Law & Order: Criminal Intent (2001–2011): Season 3, Episode 21 - Consumed - full transcript

In New York City's war on crime,

the worst criminal offenders are pursued
by the detectives of the Major Case Squad.

These are their stories.

I tried calling you
last night. I was there.

I'm a heavy sleeper. Listen, you
held the cash for the 50-50 raffle.

There should have been
$240. You gave me $2 10.

Big deal. I miscounted.
What is it, 20?

Thirty, Tommy. Forty minus ten.

And you were late
yesterday. Five minutes.

Ten, since we're counting.

It's getting worse.
Something going on?



What, I'm the
only one runs late?

Watch Movies, Series & LiveTV
www.flixify.app

Tommy! You scared me.

You alone down there? Just
me and the fabric softener.

I'll have these shirts
done for you tomorrow.

You didn't see three
guys cutting through?

No. Was there a break-in?

Just go back to your room.
Keep the door locked, okay, sis?

Hey, Chico, Sergeant missed you
at the muster. He's looking for you.

See me shaking
in my boots, Chico?

You hurt yourself?
Your left arm.

Hope she was worth it, Chico.

Your wife's always
worth it, Chico.

Son of a bitch! I'm
not gonna take this!



Every time! Every single time!

Beer? I'll just take these.

I'm not turning around, but who
just came in here? Three guys?

Tommy, don't start.

You gotta smoke outside.
We've been over this.

Hey. Hey, easy. Don't...

First report came
in just after midnight.

No eyewitnesses so far.

We're canvassing limo
drivers, cleaning crews.

Well, his tuxedo's well-worn.
He works for a living.

Maybe a maître d' or a waiter.

His shoes would be in better
shape. He could be a musician.

If he is, I've never heard of
him. Eduardo Mercaldo, 50.

Address up on the West Side.

No family pictures.
Credit card, MetroCard.

Let's see you guess
what instrument he plays.

He probably doesn't play the
horn. He's missing too many teeth.

No calluses from a
guitar or drumsticks.

But his hands, they
have a long span.

Fingernails are trimmed
short. Perfect for piano.

So, Eddie the piano player.
Check piano bars in the area.

Here.

Shot twice. That's
what brought him down.

The killer moved closer,
shot him through the heart.

Maybe Eddie forgot
to play his request.

Let's see the other one.

We got a second round of shots
fired about three minutes after the first.

Took a while to find this guy, the
way sounds echo around down here.

Ramon Ortiz, 36. No address.

Just two shots this time.

One in the leg to
bring him down.

The other right through his heart.
The shooter's getting more efficient.

The 9 1 1 report we got mentioned
six shots fired, total. We only count five.

That's what I mean,
about the echo down here.

Could be a truck backing
up, but I don't hear an engine.

Sounds like it's
coming from over there.

He got an entry
card for the garage.

Looks like he got shot going in.

Only one shot this time?
Hell of a learning curve.

I think I've got a
shell casing in here.

Looks like a nine-mil.

The shooter probably picked
up his casings at the other sites.

Alejandro Alvarez, 33.

Stockbroker. A few
hundred bucks in cash.

Mercaldo, Ortiz, Alvarez.

I'm keeping my fingers
crossed it's just a coincidence.

I don't want it characterized
as a racial thing yet.

Maybe the victims were all in the
same bar and pissed off the same guy.

Eddie Mercaldo's piano bar
says he was there all night.

There was no
disturbance, and nobody

remembers ever seeing
the stockbroker there.

Doesn't lay out like a rage
spree. It wasn't impulsive.

The killer shot three people in
10 minutes, no eyewitnesses,

and then got away while the
zone was flooded with patrol cars.

So the guy spent time downtown,
staking out his victims, his escape routes.

He also spent time on a target
range. He made every shot count.

Except for the one
that fell into the grate.

He took the time to
pick up all his casings.

He's afraid that we'll
trace his weapon.

Maybe he's used it
before in another crime.

We have a winner.
It's N. Y. P. D.

The casing matches
up with a Glock that was

used in a line-of-duty
shooting a year ago.

The weapon was assigned
to an Officer Thomas Callahan,

currently at the
5-1 in the Bronx.

Use your phone? Sure.

Can you check to see
if it was reported stolen?

No. No report.

How about the disposition
of the line-of-duty shooting?

The shooting was
ruled self-defense.

Callahan was cleared
and returned to active duty.

Not so active. He missed
roll call this morning.

Hey! Hey, down here!
Help me! Help me!

Somebody help me!
Help! Help me. I'm a cop.

Come on.

Please help me.

Where am I? Where am I?

They brought him in half an
hour ago. Broken leg, bruises.

He crawled out of a subway
tunnel four blocks from the shootings.

We heard he had a weapon.
Yeah, a .38 from his ankle holster.

It was empty though. The
rounds had all been fired.

Is that his file? We're gonna need that.
Yeah. His P.B.A. delegate's on his way.

Callahan's brother
officers are already here.

Great. A frat party.

You mind, fellas? We need a few
minutes with your brother officer.

Officer Callahan, I'm Detective
Eames. This is Detective Goren.

We're from Major Case.
Anybody tell you what's going on?

Someone's throwing bullets around downtown
last night. That's what we thought.

Maybe you were chasing someone
in the tunnel. You know, a suspect.

No. Look, I was at
home watching television.

Next thing I know, I'm in
a tunnel with a broken leg.

Anything else, I don't remember.

This blackout, maybe you were doing
shots in front of the TV, popping pills...

Major Case Lady, take a big bite,
okay? I'm not a dope head, I'm not a drunk.

And you're not smart
enough to hide your temper.

You remember firing
your ankle piece, your .38?

Yeah. When I was in the
tunnel with my broken leg,

I shot out my gun at the wall to
try and get someone's attention.

And what about your other piece,
your Glock? Do you know where that is?

Are you gonna tell me? I don't remember.
You remember your line-of-duty shooting?

Three men jumped you at night
in the projects up in the Bronx.

An experience like that must've
made you adjust your view of things.

I got over it.

These three men, they were African
American, Hispanic, Hispanic, right?

One of them was Hispanic.

Did he look like this? Nah.

Or like this? Or like this?

No. Who are these guys? The
guys who were shot last night.

With a Glock.

We retrieved a casing from a
grate. It matched your weapon.

- I got nothing to do with them.
- You were downtown last night.

What was the purpose?
I don't remember.

I never come down here.

Tommy, we find
that hard to believe.

And we have a witness who
saw you at Harrison's Steakhouse.

It's on Maiden and
Cedar. Never been there.

You guys are not gonna
pin this on me, okay?

I'm not saying nothing until my
delegate and my lawyer get here.

Just got word. They
found his gun in a trash can,

one station away from
where this weasel popped up.

He's done.

There is no corner
of Maiden and Cedar.

You really think this guy doesn't
know his way around downtown?

The line-of-duty shooting...
Callahan fired seven shots.

All but one missed.

He's only been to the
firing range twice since.

I didn't think you could actually
score this low and still keep your badge.

This guy is no Wild Bill Hickok.

Maybe he hooked up
with someone who is.

He's well-liked. It's what
I told I.A. an hour ago.

When we talked to
Tommy, we had a hard time

pinning down what would
make him so well-liked.

He's always there when you need a
favor. He covers for the guys on holidays.

What we noticed is that
he's had a lot of partners,

especially in the last
year, like this one here.

Vasquez. He lasted
less than three weeks.

Vasquez was smoking
in the patrol car.

Tommy's got asthma
or something. They

couldn't work it out,
so Tommy filed a report.

Maybe the old Tommy would've
come to you instead, right?

But since his self-defense
shooting, his fuse got shorter.

You could say that.
Anything else you could say?

Something that never
made it into a report.

He's gotten careless.

He's distracted?
How's his attendance?

Every other morning, he runs
late. Does he have a second job?

Not that he told me. I don't
know what he does at night.

Maybe he's out hunting.

Three alarm clocks,
all set for 6:00 a.m.

If he's not getting up,
it's not for lack of trying.

Eggplant Parmesan.

Somebody's bringing
him home-cooked meals.

I can't imagine a girlfriend
setting foot in this place.

Hmm. Looks like there's somebody
whose smoking he doesn't mind.

Don't see any lipstick.
Could be his partner in crime.

I count four different brands.

- Light starch.
- His domestic diva's been busy.

Nothing says rage-aholic
like a punch in the wall.

His neighbor must love him.

Tommy's always
courteous and helpful.

It's nice having a police officer
in the building, I'll say that.

And noisy too. Maybe
the TV now and then.

Oh, no. My partner meant when
Tommy punched the wall there.

I wouldn't know that.

I mean, everybody
has their bad days.

You're very lucky he didn't
knock those lamps over.

These are Muranos, aren't they?
Did you get them at Bergmann's?

Oh, gracious, no. I work there.

I couldn't afford that
furniture. They're knockoffs.

You ever see any visitors
over at Tommy's, or hear them?

No. Tommy keeps
pretty much to himself.

Eggplant Parmesan.

That's you.

No. Tommy's got the
same containers next door.

Oh, yes.

It's just as easy to cook
for two as it is for one.

- Same go for ironing?
- The poor man can't even sew a button.

He works such long
hours and those late shifts.

Late shifts? What
time does he get home?

Sometimes I hear
him... after 4:00 a.m.

4:00 a.m.?

That's not a late
shift. That's last call.

It was very sudden. Boom. He...

How can I say it?
He just dropped dead.

He and two other men all
on the same night, downtown.

Did he leave any will
or final instructions?

Apparently not. His death
has made me reexamine things.

I can't afford to continue
to represent you.

Don't do this, John. Everything
can get straightened out.

When it does, you let me
know. Until then, I'm sorry, Bing.

Best of luck.

Yeah, sure. Tommy's been coming in
for years. He lives but three blocks away.

He come in alone? Yeah.

Sometimes around 7:00,
sometimes around 1 1:00.

Just he, himself and him.

These loosies are the same
brands we found at his place.

He doesn't smoke, so who
buys them? He doesn't smoke?

That's news to me. He buys those
and smokes them like a chimney.

You actually saw him smoke? Where,
here? I don't let him smoke in here,

even if he is a cop and
even if it is late at night.

- Last Tuesday night, he came in?
- Yeah.

And the same thing
happened with the smokes?

Yeah. Then he asked if I
saw three guys come in.

He always asks if three
guys are following him.

When you see him walk,

did you notice if he's
clumsy or weaving?

Nah. Stiff like a robot.

When you talk to him, does he respond,
or does he act like he's in his own world?

In his own world.

Carver's ready to get an
indictment on Callahan.

He wants to know if he should start
working on one for this mystery partner.

The partner might not
be a mystery much longer.

Okay, thank you.

The hospital had Tommy under
sedation since he was brought in.

We need to talk to
Carver, get him off sedation.

- This is better for us how?
- It's better for him.

Son of a bitch. Locked
the damn window.

I'm in for it now.

Hey, sister. Going for a smoke?

Yeah. I don't have much time.

Do you know who's out there?

Yeah, three guys.
You seen 'em, right?

There's a lot of
people out there.

You don't know who we are,
do you? No. What are you, cops?

That's right. We talked to you about
when you broke your leg in the subway.

I don't remember
that. I gotta go.

You can't go anywhere.
You're under arrest.

Hey, get off me! Get off me! Calm
down, Tommy! Your doctor's right here.

Tommy, this is Dr. Barnes.
You've got to wake up.

You've got to wake up!

Dr. Barnes? Um...

What's going on? How
come I'm out of bed?

It's all right, Tommy. We're
putting you back to bed,

and we'll give you something to
help you sleep through the night.

Okay, guys.

He seems to have
full-blown parasomnia.

If he hadn't been taken off
sedatives, we might not have caught it.

What are the chances he
killed three people in his sleep?

Virtually nil.

But the person who did, knew
that Tommy had this problem...

and brought him
along for the ride.

A sleepwalker with a
gun. The perfect fall guy.

Son of a bitch. Locked
the damn window.

I'm in for it now. Hey, sister.

Going for a smoke? Yeah.
I don't have much time.

I sound like a damn lunatic.

You had no idea you
had this condition?

No. I used to sleepwalk when
I was a kid, but I grew out of it.

And you never noticed the punch in
the wall or the cigarettes in the ashtray?

I... just thought I
had too much to drink.

Kinda didn't want to know.

Can you think of anyone who might've
figured out what was going on with you?

No.

No. I mean, if they did,
they'd have told me, right?

You suspect my
client was framed?

At this point, we're keeping our
minds open to every possibility.

Who would do that to me?

It's all right, Tommy.

We're finished here.

How sure are we that this isn't some
elaborate ruse by Officer Callahan?

The doctors vouch for his condition. They
think his shooting last year triggered it.

There's no evidence he
even knew about his condition.

He never sought treatment,
never took a sleeping pill.

Could he have killed these
people while sleepwalking?

Well, the murder
was premeditated.

From what we read, parasomniacs
are incapable of planning their behavior.

They're hardly aware of their
environment. They walk into traffic.

They... fall out of windows.

So someone brought
Officer Callahan downtown,

used his gun to
murder three people...

and then left him to sleepwalk
off a deserted subway platform.

That seems elaborate
for a hate crime.

But a hate crime is a good cover if
only one of the victims is the real target.

You'd hit that target first to make sure
you got him before hitting the decoys.

Eddie Mercaldo
was the first kill.

No bills overdue.
Checkbook's balanced.

Solid citizen.

And an organized one.

Gig books.

A record of every job he's
played all the way back to 1972.

Who he played with,
where... and how much.

Eddie's challenging
my opinion of musicians.

He prepaid his utilities and
rent three months at a time.

He was probably on the road
a lot. Didn't want to fall behind.

Here. He played Caribbean
cruises four times in the last year.

Cruise three months ago
stopped in the Cayman Islands.

Cayman Islands.

Seems like the one stop all
his cruises have in common.

A lot of drugs go through the
Caymans. Eddie might've been a courier.

We should get a dog
to sniff his luggage.

Brought the electric piano
on the cruise with him.

You'd think that the ship
would have their own piano.

You see? Something
has been taken out.

The old motherboard.

He replaced it with smaller components
and made room for contraband.

Enough for a couple
bricks of coke. We'll see.

Green tint on the lining. Mold?

Ink.

Green ink.

The swab's negative for drugs.

Humidity made the ink run.

Cayman Islands. Offshore banks.

Secret accounts, tax evasion.
Eddie was a money courier?

Maybe he got greedy
and started skimming.

Whoever's money it
is has to know Tommy.

I didn't see any Fortune
500's in his address book.

There is someone
close to Tommy...

who might know what
a fortune looks like.

Those Murano lamps... I knew
they didn't look like knockoffs.

Three murders?
It's inconceivable. I...

Tommy was always
very decent to me.

We think his rage stems from
his shooting incident last year.

Did he ever confide
in you about that?

Tommy doesn't confide.

Things just tumble out.

Last Christmas, he asked me
to light a candle for his mother,

and that's how I found
out that his mother

had died on Christmas
Eve a few years earlier.

And that's after knowing
him, what, three years.

That's when you moved
in next door, isn't it?

I don't remember
telling you that.

We looked it up in
your rental application.

We try to find out as much as
possible about potential witnesses.

Like your job history.
It's sort of sketchy.

You've only worked
here for four years...

and already you're a personal
shopper in the couture department.

You have a lot of
retail experience?

Why don't you look it up?

We tried, but your Social Security
number only goes back five years.

You changed it. I had to.

Someone stole my identity.

Now, since this interview
is not about Tommy,

I really do have
to get back to work.

You're tough, Ms. Landau.

You don't let people
push you around.

I've had to learn not to.

Her outfit... looks like one of
those overpriced French designers,

at least eight or
nine years old.

She probably bought
it back in her other life,

the one she doesn't
want us to know about.

The money Eddie was
carrying to the Caymans...

probably used to be hers.

Before she started using
the name Beth Landau,

she was known as
Elizabeth Post, with an

address off Fifth
Avenue. I got her.

Post v. Post.

It's a divorce action.
Started seven years ago.

Started? They're still
married? Apparently so. No kids.

Dozens of motions,
mostly about finances.

That's what this money
is... Contested finances.

See if you can
locate the husband.

Shouldn't be too hard. He's been at
the same address for the last six years.

I'm sorry you came all the way up here,
but I've never heard of Eddie Mercaldo.

Are you sure about that? Because he was
smuggling money, and you're hiding assets.

We thought there was
a natural connection.

I am not hiding assets.

No? Because the judge said so
when she put you in jail for contempt.

Let me see.

Bing! Right here.

"For refusing to
disclose the location of

marital assets totaling
more than $ 15 million."

All that money's
in an offshore bank.

Eddie was making regular runs,
bringing back cash to pay your legal bills,

take care of other
business. No, no.

Your wife found out. She cut off
your pipeline. She had Eddie shot.

Don't be absurd. Elizabeth
went to Holyoke, for God's sake.

Believe me, if that
money still existed,

Elizabeth's lawyers
would've unearthed it by now.

You know, you've been in
jail for contempt of court...

longer than anyone in
the history of New York.

I'm well aware of the
Kafkaesque journey I'm on.

Well, the journey that
your wife put you on.

Now, I'd think that you'd jump at the
chance to implicate her in a murder.

She doesn't have the
wherewithal for this sort of violent...

calculation.

Oh. It's time for my
shift in the mail room.

Thirty-eight cents an hour.

Don't tell Elizabeth's lawyers.
They'll move to garnish.

Implicating her would mean
revealing where he hid the money.

She's his wife. She's
still entitled to half.

He'd rather see her walk on three
counts of murder than split it with her.

Ain't love grand?

Rubber Soul. It
was a cover band.

They toured colleges
back in the '70s.

Eddie on piano, and that's
Bingham Post on drums.

And they kept in touch all these
years? There's no evidence of that.

We checked Eddie's old phone
records and address books.

No Bingham. Which made
Eddie a perfect bagman.

He wasn't on anyone's radar.

A guy he hadn't
seen for over 30 years,

and he got him to agree to
break I don't know how many laws?

They bonded for
life on the road.

I was in a singing
group in college.

Twenty years later,
any of those guys call,

we pick up where we left off.

Ms. Landau would've needed a
private investigator to find Mr. Mercaldo.

Even if she could afford it,
there's no record she paid for one.

She was very good
at mothering Tommy.

Maybe his shirts weren't
the only ones she was ironing.

Beth never mentioned other cops.
You guys can't be right about her.

She's a classy lady.
She was interested in you.

She was worried
about your health.

She noticed how tired you were.

I asked her what she knew about sleeping
pills. She said they were bad for you.

Well, the right sleeping pill
will keep you in bed, Tommy,

instead of pacing
in your room...

or wandering the streets.

She knew your
condition. No. Wrong.

You don't think she heard you
banging on the wall, talking to yourself?

Beth didn't want to tell you because
she liked you the way you were.

She must've known.

She ever ask you
any favors, you know?

Like running down a license
plate or finding an address?

Nah. The only thing I ever
helped her with was renting a car.

Her credit was bad. She needed
something cheap, for cash.

She say what she needed it for?

Overnight visits to her sister.

Do you know exactly
where she went?

Because, uh, she
doesn't have a sister.

I don't know. Just overnight.

She did call me one time. She
couldn't get her car started. It was late.

And where'd you pick her up?

Just over the Willis
Avenue Bridge in the Bronx.

Nothing there but warehouses.

And storage facilities.

Beth in her former life
looks happy and prosperous.

Wigs. Blonde, redhead.

No prescription.

Disguises? Adult diapers.
What is she disguising herself as?

Flashlights. Energy bars. Maps.

High-speed film. Binoculars.

Stakeout. That's why she
needed to get a rental car.

She didn't hire a P.I. She
turned herself into one.

.22 auto.

Membership card to
a gun club in Hoboken.

She turned herself
into Wild Bill Hickok too.

Bingham Post filed a
new application for release.

Included was a copy of a letter
Mr. Post sent his wife earlier this week.

"Dear Elizabeth, This war has gone on
for too long and benefited neither of us.

"I wronged you, and I want
the chance to make amends.

I hope someday we'll even be
able to dance to our old song."

I'm feeling nauseous.

It apparently worked its
charms on Ms. Landau.

She indicated to the judge she
won't oppose her husband's release.

Well, maybe because she can't
access the money without him.

And if he's willing
to split it with her,

it means that he can't
get at it without her help.

She has something he needs... The
bank account numbers, a password,

something she took from
Eddie the night she killed him.

He, uh...

His address book was still
on him. His wallet, house keys.

No sheet music.

Would he bring sheet music
for his gig at the piano bar?

Not sheet music, but
he'd have a fake book.

A list of songs with their
keys and start notes...

to fake his way
through any request.

He wouldn't go
anywhere without it.

That bank information
could've been in that book.

And now Beth's dangling
it in front of her husband.

You know, I think we need to be there
for Bingham and Beth's reconciliation.

Any way to get him released
into the custody of his wife?

I'll talk to the judge.

Good to see you again.

May I?

There. Not so bad, was it?

You still like irises, I hope.

Yes, I still like irises.

I'll put them in water.

I recognize the lamps.

One of the few things you
didn't take when you walked out.

Now, come on. I
learned my lesson.

Have you?

Ah! Why don't I pour us a glass?

No. Not now. It's for later.

By the way, did you smell
the stairwell on your way up?

I got used to that smell in prison.
You could've walked out anytime.

You stayed in for spite.

I did not choose
this. You're right.

How well do you think you'd
do with no resources, no credit,

past your prime with
no marketable skills?

That's all in the past.

Now we need each other.

Oh, I don't need anything from
you. I can get by on my own.

But... you need me.

Yes, I do. You have
something I want.

What could I possibly
have that you'd want?

Isn't that what you
said when you left?

I was wrong. What I wrote
in that letter, I meant it.

I hope that someday we
could be like we once were.

The bridges to the
past have been burned.

There's nothing left. Nothing.

She played him.
She won't give it up.

I spent six years
in jail, but you won.

You expecting someone?

Ms. Landau, it's Detectives
Goren and Eames.

Can we speak with you?

We're sorry to bother you.

We heard your husband
was being released today.

We wanted to make
sure you were okay.

Speak of the devil.
Look who's here.

Is he harassing you?
Did he invite himself in?

No. We decided it
was time to end the war.

And share the spoils.

You're gonna tell her
where you hid your money?

Elizabeth understands now
there is no hidden money.

I'm here to talk
about reconciling.

Reconcile?

No, he's here to gloat.

He wants to get a look at
your little rabbit hutch here.

I bet your dressing room on Fifth
Avenue was bigger than this whole place.

Neither one of us has had it easy in
the last few years. Beth had nothing.

You stuck her with
so much bad paper...

that she couldn't even start fresh
without a new identity, isn't that right?

I... I couldn't buy a cup of
coffee on credit, thanks to him.

I wasn't myself then. I was cruel.
I don't know what I was thinking.

Do you think that he
appreciates your dire

circumstances, the humiliation
that he put you through?

I doubt it.

Empathy was
never his strong suit.

Elizabeth, that was then.

You know, you really should've had
him come down to the department store.

He would've gotten a kick watching
you schlepp those dresses back and forth.

It was the only job she could
get, being a woman her age.

I don't know how you
got through each day.

It must have been the thought
of making Bingham pay...

and pay and pay.

That's a nice vintage.

But I guess those
days are almost over.

I guess that it's time to...

make a toast to new beginnings.

You're splitting 15 mil.

For the last time,
there isn't any money.

No, see, there is.

And Eddie was your courier.

We verified he had a notebook
on him the night he was killed.

A fake book, a cheat
sheet for hundreds of songs.

I know what a fake book is. Why?

Did Eddie have one when
you played in a band with him?

We think that's where he kept the
information on the bank in the Caymans...

The account numbers,
the passwords.

Eddie's book was missing
when we found him.

Is this what you were
planning on serving him?

We know Beth's lawyers never found
any offshore accounts in your name,

so it's probably
in Eddie's name.

And you can't
access the money...

without the
information... in that book.

Say when.

Spiral notebook, huh, Beth?

You burned it?

What did you do?

It's a joke, right? Tell me
you copied the information.

Beth, stop screwing
around! Tell me you copied it!

She didn't.

She doesn't care about the money
anymore. She made a new life for herself.

You're the only one that's
petrified about not having it.

We have no way of getting that
money now! Don't you understand?

I think she gets it. She's
come a long way from Holyoke.

You know, they say that this should
be served at room temperature.

But it's best served
cold, revenge.

Look at his face.

Isn't that enough shock, enough
devastation to make it worth your while?

- I didn't do anything.
- Didn't do anything?

You burned $ 15 million.

That's all the money I had.

You want him to grovel at your
feet? Would that satisfy you?

You know, satisfy your...
Your wounded heart?

Oh, you're feeling
it, aren't you?

The emptiness of it.

Revenge. You know, the whole buildup,
and then it lets you down, doesn't it?

Considering all the hours,

the long nights spent stalking
Bing's lawyers and friends,

staking out Eddie's piano bar,

finding the other
victims. I didn't do that.

Wearing wigs and phony
glasses and living off energy bars.

We found your bat cave.

It's very impressive.

This item, especially. Diapers.

Couldn't leave your post without
running the risk of missing something,

so you sat there for hours
in the clammy wetness,

sustained by the thought of Bingham
squirming at the end of your hook.

You know, I bet
that this Beth...

would never think she
was capable of that.

I had to... look out for myself.

Or hitting bull's-eyes at the
gun club, week after week.

Or what you did to the neighbor.
You know, all that mothering.

That took real
ice in your veins.

I'm... I'm... I'm not
that kind of person.

Beth is not that kind of person.

But you?

You knew that Tommy was sick.

And instead of getting him help,

you made sure his shirts were
starched and his belly was full...

until that night when
you drove him downtown,

killed three people.

You used his gun. You
let him loose in the subway.

And so what if a train hit him?

Didn't matter,
because you didn't care.

I'm not like that! I would care!

Oh, you care now? You
care about these three men?

You care about them?

And the lives that you consumed?

And your own life.

Oh, God. Do you see now?

Come on, Beth.

Come on. Look at this.

Beth, look at her.

Come on. Let me
know that this woman...

Let me know if this
decent woman...

isn't dead.

What would she tell me?

What does she need to tell me?

Oh, God.

I... I killed them.

I'm... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

You're under arrest, Beth.

God, I don't know
what became of me.

Look.

Look what you've turned me into!

You did this to me! You!

You're gonna have to come
downtown to make a statement.

I don't recognize her.

That's not the woman I married.

Well, then you're even. I can't imagine
you're the man she married either.

So that's what 15
million bucks looks like.

So that's what
vengeance gets you...

A mouthful of ashes.

Watch Movies, Series & LiveTV
www.flixify.app