Medium (2005–2011): Season 2, Episode 16 - Allison Wonderland - full transcript

Agent 47,

I just got word your mission is over.

It's been terminated.

Take a drink of this.

I'm sorry, I don't really like the taste.

Okay, I hear that.

But it's policy.

Please, no! I don't like the taste!

I understand, but my hands are tied.

It's policy.

Come on now, keep your mouth open.



There's nothing I can do.
I'm just following procedure.

You should feel good.

What you've accomplished...

the definition of a job well done.

So... would you like to see your next mission?

No...!

No!

Your next assignment involves
research into the effects of gravity

on the human skull.

My friends here are going
to let go of your legs.

And then, we're all going
to place bets on how big a spot

you leave on the sidewalk.

Pretty exciting, huh?

- One... - No, no, please!



two...

This isn't what I signed up for!

three.

You okay?

I just had the craziest dream.

Did you just hear yourself?

No, I mean, David Carradine was in it.

He fell to his death.

These guys, they pushed him
off this building and he died.

That's what I dreamt about.

Wow. That sounds damn near...

normal.

You think so?

Yeah, absolutely.

To be perfectly honest,
I just had a crazy dream, too.

No kidding?

No. I was on a desert island

and there was no one there
but me and Angelina Jolie.

- What are you... - That's not funny.

I thought we were having a conversation.

I don't even find her attractive.

What are you doing?

Shh!

You're not supposed to read at the table.

Mom.

What, Ariel?

Nothing.

It's 20 after 7:00.
Why did you let me sleep?

I don't know. You seemed happy.

Besides, there's no way I was going
to get between you and Angelina.

Who's Angelina?

No one.

A friend of your father's.

I take it there are no mentions of Grasshopper
tumbling to his death in this morning's paper.

No, not a one.

Hmm.

What's that?

What's what?

That.

That quiet.

I find it unsettling at
this hour of the morning.

Where's the noise?
Where's the commotion?

Bridgette's reading.

Shh! Shh!

Danielle in Danger?
Didn't we read that last night, Bridge?

I know, but I really like it.

Danielle in Danger, Danielle in Distress,
Danielle in the Deep End--

she has them all.
She reads them all the time.

Last time, I found her
in the bathroom reading it.

They're good.

You're getting food all over it.

Am not. Am not.

And the only reason I'm reading it again

is because we don't have
any more, and I like it.

Whatever else Danielle is in,

I'm going to find it.

Really?

Sure.

Danielle at the Deli, Danielle in Duluth,
Danielle in the Dumps.

Wherever Danielle has been,

I'm going to find it.

I must apologize for the other evening.

Is there some reason
you won't look at me?

I mean, other than the obvious.

It must have been a horrible way to die.

I was left with no choice.

The agency was left
with no choice. I mean,

we have to preserve the code.

Right?

I just hope that someday...

you find a way to forgive us all.

Ma'am, are you getting out?

I'm not a big one to solicit favors.

My wife does charity work with
a woman named Jessica Delany.

Her brother's been missing
for almost two weeks now, and...

she asked me if I knew someone who could check
it out without actually making it a police matter.

I'm sorry, I don't follow.

Her brother's apparently
something of a wild hair.

Hasn't been able to hold down
a job for years, pretty eccentric guy.

But it's not like him to not stay in touch.

And as I mentioned, they've not been able
to make contact with him for almost two weeks.

She and her husband basically support him.

I still don't get it. Why call you?

Why avoid the police?
And if you've got to avoid the police,

why not just hire a private detective?

They did hire a private detective.
He came up with nothing.

So why not go to the police?

Apparently, along with a
host of other eccentric habits,

this guy's terrified of the police.

They're worried that if law
enforcement starts snooping around,

he'll never come out of hiding.

I was hoping between the two of you...

Sure.

I can do the usual--
call the hospitals, the morgue.

And, if you don't mind,

this is his address and his
landlord's phone number.

The landlord's been told to expect
a phone call from a family friend

who might show up,
want to take a look around.

I'm happy to try.

You want some company?

Sure.

I'll call you after I make
contact with the landlord.

Codes are amazing,
aren't they Miss Dubois?

Life is a kind of a code,isn't it?

And death.

Death is a kind of code, too.

Wouldn't you say?

If there's any way we can
do it on my way home tonight,

say around 8:00...

Allison.

Allison?

Hi, excuse me.
I'm looking for the Danielle books.

Danielle in Danger...Those...

Oh, Beverly Rhodes.
She's a wonderful writer.

Right here we have three.

Danielle in Danger,Danielle in Distress

and Danielle in the Deep End.

Ah, yes, no. Those are the ones we have.

I was hoping there might be some others.

Let's check the computer.

I'm sorry, those are the only
three that were published.

Hmm. Oh. Um, okay.

Are there any more coming?

Is old Beverly banging out another one?

I got a little one who's
just nuts for these things.

I kind of doubt it.

Beverly Rhodes passed away last year.

"And so, Danielle declared,
'It pays to be prepared.

"'With homework done, there's time for fun.

No distress anywhere.'"

Night, Angel.

Night, Daddy.

Okay.

You read that good, Daddy.

Thank you, I appreciate that.

I know this can be a tough room.

I love Danielle.

I know you do, sweetheart.

Uh, but you know what I was thinking?

I was thinking that maybe we
should start reading some other books

and give Danielle a rest
for a little while, huh?

But I don't want to give Danielle a rest.

I want to read everything
there is to read about her.

Well, as it turns out,
I think that you have.

There are only three books,
honey, you have them all.

- Nuh-uh. - Mm-hmm.

Sure you do. You got
Distress, Danger, Deep End.

That's all there is.

Nuh-uh. I know there's another one.

I don't think so, honey.
I'll check again, but I don't think so.

In the meantime,
don't let those bedbugs bite.

I won't, Daddy.

Must be the maid's year off.

What do you think all this stuff is about?

I don't know.

Maybe he's calculated how much to tip
the guy who delivered all these pizzas.

Yes, sir.

Yeah, I'm at liberty to do that.

Los Angeles, the Harmon Hotel,
day after tomorrow.

No, I can do that.

Check in and wait to hear from you.

I got it.

Think our boy took a little trip.

Drawers are open,
clothes seem to be missing.

No toothbrush or toothpaste
or comb in the bathroom.

No wallet, no I.D., no keys.

You all right?

Yeah.

I think he might be in Los Angeles.

The Harmon Hotel.

Okay.

Anything else?

Yeah.

I think he might look
a lot like David Carradine.

You awake?

Oh, yeah.

What are you doing?

Is that Daddy's work computer?

You know you're never supposed
to play with Daddy's work computer.

I'm sorry.

How long were you there?

I don't know. A little while, I guess.

Bridgette.

What did the misfit of science do now?

Ariel.

None of your beeswax.

Who cares.

Can I have some microwave oatmeal?

Yeah.

You left the bathroom a mess again.

Did not.

Your underwear is on the counter.

Your towel is in the tub,
and you don't flush.

- Do, too.
- Do not.

- Do, too.
- Do not.

Do, too.

Fine, then whose poo was it
in the toilet this morning, huh?

- Not my poo.
- Was, too.

- Not my poo.
- Was, too.

- Not my poo.
- Was, too!

Can we not... discuss poo
at the kitchen table?

Thank you.

Can you come here for a minute?

What's up?

I need to cook something for one minute.

Okay.

You were looking for me?

Yeah, come in.

So I've known you for what,

little over a year now?

And I have to confess,
that every time one of...

- your things comes true.
- What are you talking about?

Jessica Delany's brother?

He was registered at the
Harmon Hotel in Los Angeles.

I was authorized by the family early this
morning to send Detective Scanlon out there.

So...

Thank you.

I'm very appreciative,
and I just wanted to tell you so.

Have you given any thought to our problem?

How do we thwart these terrorists?

How do we stop them before they strike?

Who are you?

What are you?

Are you a ghost?

Are you a hallucination? Are you a dream?

You understand how these
terrorists operate, don't you?

When a terrorist needs to communicate,

he or she requests a password.

They can do this from anywhere,

from a payphone,
from a cell phone, an email.

The means is unimportant.

What is important is they are then
sent a password over the phone,

over the Internet,
over a pager, not terribly secure.

But what they do with that password

is they enter it into a device like this,

which uses a complex algorithmic formula

to create a new password,

the real password, a fluid password,

a password that changes every six seconds.

I'm asking you

please sit down and crack the algorithmic
formula that makes this conversion possible.

I'm sorry.

I don't understand.
I think you have the wrong person.

Are you not the one

who said Harmon Hotel?

Allison, it's a simple "thank you".

Just accept it gracefully, and get the hell
out of here so I can do my work.

Yeah... yes, yes, of course, sir.

You think they're all
watching you, don't you?

That's the paranoia kicking in.
You have drugs for that.

Don't worry about them.

Me and my people
will take care of them.

All you need to be thinking
about is code decode,

code decode, code decode.

Code decode! Code decode!

Code decode!

Code decode !

Code decode !

Hi.

Hey. You all right? You sound stressed.

You called me. What's going on?

I'm just trying to figure something out.

I'm transferring files from my
laptop to my office computer,

and there are some files here
that I don't recognize.

Um, did you maybe...

Bridgette was playing
with it this morning.

I'm sorry-- I stopped her. I don't think
she had a chance to do any real harm.

It's okay. As long as I know what it is.

I didn't know whether to
print it out or throw it away.

All right.

Listen, I got to go.
The coast is clear.

The coast is clear? Al?

I'm really sorry.

I'm sorry to put you through all this.

It's really horrible,
their eyes following you like that.

Convinced they're all
watching you, all after you.

I suspect you're a lot like me...

smart enough to know
it's not really happening,

but still,

the heart starts to race,
the adrenaline starts to kick in.

It's impossible not to be sucked into it.

So these are delusions?

It's all life, right?

I mean, I'm not really sure.

I'm a mathematician,
not a psychiatrist,

but I strongly suspect that

everything I'm seeing,
everything I'm feeling,

some of it probably isn't there.

So these things that I'm seeing,
these things that I'm feeling...

you're sending them to me?

I think so.

Even that man who keeps talking about codes?

So what are these?
Are these memories or fantasies?

All sorts of things.

Probably a little bit of everything.

I'm really sorry.

You know, you look like a famous actor.

Really?

My goodness.

Anyone I would recognise ?

Do you know who David Carradine is?

Of course.

I imagine I'm him a lot.

Lots of guys.

Lots of different times...

but him a lot.

Allison?

What are you doing in
here with the lights off?

Tell me you're all right.

I'm all right.

Yeah. Well,

you just did me a favor,

now I'm going to do you one--

go home. Take the rest of the day off.

That's not necessary.

Okay, it's not a favor. It's an order.

See you tomorrow.

Movie star guy. Movie star guy.

Movie star guy?

I need you to wake up.

There's someone on the phone for you.

Mom. Didn't you hear me?

I said "Mom, there's someone
on the phone for you."

Sorry, honey, I must have dozed off.

Hello?

Greetings from L.A.--

what do you want to hear,
the good, the bad, or the weird?

Well, it can't get any weirder
than it's been her

so start wherever you'd like.

Well the good news is
he was here, all right.

The bad news is, apparently, he jumped off
the roof of this place two nights ago.

They've been trying to I.D. him ever since.

I'm waiting for a car now

to take me to the airport pick up the family,
escort them to the morgue.

Don't laugh,

but are you sure he jumped?

Which brings us to the weird part.

Allison, this guy was as
nutty as a fruitcake.

His bathroom counter was covered with
prescription antipsychotic medications,

none of which were found in
his stomach, by the way.

He was a textbook paranoid
schizophrenic who went off his meds

and jumped off a diving
board that wasn't there.

I'm just curious.

Any of the people there,
any of the people who saw him,

any of the people at the hotel,

did anyone happen to mention
that he looked like...

a movie star?

What?

Nothing.

"She was no fool, while in the pool.

"Danielle played smart,
followed all the rules.

"She made safety her friend,

while in the deep end."

You read that good, Daddy.

My biggest fan.

Sleep tight.

I'll see you in the morning.

- Good night, Daddy.
- Good night, sweetie.

Close your eyes. Good girl. Okay.

- Daddy?
- Yes, sweetie.

When are we going to read the new one?

The new one what, babe?

The new Danielle.

Honey, I explained that to you yesterday.

There is no new Danielle.
There's only three Danielle books,

and we have them all.

Nuh-uh. There's another one.

No, sweetie, only three.

The woman who wrote them...
she's not writing them anymore.

She's done with Danielle.

Nuh-uh.

There's another one.

She told it to me.

I wrote it on your computer.

So, where's your laptop?

At the office. Of course.
'Cause I need it at home.

Well, don't stress about it.

You'll go to work,

you'll print out the file and you'll see.

How can you be so calm?

I mean, what choice do I have?

What would be so terrible
if you opened your computer

and discovered that you
do have a new Danielle book?

What would be so terrible?

Don't you find it at all disturbing that your daughter
may have taken dictation from a dead woman?

What's the matter with me?
Look at who I'm asking.

What does that mean?

I don't know. I just...

This is just one of those times when
I think I would have preferred

if they'd inherited your allergy to ragweed.

I don't mean that. I'm just...

She just turned seven.

I'd like to believe that I have a little bit
of control over who her friends are,

who she spends her time with.

Maybe you're jumping the gun.

You know, you may very well get
to work, turn on that computer,

and find you have nothing
but gobbledygook.

That would be a tremendous relief.

Is there any word from Scanlon?

Her sister and her husband identified
the body a couple of hours ago.

Apparently, he was a PhD candidate

at Stanford.

He started hearing voices
and seeing things in 1997.

He was doing pretty good on meds till 9/11.

Then he became convinced that he
held the key to some sort of coding device.

So he went off his meds so he could
concentrate on his mathematical equations.

He'd disappear for days,

pop up in other cities.

She pleaded with him to
go back on his prescriptions,

but he said that...

they interfered with his thought process.

His government work.

That's sad.

I'm gonna meet with the sister
and her husband tomorrow.

I can't even imagine
what they're going through.

Hello.

"Danielle chose not to play,
Danielle felt bad that day.

"Her smile was gone, her spirit wan.

Her best friend had moved away."

Well, darling,
there's no gobble in that gook.

Allison?

I-I... I don't know what to say.

I'm late for a meeting.
I don't know what to say.

Well, what is there to say?

Oprah has a book club.
Why shouldn't Bridgette?

Joe...

Hey, think about it.
There are a lot of great, dead authors.

She could channel a new
Hemingway novel, a new Dickens.

Imagine. A Tale of Three Cities.

C-Can we discuss this tonight?

Can we discuss this when I get home?

I suppose. Danielle will keep.

And the author certainly
isn't going anywhere.

- Sure. Tonight.
- Thank you.

Have a good meeting.

I'll try.

Nice of you to finally show up.

Sorry.

It's okay. Nice people.

Jessica Delany's very
anxious to meet the woman

whose good old-fashioned detective
work helped her find her brother.

Jessica, this is Allison Dubois.

She's the investigator who figured
out that your brother was in Los Angeles.

I'm so sorry about how things turned out.

I'm so sorry about your brother.

I appreciate that. Thank you.

Um, this is my husband David.

Um, can you hold on a minute?

I'm sorry. Forgive me. It's the mortuary.

You are, um...

Agent 47, wake up.

Allison. Allison Dubois.

You saw him throw his brother-in-law
off the roof of that hotel?

Yes. Well, no.

Actually, I saw him throw David Carradine
off the roof of that Hotel.

Actually, it was two guys he hired.

But I don't think that'
an important distinction.

Okay. Now I am confused.

How exactly does David Carradine
figure into any of this?

Well, I'm not sure, but my best guess is,

the night that David
Delany's brother-in-law died,

his spirit started sending me messages.

And unfortunately, they were the messages

of a mentally ill man who's been
off his medication for some time.

So, the things that he showed me
were the way that he perceived them.

The world that he lives in--

he's the star of his own movie.

He's the superhero.

He's a man fighting an unbeatable foe.

And of course, he made
himself look like a movie star.

I can't dismiss the fact that he cast
his brother-in-law as the villain.

That in his mind, in his delusion,

this is the man who betrayed him.

This is the man responsible for his death.

Delusion is the key wordere.

He didn't look like a movie star,

or a superhero in life, and he wasn't one.

And insofar as we can determine,
he wasn't doing any work for the government,

wasn't actually cracking terrorist codes.

Now, I'll happily ask,

but I'm reasonably certain that the
gentleman in that conference room

has a perfectly logical explanation

for where he was the night
of his brother-in-law's fall.

After all, he is the one who's been
supporting him for the last five years.

And according to Jessica,
they were very close.

Actually spent a fair
amount of time together.

Is this really something
you want us to pursue?

I don't know.

You're right. It's crazy.

He jumped, but it's just...

The movie's always more
interesting than the truth.

It's you and this guy's ***.

You saw all that nonsense he was working on.

These are nice people.

They're already in a fair amount of pain.

I'd rather not go in there and
open this particular can of worms

unless you're absolutely certain.

No. No, you're right.

We shouldn't.

What are those?

Personal effects.

We were holding onto
them as possible evidence.

Jessica wants the family photos, a scrapbook,
and her husband wants to hold on to the math.

The math?

The stuff on the walls. He's a finance guy.

Apparently, he's fascinated by the stuff.

Uh, could you hold on to
those for a couple of days

so I could take a look at them...
the math, I mean?

I was half hoping I'd read
this stuff and convince myself

it was all a product of
Bridgette's imagination,

but I just don't see her
coming up with words like "wan."

I couldn't even finish it, I was so...

She wants me to come in
there and read it to her.

Okay.

Okay? What...?

You really think this is okay, Al?

I don't know.

I don't think I should be doing
anything to encourage all this.

All what?

If you really believe this came from
the woman who wrote the Danielle books,

how lovely, how flattering

she heard our child's plea for more,
and she chose to answer it.

Uh... If you can't get your head
around that, that's fine, too.

All it means is that Bridgette is precocious.

She took the three books that she loved,

and she wrote one for herself.

Either way...

Wait a second. You really think that
Bridgette might have come up with this herself?

Kids have done crazier things.

Hell, maybe that's what inspiration is.

Some original thought, and some desire,

and a willingness to listen to the voices
of the people who came before us,

whispering to us, and encouraging us.

Why are you looking at me like that?

You think I'm crazy, right?

No.

I think you're brilliant.

I think you're beautiful.

I know you're crazy.

And I've learned there's no point in arguing

with a crazy person.

Where are you going?

I'm going to read to Bridgette.

I'll read to Bridgette.

I need you to look at something.

Some stuff I brought from office.

Okay. What is this?

It's math, I think.

You think?

I think, like you think I'm beautiful.

"Danielle was happy once more.

"Someone new had moved in next door.

"Ariel was her name.

"She had great toys and games.

Danielle would be lonely no more."

Yay.

You read that really good, Mommy.

Almost as good as Daddy.

Thank you, honey.

So, Ariel, huh?

She's the one that
makes Danielle feel better?

Yeah. Well, it's a pretty common name, Mom.

Mm.

I'm sorry that I yelled at
you for using Daddy's computer.

But it's Daddy's,
and we shouldn't play with it.

But maybe tomorrow,

I could take you to the family room
and show you how to use that one.

I mean, in case there's another story
a writer wants you to put down.

That would be really great, Mommy,

'cause I'm hearing stories
in my head all the time.

I bet you are.

Give me a kiss.

Thank you for the sugar.

Oh, no, Joe. It's worse than we thought.

Not only might she be a Touch Psychic,

I fear deeply that she may be...

creative.

You didn't find another one, did you?

Come here, I want to show you something.

What am I looking at?

Wait a second, I've seen one
of those before. What is that?

It's called a pass code generator.

It's used with secure computer networks--

the kind that big corporations
with lots of sensitive data have,

like banks and investment houses.

Okay...

Right, so let's say that you want to let your
employees use the Internet to access your network

from home or when they're on the road.

Obviously, you're going to want
to secure things with a password,

a password that's going
to change relatively frequently.

Now, what happens is, that every
few minutes or so, the company server

sends out a page to
everybody's pager or cell phone.

Wow, this sounds terribly familiar.

Now, to guard against anybody
intercepting the page or the text message,

they issue everyone...

- One of these.
- One of these.

Sorry.

Right. There's a program
that's hard-wired into this thing

that runs a series of fancy
mathematical transformations,

ultimately kicking out the new password.

The new password... the real password?

For banks, financial institutions?

Well, that's what this
particular model is for, yeah.

Of course, if you don't have one of these,

and you happen to be a friggin' genius,
then you can also do all of this.

You just lost me.

Well, all of this...

equals that.

Okay, one more time for those of us
who had to repeat math in summer school.

He was calculating pass codes.

What do you mean ?

He was doing the same thing tha
that little gadget does, only by hand.

So someone, somewhere, could get into a compute
that they otherwise couldn't get into.

Presumably.

Were you just saying something
to me about Bridgette?

Oh... yeah.

Yeah, wherever that story came from,

I really don't think it came to her whole.

There is a lot of Bridgette in it.

I think she's just smart.

Like her dad.

Mm.

Hey, wait a second, where you going?

That was just getting good.

Jessica.

When your brother first fell
to his death in Los Angeles,

after the local authorities
were able to identify him,

they all assumed...
we all assumed--

given his history of mental problems,

that his death was self-inflicted.

That he simply jumped.

But since then, some new evidence has come
to light that would seem to suggest that...

he was pushed off that roof.

Very much against his will.

I'm sorry, what are we looking at here?

Financial statements from an investment
account under your wife's name

at the firm of Wilke and Price.

I'm sorry, I'm confused.

Did you not just tell me you suspect
that my brother was murdered?

What could that possibly have to do
with my financial statements?

I assure you,
we believe there is a connection.

Well, I certainly hope that's true,
these records are private.

When I discover how they came
to be in your possession...

David.

Those documents were
provided to us by Wilke and Price.

They were more than willing to cooperate once we
alerted them to the possible irregularities in the account.

What irregularities?

As you can see, the account was
opened with an initial deposit of $50,000.

Today, barely eight months later...

it's worth over four million.

That's quite a rate of return,
wouldn't you say?

I-I don't know what to tell you.

My husband is very gifted
when it comes to making money.

He just is.

But I still don't understand what
any of this had to do with my brother.

We ch cked with your investment firme
and we discovered the damndest thing.

At 4:01 Eastern time, right after
the markets closed on Wall Street,

whoever was handling your account
would electronically access your holdings

and change them to reflect
the day's winners.

Add some gainers, drop some losers.

Pretty good investment strategy...

if you can get away with it.

Well, I'm baffled.

Darling, have you been reading your
statements when they come in the mail?

I don't know whether the bank has made
some kind of mistake in our favor or,

as you say, for some reason
somebody did... do something...But,

either way, the money isn't ours and,
naturally, we'll return it.

That's very big of you.

No, absolutely,
that's the right thing to do.

It's the only thing to do.

You were once an employee
of Wilke and Price, weren't you.

Yes, as a Senior Vice President, why?

None of you are suggesting
that I had anything to do with this?

That's absurd.

Even if I wanted to manipulate my wife's
ccount, how was I going to go about it?

I had no access to it.

I was no longer with the company.

Wouldn't be that tough.

Not if you had one of these.

Yes, but I don't.

When I left the firm,
I surrendered my pass-code device.

So you see, your theory makes no sense.

Unless, of course, you happened to have a
brother-in-law with the mathematical, skills necessary

to defeat the security safeguards that the
pass code generator was designed to protect.

A brother-in-law who
could be easily manipulated.

Who could be led to believe that
he wasn't involved in anything illegal.

That, in fact,

he was essential to
the security of this country.

But what do you do with a guy like that?

A relative? A guy who might talk?

Maybe you could tell him that the
government has a new assignment for him

in Los Angeles.

Book him a room at the hotel,

make sure that he spends
enough time there

so that everybody sees
him talking to himself,

behaving strangely.

So that when he ends up
a puddle on the sidewalk,

they don't even question why.

Darling, this isn't true.

None of this' true.

I have nothing further
to say until I speak with my lawyer.

That won't be a problem.

Actually, I have him waiting outside.

I'll bring him in.

Pardon me, sir?

Are you're David Delany's attorney?

Yes, I am.

Well, they'd like you to step inside now.

Oh, really? And you are?

Allison.

Allison Dubois.

Have we met before?

No. I don't believe we have.

I have to go pick up my kids, but you
could go through the door right there.

Oh, sir?

Just one more thing.

Uh, they'll probably arrest you.

Just a heads up.

Very well done.

Thank you.

How are you doing?

Good, I think.

Better all the time.

Still worried about my sister.

But good.

Feeling a little silly
for looking like this.

Maybe the next time we meet...

I'll...

look more like myself.

I'll look forward to that.

Someone needs to stop Clearway Law.
Public shouldn't leave reviews for lawyers.