Oz (1997–2003): Season 3, Episode 3 - Legs - full transcript

In the boxing program, O'Reily spikes Robson's spritzer bottle before his bout with Cyril. Rebadow's mother tries to persuade him to meet his son and grandson. Meanwhile, Nappa finds out he's HIV-positive and is moved to Cell Block E.

[bright tones]

[tense jazzy music]

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

- I used to be a runner.

Uh-huh.

Not a marathoner.
A runner.

Marathons are bullshit.
They're all hype.

Some official picks a random day
and rain or cold

you're out pounding the pavement



alongside 50,000 other
dumb fucks.

No, there's some things

it's better to do
all by yourself.

[soft dramatic music]

- O'Brien.

♪ ♪

Bevilacqua.

Alvarez.

Holy shit.

[dramatic music]

♪ ♪

- Alvarez.

♪ ♪

Alvarez.



Alvarez, can you hear me?

♪ ♪

I told you
this would happen.

- Yes, you're very smart.

We'll miss you
when you're gone.

- The question is
will Alvarez live?

- Yes.

- Then let's all relax.
- Relax?

- Leo, just because Alvarez
is going to be okay

doesn't mean we're gonna be
so lucky next time.

Dr. Garvey, the next inmate
you deprive of medication,

simply because it's expensive,

may die.

- The Weigert Corporation
was contracted

to provide health care
to the state prison system

for the purpose
of keeping costs down.

My job is
to make judgment calls.

According to the deal Weigert
made with the governor,

I have complete autonomy,

and I will not have
that autonomy broached,

under any circumstances.

- [sighs]

[door slams]

- Well.
- Leo, this is bullshit.

- He's right.
I have no authority over him.

- So what do we do?

[tense music]

- Go public.

♪ ♪

If there's anything else
I can do, please let me know.

- I will.
- Thank you.

- Who's that?

- Rick Donn,
Channel 2 News.

He wants an interview
about Alvarez.

- You didn't tell
him anything about--

- Yes, I did.

I figure since you gave me
two weeks notice,

I got nothing to lose.

- I'll tell them you're nothing
but a disgruntled employee.

- You can do that, sure.

Maybe they'll believe you,
maybe this'll all blow over.

But after I'm gone
and the next screw-up happens,

maybe this time someone dies,

you won't have anyone
to blame then, Garvey.

If I were you,
I'd switch to a red tie.

You'll look better
on camera.

♪ ♪

- Hello.

Is he in?

This is an emergency.

[knocking]
- Come in.

Ah, Dr. Nathan.

[door closes]

I have a problem,
Gloria.

This situation with an inmate,
Miguel Alvarez.

Rick Donn called my office
wanting an interview,

wanting to ask how I thought
things were going with Weigert.

I then received a call
from Ross Davoli,

the CEO of Medmore,

which is the parent
company of Weigert.

Ross is an old friend,

a very generous friend.
- Governor--

- You haven't gone
on camera yet, have you, Gloria?

- No, I haven't.
- Good.

Here's what I propose,
you keep your job,

Alvarez goes back
on the medication

and Weigert agrees
to loosen up the purse strings.

♪ ♪

- And Garvey?

- Oh, he's gone.

Turns out in the early '70s
he was a back-alley abortionist.

A woman he was servicing
died on the table.

He moved here,

sued to have
his license restored

and won.
Don't ask me how.

In any case, I'm sure Rick Donn
will be more than satisfied

with that exclusive
and allow the rest of the story

to die a natural death.

People tell me
you're a reasonable person.

Be reasonable now.

Give me your cooperation.

- [sighs]
I wanna stay,

but I need to know that things
are really gonna be different.

♪ ♪

- You have my solemn word.

♪ ♪

- Garvey resigned today
amidst the controversy.

Governor Devlin said he would
hold the Weigert Corporation

accountable for its actions.

A spokesman for the company said
that they had no knowledge

of Garvey's prior record

and have promised
a re-evaluation of their policy

for correctional facilities
nationwide.

♪ ♪

- Miguel?

- Am I dead?

♪ ♪

Am I in heaven?

- Not quite.

- Shit.

Shoulda let me die.

Shoulda let me die.

♪ ♪

- Prisoner number 9-9-S-2-3-3,

Nikolai Stanislofsky.

Convicted February 14th, '99,

possession of stolen goods
with intent to sell.

Sentence: 15 years.

Up for parole in five.

♪ ♪

- You're Russian?
- Yes.

- From Russia?

- Yes.

- You were born in Russia?
- Yes.

- Wow.

First time in Oz?

- Only time.

- Hmm, you'll get used to it.

- I was seven years
in a Soviet Gulag.

This place is cake.

Who's the girl?
- Pearl necklace time, man.

[overlapping chatter
and laughter]

- That's miss sally.

- Look at those fucking tits.

Goddamn.

[tense percussive tones]

- Tell me,

are we anywhere close
to death row?

- Yeah, why?

You know somebody on death row?

- A man I knew,

Alexander Vogel, was killed.

I would like to shake the hand
of the man who murdered him.

- That'd be Richie Hanlon.

- Richie Hanlon.

Prekrasno.

♪ ♪

- Richie.

Hon...

hold up your arm,
will you?

- Hmm?

- For the sweater.

What do you think,
about four bars?

- Three.

[gate scraping]

- Mail.

- Long time no see, Vern.

- Mm-hmm.
- [laughs softly]

- Did you miss me?
- Breathlessly.

- I got that tea pot
you ordered.

- [inhales slowly]
Thanks, darling.

- My, you are turning this cell
into quite the little nest.

- My new lawyer's
taking my appeal

to the State Supreme Court.

Figure I'd be here
a while longer.

- Well, that is good news.
- [laughs softly]

[taps]
Yeah.

- Hello, Richie.

Nothing for you today.

Guess all
your little fag friends

are too busy
getting their legs waxed.

- Fuck you,
Schillin-jer.

- Schillinger,
asshole.

- Richie.

- Mmm.

- What's this thing
between you and Vern?

Every time he comes around here
you boys snarl at each other.

- Long story.

- Well, I've got
no other appointments today.

- That bastard is
the reason I'm on death row.

He and another Aryan creep
killed a Russian,

hung him by his ankles
in the gym,

carved "Jew" on his chest.

[dramatic tone]

Then they told me if I didn't
confess to the murder

they'd kill me.
- Mmm.

Death sentence either way.

- Mm-hmm.

- But if you know
you're gonna die,

why not tell the truth?

The other one, Mark Mack,

is already dead.

Besides, why should the hacks
listen to me now?

I tell 'em Schillinger did it,
they say "prove it."

I have no proof.

- Unless you say
you did it together.

[tense music]

- What?
- Lie.

Tell them you and Vern
both killed the Russian.

♪ ♪

- How does that save me?
- It doesn't, honey.

But it does mean his ass
will be sitting up here

in the cell next to yours.

- Huh.

- Something to consider, Richie.

Just something to consider.

[indistinct chatter]

- Coyle.

How you doing?
You comfortable?

- What the fuck you care?

- Why'd you tell Hill
you murdered that family?

Why didn't you just keep
your fuckin' mouth shut?

- You might as well be asking me

why I had Frankie
go videotape me do the deed.

Then you might as well ask me
why I even do the deed at all.

If you can't figure
none of that shit out,

you don't belong here,
McManus.

- Fine.
I don't belong here.

Why'd you tell Hill?

- Hill.

I mean...[scoffs]

he different than the
other niggers in this place.

I wanted his respect.

- Respect.

- Now I want him dead.

You happy, McManus?

You got everything
you came for?

You see, I wanted his respect,
now I want him dead.

It's a thin line
between love and hate.

You got that, McManus,
you bastard.

[chuckles softly]

♪ ♪

- Channel 2 News brings you
shocking evidence

presented as testimony
against suspect Malcolm Coyle.

Brutal home videos
of the Ciancimino family

murdered one by one.
Two young men's twisted...

- Jesus Christ, why do
they gotta show that?

- Don't be a vag,
O'Reily.

- Hey, pal, I'm no vag,

but why they gotta
put that stuff on TV?

- It's evidence
in Coyle's trial.

- Evidence fine, show it
in the goddamn courtroom,

but not on
the fuckin' local news.

Hey, how would you like it
if you came home,

you put the tube on,
there's your grandmother

with her guts spilling out
for everyone to fuckin' see?

- I wanna put on
"Miss Sally's Schoolyard."

- Yeah.

Miss Sally's
got big bazooms.

- Big bazooms.

- Settle down, Cyril.

- There go the jabber
right there.

- They put Hill in
protective custody.

- That ain't gonna
save his rat ass.

He gonna pay
for what he did to Snake.

- The grand jury had me
going around in circles.

- You did great.

Besides,
they saw the videotape.

Coyle's gonna get indicted,
then convicted.

- Hey, you know the best thing
about this whole thing?

- Hmm?
- Being outside.

Getting driven through the city.

The energy.
The ladies.

City's got
two new skyscrapers too.

- Mm-hmm.
- But mostly,

mostly the sense of freedom,

you know, like,
being out of harm's way.

Like Wangler and those guys,

they gonna kill me.

You know,
I don't blame them.

I'm still not sure rattin' out
Coyle was the right thing to do.

I mean, those
people are dead.

This trial won't
bring 'em back.

Meanwhile,
I'm in some deep shit.

- We'll take care of you.

- [laughing]
Okay.

- [sighs]

- [coughing]

- You all right?

- Yeah.
I think I got the flu.

Go on with what you were
saying about Hill.

- Nobody likes a snitch.
- That's true,

but we gonna put that aside
for the moment.

Now, what I'm doing
is I am appealing

to your sense of conscience.

Now all of you here.

you have committed murder,

but only in the course
of conducting business.

- That's true.
This is different.

- You're all family men.

Coyle's murdering
of an innocent family

threatens your families
on the outside too.

- What do you want,
Said?

- Help me protect Hill.

All of us together,

we make it clear to Wangler

we will not tolerate
any harm coming to him.

- You know, I knew
the Ciancimino family a little.

Nice people.
Never hurt a soul.

And the father,

he died in 'Nam.

- 'Nam, huh?

Count the brotherhood in.

- You?

- Sure.

- Nappa?

- Not only will
no one touch Hill,

but, uh...

I'll do you one better.

[dramatic music]

♪ ♪

- Yo, Nappa airholed Snake, man,

and we've got to airhole Nappa.

And that cripple, snitch,
bitch-ass, nigga Hill,

we got to whack
his ass, too.

- [scoffs]
Chill, yo.

We can't fuck with either
one of them right now.

We have the fuckin' Sicilians,

the Muslims,
the Aryan motherfuckers,

and the Spics
all over our dicks.

We gotta chill, yo.

- So what we gonna do?

Let 'em disrespect us
like that?

- [scoffs]
Disrespect.

Fuck that.

We just got to wait
for the right time,

and then we'll nail both they
asses to the fucking wall.

You heard?

- Word.

[soft dramatic music]

- Momma, Momma...

[crying]

[lock clicks, door opens]

- Okay, Ricardo,

you think you could
behave yourself now?

[tense music]

♪ ♪

- Where's Isabella?

- The baby's keeping
her pretty busy.

- Yeah, she thought maybe he was
coming down with the flu.

- The flu?
- [speaking Spanish]

- Poppa, you told me
you'd never lie to me.

- Ah, the baby has been sick.

It's nothing serious.

But Juan told her
she had to stay home.

- Juan, Juan.
That cocksucker never liked me.

Ever since I fucked his cousin
at the wedding.

- You fucked his cousin?

- She gave me a little head
in the men's room.

Juan walked in.
- Jesus.

- Look, they've been
arguing a lot...

- Yeah, well,
I told her not to marry him.

- About her coming here.

She said for now she won't
be visiting you anymore.

She doesn't want
to end up divorced

and with a baby.
- Oh, yeah?

Oh , yeah?

Well, fuck her then.
- Carlos.

- No, fuck her
and that cabron she married.

Fuck them both.
- I'll ask her--

- No, no, Pop, no.
I'm dead to them?

Okay, she's dead to me.
You tell her that.

You tell that bitch
that she's fuckin' dead to me.

I never wanna hear
her fuckin' name again.

♪ ♪

- [breathing heavily]
"Hitting the wall",

that's what they call it.

The moment when you
can't take it anymore.

When you've pushed yourself
and strained every muscle.

When you think
if you go one more step

your body will implode.

- [groans]

- What do you want?

- Sometimes it's
good to pray.

When you're unhappy,
ask God for his help.

We could pray together.
- Oh, yeah?

♪ ♪

What you should
be praying for

is that I don't
cut you right now.

- Drop the knife.
- Oh-ho.

Why don't you come
and take it?

Huh?
Huh?

- I got a code 19.

- Gimme it,
gimme it!

- [grunting]

- You got it?
Get him out.

Get him out.
- Get the fuck out.

- You've got no balls.

You've got no fuckin' balls.

♪ ♪

- Hey, bitch boy.

- You writing poetry?

- Man, I don't do that
shit no more.

- Why?

- 'Cause I don't feel
like it, all right?

I just don't
feel like it.

- Too bad.
You wrote good.

- Yo, Adebisi, man, leave me
the fuck alone, man, please?

[clicks tongue]

- Here you go,
brother Minister.

- Thank you.

- You've been on this hunger
strike for four days now.

We've had no reaction
from McManus or Glynn.

- That's because they
think I'm bluffing.

But soon they will see.

Don't worry, brother.

This hunger strike
won't last much longer.

- The judge has accepted
our class-action suit.

- That is excellent.

So when does
the trial begin?

- Two months.

- That long?

- Justice moves slowly.

- If it moves at all.

Wait.

There is one more thing.

I want you to pay a visit
to the warden.

- This hunger strike started
because you wouldn't allow Said

to have food
in his cell at night

so that he could fast
during the day.

- I won't grant him
special status.

- As of tomorrow, two more
Muslims will stop eating.

The day after that,
three more will stop

and so on and so on
until every Muslim in Oz,

until every Muslim
in every prison in this state

is on a hunger strike.

I'm not the state's attorney,
but my guess is he'd say that

the last thing
you need right now

on top of the class-action suit

is a prison system full of men
dying for their faith.

Bad press, bad karma,
gentlemen.

[door opens and closes]

- I say we let
Said have his way.

- Leo, you give in now,
what's to stop him

from using a hunger strike
the next time he makes demands?

- We'll deal with the next time
the next time.

Hopefully, this lawsuit
will be settled.

- You let him win,
his stature only grows.

We lose.
- [chuckles softly]

- Sometimes the only way
to win is to lose.

- [groans]

♪ ♪

[apple crunching]

- What I don't get
are these treadmills.

These people that just want
to run, run, run on a machine.

I mean, sure,
you drop a few pounds,

you tighten some sinews,

but you still haven't
gone anywhere.

It's like being a hamster
in one of them circley things

in a cage.

Me?

I don't wanna be
a hamster no more.

- Hi.

[sighs]
Look, Tim, about the other day--

- You don't--
- Let me.

I completely overreacted.

Diane Whittlesey's mother dies,
you comfort her,

and I make it
into this big thing

like you're still in love
with her or something.

I'm cloying bitch,
is that it?

- [grunts]
Fuck!

- Let go of me!
- Stop!

Stop!
Calm down!

- I was wrong.

I'm an idiot.

I'm sorry.

All I want is for us
to be back to where we were.

- [exhales]

Don't you see?
We weren't anywhere.

Look, I'm sorry
if I misled you,

but you--you came on to me
like gangbusters.

I didn't think
the sex would mean that much.

I--I'm not looking
for a serious relationship.

The truth is,
I'm shit at commitment,

except to my job.

If I wanted to be married,
I would still be married.

- Walk away.

I'm not asking
you to marry me.

- I know.
- I just wanna be friends.

- Okay, friends.

- And the sex
will just be the sex.

- No, I don't think that
we should fuck anymore.

- Why not?

- Because fucking
just complicates things.

- It doesn't have to.
- Yes, it does.

It always does.

- I promise it won't.

- That's not a promise
you can make.

It's not a promise
you can keep.

- I can.
- No.

- What?
What?

You don't think
I'm any good in bed?

Ah, shit.

- Claire--
- Ah, no, shit!

- Claire--
- Oh, don't, don't!

You know, you're not
so amazing yourself.

Maybe the reason
you can't commit is

because you'd rather be
sucking off one of these guys.

- [sighs]
- Oh, I'm sorry.

Am I hitting a nerve?
- No, you're boring me.

- Cocksucker!

Cocksucker!

♪ ♪

Giles.

Bevilacqua.

What are you doing?

- Conjo, Howell.
Nice tits.

[screaming]

- Twice in one week,
Leo, on her watch.

Alvarez almost offs himself
and now this.

- [sighs]
She's new.

- She's dangerous.

Bevilacqua may have
permanent brain damage.

- I'll transfer her
to another unit.

- No, Leo.
Fire her now.

Fucking fire her.

♪ ♪

- [exhales]

♪ ♪

[indistinct chatter]

Can I have your
attention please?

[chatter continues]

Can I have your
attention please?

Gentlemen.

Okay, this is
Officer Sean Murphy,

the new supervisor
in Emerald City.

- I've read the files
on each of you.

I know you're tough.

Life in Oz sucks.

This I also know.

Don't force me to make
the days even worse.

That's all for now.
- Sean Murphy.

He's a mick like us.

- That's good?

- Little brother, things
are definitely looking up.

[indistinct chatter]

- Well, hello, buttercup.

- That's fuckin' it.
You're fuckin' dead, man!

You're fuckin' dead,
Schillinger!

You are fucking dead!
You fuckin' bitch!

You're fucking dead,
you fuckin' bald bitch!

You are fucking mine,
motherfucker!

You are fuckin' mine!

[overlapping shouting]

You are fucking mine!

[overlapping cheers
and laughter]

- I'm going to need
a refill there, sweet cheeks.

- You send me to the hole,

my brother's fair game
for Schillinger.

- Boo-fuckin'-hoo.
You should have thought of that

before you lost your temper.

- Okay.

I'm sorry.
- [laughs]

- Tim, you mind
if I handle this?

- No, go ahead.
I can't reach him.

- All right.
Let's go.

Okay, O'Reily,
I'm gonna to let this pass,

once.

You fuck up again...
[clicks tongue]

I'll personally stomp your ass.

- Why are you
being so nice?

- Your file.

I know all about
you and your brother.

I got brothers.

I know what it's like.

Besides, you and me,
we're both Black Irish, right?

- [chuckles]
Black as they come.

- You were golden gloves.
- How'd you hear that?

- You read my file,
I read yours.

I bet you pack quite a punch.
- Yeah, I had my day, sure.

But my face hit the canvas
just as often.

You know, my brother,
Cyril, he's a boxer,

and I entered him
into this competition

that McManus
is organizing.

- I thought your brother
was slow.

- Yeah, day to day,
but in the ring, it's like...

[exhales quickly]
Man, he's so fast.

It's like his instincts just--

just come right back, you know.

But the problem is
I don't know dick about boxing.

So I was just kind
of wondering, you know,

maybe you might
wanna coach Cyril.

- Me?
- Yeah.

- No way, O'Reily.
That'd be showing favoritism.

- I don't mean full on coach,
but, I mean, just maybe

kind of watch
from a distance, you know.

Give me some pointers.

For Ireland?

- [chuckles softly]
We'll see, kid.

We'll see.

[cheers and applause]

- Quiet!

Quiet!

Everybody, shut up, please.

Quiet down
so we can get started.

I said quiet.

Shut up so we
can get started.

This is the first
Oswald boxing championships.

We've eliminated
weight classes.

In this corner
in the blue trunks,

Chucky "The Enforcer" Pancamo.

[cheers, applause,
and booing]

And in this--

and in this corner,
"Throttlin'" Steve Pasquin.

[cheers, applause,
and booing]

Come on.
Come on.

Come on, let's go.

Okay, I want you
to keep it clean.

No punches below the belt,
no rabbit punches.

You obey me
at all times.

Protect yourselves,
go to your corners.

Shake hands,
touch gloves.

[overlapping shouting
and cheering]

Ring the bell.
[bell dings]

[cheers and applause]

- Come on, Steven!

[bell dinging]

- Hey, Ryan.

How's Cyril?

- Officer...

get these two fucks
away from me.

- He is so touchy.
- Mm.

I was just coming over
to tell you how excited I am

that Cyril's first fight is
gonna be against James here.

- That's right.

Cyril and me.

And you can't do
a fuckin' thing about it.

- Beecher bit off
the tip of your dick.

How'd you like
to lose the rest?

- Oooh!
Owww!

[chuckles]
- Move along, O'Reily.

♪ ♪

C.O.'s?

Odds are five to one,
your favor.

♪ ♪

- Ryan.

- Aunt Brenda.

- Cyril.

- What'd you bring?

- Your favorites.

- No, no, no, no.
- Ryan!

- No.

You're in training.
- In training?

For what?
- A fight.

They organized
a boxing match.

- Oh, Ryan, no.

You can't have
the boy boxing.

- Why not?

- His brain's
rattled enough.

Sweetheart,
do you wanna box?

- Hey, what are you
asking him that for?

- 'Cause I know
how you bully him

into doing
the things you want.

- Fuck you.

- Ryan...
- No, fuck you.

What, all of a sudden now
you're worried about Cyril?

- I've always been
worried about him.

Worried about the both of you.
- Oh, yeah?

Well, then where the fuck were
you when we were growing up?

Where were you when that
shithead was beating on us?

On Ma?

You were off
with your goddamned mass

while I protected Cyril.
Me!

- Oh, you took care
of him all right.

You took care
of him good.

'Cause of you
his mind is muddled.

'Cause of you
he's in this hell-hole.

- Listen, do us a favor,
you old bitch,

and drop fuckin' dead,
all right?

Come on, Cyril.

- You got the devil in you,
Ryan.

Just like your father.

♪ ♪

- Come on, Cyril.

Move it!

- [quietly]
Bye.

♪ ♪

- Cyril's got
the next fight.

- Mm, who's he up against?

- Robson.
- Oh.

I watched Robson train.
He's tough.

But he keeps
his left real low.

Tell your brother
to hook him.

- Yeah, but is that
gonna be enough?

I mean, I don't want Cyril
getting any more damaged.

- Pull him out.

- No fuckin' way.

There's got to be something else
I can do to give him an edge.

- You know the story of
the Black Irish, don't ya?

- No.
- Mm.

- Back in the 1600s
after the Armada was defeated,

the Spanish sailors washed up
on the shores of Ireland.

Couldn't speak
a word of English.

But they figured out
how to survive.

Survival.

It's in your blood,
O'Reily.

You'll figure
out something.

- [mumbles]

[knocks lightly]
Hey.

So...

how come you Christians
don't got nobody boxing?

- We made a decision
not to participate.

It's morally wrong.
- Right.

You still working bedpan duty
in the hospital ward?

- Yeah.
- Yeah.

You wanna make
a little extra cash?

- Maybe.
- Yeah.

♪ ♪

[whistling]

[indistinct shouting]

- Come on, Cyril.

- Hey, what're you doing?
What're you doing?

Break!
- Get that fag back.

Shut the fuck up.

Fuck him up,
fuck him up.

[bell dinging]

Let's go, come on.
Relax.

Breathe, breathe, breathe.

- Get him water.
Give him water.

Give him water.

- How you feel, kid?
You feeling good?

You feeling good?
You feeling good?

- It's a good round.

You gotta keep jabbing,
keep jabbing.

Don't rely on that right
all the time.

Work the body,
work the jab.

- It's all good, man.
Come on, it's all good, man.

All right, come on.
You feeling good?

Feeling good?
- Yeah, yeah, I'm good.

- All right, you watch
that fuckin' body, okay?

- Seconds out.
Seconds out.

Seconds out.

[indistinct shouting]

[bell dings]

[cheers and applause]

That's it, that's it!
Be smart.

Be smart!

[bell dings]

- Sit down.
What the fuck is wrong with you?

You've got 15 pounds
on this guy

and he's treating you
like a rag doll.

Take a drink.

He's treating you
like a rag doll.

Take a drink.
James, one more drink.

Spit, spit.
Where's the bucket?

Wake up, wake up.
Work the body on this guy.

Now you got your ass kicked
that round.

Hey, what the fuck
are you looking at?

Get your eyes
off the ring bitch.

Take a drink.
- Nice, man.

You're fucking kicking
the shit out of him.

- Three more minutes.
One more round

for the brotherhood, let's go.
[bell dings]

Let's go.

[overlapping shouting
and applause]

[distorted shouting]

[cheers and applause]

- when you're in a race,
you want to win.

You gonna win
no matter what it takes.

Win at all costs.

- We fuckin' won!
We fuckin' won, baby!

Fuck you!
Fuck you!

- I was a sprinter.

Yeah, I was great
with the short distance.

Man, you shoot
that starting gun off,

and I would go, fast.
[chuckles]

Man, I could travel
the 50-yard dash in 6.5 seconds.

No shit.
I came at it natural.

In my hood,
you had to learn to run

before you learned to walk.
[chuckles]

- Officer Murphy?

I'm supposed to have
a dialysis treatment now.

- Uh...

Well, you're wrong,
Rebadow.

It's not listed
on today's sheet.

- When I had
my last appointment,

Dr. Nathan told
the medical assistant

to schedule another one
for this morning.

- Maybe Nathan
changed her mind.

- I'll call, check it out.

- No, all I've got down here is

uh, you having visiting hours
at 3:00.

- My mother's coming.

- Your mother?

- Are you sick?

- No, Momma.

- You were never
a very good liar.

- I have diabetes.

- We seem
to be getting our share

of bad diagnosis
these days,

what with little
Alex's leukemia.

- I got the picture you sent
of him in Sea World.

- Oh, Bobby!
That trip.

I can't tell you,
it did him so much good.

After Sea World,
he was glowing.

Now, he's starting
to falter again.

- I wish there was
more I could do.

- There is.

Meet him.

- No.

- He's your grandchild.

- Momma, no.

- I told them
the truth about you.

- What?
- I know.

I know.

I broke my word,
but for Christ's sake,

you've never seen your own son,
your own grandson.

God, all of these years,

all the lies,

telling them you
died years ago.

I don't wanna go to my grave
knowing that some promise

I made 30 years ago
kept you from your family.

- Meeting them
won't do any good.

- Not meeting them
hasn't done any good either.

[indistinct chatter]

- Here you go, Rebadow,
the diabetes diet delight.

- Hurry, Rebadow.
- I'm going as fast as I can.

- Hurry before
Schillinger shows.

Every day, every meal,

he spits in my food
and makes me eat it.

- So spit in Schillinger's food.
- Are you kidding?

He'd yank out
my salivary glands.

- Busmalis.

- Uh-oh.
Too late.

[spitting]

[hocks, spits]

Wanna trade?

[dramatic music]

Bob!
Bob!

- Get a line started.

♪ ♪

He's in shock.
IV bolus of Df 50.

Did he go
to dialysis today?

- He...

- What, didn't I tell you
to schedule him?

- I forgot.
- You forgot?

He could have died,
you asshole.

♪ ♪

[machines beeping]

- Hmm.

You feeling better?

Quite a scare, huh?

Is there anything else
I can do for you?

- May I use the phone?

Yeah.

- Momma...

I've changed my mind.

[rattling]

[soft dramatic music]

♪ ♪

[tense music]

- Ow, Adebisi,
you just pinch me?

- No, boss.

- I know what you did.

- You said Dr. Nathan
wanted to take my blood,

but I know you used it
to infect someone.

[grunts]

You know it's true.

You pricked some prick with the
needle hoping to give 'em AIDS.

Who is it?

Come on, Adebisi.
Tell me.

Who?

- [chuckles]
You are delirious.

- Adebisi...

I don't get it.

Why would you wanna transfer
out of the cafeteria

to take care
of a bunch of fags, huh?

- You don't like fags?
- Well, what do you think?

- Well, out there,
I hated them.

But here...

sometimes you need
your dick sucked.

- Oh, yeah, well, that's
one of the many differences

between you and me.

See, I got self control.

- Yeah, I wish
I was more like you.

- Mm-hmm.
To me...

a fag is a fag,

a perverted sick animal.

I can't stand having
one of them near me.

- [chuckles softly]

But you Sicilians,

you kiss each other
on the cheek.

- That's respect,
not sex.

- Respect.

I got you, boss.

♪ ♪

- Antonio...

I got the results back
from your tests.

[sighs]
I'm...

I don't know
how to tell you this.

- Be straight.

- You're HIV positive.

- What?

- I'm sorry.

- Doctor,
that is not possible.

Correct me if I'm wrong,
the only way to get AIDS

is by having sex
or sharing a needle.

Well, I haven't done either,
and I'm not Haitian.

- You don't have AIDS.

You're HIV positive.
- The tests are wrong.

- I double checked.
- Triple check.

- I know this is hard
for you to accept.

- It's impossible.

- Antonio, I'm going
to schedule you for counseling

and make the arrangements
for your transfer.

- Transfer?
- State policy.

- All inmates who test positive
for HIV are to be isolated

in one place: Unit E.

- I wanna talk to the warden.

- All right.

- [scoffs]

This isn't happening to me.

♪ ♪

- Skipper, I don't get it.

- Somebody must have monkeyed
with the tests.

All I know for sure is
Glynn says I've gotta move to E.

- You mean, we're not
going to see you?

- That's what isolated means,
Chucky.

The inmates in E,
they don't mingle with Gen Pop.

[sighs]
Until I get back,

you're in charge, okay?
- Okay.

♪ ♪

- See you, boss.

[indistinct shouting
and laughter]

- Fuck.

- Lights out!

- [grunts]

[stabbing, both grunt]

[dramatic tones]

[footsteps approaching]

- So Dr. Nathan says
you'll be back in Em City

by the end of the day.
- Good.

My bed sores
got bed sores.

- You know, given the fact that

you had two stab wounds
in the back,

I'd say your recovery
is miraculous.

- They'll need a lot more
than some shank to take me out.

- Still have no idea
who they are.

- Ah.

It was dark.

Came at me from behind.

They're chicken-shits.

- See, the problem is...

We know Schillinger stabbed you

or had somebody do it,
but we have no proof.

- Don't you just hate that?

- You don't seem
very torn up by this.

- You got shot
in that riot, right?

That little handshake with death

kinda changes your perspective
on things, huh?

I had every right
to snitch out Schillinger,

he's got every right
to come after me.

[door opens]

- Mail.
- Idn't that right, Vern?

- Nothing for you today,
Keller.

No get well cards,
no floral bouquets.

Not even a funeral wreath.

- We know you're responsible,
Schillinger.

- Me?

Well, I'll admit
metaphorically it fits.

He stabbed me in the back,
so I stabbed him.

But I didn't.

I wish to Christ I had.

Course, if it'd been me,

you'd be dead.

Godspeed.

[knocks on door]

- Thanks for seeing me, Sister.

- That's why God made
office hours.

- Beecher's not around?
- No.

Why?
Is this about him?

- Uh-huh.

You know, um...

You know what went on
between us, right?

- I know that Tobias
was in love with you

and that you broke
his arms and his legs.

- Well, Jesus Christ,
you put it that way,

it makes me sound so cold.

So why don't you rephrase it
so you come out the hero?

- [laughs softly]

I am sorry.

What I did was wrong.

And I want to make
it up to him.

Now, I hear that
you got this

victim/offender
interaction program starting up.

I wanna sign up.

- Well, it takes two
to swing dance.

Tobias has to be willing
to participate.

- I know that.
That's why I'm here.

He likes you.
He respects you.

If you suggest it to him...

he'll come along.

- Do you really
care about him?

- You got no reason
to believe me, but yeah.

- [inhales]

Okay.

I'll see what
I can do.

- Keller,
I don't know what your scam is,

but I'm not buying it.

- What?
- Seeing sister Pete today,

asking her if we can be
in her program.

- No scam.

It's like I've been saying,

I wanna make this right
between us.

- How?

I can't trust you.

I can't trust
myself anymore.

My fucking feelings are...

[sighs]

The only thing I know
for sure is this,

I'm gonna get Schillinger.

- I can help you with that.

- I don't need your help.

- Oh, yeah?
What are you gonna do?

You going to get that jizzbag
all by yourself?

- Ask Metzger.

Go ask M--oh yeah?

What, you kill Metzger?

- You know,
when I hit Cathy Rockwell,

when I realized
I had taken her life,

I was full of remorse,
full of self-loathing

because I hadn't intended
to kill her.

But, uh...

Metzger...
[sighs]

Oh...
[laughs softly]

That was sweet.

You know what
else was sweet?

sticking that shank
in your back.

[soft dramatic music]

- It was you?

- Never considered that, huh?

That it could have been me
standing in the dark

in that storage room watching
you stack copying paper.

And then boom,
boom, baby.

♪ ♪

- Tell me it wasn't you.

- No.

But for a second

you believed
it could have been.

It could have been
good old Toby.

- You didn't kill Metzger?

- Nah.

How could a little pussy bitch
like me hurt anyone?

- Hey, Beecher, if you weren't
in the storage room,

how'd you know
I shelving copying paper?

- Mmm.

I don't know.

Shit, maybe it was me.
[chuckles softly]

Now, I gotta pray...

Pray that God shows me
the way to fuck Schillinger.

[tense music]

♪ ♪

- Number.

Number.

- 9-9-S...

3-3-3.

- Hmm.

That boy's last name,

know what it was?

Schillinger.

♪ ♪

- Yeah!

- Prisoner number 9-9-S-3-3-3,

Andrew Peter Schillinger.

[all laughing and cheering]

Convicted February 16th, '99.

Murder in the second degree,

possession of narcotics.

Sentence, 50 years.

Up for parole in 20.

[laughing]

♪ ♪

- [laughs softly]

[sighs]

[tense jazzy music]

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

[bright tones]