on our fugitives.
Addie, here, is gonna tell us what we know.
Okay.
Top priority is Dmitry Babakov,
international concierge to the scum of the earth.
Highly educated and well-connected,
Babakov brokers
black market goods to the highest bidder.
We're talking weapons, narcotics,
information... even people.
Real Renaissance man, huh?
One whose clientele includes
some of this country's biggest
national security threats. Hard to believe
someone could pull off that escape on their own.
Guessing he got help from one of his fellow jumpsuits.
Which brings us to...
Seaman Recruit Levon Dalton.
Dalton enlisted J-O-M
after a handful of brushes with the law.
It seems the Navy didn't straighten Levon out much.
After several earlier infractions,
Dalton was most recently thrown
into the Birmingham brig
for striking a commanding officer.
ADDIE: Last, but not least...
Lieutenant Ted Nash.
Two weeks ago,
Nash was a hard-working naval architect
in the shipyards at Pascagoula.
Then he took liberty here in New Orleans,
got into an ugly bar fight,
landed himself in jail.
Nash's service record is pristine.
The fight was his first offense.
He was looking at a fraction of the time the others were.
And yet he ran. Why?
We got a BOLO out on
our stolen convertible, checkpoints at
every county and parish line,
eyes and ears on all our fugitives' contacts.
Chris and Brody...
head over to Navy Landing,
canvass the Birmingham,
find out everything you can
on Babakov and Dalton.
Meantime, Addie...
speak to your contacts at the shipyard.
Get a run-down on Nash.
Go. Learn.
But most of all, be smart.
Death toll is three.
Let's not make it climb any higher.
GARLAND: Prisoner A was brought aboard the vessel
six days ago,
after his capture in a classified land raid.
Prisoner A is Babakov?
It's common protocol not to address prisoners by name
for security clearance reasons.
Each morning, the prisoner
was escorted to interrogation
by two Masters-at-Arms.
Afterwards, he was escorted back to this cell
where he was served his meal
before retiring to bed for the night.
Just got a single bed here, so...
no pillow talk? Chit-chat?
BRODY: We just want to make sure
Babakov didn't have any contact
with any of his neighbors.
I assure you, he did not.
The prisoner was kept in isolation
from all other detainees.
LASALLE: Houston, we have a problem.
Lasalle?
Where did you go?
So much for full isolation.
Who was held in this cell?
Prisoner B--
Seaman Recruit Levon Dalton.
It's a cozy joint to plot an escape.
Afternoon, Loretta.
Hey. Sebastian.
Tell me something interesting.
SEBASTIAN: Well, the human body produces
25 million new cells each second.
Okay.
That was interesting.
Now, how about something useful?
Oh, well, you didn't say that.
It's important to be linguistically specific.
WADE: The driver and the guard
were shot point blank.
Ballistics confirms that the bullets
came from the guard's M11.
The prisoner, on the other hand, was strangled.
Not an easy feat, given his size.
Babakov doesn't weigh more than 140 soaking wet.
Nash isn't much bigger.
Which means the only escapee with the physical capacity
to strangle the victim would be Levon "The Levee" Dalton.
I gave Dalton
a pro-wrestling moniker.
On account of his size,
which is ample.
So you think Dalton killed the prisoner?
Hmm, it's possible, but I'll know more
when I complete my virtual crash reconstruction,
using evidence culled from the bus wreckage.
Why they pay you the big bucks.
Well, not exactly Daddy War-bucks.
Then again, better than a barista at Star... bucks.
Just take the compliment, kid. Yeah, sure.
BRODY: You understand Lieutenant Nash is on the loose.
I can't believe Ted escaped.
So, your fiancé hasn't contacted you?
Ex...
fiancé.
Ted and I broke it off last month.
I'm sorry to hear that. Me, too.
He was everything I was looking for.
Like, you know how people say the best way
to test a relationship is to travel together?
First year we were together,
we took this crazy trip to Europe.
Six countries in three weeks.
Sounds amazing.
Best time of my life.
Until we got back.
Guess it was the being at home part
we weren't great at.
How so?
Ted had major trust issues.
I think it came from being
an army brat-- his family moved around
a ton until his dad got permanently stationed
in Hong Kong, when he was 13.
If Ted tries to reach out, we need to know, okay?
I hope he does 'cause... I'd really like
to tell him I'm still here for him.
No matter what.
Focus, kids. 24 hours in,
we still got close to nothing.
SEBASTIAN: Welcome, cinephiles. Please take your seats.
Show's about to begin.
No popcorn? No thank you.
So, I've simulated the accident
down to pre-impact speeds,
post-impact movement,
as well as taking into account the velocity-impact
time model of the driver's
crash avoidance maneuver.
Make sense?
Good. So...
here is our armored bus
driving northbound on the road.
Drifts into the next lane,
narrowly missing a convertible full of buxom beauties.
BRODY: Bikinis?
An interesting touch.
Well, an artist must allow
for indulgences.
I can appreciate that. So...
adding into the equation the notion
that Babakov and Dalton had
the ability to communicate in the brig
as well as the physical evidence that Dalton had the power
necessary to strangle the prisoner,
we recreate the moments before the crash.
Dalton begins strangling the prisoner,
intentionally drawing the attention of the guard,
who is lured from his secure environ,
oh, only to be ambushed
by Babakov,
who is stealthily lying in wait.
And spoiler alert: we know how that story ends.
Babakov and Dalton were partners in crime. (cell phone rings)
Pride.
Got it. Thanks.
BOLO on the convertible we put out--
got a hit in Pearl River.
Let's go.
Good work, Sebastian. Thanks, Sebastian.
Local farmhand heard shots fired.
They killed the trooper.
We set up a perimeter,
but so far, there's no movement inside.
PRIDE: NCIS!
Federal agents!
(thud nearby)
(boy crying quietly)
Hey, kiddo.
It's all right, kiddo.
Okay, stand down, everyone.
You're safe.
It's okay.
How you doing, Remy?
Got a hold of your mom at the diner.
She's on her way.
She's gonna be mad.
She told me not to come here.
She said it was dangerous.
Probably right.
I was setting up my platoons
when I heard shouting.
Then shots.
PRIDE: I imagine that was scary.
I hid in the cupboard.
But the voices, they got closer.
How many were there?
Two.
One of them sounded a little funny.
Funny... funny how?
PRIDE: Like a, like an accent?
Like, someone from a different country?
Can you remember anything you heard?
Look, I... I get it, kiddo.
I hate talking about scary stuff, too.
Yeah, no. It's true.
Even big guys like me get spooked.
But the thing is, once I do talk about it,
I always end up feeling better.
They kept talking about a grave.
A grave?
PRIDE: Are-are you sure?
They were arguing about how long
it would take to make it.
Remy... those men...
they're never gonna hurt you.
And-and what you just told me...
is gonna help me make sure that they never hurt anyone again.
You're one of us now, kiddo.
WOMAN: Oh, Remy!
I was worried sick about you.
Are you okay? Mm-hmm.
You sure?
Oh.
Come on, baby, let's go, let's go.
Let's go, baby.
We looked, we haven't found anything resembling a grave.
Didn't show much respect for the dead
when it came to that trooper.
It could've been a code.
Maybe a misinterpreted foreign language?
Let's run a forensic language test,
cross-referenced with any languages Babakov speaks.
All right.
What's the latest?
Kid places two men in the cabin.
One with an accent.
That puts Babakov there.
Yeah, and based on what we know,
it's likely Dalton was with him.
That leaves Nash in the wind.
Trooper man got a shot off.
Which means one of them might be injured.
We should sweep the cabin for blood.
And put every hospital
within three parishes on alert.
Trooper's time of death puts our fugitives
less than four miles away, if traveling on foot.
And if one of them's injured,
that's not helping with their ground speed.
Well, the nearest paved road's five miles north.
We cut that off, we can tighten the net.
Any other way out?
(train horn blows in distance) Canal, lake?
Train?
Get me schedules of every train that comes through here--
origin, destination...
surveillance footage from every station.
You got it.
Levon Dalton's sister in Mobile just got
a text saying "On my way."
Kicker is the phone number belongs
to the dead prison guard.
Unless she was talking to a ghost,
our boy Levon's headed back to 'Bama.
I bid you good night, Loretta.
Ah, good, you're still here.
Uh, actually, I'm not here.
I'm just on my way out for a date.
Oh.
Well, not a date, per se.
More like a casual drink.
But I've run the numbers and found that one libation
does have a strong statistical possibility
of evolving into a full-fledged meal.
Which then, of course, would constitute an actual date.
Well, I'm glad to see you're not over-thinking it, dear.
So how can I help?
Great.
Our prisoner was strangled to death.
Mm-hmm. He also has
significant large intestine damage...
yet has no history
of prior stomach issues.
Then...
there's our poor state trooper here.
Bullet to the heart, and yet he, too,
has significant large intestine damage.
How do two men with
no prior history of stomach issues,
killed in completely different manners,
end up with the same symptoms?
I'm gathering that this is not a rhetorical question?
One that could wait until after my drink
that could possibly turn into a date?
Sebastian...
have you ever considered
the statistical possibilities
of playing hard to get?
Ah... you smell that?
Burnt rubber and...
a little skunk?
Fresh-cut Bermuda and long-leaf pine.
Now, that's home.
Don't you think you're romanticizing
this "sweet home Alabama" thing, just a little?
No, not romanticizing.
Appreciating.
Which is something you're clearly not good at doing.
What's that supposed to mean?
Well, it means
you gotta stay somewhere long enough to get hooked.
I mean, the past seven years you've moved, what, four times?
Well, Cedar Rapids was too small.
And St. Paul was freezing.
And Chicago was completely congested.
Did you ever consider you got your criteria wrong, Brody?
Home isn't the place, it's the people.
(phone chimes)
Got another hit.
The eyes we put on Levon's sister report
she's on the move and headed toward Mobile Memorial Hospital.
If Babakov or Dalton are injured,
they might be heading for help.
Let's go give them a real special welcome.
(engine revving)
NCIS, hands in the air.
Hey! Hands up.
Welcome home, Lavon.
Where is he?
Where's Babakov?
Who the hell is Babakov?
You and Babakov were in adjoining cells.
You had a direct line of communication through the vent.
He was a voice with an accent.
Far as I knew, just another thug on the block.
Who you planned an escape with.
Like I told you, I wasn't planning anything.
I was sleeping when it went down.
Woke up when I felt the bus go over the side of the road.
When it stopped, I looked around,
I clocked the guard's cuff keys laying there.
I saw an opportunity, and I took it-- simple as that.
Nothing's as simple as that.
I ain't stupid.
No matter how you slice it, I'm going away for a long time.
Even if I did know something about ol' Baba Ganoush,
I got no incentive to tell you about it.
Look at you working the system.
This the... the translation thingamajig?
Yep. In addition to English, Babakov's fluent
in French, Russian, and Farsi.
Running translation software on all three
to see if any phrases with "grave"
have a phonetic equivalent.
So far-- zip.
What about the other one?
LASALLE: Security footage from regional train stations.
Facial recognition program will alert us
if it gets a match on one of our fugitives.
Hmm!
You don't worry much about, uh, cholesterol, do you?
Try not to worry about anything, Lasalle.
You only live once, you might as well enjoy it while you got it.
Don't mind if I do.
PRIDE: How's it going over there?
Your boy, here, is a multi-tasking machine.
Add this to the mix.
Followed up on that hunch
about Levon being at the hospital
without any significant injuries.
Mother's sick.
Cancer, stage four.
(computer beeping)
Facial recognition in the surveillance got a hit.
PRIDE: That's Babakov.
And look who his traveling companion is.
Nash looked up at the camera.
Now, why would he do that?
'Cause he's sending a message.
Look at what he drew on his right arm.
Can you magnify the shot?
PRIDE: What is that?
Marryat symbol, used by the merchant navies in the 1800s
to signal danger or distress.
Babakov's bringing Nash along as a human shield.
Care if I join you?
Be my guest.
You and I got a lot in common.
Is that so?
Both 'Bama boys, born and raised.
And if you're anything like me,
you got a lot of love for your hometown.
It's pretty ballsy of you to go back there.
Must've had a real good reason.
Granny's red velvet cake.
Your mama's real sick, isn't she?
How long she have?
Doctor thought she'd be gone a month ago.
Still hanging on.
Raised five kids on her own.
Be real nice to give her peace of mind before she goes.
Let her know you're okay.
You'd...
you'd let me do that?
What can you tell us about Babakov and Nash?
What you got?
LASALLE: Lavon's got nothing on Babakov
using Nash as a human shield.
But he did say, when Babakov was in the Brig,
he bragged about having a "get out of jail free card."
Babakov was gonna cut a deal.
Question is, what information was he going to give up?
Pull the notes from Babakov's interrogation.
Redacted.
Text me if we get any hits on Babakov or Nash.
LASALLE: Where you going, King?
Find out why we're being kept in the dark.
PRIDE: Thank you.
Hell of a place to meet for coffee.
But... secure.
Help me out, Gibbs.
Need to know what was in Babakov's interrogation file.
Heavily redacted.
That's why I'm on a ship in the middle of the Atlantic.
Anything that's there, I need to know.
You got to read me in on it.
Contact of mine at Langley went to the director.
Got it declassified.
Read it, burn it.
Couldn't have just led with that?
(laughs)
(grunting, yelling on video)
BRODY: Let me guess:
Beach Babes Five?
Sorry, wrong genre entirely.
Go. (yells)
Other than a slight over-arching of the wrist,
this Sonu Strike is a perfect example
of classic Dim Mak warfare.
Dim-huh?
Dim Mak.
It's an ancient Chinese combat technique
in which pressure points are used to disable
or disorient the opponent.
The Sonu Strike, in particular, causes changes in blood flow
that can damage the large intestine.
Like the injuries the Prisoner
and State Trooper suffered.
Yeah. Historically, Dim Mak was taught
to warriors of smaller stature,
so that they could take down larger opponents
before going in for the kill.
Which proves, by the way, size doesn't always matter.
Speak for yourself, buddy.
He's talking about Babakov.
The fact that he'd be able to pull it off on his own.
Well, if he'd been trained in Dim Mak, he would.
But I doubt that's the case.
Why's that?
Because Dim Mak is only taught by trained Chinese masters.
Takes years to perfect.
According to his profile,
Babakov didn't spend significant time in Asia.
But, we know someone else who did--
Nash's ex-fiancée said that he lived in Hong Kong as a kid.
Which means Nash could've helped orchestrate the bus crash.
Which would rule out his being held under duress.
Then what was Nash's connection to Babakov?
PRIDE: I think I can help out with that.
According to the un-redacted transcripts I just read,
Babakov's "get out of jail" card was the identity
of a U.S. intelligence leak.
A mole.
Someone who was passing
classified military secrets
to Babakov, so he could sell them on the black market.
SEBASTIAN: Nash's job as a naval architect
would've given him access to ship schematics,
weapons systems, radar technology, the works.
Kind of intelligence
that could seriously compromise national security.
No wonder Nash and his ex-fiancée had trust issues.
He's been playing everyone for years.
Right down to the human shield act.
So, Babakov gets captured by U.S. forces.
Nash gets wind of it,
knows that he's Babakov's most valuable bargaining chip,
decides that he, Nash, will get to Babakov
before his cover's blown.
(phone beeping)
Hotline got a tip placing Babakov and Nash
exiting a train station near Moss Point, Mississippi.
Are we almost there?
Close.
(coughing)
I'm going to ask you one more time:
Did you tell them my name?
How many more times must we go through this?
As many as it takes for me to believe you.
I dangled the carrot
by telling them there was a mole.
I never told them who.
Eh? You satisfied?
Yes. All right.
(chuckles)
Friends? Always.
(gunshot)
And then there was one.
The bus crash was days ago.
Why would Nash wait until now to kill Babakov?
Needed time to make his hometown hero act.
Or he needed to get some information from him.
Either way, song remains the same.
We got a fugitive on the loose.
And he's a low-down dirty rat.
Nash grew up in Hong Kong.
Which means he knows Cantonese.
So, if the kid did hear the word "grave"...
Cross-reference Cantonese with word match.
How long will that take?
Considering there's over a 100,000 characters?
I wouldn't hold your breath.
Hang on a sec...
Babakov's body was found in Moss Point, Mississippi, right?
Let me check something.
Here we go.
Brody, see if you can triangulate
his position.
They weren't speaking Chinese
or talking about burying dead bodies.
Where do ships go to die?
Grave dock.
Just so happens there's an abandoned one
a stone's throw away from Moss Point.
Nash must be meeting a boat there
to make his escape.
With Babakov dead, Nash is our only link
to the intelligence breech.
The country's national security depends on finding out
what information he passed along.
Nash is headed to the Gulf.
We've alerted the Coast Guard.
Plan is to cut him off
before he gets to the grave dock.
Don't want to risk losing him in international waters.
The target has changed,
but the mandate remains the same:
capture Nash and bring him in... alive.
(siren wails, then stops)
OFFICER: We've cut off all other paths.
He's gotta come this way.
County's been called, helo's inbound.
Parker, grab a couple guys--
There he is.
OFFICER: Murray, down! Mike, get down!
PRIDE: Cover the perimeter. We're going in.
NCIS! Stop right there!
Oh, it's on like "Donkey Kong."
(very quietly): Come on...
where are you, you dirty little rat?
Show yourself...
Pride! Brody! Heads up!
Nash!
I apply pressure,
she's dead before she hits the floor.
You turn around,
let me walk out of here,
and she's all yours.
I can't do that.
But if you let her go,
I promise you you'll get out of here
in bracelets instead of a body bag.
What's it going to be?
Let her go, Nash.
Wrong answer.
You all right?
Yep.
Yes, you are.
VANCE: You disobeyed a direct order,
Agent Pride, which puts us in the dark.
We've no clue what intel Nash compromised
or who Babakov was selling it to.
Needless to say,
there's fallout.
Both the CIA and SECNAV
want an internal investigation.
With all due respect, Director,
you want me to make a choice
between a traitor
and one of my own,
I'll take the shot every time.
You want my badge,
you know where to find me.
That a wrap, Lieutenant?
Yeah, I'm done with all my paperwork,
so it's back to base.
There's no security without the SECO officer.
You're not even out the door yet,
and I'm feeling less secure.
(laughs)
Can I ask you a question?
Shoot.
Why haven't we...
Dated?
You know, that's funny,
'cause I was just asking myself the same thing.
Come up with anything?
'Cause in about two seconds, we'd be broken up,
crossing paths at work, and that would just be...
Uncomfortable.
Bingo.
Guess we got something to look forward to.
Yes, we do.
See you around.
Not if I see you first.
Good night, Lieutenant. Good night, Agent Brody.
You ready?
Always.
Good. 'Cause we have a promise to keep.
(monitors beeping quietly, steadily)
I'm here, Mama.
Right by your side.
Gonna be okay.
What do you say we take a detour on the way back?
Get some Royal Reds and play pool at Stillwaters?
Actually, I had something else in mind.
PRIDE: Linda, it's me.
Uh... (splutters)
Remember that pillbox
we lived in right after we got married?
The one with the leaky fridge,
and we used to go up on the rooftop and...
well... (laughs) well, you-you know.
Uh...
I just... I-I'm willing to go see that therapist.
Just name the time and place and...
and, uh, you know, whatever it takes to...
work this out.
So no more time slips by.
So... call me.
(Brody and Lasalle conversing indistinctly)
BRODY: I mean, how often do you actually cook?
LASALLE: I'm not a... I'm not a boil expert, but...
BRODY: You're not an anything expert.
LASALLE: How many of these shrimp boils
do you think I've done?
BRODY: I know what I'm talking about.
Oh, famous last words.
St. Aug Marching 100 coming over for dinner?
What on earth are you two doing?
Don't look at me. It's Brody's idea.
She made me drive straight back here-- didn't even let me
stop in Gulf Shores to take a look at the view.
After the couple days that we had, can't blame
a girl for wanting to get home.
What's in the pot? Shrimp boil.
Thought I'd cook you something.
You know, for, uh... for saving my butt today.
Just part of the job.
Maybe so.
Still felt good to know you had my back.
So, anyway, like I was saying,
the cayenne goes in before the shrimp.
No, no, no, no, no! Here...
It says online to add the seasonings last.
Online? Oh, hell, no...
It's a foodie blog. Oh, for... No, n...
Both of you are wrong.
Foodie blog... It all goes in
at once.
All right?
How 'bout the two of you call a truce...
enjoy each other's company for the evening?
Hey, now I'll drink to that.
Captioning sponsored by CBS
and VOLKSWAGEN
Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org