Wake Up (2019) - full transcript

When a psychiatric doctor researches a young girls' diary to find out why she murdered her entire family, he begins to fall into the same state of insomnia and confusion that led her to lose her mind.

Hey, Ace!

Come here boy.

Good boy.

Hey, Mom! Molly!

Hey! Ooh!

What's up squirt?

Squirt?

I'm almost as tall as you.

Whatever.

Hi, honey.

Hey, Mom. How are you?

I'm so good to see you.

Good to see you, too.

What's that I smell?

Mom, please tell me that's

your lasagne in the kitchen.

That is my lasagne

you smell in the kitchen.

I learned to cook

while you were away.

So, we got a backup plan

for dinner, right?

Shut up!

Come on guys,

let's go get something to eat.

Hey, remember

that time you lost Ace?

- The time that I lost Ace?

- Mm-hm.

No, you lost Ace.

Mom, she left

the front door wide open.

I'm gonna get some more juice.

Anybody need anything?

Honey, can you get

some more water?

We could all use

a lot more water.

Okay, Mama.

Thank you.

So, how's school going?

It's going good. Yeah.

We are so proud of you, honey.

- Thanks, Mom.

- So proud.

So, did you know that I made

the honor roll before?

No, I didn't.

Wait, you made the honor roll?

I don't remember that.

I'm not so sure

I believe that.

That counts.

I must admit

this lasagne is pretty good.

Here we go.

I'll take some of that.

I got that. Okay.

So, the lasagne

is pretty good, huh?

Not bad, not bad for a rookie.

- Here you go, Tim.

- Thanks, Dad.

Although you did learn

from the best.

Of course. Of course.

Here you go, Mom.

- Thanks, honey.

- Mm-Hm.

Take another piece

of this bread.

Since when did you start

eating so much?

He learned it from you, dear.

Yeah, but I work out.

- Okay.

- All right.

But in all seriousness,

I wanna make a toast to Tim.

It's great to have you home,

son.

Thanks, Dad.

Tim, I'm glad you're here.

To family!

To family!

- You okay, Dad?

- Honey?

I don't know. I don't feel good

all of a sudden.

Honey.

Do you think it was the food?

No, I don't know.

Maybe... maybe it's the wine.

Anyway, I'm not feeling good.

Tim, I'll talk

to you later, okay?

Okay.

Welcome home, son.

- I'll check on you later, okay?

- Okay, I got it.

Molly?

Oh...

Charlotte, why did you set

the alarm so early

on a Saturday?

Apparently, as a wake-up call

that you have left me.

No, I haven't left you yet.

I suspect you're hiding

a small fortune from me

and I'm not divorcing you

until I get my cut.

Ah, you know,

when we first met and I told you

I was a drug smuggler,

I was joking.

Yeah, you have a nice car.

It's expensive.

It was all for show.

Yeah?

My dad was rich.

And my room sucked.

But you didn't answer

the question.

Oh, I told you last night,

honey, I had a headache.

I'm not that flexible.

No, about the alarm.

And, yes, you are that flexible.

That's why I married you.

Oh!

And I thought you married me

'cause I'm funny.

Oh, and the alarm clock?

Honey, you really need

to start remembering things.

I can't believe

you don't remember

today's

your co-worker's funeral.

And you asked me

to set the alarm clock early.

Shit! That's today?

I don't remember asking you

to set the alarm clock

last night.

You didn't.

You asked me

to set it last week.

Yeah, that's today.

Why did I agree

to attend this funeral?

I didn't even

really know the guy. I mean...

We said hello in the hospital,

sometimes goodbye.

But I didn't really,

like, know the guy.

Well, I don't think

there's a choice

if we go or not to funerals.

I mean, when one

of your co-workers dies

and someone else

from your office tells you

where the funeral is,

you're expected to be there.

Speaking of which, where is it?

The secret money stash?

The funeral.

I'm sure I asked you

to remember that, too.

Yeah.

Are you really?

Really what?

Sure you asked?

No.

I like those.

Really?

Yes, I love those.

Thank you.

Philip, honey,

we need to get going.

Come on.

I'm coming. I'm coming.

Oh, hi, Grace.

When did you get here?

About a half an hour ago.

Daddy!

The time that you

asked me to remember

to tell her to be here, honey.

Okay, okay,

I will start using

the calendar on my phone.

- Really, when?

- Soon.

- Tomorrow?

- Sure.

You promise?

Just remind me.

Bye, sweetie.

Bye, Daddy.

Be good.

Man is tested.

This, if nothing else,

we take from the Bible.

In a world

where the very existence of God

is questioned,

we all must take

this fact with us

as we awaken

from our long hours of sleep.

Another

day, another test,

we all feel pain.

Some succeed

where others have failed.

Well, this test, my

friends, helps us to determine

our level of strength.

Lewis Barnes was a

man who was tested.

The man who was loved

by his friends and family.

By many people here

who are grieving

over his passing,

whom he thought didn't care.

Thanks for coming.

Anything for a friend.

By the way, why am I here?

Because I asked you to be.

Lewis did work with us,

you know.

No, Lewis worked with you

in the second wing.

I work in the third

wing with Maxine.

Oh.

Now, if she died, I would cry.

You're married.

Yeah, but it's nice

to have something to look at

when I go to work.

I'm sure nobody looked at Lewis.

I wanted you here

because I wanted to talk to you

and because I'm leaving

right after this

to go on vacation with the wife

and kids for a few days.

- Hawaii?

- Really?

You know where I work.

That's not in the budget.

We're going

to the parks in Florida.

So, what did you wanna

talk about?

Lewis was working on

something before he...

...all

that are grieving today...

And flood their souls with hope,

knowing that underneath

are your ever...

Amen.

So, he was trying to decipher

a piece of work,

a diary written

by one of our patients.

You know, the Goldman girl.

Yeah, killed her family.

Yeah.

She poisoned her family, right?

I guess she got tired of waiting

because in the middle

of the night,

she got up

and hacked them to death.

Tried to kill herself

with the same shit.

Failed.

Damn.

She came in complaining

about nightmares, remember?

Yeah, so?

She said she was tired

of falling asleep

because the...

The nightmares were so bad.

Every morning we'd go in,

and she'd tell us details

about her latest nightmare.

Her arms were bruised up

and shit.

Scratches that she said

she must have done in her sleep.

We watched the tapes.

That girl never went to sleep.

She was awake the entire time,

just staring off into space

and then attacking herself.

I'm serious.

Okay.

So, what was Lewis working on?

The girl kept claiming

that her killing her parents

was part of a dream.

She demanded to see them.

So, of course,

we determined she's crazy.

We can't say that

about our patients.

The point is

all that shit isn't the...

most mentally unstable part.

The girl kept a diary that...

that was...

Crazy?

The girl kept a diary

of her offing her family.

Uh...

This... this diary

wasn't any Anne Frank,

"Help me, I'm in the Attic"

shit either.

You can't say that either.

I'm Jewish.

I am allowed to say that.

You're just not allowed

to laugh at it.

Continue.

Point is Lewis

was trying to figure out

what the hell

the girl was writing about.

We really need that report

that he was doing about it

finished.

I can't finish Lewis's thoughts.

Besides, why don't you just

ask the girl?

She's dead.

Suicide.

Strangled herself.

That's not possible.

Try telling her that.

I really appreciate this,

Philip.

I would do it myself,

but, like I said, vacation.

Uh, I wouldn't want to let down

my wife and kids.

They have been begging for this

for the past two years.

That would be a shame.

I don't know what I would do

if she left me. I mean...

Who would want me?

Right, all right.

Honey, here are your keys.

It was really good

to see you, Philip.

You too.

And you, too, Charlotte.

You too.

Take care.

Lewis' notes

and the girl Molly's diary

will be in your office

in the morning.

Thanks again.

Don't worry about it.

Have fun with the Mouse

in the parks.

I will.

By the way,

what did Lewis die of?

Suicide.

Dr. Philip Tanner.

Watson Psychological

Treatment Center,

July 12th, 2017.

I will continue the research

and documentation

on our former patient, a Miss...

Molly Marie Goldman,

aged 15, deceased.

It is the belief

of my fellow doctors

that this patient suffered

from night terrors

and nightmares

that she began

to mistake for reality.

These dreams seem to eventually

set her on a course of insomnia,

over a course

of a couple of weeks.

And without sleep, Molly's mind

began to deteriorate.

Molly Marie Goldman

was found lying naked

atop her older brother's body,

who she had just murdered,

along with her family,

parents, and the family dog.

The young girl

tried unsuccessfully

to poison herself,

was determined

to be insane by a judge

and sent

to the John B. Watson Center

for psychiatric evaluation,

where she was treated

for two years

before committing suicide.

I read the patient's diary,

much to my dismay,

because while it starts out

as a young girl's view

on her life,

it begins to lose focus

mid-sentence

about a week

before she committed her crimes.

The book begins to weave

a string of stories

I can only assume she created

out of her own mind.

Going on boating rides

with angels,

swimming in clouds,

and so forth.

It continues to move in

and out of these stories,

are seemingly connected

or a continuation of each other

and then from there goes

into great deal

about the proper way

to sew a dress

and cooking recipes, wh...

Hello?

Previous research

has resulted in theories

that dreams are created

during REM sleep.

Brain cells activated

that normally control

eye movement,

balance, and motor functions.

However, in the case

of this patient,

it appears these brain centers

activated while she was awake

causing hallucination,

panic, and frightening daydreams

that she had no recollection of.

Molly seemingly lost the ability

to tell when she was dreaming

while she was awake

and perceived her life

to be much different

than it actually was.

For one...

Near the end of her diary,

Molly alludes

to several sexual encounters

with her older brother

with specific

and vivid description.

However, a physical examination

gave no clear indication

of sexual trauma.

Molly's psychiatrist

could not convince her

that the difference

between her reality

and her dreams.

And it is eleven o'clock,

and I will finish tomorrow.

Oh, Jesus Christ!

No, just me.

What are you doing here

so late, Dr. Tanner?

Stealing drugs, you?

Just making my rounds.

Shit, you look tired.

Did I frighten you?

Yeah, tired.

And frightened.

I wasn't expecting anybody

besides the security guards

to be here so late.

Did you walk past my office

a few minutes ago?

No.

Are you okay, Doc?

Yeah.

Can we get somebody

to fix these lights?

Yeah, no problem.

Goodnight.

Goodnight.

Good stuff?

To truly be an intellectual,

you must first

understand the people.

What are you reading?

A teenage girl's diary.

Oh, so you do have

another family out there.

Yes.

But this is not

from one of them.

This is from a former patient,

now deceased.

How's Grace?

Grace is good,

although I feel

like she's spending

way too much time

watching Cindy.

I think she's trying

to avoid the dating scene.

So stop asking her to babysit.

She just volunteers.

She's always asking if we have

plans, do we need a sitter?

I'm not a very convincing liar.

Well, I can't seem

to fool anyone, but you.

Why are you reading

an old patient's diary?

Sometimes we like to go through

old files and documentation.

Get a good idea of the state

of mind and mental disposition

of some of our patients.

That way when

and if anyone else comes in

presenting the same issues,

we have a reference point.

I thought you approached

all your patients

like individuals.

We do.

But we do have proven techniques

that we use over and over again.

All cats are not the same,

yet we still try

to give them milk.

What?

Nothing.

Just trying to create

my own motto,

something to be remembered by.

Or hated for.

There is something

on the first page

I wanted to ask you about.

Shoot!

"Warning."

This diary belongs

to Molly Marie Goldman.

All contents are secret

and not to be read

by anyone ever.

Consider this your final warning

"for whomever read..."

Is that proper context?

What? "Whomever"?

I think so.

Whomever... whoever.

Mm-hmm, yeah.

Anyway...

"for whomever reads this

will be forever cursed."

And then she just stops.

Jots down, "I'll be right back"

and never finishes the curse.

It doesn't sound

like a question.

Do all girls

curse their diaries?

Only the ones

who are secretly witches.

I don't know, honey.

I didn't keep a diary.

I thought

all women kept diaries.

Only the ones that need someone

to bounce their thoughts

and ideas off of.

I never needed that.

I had a teddy bear

and a fully thought-out plan.

A plan?

Yes, marry a doctor,

have a daughter.

Seriously?

Yeah, marry a doctor,

have a daughter.

It's about as far

as I thought it out,

but so far,

it's worked out pretty nicely.

No, seriously?

Women can plan

what kind of child we have.

If you want a son,

and we give you a daughter,

it's because we don't like you

very much.

What else does

this patient have to say?

Well, she goes into great detail

about the proper technique

to sew a dress,

and I mean great detail.

I can say after reading this

that we'll never have to buy

Cindy clothes again.

Just bring me a bolt of fabric.

And there's other entries

about the size

of her brother's penis...

Whoa!

Too much information there,

Tiger.

I thought you wanted to know

what I was working on.

Goodnight, Philip.

I have to work tomorrow,

early and I'm sleepy.

- No sex?

- No.

I was gonna give you

a little southern kissing,

but I lost my mood.

Okay.

Goodnight, Charlotte.

Love you.

Thank you, Psycho.

Just in case.

Cindy!

What the...

Charlotte, where's Cindy?

Charlotte!

Yes, Philip?

Philip.

Sorry, I... had a nightmare.

Mm, do tell, doctor,

this sounds good.

It's not funny, Charlotte.

It's not funny.

It was so... real.

Actually, it is funny.

Honey, aren't you the one

that always tells patients

that dreams and nightmares...

Are only clues

into what troubles us

in our conscious state.

I know,

and they still are, but...

Charlotte,

I dreamt Cindy was gone

and you were dead.

Oh, honey. It's okay.

I've had that same dream.

Then I ran off with Brad Pitt

to live in sin in Jamaica.

You went off with him, too?

Tsk. No.

Maybe Nicole Kidman.

He's back.

My husband's back.

Still corny, but he's back.

No more late-night sandwiches.

Philip.

What's wrong?

Two things.

One, the toilet seat

is never left up

by our daughter.

I almost blamed her

for this mess

and then I noticed

the seat's up,

and I immediately

thought of you.

And the pool boy who comes by

while you're at work.

- Mess?

- The towels, Philip.

- I...

- You know what, Philip?

We have our own bathroom.

It's in our bedroom.

You mess that one up,

I will happily do the cleaning.

I get a little angry

when you come in

and take your wrath out

on our daughter's bathroom.

I must have been sleepwalking

a bit.

I'll pick it up.

No, I got it. You know how I am.

First of all, these are

gonna need to be washed.

They were on the bathroom floor,

for God's sake.

It's not a public restroom.

All the same, Philip.

It's all the same.

You know, I thought I cured you

of being a neat freak,

all those hours on my couch.

No, you cured me

of my virginity on that couch.

I only pretended

not to have so many problems

so I could marry

into your money.

Is Cindy still asleep?

Actually, no.

Grace came

and picked her up early.

When?

She didn't wanna say goodbye?

She did.

She also said she loves me.

She didn't mention you, though.

I thought I was the favorite.

Mutiny!

They actually have

a busy day scheduled.

They're going to the park

and the zoo.

There's ice cream involved,

junk food.

Some of us have

our priorities straight.

Besides, honey,

you were dead asleep,

and I know you love your sleep.

I also know you have

a busy day at the office

and you need your rest.

I need to get to work.

You're getting fat.

And you... Double standard.

Look thinner.

Hello?

Hey, honey.

No, I decided

not to feed her today.

Fine, I'll get dinner started.

Have fun working late.

Mommy says hello.

Hi, Mommy.

Bye, honey.

All right, let's get

these toys cleaned up.

Wait, Daddy.

I want to play hide-and-seek.

Well, Daddy has to listen

to Mommy and get dinner started.

Please.

Fine. One game, okay?

Okay, but you have to count,

Daddy,

and close your eyes.

- One, two, three...

- Daddy!

What?

You can't peek, Daddy.

You have to do this

and count to a thousand.

How about ten?

Thousand.

One, two, three, four,

five, six, seven,

eight, nine, ten.

I'm coming!

What the hell?

Daddy.

I'm coming.

What the hell?

Daddy.

I'm coming.

Cindy, those papers

are important.

You know better.

Cindy, you're not supposed

to play with Daddy's papers.

Now, I'm about

to cancel this game.

Cindy.

Cindy!

The game's over, sweetie.

It's not safe

to play in the dark.

Cindy!

Cindy, come on, sweetie.

This isn't funny.

Jesus!

Cindy!

Cindy!

Cindy, it's not safe

to be out here, sweetie.

No!

Sweetie, are you okay?

Daddy, I'm hungry.

Shh, it's okay.

It's okay.

Philip, calm down.

Calm down, Jeffrey?

Calm down?

I've injured myself.

I'm seeing things.

I need an objective opinion.

I can't evaluate myself.

I think I'm losing it.

Sleepwalking doesn't constitute

losing it, Philip.

You had a realistic nightmare.

You walked

into a wall or something.

Falling off a roof

and onto a barbecue grill

is not sleepwalking.

And besides,

in the dream, I crawled

through Cindy's window,

but she was in the house

the whole time.

She's smart, Jeffrey.

If she would have known

I was on that roof,

she would have started

screaming.

She's afraid of heights.

That would have woke me up.

It would have woken you up,

maybe.

Maybe you didn't even

climb out the window.

Maybe you simply walked outside

and tripped over the grill.

You have no proof that the whole

climbing on the roof thing

was even real.

Real?

Jeffrey, the nightmare seemed...

You were sleepwalking, Philip.

How much sleep have you gotten

since I asked you

to work on Lewis's research?

Not much.

Well, then get

some sleep, Philip.

I won't be back

for a few more days.

There's no rush to finish

the goddamn thing.

Christ, you're gonna

end up like Lewis.

I'll call you.

Jeffrey, what happened to Lewis?

I told you.

Suicide.

I got to go, Philip.

Jeffrey, what happened to Lewis?

What happened to Lewis?

He shot himself

in the chest, Philip.

He didn't climb up on the roof

and fall on a grill

or anything like that.

He lived in a shitty

house with a wife.

You know, with the blond one

who was crying at the funeral.

Yeah, a wife

who was cheating on him

with whoever

could get a hard-on.

That's why.

That's it.

That doesn't make sense.

You were

sleepwalking. That's all.

It's very common.

You know what?

Ask your wife to watch you

while you sleep tonight.

I'll...

I'll call you when I get back.

Hey, guys. I'm home.

Hey, Doc.

Honey, what's wrong?

I'm fine. Why?

Honey, you're soaked,

that's why.

I like my couch and carpets dry

like I do my wine and humor.

Sorry, I went out to check

on the wires, got wet.

After we hung up,

the power went off, so...

Philip, hung up? We didn't talk.

Right.

I went out to check

on the wires and I got wet.

Your lip?

Tripped over the grill.

You know me.

I do.

I've got a lot of work to do.

Can you order a pizza?

I never got a chance

to start dinner.

Philip, are you sure

you're okay?

Yeah.

What kind of pizza do you want?

I don't care.

Okay, I guess I can go

clean up the water

and the mess that you made

and figure out what kind

of pizza to order for us.

I said I'm sorry, Charlotte.

Now, I'm trying

to get some work done.

Huh.

Cindy.

Let's order some pizza, honey.

Come on.

Who the fuck cares

about dressmaking?

Recipes.

Come on, Molly.

You got to help me out here.

Decent reports, time, date.

"Patient suffers from insomnia."

"Can't tell the difference

between dream and awake."

Welcome to the club.

Bomb.

Okay, come on, Lewis.

You got to help me out here

somewhere, buddy.

Recorder.

Philip, where are you going?

I have to go back to the office

to get some paperwork.

Honey, it's pouring outside

and it's late.

This can wait till tomorrow.

My God, did you hit your head

on the grill?

This is just important.

I got to get this over

and done with.

I'll call.

Philip.

His works on the diary.

He had a notebook

or a tape recorder

or something.

Paperwork.

You are not real.

Why didn't any of you

believe me?

I didn't kill my family.

No, no. It's just a dream.

Why?

It's not real.

Not real.

My brother loved me.

We were going to get married.

It's just a dream.

I didn't kill my family.

Yes, Molly.

You did.

My brother

was in love with me.

No, Molly.

He wasn't.

Wake up.

May I help you?

You may not remember who I am.

I'm Philip Tanner.

I was a friend

of your husband's.

I worked with Lewis.

I was at the funeral.

I know who you are.

How can I help you?

I need something

of your husband's.

A tape recorder or a notebook.

It's midnight.

Whatever you need has to wait

until the morning.

Please.

This is a matter

of life or death.

It has to wait till tomorrow.

I have some company and...

I need some very

important information.

I don't care what it is.

I don't care who you are fucking

three days

after your husband's death.

All I need is any information

that he neglected

to turn back in.

And I am not taking

"no" for an answer.

That's it!

Listen, the lady

asked you to leave.

And I'm telling you,

get the fuck out of here.

I asked

for some

very important information.

Now, I am telling you

I need to come inside.

Now!

Okay, buddy.

Calm down.

Move the fuck out of my way.

Now!

Your husband.

He worked

from home sometimes, yeah?

- Yes.

- Take... take it easy.

Shut up!

Where?

Just point or something,

goddamn it.

Please, just help me.

There.

He worked in there.

Inside, move.

Move, up against the wall.

Please, I don't wanna hurt

anybody, just...

Don't do anything stupid.

Oh, come on, Lewis.

This is all that I needed.

I'm just trying to save...

Just trying... Just get out.

I'm Dr. Lewis Barnes

with notes on day three

of the evaluation.

Personally, I never thought

it would take this long

to analyze such a short diary.

I should mention

I have had a few distractions

while attempting to work.

Earlier, I discussed theories

on dreams and nightmares

and the toll they seemed to take

on the human mind.

Lack of sleep, hallucinations,

increased anxiety, memory loss.

Some of my own distractions

were probably centered

around the boat.

Fuck your neighbors

behind your back

like... like my wife.

Reality was slipping away and...

The only way to try

and regain a hold of it

was to try and immerse yourself

in something you know is real.

Like... Like...

cooking recipes, first...

Well, I got a boat.

But I can't drive it

because all she's doing

is waiting for me to die

so she can collect

on the insurance.

I put a bomb on my boat...

And if I tell anyone

that I've seen Molly,

they'll say I'm crazy.

I've spent my entire life

learning how to tell people

when they're crazy,

and now some prick

is gonna look me in my face

and tell me I'm crazy?

She's crazy!

Women are crazy.

Molly Goldman lost

touch with reality.

She had dreams or nightmares

of making love to her brother

and nightmares of her parents

trying to tear

their twisted,

fucking love apart.

And the little bitch

killed them.

It's there in plain

black and white English.

Ink and paper,

octopus excretion

and dead trees.

But she thought killing

her parents was the dream

and loving her brother

was the reality.

Wake up.

Wake the fuck up!

No, no, no, no, no,

no, no, no, no!

Stop it!

Stop it, please, Molly.

I didn't kill anyone.

Yes, you did.

It was a fucking dream.

Please, listen to me.

You lost touch with reality.

No, no, no, no!

What is it you want with me?

No.

You were suffering

from insomnia.

You were hallucinating.

You thought you were dreaming,

but you were awake

the whole time.

You killed your family.

Wake up!

Hey, you.

Cindy finally asleep?

Yeah, she's an angel.

But I'll try to be quick.

What the fuck?

Philip.

Where were you?

Philip.

It ain't worth it, man.

Just let me get out of here.

This is between you

and your wife.

Okay, okay.

Philip?

Philip.

Philip.

Philip.

Philip.

Philip.

Philip, please.

Please, Philip.

We can say he broke in, Philip.

Please, we can say...

We can say he broke in and you...

You killed him.

Philip?

Philip.

Philip. Philip, please.

Philip, please.

Oh, God.

Philip.

Philip, please don't hurt me.

Philip, please.

Please don't.

No, please, don't hurt me.

I loved you.

I love you.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, Philip.

I'm sorry.

I have to kill you.

Oh, no.

Cindy.

Cindy?

I just want to wake up.

Molly?

Molly.

Molly.

Molly.

Molly.

Molly, what is it

you want with me?

Help.

Help?

What?

Help.

Help.

Help what?

Why don't you believe me?

I wasn't your psychiatrist.

I wasn't involved.

Wasn't?

Molly, you're dead.

No.

Yes, you are.

No.

Yes.

How?

You strangled yourself...

In your cell... room.

I didn't belong here.

I didn't belong here.

You were sick. You needed help.

- No.

- You killed your family.

- No.

- What do you want with me?

You know,

it's not nice

to read a girl's diary.

What do you want?

I cursed it

so no one would read it,

but you did anyway.

I warned you.

What was I supposed to do?

I'm sorry, but it's my job.

Do you know

what they told me in my cell

while they fucked me?

When I told people

they were fucking me?

"Wake up."

They're coming for you.

Who's coming?

- Put it on the ground!

- Police!

Let me see your hands.

Put it on the ground right now.

- Freeze!

- Get down, get down!

Put the weapon on the ground.

Put it on the ground, right now.

Freeze!

Put it on the ground. Right now.

Put the weapon on the ground.

Right now.

- Put it on the ground.

- Let me see your hands.

All right, all right.

Let's just stay calm.

It's okay, Jeff.

Everything is okay.

That's right, buddy.

Everything is gonna be okay.

Just put the gun down

and let these officers

take you down

to the station, okay?

For what?

They're not going

to believe you.

Philip.

Philip.

You killed Charlotte.

Do you know that?

What?

Just calm down

and put the gun down.

No.

No, Jeff. It's all just a dream.

I know everything

is very confusing

right now, Philip.

I'm sorry that I hung up on you.

And as soon as the police

called me, I came.

It's all just a dream.

Told you.

Shut up.

Philip, Philip.

Listen to me.

I'm here to help you.

I don't need help, Jeff.

I didn't kill my fucking wife.

I didn't kill my fucking wife!

Philip, just take it easy.

I'm here to help you.

It's time for me to wake up now.

I said wake me up, Molly.

I said, wake me up.

Wake me up!

I said wake me up, now!

Uh-huh.

Okay.

Tell Cindy I said

have fun at the zoo.

She talking yet?

All right.

Well, it's... it's not uncommon

for children

who've lost their parents

to go through a period

of silence.

She'll get better.

Bring her in to talk

to, uh, Walter.

He specializes

in grieving children.

Yeah.

I miss them, too.

Listen, uh, bring Cindy over.

She can play with my kids,

and we'll have dinner.

Then when the kids go to sleep,

we can get drunk and

tell stupid stories

about Charlotte and Philip.

Uh-huh.

Okay.

Tell Cindy

that Uncle Jeff loves her.

Okay.

Bye-bye.

Jesus.

Sorry, I was just coming

to ask you...

You okay?

You just scared me. I'm fine.

If you need to talk...

Hey, hey, I'm the doctor,

you're supposed to come to me

with your problems.

I'm all right. Thanks.

Okay. Have a nice day.

Uh, wait.

- Yes?

- What's that?

Oh, yeah. I was gonna ask you.

I was just about to put

these in storage.

What is it?

Mr...

Mr. Tanner's things.

Some of his files.

Looks like something

he was working on.

Um... Okay, uh...

Yeah, go ahead

and put them in storage

and, uh, just label them.

I'll go through them later.

Oh, um...

I don't think

this belongs to him.

Some kind of diary.

Him being a man and all,

I figured him...

Damn, that fucking diary.

I'll take it.

It was a patient's.

I still have to finish

a report on it.

All right.

Finish

this psychiatric guideline

or do a simple report

on a girl's diary?

Tsk.

It's a simple job,

but somebody's got to do it.

"For whomever reads this

will be forever cursed."

Hmm, looks like rain.