In Treatment (2008–2010): Season 1, Episode 37 - Alex: Week Eight - full transcript

Previously on "In Treatment"...

If there's someone who does not know
the meaning of guilt, it's my father.

Mid-'50s, right? Jim Crow, Oklahoma.

This mob with hoods... attacked his house.

So my father takes the family,
they run downstairs to the, uh...

the boiler room, to the basement.

My grandfather, his father,

was very sick... dying of lung cancer.

He had this hacking cough.

My father puts his hand over
his father's mouth and nose,

and he kept it there while they...
searched the basement.



Kept it clamped tight.

And then when they finally cleared out.,,

my grandfather was dead.

And I'd love to see him on this couch.

Doc, you'd have a field day with him.

I'm Paul Weston. I was a friend of Alex's.

My deepest, deepest condolences.

Thank you. I, I don't remember this...

You played racquetball with him.

Hello, excuse me.

Hi. I'm sorry. I didn't know which one
of these doors was the right one.

That's okay. It's a terrible day.

Didn't want to knock on your residence.

No problem. This door is
usually for people who come in,



and that's usually the exit door.

But it doesn't, uh, it doesn't really matter.

You have an entry door and an exit door?

It's for people's, uh, privacy.
Some people don't like to,

they don't like to run into each other.

Are they ashamed?

No, no. No, no, no. It's just, uh...
It's protocol, really.

- Would you like some coffee?
- No, I'm a tea man.

But no, nothing, thank you.

- I'm fine.
- Please, sit down.

I got a lot of questions.

I'm sure you have. And I hope
that I can answer some of them.

One thing I do have to stress from the outset

is that, anything that is said between
myself and a patient in this room...

is private.

- Even if the patient is dead?
- Yes, even then.

Well, I'm sure we'll find
something to talk about...

something to help me...
understand what happened to my son.

S01E37: Alex, Week Eight

You weren't very forthcoming
about who you were,

when we met at services.

"A friend", you said?

That's hardly the case.

Well, I didn't want
to betray Alex's confidence.

Daniel didn't hesitate in explaining

exactly what your relationship to Alex was.

He's very direct -- Daniel.

I like that about him.

Were you surprised to hear
that Alex was in therapy?

That he didn't tell me surprised me.

- I mean, what's the big deal?
- Why do you think he didn't?

We'll never know the answer to that, will we?

Or I won't.

Maybe that's something you discussed here.

You know, it -- it always puzzled me...

the whole process here, you know?

I mean, that...
that a person is in therapy at all

often is never... discussed...

who the doctor is...

what he's there for, how much it cost.

Funny thing is that it's secrecy or misunder-
standings, things never spoken that

usually land people
in therapy in the first place.

- Isn't that ironic?
- I don't think, it's about secrecy,

I think, it's about creating an environment

where people can come and feel safe

to talk about... anything.

Safer than... with their loved ones?

Well, sometimes it's easier
to talk to somebody

who's totally uninvolved in your life,

somebody objective, somebody
who has no stake in it.

You mean, like a prostitute... hmm?

Someone who's paid for their
intimacy, and their discretion?

A man should have someone to talk to

who cares about him,

not someone who charges by the hour.

I really did care for Alex.

And if I hadn't,

I'd actually be a pretty poor therapist.

Do you think Alex spoke about things
in this room that he never...

spoke to anyone else about?

That is usually the case with patients.

So you probably know
as much about him as anyone did.

Do you feel that you knew your son well?

I knew Alex when he was a...

little boy.

- And what was he like, then?
- Well, he was, uh...

quiet...

introspective...

daydreamer...

inventor.

Did he ever mention that to you?

He never did, no.

Well, he, uh... he invented this, uh,
thing for his mother, uh...

a pan that made flipping
an omelet over very easy.

He worked very hard on that thing.

It was really good.

So where did he get that from?
Were you an inventor?

Oh, no. No, man. I was a knucklehead.

My father was an inventor.

He invented this knife-sharpening machine.

It didn't make very much money.
He was proud of it.

Alex reminded me of him.

In, in what way?

You trying to shrink me, doctor?

I'm just curious.

Or perhaps you can't help yourself.

That's probably true, too.

My father and Alex...

had the same mannerisms,
the same sense of humor.

It was unsettling.

When Alex was a little boy

and my father had been dead
almost, uh, 20 years...

there he was...

sitting across the dinner table,
looking at me...

through me, with those eyes
of his on Alex's face.

Is your father still living, Mr. Weston?

Yes.

Yes, his body is in... good health,

but his...

his mind is gone.

Were you close?

We had our -- differences, of course...

but we were close.

We are close, I mean.

How often do you see him?

About once a month.

Does he know you're there?

No. I don't think so.

But... the visit is more for my sake.

What do you get out of it?

Connection...

a sense of...

belonging.

Do you ever have conversations
with him in your head?

Both sides of the conversation?

Yes.

When I was younger, everything he said
went in one ear, out the other.

Now I hear his voice in my head,

loud and clear every day.

You see, that's the sense of connection
that you mentioned. That, that's...

that's what I feel slipping away,

with each passing day since Alex's death.

That sense of...

I'm trying to find... his voice...

you know, but...

he won't talk to me.

If you don't mind me saying so,
Mr. Prince, I think that it's...

still... too soon.

You're probably still in a state of -- shock.

But his voice...

will come back to you.

I apologize for comparing
what you do to, uh...

prostitution.

I don't believe they're the same at all.

Apology accepted.

How would you describe...

my son Alex?

That... I'm not asking you for a diagnosis.

You don't have to tell me what he thought,

just what you thought of him -- personally.

I thought that Alex was...

an extremely...

capable... man.

Strong sense of mission.

A very strong sense of
what was expected of him.

Uh, mission or purpose?

- What do you mean?
- Well, Alex was a military man.

Military men have missions, uh...

To have a purpose, a sense of purpose,

that's, uh, something...

something you do on your own,
something you want for yourself.

Did he have that?

I think that Alex was struggling to find out

what he wanted for himself.

- Did he say that?
- No, sir, he didn't.

I'm just giving you some of my impressions

without betraying what he confided in me.

Frankly, it's more than I'm allowed to do.

Were you in the service yourself, Mr. Prince?

Um... eight months, you know,
after they drafted me.

Had an asthma attack and they discharged me.

Probably saved my life.

Funny, a breathing problem was...

my salvation...

and my father's death knell.

Alex told you about
what happened to my father?

These are facts about my life,

not Alex's treatment.

Do you happen to know...

how my father died?

Yes or no? Simple question.

Yes. Yes, I do.

Anyway, I wasn't a war hero,

like my son,
if that's what you were wondering.

How did you feel about Alex's...

service in the Navy?

I was proud of it, of course,
like any father would be.

- Was he, do you think?
- Do you suspect that he wasn't?

I want to understand my son...

Mr. Weston, and instead of helping me,

you answer questions with questions.

I think, your son...

found it increasingly difficult to, um...

compartmentalize...

to keep his feelings

apart from his obligations...

and to live up to the expectations of others.

The expectations of the Navy?

Expectations to excel,
like he had always excelled...

and at the expense of his own needs and...

his real desires.

Are you saying that Alex
was ill-equipped emotionally

to handle the pressure?

- Mr. Prince, you're asking me to share --
- I'm asking your opinion.

Alex's emotional state is, is not something --

You're playing a little fast and
loose here, aren't you, Mr. Weston?

I can know my son was troubled,
just not how troubled?

I want to know what his therapist believed

he was capable of, how far he would go.

How far he'd go to what, Mr. Prince?

I've spoken to a couple
of Alex's fellow pilots.

It was a training flight.

They simulate a battle,
one plane against another.

The other pilot made a snap decision,

tried to get away, apparently flying low.

They say, Alex didn't have
time to straighten out.

There's also a rumor

going around that Alex killed himself.

He was a superb pilot.

It wasn't combat, it was a training exercise.

It was a training exercise.

There hasn't been any...

official...

finding...

Mr. Prince. You said that yourself.

There's an ejection seat.

Why didn't he jump?

Maybe he...

didn't think he needed to use it.

Well...

Michaela's... been in church...

you know, on her knees,

praying, looking for answers, my wife also.

I told 'em, you know...

that's the wrong place to look.

God and me, we've been over for a while.

My faith died...

when my father died.

A boy... once... beat Alex up.

He was about 10 or 11.

He took his shoes.

Little shit punk, you know?

Alex did nothing to fight back,

he didn't defend himself.
Well, he wasn't a fighter, he was a...

he was a frail kid.

You know, thin-skinned.

And that scared the hell out of me.

Where I come from,
thin black skin could get you killed.

And that was
the kind of world that, uh...

that Alex was born into?

What are you implying?

- I'm simply asking if he --
- No, no, no. Let me tell you something.

I saw more injustices as a child --

Horrors.

Did they...

Did they affect my view of the world?

Of course.

Did they shape the manner
in which I raised my boy?

How could they not?

Strength.

Strength was essential to survival.

Vulnerability -- was often a death sentence.

I wanted him to be safe.

I envy the time you spent -- talking with him.

I admit...

those kind of talks
embarrassed the hell out of me.

This where he sat?

Yes.

Alex could talk.

He and his boy, they'd talk for hours.

He even once told Roy that he loved him.

Boy, I tell you...

Did I give him hell for that.

"You're trying to make the kid
some kind of sissy or something?"

It was bad enough that he didn't want
to best Alex at anything.

He'd rather throw a chess game,

just so's he wouldn't have to beat his father.

Oh now, come on. That's no way
to raise a boy to be a man.

I mean, you, you have to
challenge him, make him compete,

teach him how to fight, take care of himself.

It's interesting that you regret not being

more gentle yourself with Alex,
and yet at the same time,

you seem to justify being, being harsh.

I hear you saying that you're a little
conflicted about the notion of --

Mister, I'm not in conflict about anything.

Is that how you tried to help Alex?

Second-guessing every word
that comes out of his mouth?

A stranger...

completely unfamiliar with his background.

You go explaining his world to him.

Actually, our sessions were mostly

about me listening to what --
to what he had to say.

Yeah, well, there we go again
with the listening, huh?

He has his own personal professional listener.

Listen, when I smothered my father

do you think I paid someone
to "listen to me", hmm?

You can't stop and dwell
on every ache and pain.

Uh, "maybe it's because of
what my, my dad did"

or "Maybe it's because
of what my mother did", I...

Come on, you've got to keep moving, man.

You know... what good does all the talk do?

It's not gonna bring my father back.
You know what?

People like you, you never stop to think

that we have a -- a subconscious for a reason.

Because there are things about
ourselves that we cannot face,

that we should not face.

Or else how in the world do we
get up out of bed in the morning?

I'll tell you, World War III comes...

All those people who've been through, uh,

all of this psychoanalysis,

spend hundreds, what, thousands of dollars,

are gonna be the first ones
to lose their heads.

Darwin had a theory,
he called it "Survival of the Fittest".

The "fittest", not the "most self-reflective".

With all due respect, I think that

Alex started coming here...

because he felt that he needed to.

And you had to take him apart, didn't you?

You had to pick at the scab.

Do you think that Alex's therapy here

had something to do... with his death?

You're the one who told him,

he had to go look inside...

to "reflect"...

"examine", "feel".

Oh yeah, he felt.

And what did that get him?
Now he's... a human pancake.

You're a hell of a miracle worker, doctor.

You have a son, Mr. Weston?

Yes, I do.

And if another man,

someone from a different culture,

started giving him advice...

every week...

advice that you were pretty sure

would be harmful to your son...

What would you do?

Your son was a mature man

who decided to come here of his own --

What would you do?

What would you do?

I would try to stop him...

if I could.

I can't get over the feeling...

that I was torn apart in this room.

People have...

a misunderstanding about what happens in...

in rooms like this.

It really isn't about...

blaming or... looking for scapegoats.

He was an outstanding person.

He was kind,

devoted,

loyal...

Too loyal.

Often, I wished that he...

would've just pleased himself, not me.

But we want to please, don't we, Mr. Weston?

He did a lifetime of trying to please me.

All that...

that tough...

that tough schooling...

and the training, and...

the achievements...

that was for me.

I'm the one who needed it.

To feel...

that he was safe.

You know?

Your son loved you.

And he had huge admiration for you.

He told me that.

Don't tell me that, man.

You think that comfort--

you think that comforts me?

No. I would have, have rathered...

that he hated me.

I would have rathered

That this was his "fuck you" to me.

Why do you say that?

For pushing him so hard...

to be tougher...

than the rest of the world.

So stupid.

Did I kill my son?

I killed my father with my own two hands.

Did I kill my son, too?

No, whatever happened up there
was not your fault.

You're not responsible.

We'll never know, will we?

Thank you. Thank you for your time.

I'd appreciate it very much
if you'd call me a taxi, please.

Sure.