Medium (2005–2011): Season 3, Episode 9 - Better Off Dead - full transcript

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

Hey!

I need help here.

Thanks for nothing!

Hey.

Hey.

Hey, buddy!

Yeah, you.

I'm a little surprised
you can see me.

I got two eyes, don't I?



Y-You got
a cell phone on you?

Why?
'Cause I-I think I need
to, to call the cops.

The cops? What are
you talking about?

My wife just tried to kill me.

Really?

I was sitting in the den,
watching the end of the game.

She was in the kitchen
doing dishes.

Out of nowhere, she calls out
and wants to know

i-if I got my beer
on a coaster.

So I says, "No.

No, I don't have my beer
on a coaster."

So she yells back,
"How many times, Vincent?

How many times have I told you
about the coaster?"

So I says, "I don't know.



"How many times
have I asked you

to stop being ugly?"

And then,
I didn't hear anything,

but, like, a second later,

she comes flying
out of the kitchen.

She-She's got a carving knife
in her hand,

and she's got this look
in her eyes.

Next thing I know,
she's on top of me

and I, I got my hands
around her wrist,

and her ugly face is
right up against mine.

Somehow, I push her off
a-and, and I start running,

out the door, down the block.

I-I-I ran all the way
to the boulevard here.

I mean, this is the first
I've stopped.

Look at me, look at me.

I'm shaking.

What?

I'm sorry, it's just
I... I think I get it.

The reason why you can see me,
the reason why you can hear me.

You're dead.

I beg your pardon?

Your wife...
she got you with the knife.

I'm guessing she was
on top of you?

She got you.

Th-The running,

the boulevard,
that was all after.

You're nuts.

Quite possibly, but I'm,
I'm right about this.

You're dead, I'm dead.

We're dead.

You're dead?

I'm dead?

Thanks, anyway.

I'll get a phone
somewhere else.

I-I got mugged.

Right here in
this alley.

Uh, guy was
high as a kite.

He pulled a gun.

Here, come on,
let me show you.

Look.

Ooh.
You all right?

I just had
the oddest dream.

I'm going to assume you said
that with a straight face.

Where you going?

I'm going to call
the authorities.

Come on.

It's Saturday night.

You already worked a pretty
long and sleepless week.

Don't you think
this'll keep till morning?

I'm gonna take that as a no.

S03E09 - Better Off Dead
Original Air Date:
24 January 2007

Mm, beat me to
the paper again,

huh, you little newshound?

It's the only
day of the week

when they let the
comics be in color.

You don't mind if I read
the Op-Ed section before you,

do you?

Where's Mommy?

She had to
go into work.

On a Sunday?

Apparently, crime does not
work a five-day week.

Will she be
coming back soon?

Uh, I don't know.

But she said

she was gonna help me
with my diorama this afternoon.

Relax, Bridge, relax.

No diorama drama, okay?

I'm happy to fill in for Mommy.

There was an ATM

right around
the corner.

He had a receipt
in his pocket.

Apparently, he'd just
withdrawn $500.

Whoever it was took
the cash, his watch,

left everything else.

Driver's license says
his name is Morgan Turley.

Has his family
been notified?

So far, we haven't been able
to locate any.

What about his friends?

Most of the numbers
in his cell phone

were for take-out places.

We're still running
everything down.

Apparently,
he was self-employed.

We found a businescard.

Worked out of his apartment.

I fear this is not
someone a whole lot

of people are
going to miss.

You okay?

That so doesn't look
like George Washington.

Does, too.

Looks more like an old lady
in a funny hat to me.

Tell her it's George
Washington, Dad.

It is absolutely
George Washington.

In fact,
I will stake my reputation

as a diorama-maker
on it.

However, you bring up an
interesting point, Ariel,

one that many
young scholars

like yourself
have pointed out.

Apparently, any number
of our founding fathers,

when viewed in
historical paintings,

bear an uncanny resemblance
to old ladies in funny hats.

Yeah, that's what
men wore back then.

White wigs and
weird hats.

It's not their fault

that's what grandmas
dress likethesedays.

Bridge, I'm sorry,

but grandmas don't even dress
likethatanymore.

I'm Morgan,
by the way.

Morgan Turley.

No.

Uh-uh. Uh-uh.

This is
really nuts.

No, i-it's not nuts.

It's, it's just the way
that it works.

It's me.

I've just passed on,
just like you have.

I-I, I know it sounds crazy,
but once you accept it,

once you embrace it,
it actually feels pretty good.

Come on.

Let me show you something.

*

I know it's hard to look at.

I know it's hard to accept,

but... you can't spend
the rest of forever

running through the streets
in your underwear.

Doesn't really look
like a millionaire, does she?

Is she?

Well, she
will be soon.

That's Cadence Bixby.

She's Morgan Turley's
sole heir.

Washea millionaire?
No,

but he had a life insurance
policy worth that much,

and since she's
the only beneficiary,

she wants to offer a reward
for any information

leading to the capture
of his killer.

Wow.

Is she family?

Actually,
she barely knew him.

I don't get it.

Well, apparently,
our boy Morgan

really liked cats.

Ms. Bixby

over there was just
explaining in great detail

how she rescues strays
in her free time.

Brings dozens of the little
critters in off the streets,

cleans them up,
tries to find them homes.

Long story short,
Morgan adopted six of them

from her
over the past two years.

Anyway, her coffee's
getting cold.

Well, wait a second.

I wanted to ask you: has
that second body turned up yet?

Mr. Underwear?

No, but, uh, if
I hear anything,

you'll be the
first to know.

FYI, uh, I've been asked by
Ms. Bixby to spread the word

there's going to be
a memorial service

for Mr. Turley at Our Lady
of Sorrows tonight at 7:00.

I hear all the coolest cats and
kittens are going to be there,

so if you're hoping to get a
good seat, I'd sashay in early.

Mm...

Okay, explain it

to me one more time
why you're going

to a memorial service for a man
that you didn't even know.

Because he has no one.

He's leaving all his money
to a perfect stranger,

for goodness' sake.

And that's your
problem because...?

Well, he's not leaving
the money to you, is he?

Look, I've been dreaming
about this man for, what,

two days now?

Presumably,
there's a reason.

Maybe it's to help figure out
who did this to him.

Or maybe it's to be there
when the few people

that he encountered
in his life

gather together
to say good-bye.

I'm not smart enough
to know.

But I have been doing this
long enough to know

that something
about this man--

his or his death,
maybe-- matters.

Yeah, it's just that yesterday
you weren't home.

Tonight, you're going out.

Which reminds me.

I saw Bridgette's diorama
in the kitchen.

Who's the old lady
in the boat?

You don't get to do that.

What? Did I say something wrong?

If you're not here,
you don't get to critique.

(laughs)
Har-dee-har-har.

It wasn't an old
lady in the boat?

That's George Washington,

the father of our country,

and if you don't like
the way he looks,

I'm sorry.
then you should stay home

the next time your daughter
has a project.

Okay, I'm sorry,
I didn't know.

They all looked like that
back then.

Joe, I'm sorry.

I'd like to thank

Pastor Grimes again
for his lovely eulogy.

And for allowing me to get up
here and say a few words

about my good friend, Morgan.

Morgan was a quiet man,

a shy man.

Deep down, I guess...
a lonely man.

He kept mostly
to himself.

It took time to get
to know Morgan.

It took effort.

We grew up together,
so I had an advantage.

We knew each
other's secrets.

And one of Morgan's
biggest secrets

was that he was happiest
by himself.

Happiest in his apartment.

Once or twice a month, I
could usually drag him out

to a movie or
a ball game.

But that was it
for him.

Pleasure in
small doses.

That was all
he could handle.

I'm gonna miss him.

The talks after we would
leave the theater.

Or just sitting
in his apartment,

staring out the window.

His favorite way to deal
with the world.

Good-bye Morgan.

You were a good man

and a great friend.

Mr. Turley?

I'm glad you were
able to see this.

I'm glad that you
were able to see

that people really do care.

You can see me?

You know that I'm here?

This is weird.

You don't look dead.

I'm not.

It's a long story.

But don't worry;
I'm the only one.

Actually, I'm with the
District Attorney's office.

And I want to take
this opportunity

to assure you we are
going to find the person

who did this to you.

We are going to punish the
person who did this to you.

You know, it's okay
if you don't.

Excuse me?

I got to believe you've got
better things to do.

I mean, you find the person
that did this to me,

it's not going
to change anything.

I'm still
going to be dead.

You deserve justice,
Mr. Turley.

And we certainly
don't want

whoever did this to
you to do it again.

Oh, I wouldn't worry
about that.

I don't think he would.

I got the distinct impression
that this was a one-time thing.

Well, on the off-chance
that you're wrong,

is there anything
you can tell me

about this man?

He rebuffed you?

He rebuffed me.

I looked down
for a second

to get something
out of my purse,

and he was gone.

The nerve of some ghosts.

He looked so threatened,

like I was some kind
of problem or something.

Well, who knows?

Maybe he was embarrassed.

Embarrassed by what?

Well, the guy's at his
own memorial service.

He's spying on his friends,

listening to what they
had to say about him.

It's a little narcissistic,
it's a little embarrassing

if you get caught at it.

I just wanted him to know
that I cared.

I just want him
to know

that whoever did this
to him

wasn't simply going
to get away with it.

All right, I
get that, I do,

and I'm sure
that he does, too,

so just be patient.

If he really wants your help,

I'm sure he'll
come asking for it.

I certainly would
if I were dead.

She really did it.

I'm sorry.

I just thought...

you seemed like you really
needed to see the truth.

It seemed like you were having
a hard time accepting.

Oh.

My grandfath's watch.

Killing me wasn't enough.

She had to make me
break that watch.

This watch?

This is a hundred-
year-old watch.

My Grandpa DiScala,
he gave it to me

on his deathbed.

Let it go, Vincent.

We don't need watches
where we're going.

Why, Gladys?!

All right, I know
you hated me,

but I never knew you
hated me this much.

You know...

for a fellow
murder victim,

you're being pretty Zen
about all this.

I'm dead.

Why shouldn't I be Zen?

Aren't you ticked?

Don't you want to get
the guy who killed you?

I'm beyond all that now;
you should be, too.

What happened to you, anyway?

Mugging, huh?

Well... um, not exactly.

What do you mean,
"not exactly"?

How'd you end up getting
shot in that alley?

I... it's kind of a...

a long story actually.

Look at me, friend.

I got nothing but time, right?

You know what?

I'd rather show you
than tell you.

We have to go
somewhere else now?

My apartment, yeah.

Uh, seriously,
Vincent...

I'm not sure
that you want to see this.

Oh... all
right, fine.

Your apartment, it is.

Vincent and Gladys DiScala.

Got it.

Anything else?

She cut him up with a saw;
that's why we can't find him.

No way to get a warrant,

but once I have an address,
I could certainly swing by

and ask a few questions
about her husband's whereabouts.

You want to come with?

Can't.

I'm on my way
to Morgan Turley's apartment.

What for?

Well, in that same dream,
Morgan started to suggest

that maybe there was more
to it than just a mugging.

And then he said
he'd rather show Vincent

why he was killed than tell him.

He made it sound like the answer
was somewhere in his apartment.

I just...

I just want to take a look.

Hey, kitty, kitty.

Oh, kitty.

Can I help you
with something?

Hello again.

Hello.

Is there something
I can help you with?

I was just looking
at this chair.

I was wondering why it was
pointing towards the window.

I like looking
out the window.

I've always liked
looking out the window,

ever since
I was a little boy.

Anything else?

No, I...

Do you want me to call someone
about your cats?

Maybe that wom you left
the money to?

I'm sure you want them
to find good homes.

No, don't call her.

I don't want her to see
where I lived.

Somebody else,
call somebody else.

What? Why are you looking
at me like that?

I don't know.

I asked you if you could tell me
anything about your killer

the other day,
and you just disappeared.

I apologize.

I... I was confused.

You are alive
but you could see me.

I didn't understand
about people like you.

I'm sorry if I frightened you.

It's okay.

You look nervous.

I'm not nervous.

It's awfully dark in here.

You afraid someone's
going to see you?

Hey, wait a second,
isn't that her?

Isn't that the woman
we were just talking about,

the one you left
all that money to?

The one who said
that she barely knew you?

Cadence... something?

???

??? ne tonight
as police continue to find

small pieces
of Glendale resident

Vincent DiScala buried
throughout the backyard

of his home.

His wife, Gladys DiScala,
is being taken into custody,

but so far police refuse

to discuss the specifics
of the evidence

against her at this time.

I don't quite know how
I'm going to break this

to poor Bridge.

I don't think we
have enough magnets

to stick this "A+" diorama

depicting the father
of our country

to the refrigerator.

Hmm.

Did I mention the "A+"?

I just don't get it.

Why wouldn't he want to tell me
who did this to him?

Give me a description?

Tell me what really happened?

Because he doesn't
want you to know.

But why?

Why would a person
in their right mind

not want their
killer found?

Don't you find
it mystifying?

Uh, no. What I
find mystifying

is your insistence
on helping this man,

despite the fact that
he doesn't want it.

He's dead.

Let him lie in peace.

For that matr,

how about the two
of us lying in peace?

That makes no sense,
that's crazy.

Why protect the person
who ended your life?

That's crazy?

How about leaving
everything you have

to a woman that
you barely knew?

A woman you say this
guy peeped on every day?

Consider the
source, Allison.

Yeah, well...

I love you, too.

What's the deal with the cats?

What do you mean "What's
the deal with the cats"?

They're cats.
Don't you like cats?

Not really.

But I guess you do, huh?

I'm allergic, actually.

What? Then how come
you got so many?

I mean,hadso many.

You ever been
in love, Vincent?

I don't know.

Given the events of
the past few days,

and, uh, given
the circumstances

of my present condition,

I have to say I would like

to think about that
before I answer. Why?

Her?

Looks like
she had a party.

She's got a lot
to celebrate.

She just came
into a lot of money.

Good for her.
Yup.

Left her everything I had.

I don't get it.

What's not to get?
Look at her.

Okay, but she's alive,

and you're kind
of indisposed.

Are you trying to tell
me that she may have had

something to do
with your...

untimely passing?

It wasn't untimely, Vincent.

It was precisely timed.
It was perfectly timed.

Wait a second.

Are you trying
to tell me that she's
the one who shot you?

You want to hear
the whole story?

You want to hear all about it?

Okay.

Hang on a second.

I think somebody else is here.

Somebody is listening to us.

It's you, isn't it?

Nobody invited you here.

Wake up!

Did you hear me?

I said "Wake up." Wake up!

Get your head
out of my... death.

You want me to give you
a bad dream?

Okay. You asked for it.

That is so not fair.

Morgan Turley was in
love with the cat lady.

Cadence Bixby?

When I heard about
that million dollars

he left her, I had a hunch
he might have been

more hot than cold on her.

I think he overplayed
his hand though.

It's kind of tough
to close the deal

from where he is,
don't you think?

I think she may have
seduced him, talked him

into getting that ridiculous
life insurance policy,

and then killed him.

Can we talk to her?

Ms. Bixby?

I'm District
Attorney Devalos.

This is Allison Dubois.

Of course, you
already know

Detective Scanlon.
We very much

appreciate you coming
down to speak with us.

Now you've gone too far.

This woman had nothing
to do with anything.

Your assistant on the phone
said you wanted

to talk to me about what
happened to poor Mr. Turley?

Has someone come forward
with new information?

Are they trying to claim
the reward money that I offered?

Let's talk in the
conference room please.

Do you want me
to give you bad dreams

every night for the rest
of your life?

And that would change
my life how, exactly?

I'm begging you,
put a stop to this.

No good can come of this.

Tell me what really
happened in that alley.

Who shot you?

Why? Why do you care?

You ever heard of the expression

"die in peace"?

Ms. Bixby, it's

my understanding that when you
came to see Detective Scanlon

the other day, you told him you
hardly knew Morgan Turley.

That's true.
I run a small,

non-profit
shelter for cats.

I take in strays,
try to find them homes.

One day, Mr. Turley just
walked through the door.

Said he loved cats, was
wondering if he could adopt one.

Is that a crime?

And that's it?

That's the extent
of your relationship?

Well, it actually
happened a number of times.

I believe he ultimately
ended up adopting

about a half dozen strays.

Sounds like a nice man.

He seemed so.

Ms. Bixby, didn't
you find it odd

that someone you barely knew

would leave you
so much money?

Of course.

It's been overwhelming.

Morgan Turley has
changed my life.

I can only guess
that the cats

I placed with him
gave him great joy,

that he was looking
for a way to say thank you,

to support the work that made
those adoptions possible,

But why leave that money
to you, specifically?

He didn't leave
it to your shelter.

He didn't leave it
to any of the bigger,

better known organizations
that do similar work.

What do you mean "why"?

Because I trust her.

Because it was my money.

I could do whatever the hell
I wanted to with it.

Oh, my goodness.

You think that I
might have something

to do with his murder,

don't you?
No. No one's saying that.

We're exploring all
sorts of possibilities,

but it'd be helpful
if you could tell us

where you were this
past Saturday night.

Is there anyone
who can vouch for
your whereabouts?

No.

I was home.

But I was by myself.

Am I in trouble?

Do I need a lawyer?

I'm begging you--
look at her.

Is that the face
of a killer?

Is that the face of
a person who could

pull the trigger on
another human being?

She rescues pussycats
for God's sake!

So you never
had any contact

with Mr. Turley
outside of the shelter?

You didn't know him
in any context

except as a man who was
interested in adopting cats?

When they first called
to tell me he had passed away

and left me his
insurance money,

I couldn't even
remember who he was.

What did I tell you?
Come on, Mrs. Dubois.

You can put a
stop to this.

You can do it.

Did you know you
were neighbors?
Oh, no.

No, no, no.
Don't tell her that!
Really?

I believe he lived directly
across the street from you.

And who knows, maybe you can
see his apartment from yours?

Wouldn't that be
an amazing coincidence.

And maybe he could see

your apartment from his.

Oh.

Okay. I give.

I'll tell you anything
you want to know.

Just don't tell
her anything else.

Don't ask her
anything else.

Isn't there any way
we can check on that?

Excuse yourself.

Right now. Let's go
out into the hallway,

and I'll tell
you everything.
Perhaps.

Can you excuse me a second?

I need to step outside.

I need to check on something.
I'll be right back.

I did it.
You did what?

I killed myself.

You did not.

Did, too.

Cross my heart and hope to die.

Ask anybody who knows me.

I've always talked
about killing myself.

That's not funny,
and that's not true.

There's nothing
about your injuries

that are consistent
with suicide.

Besides, everyone knows,

life insurance doesn't
pay off on suicides.

If you prove it was a suicide.

Which we can't because it isn't.

Well, then...

I guess we're at a standoff.

Really? I was just
thinking of taking Cadence

for a little tour of your place.

Checking out the cats,
showing her

your view from your
living room window.

No!

Yes!
Oh, no.

Don't tell me you're
dragging him into this, too?

I'm sorry to
bother you.

Do you work here?

Yes, I do.

I'm looking for
my fianc, Cadence?

Cadence Bixby?

Your fianc?
Your fianc?

Do you know where
she might be?

She's right in there.

Thanks.

You never told me that
Cadence and Nick were...

That's it, I'm done.

The guy doesn't care
about catching his killer,

why should I?

It's just so strange.

You'd think the way he
always kept an eye on her,

he'd have a clue that she was
involved with his best friend.

Do I feel sorry
for the guy? Absolutely.

Am I gonna lose any more
sleep over him? No.

Me, either.

Okay.

I'm ready.

Pull the trigger.

You sure about this?

Don't back out on me, Nick.

Please.

I'm begging you.

With friends

like that, huh?

I don't understand.

Morgan wanted to die?

That was before he knew
his best pal

was shacking up
with the girl he loved.

Now, I think he's having
second thoughts.

Did you send me
that dream, Mr. DiScala?

I know you've been
trying to help him.

Considering the hit
the poor guy took today,

I thought you ought
to know the truth.

You okay?

Vincent filled me in,

showed me what really
happened in that alley.

But why, Morgan?

Why would you do that?

I loved
Cadence Bixby.

From the moment I laid eyes
on her, through this window,

I loved Cadence Bixby.

I watched her up
here for months--

getting ready for
work in the morning,

coming home from
work in the evening--

and I thought
to myself,

"My God, if I could just
get close to this woman,

if I could just matter
to this woman."

And then,

I decided to
follow her.

I wanted to know more than
what I saw from up here--

where she worked,
where she ate.

And then I discovered
the shelter.

It took me weeks to get up
the courage to go in.

And once I did,

once I was actually
close to her,

she was even more beautiful,
more special.

And I never knew what to do,
and I never knew what to say.

I just kept
adopting cats.

It was the one
thing that worked.

Whenever I did it, she'd
be mine for a half hour.

Asong as it took to fill out
the paperwork, she'd be mi.

But that still
doesn't explain...

Doesn't it?

I showed her to him--

right here, a little
more than a year ago.

I thought if he saw her, he
could understand why she was

the only thing I
ever talked about.

I guess he understood
more than I knew.

I can't believe
he kept that from you,

knowing what you were
planning to do.

But it was his
plan, Mrs. Dubois.

It was his idea.

The million-dollar insurance
policy, the staged mugging--

it was all his idea.

He just talked
me into it.

This doesn't make sense.

How can anyone possibly talk you
into letting them kill you?

I'd been threatening to do it
to myself for years.

Suddenly, it all made sense.

I could put myself
out of the pain I was in

and give her
this remarkable gift.

I would matter to her.

And little did you know,

all that money wouldn't
just be going to Cadence.

It would eventually find
its way to her new husband,

your best friend, Nick.

I'm really depressed.

I haven't felt
this suicidal since...

since I was alive.

Well, maybe there's something
we can do about that.

Where is she?

Ms. Bixby is waiting for you
in the conference room.

I believe you know the way.

Cade...

I don't know
what these people

have been filling
your head with,

but I'm here to tell you
it's not true.

I called a lawyer;
he's on his way.

But I don't
understand.

Why would you
do that, Nick?

If everything they
told me wasn't true,

why would you even
need a lawyer?

Come on.

Let's talk about this outside.

What's wrong
with right here?

We don't have
anything to hide.

Do we?

Cadence was just telling us
how odd she found it

that it wasn't until
Morgan passed away

that you even mentioned
that he was your friend.

Darling...

I explained that already.

He and I weren't
getting along.

We weren't speaking,
that's all.

I loved him,

but he was a depressed,
moody guy.

If I'd known you two had
already met through the shelter,

don't you think
I would've told you?

I wish you had.

Because considering
the amount of money

he was planning on leaving
me, it would've been nice

to get to know him
a little better.

Maybe even have him
over for dinner.

Now, that would have been
a fascinating dinner.

You, your best friend,

and the woman you were seeing
behind his back.

Might have made it
more difficult

convincing him to let you
shoot him, though.

Look, Morgan was killed
by a stranger,

a mugger.

I know you're under
a lot of pressure.

I'm sorry you're having trouble
finding the person who did this.

But if you think
I'm gonna stand here

and let you
accuse me of...

of hurting my friend...

Funny thing about muggings,
Mr. Lewin--

the money that gets stolen

often doesn't stay
with the mugger very long.

It gets spent.

Which is unfortunate, because
it frequently contains evidence

that connects the mugger
to the crime.

SCANLON:
At the very least,

you might find
the perpetrator's fingerprints.

At most, if it was a violent
mugging, there could be

microscopic amounts of blood
spatter from the victim.

Can't get much more violent
than a bullet to the brain,

can you, Mr. Lewin?

You know,

I wish you could find the money.

You know why?

Because I know if it had
that evidence on it,

that blood you're talking about,

it would absolutely
prove my innocence.

Unfortunately,
for both of us,

you're probably right.

It probably was spent.

Which means it could be
anywhere by now.

Well, maybe not anywhere.

Turns out the $500

Mr. Turley withdrew
from that ATM was spent

at a pawn shop downtown the very
same night he was murdered.

The owner said he only made
one sale that night-- a ring.

A modest engagement ring.

That couldn't possibly be
this ring, right?

You said this belonged

to yourlate mother

That's right, it did.

Well, that's peculiar,

because when we showed
your picture to the owner,

he identified you as the only
customer he had that evening.

He even let a few of

our lab techs take a look
at the money

that was still
in the cash register.

We found the evidence
we were looking for

on this 20, Mr. Lewin.

Morgan's blood,
your fingerprints.

Mr. Lewin, you're under arrest
for the murder of Morgan Turley.

You have the right
to remain silent.

Anything you say
can and will be used

against you
in a court of law.

I don't understand.

You have the right to counsel...

I didn't tell anyone
I went to that shop.

How could you possibly...?

We received a tip

late last night that pretty much
gave us everything we needed.

From who?

From someone who knows

what it means to be a friend.

From someone who knows
what it means to be loyal.

You did the right
thing, you know.

I know.

I just...

I hate to see
her so sad.

Plus, now the
insurance company's

gonna make her give
back the money.

I really did a
horrible thing.

I don't know.

This Cadence girl--
least as far as I can tell--

she doesn't strike me
as the kind

who gets too hung up on money.

I mean, I'm sure
she's gonna miss it,

but I have a feeling that
what she'll always remember

is that once upon a time,

there was a man who cared
so deeply about her,

he was actually willing
to give up everything

for her.

I think that's
a pretty good thing.

It ain't a million bucks.

But I think that's
a pretty good thing.

Now, come on.

I'm getting a little
sick of this view.

What say we both move

onward and upward,
if you know what I mean?

You know, Vincent, I'm
really glad we met.

You're a true pal.

Likewise, Morgy.

Likewise.

What's going on?

You okay?

I'm better than okay.

I'm good.

I'm great.

And I'm so happy I'm not
going through this alone.

I have no idea what
you're talking about.

That's okay, pal.

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