Oz (1997–2003): Season 4, Episode 5 - Gray Matter - full transcript

As Querns implements his new course of action, the dynamics of Em City start to change, causing friction with Officer Murphy. Beecher falls deeper into depression as he wonders about the fate of his children.

[bright tones]

[tense jazzy music]

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

- The criminal mind...

For the past 200 years,

scientists, sociologists
and other folks

who've read
about such things

have debated whether
a person commits a violent act

because of their environment
or their biological makeup.



What turns on the red
crime light in a man's brain?

If we find the cause,

can we eliminate the effect?

Can we end violence

now and forever?

[tense percussive tones

♪ ♪

Prisoner number 0-0-G-1-1-5,

Detective Bruno Goergan,

convicted March 15th, 2000,

illegal possession
and sale of firearms,

murder in the first degree.

Sentence: 36 years.

[buzzer sounds]



Up for parole in 18.

[indistinct chatter]

♪ ♪

- You know that guy?

- [ scoffs]
No.

He's just so fucking ugly.
[chuckles]

- "He's just so fucking ugly."

This guy.
[laughs]

- When I first saw you,
I thought,

"What the fuck is
Johnny Basil doing in Oz?"

And then I remembered last year
you went to narcotics, right?

One of the greaseballs told me
your name was Desmond Mobay?

Huh?
[chuckles]

- You gonna blow my cover?

- Depends.

- On what I do for you?

- None of the inmates know
I'm a cop.

It was part of my deal
when I turned state's evidence.

I got a new identity, too.

Now, scumbags out there
find out the truth,

I'm prime beef for any asshole
looking to up his cred.

- And so?

- So, one hand washes the other,
my brother in blue.

- You know what I remember
the most about you,

when we were working
the streets together?

What a bully you were.

Strong-arming people
when there was no need.

You were always
a bad cop, Goergan.

I wadn't surprised
when I heard you went down.

Oh, so, you do want me to tell
the guys you're undercover?

[door rattling]

I would be happy to help you
in any way I can.

- Glad we understand each other.

Excuse me there, Butch.

- Butch?
Yo.

- Normally when a police
officer's brought into Oz

I give them
special counseling.

- Why?

It's going to
be tough for you

going from
a position of authority

to being strip searched.

You might feel humiliated.

- Not me.

- Vulnerable.

- Uh-uh.

- Okay, that's fine,

but if you should experience
feelings like that,

I just want you
to know I'm here.

- Thanks.
Later.

You know, my wife's an ex-nun.
- Really?

- Yeah, she fucks
like a $500 whore.

Must be all those years
of pent-up chastity.

♪ ♪

- Yo, T, you know what I hate
more than anything?

- What's that, Mondo?

- It's white trash
trying to be thugs.

- I feel you.
I hate that, too.

- How about you, pussy?

How you feel about that, huh?
- What I hate...

is jive-ass niggas.
both: Oh.

[dramatic music]

[grunting]

♪ ♪

How the fuck is this
you watching my back?

- I got a C.O. There
as soon as I could.

- You should've pulled
those apes off me.

- Apes, yeah.

Niggas, yeah.

I jump in and save you,
a fucking white redneck asshole,

I might as well pack up
and leave Oz.

- Well, then maybe
you better start packing

'cause anything like this
fucking happens again,

everyone's gonna
know who you are,

and you're
a dead man, Johnny.

[laughter
and indistinct chatter]

- Hey, Mobay.

Did you forget?

- What?

- If you wanna join us,
you gotta kill somebody.

- I haven't forgotten.

- The new man doesn't want
any violence in Emerald City.

So, if you're gonna
do the deed,

make it look like
an accident.

Do it far away from here.

- I gotcha, man.

[tense percussive music]

♪ ♪

Hill.
Hill.

- I'm asleep.

[snoring]

Hear that?
That's me snoring.

- I need your help.

- I don't give people help.

- Adebisi and the others say
they will let me in

if I kill somebody.

- And what?

You want me to volunteer
to be your victim?

- No.

I have decided who to kill,

but I need your
cooperation to do it.

- Man, that shit you're snorting
is rottin' your brain out.

I ain't helping
you kill nobody.

- But...
- No, no way, no how.

- But...
- Hey, look, shut up, Mobay!

I'm tired of hearing
your lips flap.

Let me get
some fucking sleep.

♪ ♪

- We got problems.
- What?

- My cell mate Hill
knows you're a cop.

Shit.

How?
- Who knows how?

He says he'll keep quiet
for a price.

He wants a meeting.
- Where?

- Dress factory's
freight elevator.

Now, I say we tip his chair

and let him go tumbling
down the shaft.

- Right.

Fuck.

Are you sure
this guy's coming?

- Yes.

- Geez, you don't know
how good you got it

till it's gone, man.

All those times I moaned
about walking the beat,

I'd give my fucking right nut
to be in the snow

working the fucking
'Spic day parade.

- Okay, Mobay.

I'm here, man,
what you want?

- You think you got me
over a barrel, don't you?

- What?
- So long, Butch.

- What the fuck are
you doing, man?

Fuck you doing?
- Wait, wait, let me.

Let me.

- Mobay, for Christ sake.

Ah, Mobay!

For Christ sake,
what are you doing?

please, man, please!
- [screaming]

[thuds]
- Fuck me!

- You should've let me
tell you the plan.

- What the fuck
is wrong with you?

Are you out of
your fucking mind?

♪ ♪

[buzzer sounding]
- Lockdown!

Lockdown!

- What the fuck happened?

- Someone died,
an accident.

Far from Emerald City.

[indistinct shouting]

♪ ♪

- I'm seriously considering
moving to another cell.

- Relax, brother,
the worst is over.

- Yeah, right.

- Hey.

[laughs softly]

- What are you doing here?

I thought we agreed
you shouldn't come visit.

Hill thought
he recognized you.

- I am here because
I am worried about you, partner.

You're supposed
to be e-mailing me regularly.

Not only don't
I hear from you,

but when I do,
the reports make no sense.

- I was in the hole
for a few days.

- Are you using?

- [scoffs]
No.

- You are.
I can see it in your eyes.

- Okay, but I had to.

- That's it,
I'm telling the lieutenant

to pull you out of here.
- No.

Schmand wants the job done,

and I'm so fucking close
to busting these guys.

Look, I know I fucked up,
but I can turn it around.

I know I can, Kina.

Trust me.

[suspenseful music]

♪ ♪

- Okay.

But I want to hear
from you every day.

Every goddamn day.

[indistinct chatter]

- Warden, we need
to touch you up a bit.

- Touch me up?
- This is Cassandra and Betty,

they're makeup and hair.
- What's the hubbub?

- The warden is shooting
a public service announcement.

- Oh, that's right,
I forgot.

- Ladies and gentlemen,
it is my honor

to come before you...

- Are you all right?

- I may be getting the flu.

- I believe a man
has to be prepared

to accept responsibility...
- Quick as you can, guys.

[intercom buzzes]
- Warden, your wife is here.

- Mary.
- We need to talk.

- Uh, excuse me.

- Warden, we're moments
away here, sir, please.

- Excuse me.
Come on, come on.

- [sighs]

- What's the matter?

- I just got a call
from a reporter

asking about your brother.

- Well, I knew
this was coming.

- He said that tomorrow
"The Tribune" is

breaking the story that

Mark is serving a life sentence
for murder

and did you
have any comment.

- I got a lot of comments,
none of them printable.

[knocking]
- Warden, I'm sorry.

We were trying to make
our little movie here.

We're on a very,
very tight schedule.

- Excuse me, I'm sorry.

- Thank you so much.

- Sorry about that.

- Okay, you guys, just
sign off on him, all right,

so, we can get this over with.
- Okay, um...

- This isn't such
a terrible thing.

- Oh, no?
- We anticipated that

some dedicated journalist would
eventually dig up the dirt.

There's a way

to use this to our advantage.
- How?

- Your brother committed murder,
yes,

but you got him
to turn himself in.

- [sighs]
Three months after the fact.

- Press doesn't have
to know when you knew.

- I'm starting to feel like
Ronald fucking Reagan.

- We also leaked the news
that your daughter was raped.

- Public will love the fact that
you know all sides of crime.

- I'm not gonna
exploit Arnette's rape

just to get elected.

- Leo, people don't
vote for candidates

because of what they believe
or their position statements

or any of that shit.

They elect a father,
a husband,

a good old guy
they can chug a beer with,

someone who understands pain

because he's suffered too.

And you've suffered, Leo.

All I'm saying is,

let them weep for you.

- I said no.
That's no.

- My advice is get
your hat out of the ring.

I need a lieutenant governor
who's got balls.

Open the goddamn gate!

- I'm a family man,

and there's nothing harder
for a family man

than to see
those he loves suffer

or cause suffering.

My brother's crime
devastated us.

My daughter's rape did, too.

[excited chatter]

- There's a new study out
which claims that some people

are wired
to commit violent crimes.

That they have defects
in their brain.

That they have less gray matter
in their pre-frontal lobe.

Just behind the eyes
they're missing the piece

that keeps rage inside.

If true,

those people

are predestined
to rape and murder.

They cannot be
held accountable.

Anatomy is destiny.

- I don't give a fuck about
this goddamn toilet paper!

You know, take your fucking
toilet paper, all right?

- Oh, shit.
[laughter]

[overlapping chatter
and shouting]

- Knock it off!

- Lockdown!

[both grunt]
Lockdown!

- McManus, where's your
fucking sense of fun?

[buzzer sounding]

[phone ringing]

- Hello.
- Tim?

- Yeah.
- Diane.

- Yeah?
- How are you?

- I'm good.

- I wrote you,
but I didn't hear back.

Did you get my letter?

- Yeah, I got it.
I been busy.

- I heard,
you're running Unit B now.

- My boys behaving
themselves?

- Diane, what do you want?

- To see if you're okay.
- I'm good, I gotta go.

- Oh, man.

Tim.

- Hey.
- How's things?

- The truth?

I miss Diane.
I miss Em City.

I'm constantly
constipated.

I've managed to completely
and literally fuck up

my entire life.
That's how I am.

- Constipation--
that you can fix.

[chuckles]
- Right.

- Wanna grab a beer?

- No thanks,
I got a date.

- Every time I ask you
to do something,

you're otherwise engaged,
I'm getting paranoid.

You pissed at me?

- When Glynn fired me,
what did you do?

- I called you immediately.

- Oh, yeah, you were
very sympathetic,

and then you took my job.
- Only temporarily.

I told Glynn I did not
wanna replace you.

- I brought you in to Oz!

When I was fired,
you should've quit.

- Tim.
- I gotta go.

- Tim, you know,
give me a break here.

[bell ringing]

[tense percussive music]

♪ ♪

- Kareem Said.

According to this file,

you are one incredible
pain in the ass.

- Well, that is only
one interpretation.

Another could be that I strive
for justice where there is none.

- What I strive for
is peace and quiet.

My mandate from
Warden Glynn is simple:

no violence.

- I applaud you
on your mandate.

I abhor violence.

- That is incredibly
sweet of you.

I'm thinking of
making some changes

and I'm hoping you're not
gonna stir up any trouble.

- Depends.
What kind of changes?

- Patience, patience.

We must be as patient
with others

as we expect Allah
to be with us.

Now you don't mind
if I quote you, do you?

Found this in the bottom
of the drawer.

McManus must've
left it behind.

I gave it a quick read.
- And?

- Didn't really hold
my interest.

Too self-righteous.
You can go.

[indistinct chatter]

- $100.
$100.

[indistinct chatter]

- That's all for you,
if you want it.

Ha!

- [laughing]

♪ ♪

- It's real fuckin' funny.

♪ ♪

- Prisoner number 0-0-K-2-5-1,

Kevin Ketchum,
AKA Supreme Allah.

Convicted March 22nd, 2000,

murder in the second degree.

Sentence: 25 years.

Up for parole in 10.

- This is your sponsor.

He's gonna help acclimate you
to life in Emerald City.

Kevin Ketchum,
Kareem Said.

- My government name
is Ketchum.

My real name
is Supreme Allah.

- All right,
let's go, Allah.

[suspenseful music]

♪ ♪

- Who's that?
- Supreme Allah.

Knew him back
on the corner.

- What kind of a name
is the Supreme Allah?

- He's a five percenter.

- A five center what?

- He's a five percenter.

He believes that 5%
of all black men are enlightened

with the true understanding
of life.

- Yeah, they also believe
that the black man is god

and that we whiteys
are the devil.

- They're like Muslims
except they smoke weed,

they deal drugs,
they do what they gotta do.

- Oh, fuck.

He's gonna be my cell mate.
Shit!

- Bye-bye.
- [scoffs]

- Peace, black man.
- Look, look.

I ain't buying
what you selling, dawg.

Met a lot of you five percenters
along the years,

with your prophet Musa Saying
how much the Earth weighs shit.

You know, we stuck in here.
We stuck in here together.

And I don't need you
preaching me, you understand?

- Yeah, all right.
- All right then.

- Call you Poet, huh?

- Damn skippy
they call me Poet.

- Can I read some
of your stuff?

- Why do you wanna read
any of my stuff?

- Like poetry.

You know,
I suck at writing myself.

- Start on page 16.
- Thanks.

- Some of my shit got
put in that anthology.

[clicks tongue]
Damn!

- Yo, this is good, man.

- Fuck me, man.
No more pens.

[clanking, rattling]

♪ ♪

- Yo, yo.

♪ ♪

- You must fall in line
behind us.

- I ain't got no problem
working with you.

- You're not hearing
what I'm saying.

- Oh, I hear clearly, Arif.

Thing is, you don't own me
any more than the devil does.

- You will obey me.
- [chuckles]

You don't wanna
be touching me, son.

- This is getting us nowhere.

Why don't you
all just back off?

Supreme Allah,
you call yourself Muslim,

but we believe
that your way,

that is a corruption
of the truth.

We don't want
you poisoning the minds

of the young brothers
here in Oz.

- I'm gonna speak my mind
while I'm here.

And whoever listens,
listens.

Whoever don't...

be damned.

♪ ♪

[knocks on door]

- Thank you, Officer.

- You want me in or out?

- Out.

♪ ♪

- There you are.
- Yes.

What are you up to,
Adebisi?

- Me?

Nothing.
- Nothing?

So, how am I to be included
in your nothing?

- The earth is
about to quake.

I came to warn you.
Take shelter.

- How big a quake?
- Big.

But you,
you can be safe with me.

- Once again, you honor me
with your offer of protection.

- And once again
you refuse?

- Regretfully.

- You can ask a girl
out on a date

so many times
and get refused.

- You could just tell me
what's going on.

[buzzer sounds]
- Count!

- You'll find out
soon enough, eh?

- I have decided
to junk the council

that used to meet regularly

and replace that system
with trustees

who will be responsible
for citing grievances

and maintaining order.

These trustees will be

Simon Adebisi,

Chuckie Pancamo,

and Enrique Morales.

Now, having met with
each of you individually,

I've decided
to transfer several of you

back to Gen Pop.

The following men will
follow Officer Johnson out:

97H813,

Henke;

99S812,

Sands;

98B643,

Blakely;

97S532,

Simpson;

95J932,

Jarvis;

98H432,

Hoyt.

- This sucks!

- No one asked your opinion,
Hoyt.

- That's enough out of you.

Grab your stuff!

[indistinct chatter]

♪ ♪

- Now, this is nuts.

Making Adebisi, Pancamo,
and Morales trustees?

I mean, they're the three worst
motherfuckers in this place!

And transferring
all the Aryans and bikers?

I mean, what kind
of logic is that?

- I'm not Tim McManus.

I'm not looking
to create some Oz version

of the rainbow coalition.

I reviewed their records.

All of them have repeated
incidents of violence.

- And Adebisi doesn't?

- You're just gonna have
to learn to trust me.

- I wish you'd learn to
discuss policy changes with me

before you announce them.

- Not my style.
- Clearly.

- You don't like it,
you can follow Hoyt

and the rest of 'em
out the door.

- You know what, I will.
- I'll start the paperwork.

- The sooner the better.

- The sooner.
- Yeah.

[buzzer sounds]

- Ah, yeah.

[indistinct chatter]

- Did you know about this?

That you'd be made
a trustee?

- [chuckles softly]
Yeah, yeah,

but I was sworn to secrecy.

- How come I wasn't made
a trustee?

- Ask Querns.
- And how come

all these new arrivals,
none of them is Muslim.

- Ask Querns.

- We had a deal, Adebisi.

- That's true.
We did.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I got business to do.

♪ ♪

[bell ringing]

♪ ♪

- No, no, no.

- We have to talk, Querns.
- Later.

- Now!
- Johnson.

We'll talk...

later.

♪ ♪

[buzzer sounds]

♪ ♪

- [moaning]

- Back off, back off.
Hey! Hey!

Officers!

- Get him off now!
Move it!

♪ ♪

Man, we gotta get him
to the hospital.

This is Unit B.

Get a fucking gurney
over here!

[bell ringing]

♪ ♪

- What happened?

- He's been raped.

Gloria, you don't have to--

- I'm fine.
- No.

- No, Tim, I'm fine.

Let's drape and prep
for an anoscopy.

♪ ♪

- You know, when I was first
elected governor,

crime was out of control,

but we went to work fighting
for three strikes...

- Hey, can you turn that down?

- I'm waiting for my soap
to come back on.

Mac just left Felicia...

Again.
- Turn it the fuck down.

- Why are you always
so grumpy?

Hey, what you doing?
- Painting.

- Well, they just painted
our cells a couple weeks ago.

- Painting a mural, asshole,
a portrait.

- Of who?
- Myself.

I want to leave something
behind after they execute me.

- Miles, what makes you think
the next guy in that cell

will want to spend his last days
staring at your ugly ass.

- You calling me ugly,
black boy?

- Motherfucker.

- Are my little darlings
raising their voices?

Do we need a timeout?

- Lopresti,
how come you still here?

Shirley Bellinger
told the warden

you were fucking her
every night.

- Yeah, that bitch
almost got me fired,

but I was able to persuade Glynn
that she's a lying sack of shit.

- But she wadn't lying.

- You were eating that pussy
like chicken chow mein.

Goddamn!

- I don't wanna hear
anymore talk about that cunt.

Got me?

- Things sure are
different around here

without old Shirley.
- Yeah.

[coughing]

- That's been happening a lot.

- Yeah, fag,
you keep me up at night.

- Jeez, God forbid you shouldn't
get your beauty sleep.

- Maybe you should be
in the hospital, man.

No, don't wanna die
in a hospital.

- You'd rather die in here?

- I'd rather expire
sunning myself on the Riviera

in the arms of
a 17-year-old Adonis.

But c'est la vie.

- Still, maybe you should
have yourself checked out.

- Thank you, Moses,
for your concern.

- You going fag, Deyell?

- When you gonna
shut the fuck up, man?

- When I die, nigger.

- Ow, fuck!
My hand!

My fucking hand!

- [laughs]
- Oh, fuck!

[bell ringing]

- You gotta remember, Deyell,
you hit a wall,

generally the wall wins.

- Yeah, Moses here is not known
for his mental muscle.

- I got more brains in my little
finger than you, Lopresti.

- Well, right now your little
finger is in little pieces.

All right, listen,
try to keep this cast clean.

You're gonna have it on
for six weeks.

All done.

Dr. Nathan, you ain't been up
to see Ginzburg lately.

- No, I took a short
leave of absence.

I assumed Dr. Prestopnik
was examining him.

- Prestopnik ain't been
up there one time.

- Quit yapping, Deyell.

♪ ♪

- Again.
- [exhales]

Have you been having chills,
night sweats,

shortness of breath?
- Yes, a trifecta.

- I should probably transfer you
to the AIDS ward.

- When I got the death penalty
for suffocating Antonio Nappa,

I thought,
"oh, this'll be fun."

- Fun?

- See what kills me first:

the state or the disease.

Guess the disease
is winning.

♪ ♪

- [screams]

♪ ♪

No.

- Prisoner number 0-0-K-4-1-4,

Patrick Keenan,

convicted March 25, 2000...
- [grunting]

- Assault in the first degree,
rape.

Sentence: 12 years,

up for parole in seven.

- Hey, O'Reily.
- Hey.

- Have you met Patrick Keenan?

- No.
- Patrick, this is Ryan O'Reily.

- Yeah, I heard of you.

You and your brother used
to run the Bridget Street gang.

- Yeah.

Hey, that's a--
that's a nice shamrock.

- Yeah, thanks.

My lucky charm.

- So, what'd they catch
you doing?

- Rape and assault.

- That so?

- Patrick's the one
who did Dr. Nathan.

- You raped Dr. Nathan?

- Yeah.

- Why?

- I don't know.

I was in the mood.

- He was in the mood.
That right?

Hey, it's good to meet
you there, Keenan.

You and me,
maybe we can get together

and do some business sometime.
- Yeah, I'd like that,

working for
the O'Reily brothers.

- Okay, see you.

♪ ♪

- [grunts]
[laughter]

Yeah.
- Where you goin'

- Hey, Goldilocks,

you wanna suck some chocolate?
- No!

[all grunting]

[buzzer sounding]

[screaming]

- Break it up!

- I'll kill your ass,
motherfucker!

- [screaming]

[overlapping shouting]

♪ ♪

- [screaming, straining]

- I'm switching him
to 1 milligram of Haldol.

- Are you sure?
- Well, what do you suggest?

Counseling?

- What the fuck is
going on, Adebisi?

Letting these assholes
fuck with my brother.

We had a goddamn deal!

- Relax, O'Reily,
before you blow a blood vessel.

I've already spoken
to Tidd and Browne.

Haven't I?
- Yeah.

- Browne?
- Yeah, man.

This type of bullshit
will not do again.

Okay?

- He all right?

- They got him
so tanked up on Haldol,

it's like he's
in a fucking coma.

- Is that such
a bad thing?

- O'Reily, I got
a question for you.

Stanislofsky.

Come here, sit.

- I been playing catch-up

on a lot of
what's been happening here.

Been reading the file on
the death of one Ralph Galino.

- Tragic.

Drugs very
serious problem.

- Yeah.

Except he had
no history of drugs,

so, how does he die
of an OD?

- A mystery.

- I understand you and Galino
didn't get along.

- Who says that?

- Did you ask me
a question?

'Cause you don't get
to ask me questions.

You are my main suspect
in Galino's death.

You are my only suspect.

I'm gonna be watching you,

perched like
a czarist eagle.

[speaking Russian]

[tense music]

♪ ♪

[indistinct chatter]

- You said we should wait.

So, we wait,
and look what happens.

O'Reily goes to the hacks
and tells them

you and I killed Galino.
- O'Reily said that?

You and me?
- Yes, so take care of him.

- You whack O'Reily now, they'll
have all the proof they need.

No thanks,
I got a birthday coming up.

I don't wanna spend it
in solitary.

- Look,
I know that Russian cocksucker's

been talking smack about me,
Jaz,

but you can't trust
that motherfucker.

- I don't trust him.

I don't trust you neither.
- Okay, fine.

Only he's supposed
to be your pal, right?

I'll bet he hasn't told you
about the cell phone.

- Cell phone?
What cell phone?

- Ralph Galino's
cell phone.

That's why he killed that wop.
- Shit.

- Now, who do you trust?

- What's going on?

Droog, what is problem?

♪ ♪

- Cut the shit.

Give me the cell phone.

Give it to me.

♪ ♪

- So, what is going
to happen to me now?

- Thinking, uh...

maybe you die.

- [shouts]
- Ah.

[indistinct shouting]

- Guards! Guards!
- Break it up!

Break it up!
Get against the wall.

Get on back there!
- Easy, guys.

- Come on,
get off or you're all in.

- Everybody's always looking
for an excuse.

I killed that man 'cause:

"A", I was abused as a child;

B, I had shitty parents;

C, I was raised in poverty;

D, all of the above.

If the only thing you know from
the cradle on up is violence...

What other choice have you got?
- Fuck!

Nyet!

- What other reason
do you need?

[laughs]

[tense percussive music]

♪ ♪

[buzzer sounds]

- Morning, Bob.

Bob, please, when are you gonna
stop this silent treatment?

I said I'm sorry

that I didn't tell you
I was building a new tunnel,

that I didn't ask you
to escape with me.

What more can I do?

- Count.

- How is he?
- Not good.

- 8-8-K-2-1-4,
7-7-P-3-2-6,

9-8-K-5-1-4,
9-7-B-4-1-2.

Hey, Beecher,
get your ass out here.

- Leave him alone.

- Beecher, now.
- You can see he's there.

Why does he have
to stand in line?

- Rules is rules.

- Fuck you.

- What?

- Fuck you,
fuck your rules!

- Rebadow, I'd expect Keller
to be mouthy, but not you.

- The man's children
have been kidnapped;

his son's hand cut off.

Beecher's obviously in pain!
Why torture him more?

- Right.
both: Yeah.

- Keep going.

[cheers and applause]
- 9-6-G-4-1-5...

- All right, quiet down!
Quiet down now!

- Who knew you had balls.

[cheering continues]

- Shut the fuck up!

♪ ♪

- A few years ago,
I was attacked

by some of the black boys
and landed in the hospital.

- I remember.

- The bruises healed,
but...

I was flooded with fear.

- Well, that's natural.

- I hadn't felt such fear
since I was about to be executed

and then wasn't.

Killing Raoul Hernandez, as...

as terrible as it was,

as--

I don't know,
I feel alive.

I'm not afraid to die.

[tense music]

[indistinct chatter]

♪ ♪

- Teach me.

- Teach you what?

- How to box.
- [laughs]

You gotta be
kidding me, right?

- I wanna learn
to defend myself.

- Rebadow, I ain't got the time
or the interest.

Take off.

- I can teach you.
- Cyril.

- No, I can if I want.

♪ ♪

Okay.

First, you gotta learn
how to stand.

- Fucking Cyril.

[indistinct chatter]

♪ ♪

- Hey, Rebadow.

Give me your pie, pops.

- No.

- Oh, you're gonna
give me your pie,

or I'm gonna break
your old ass in two.

- Okay.

♪ ♪

[indistinct shouting]
and laughter]

- How does it taste, man?

- You missed a great lunch,
but I got you something.

Here.
Psst.

Toby, take it.

Toby, you gotta eat something.
Take it.

Take the fucking orange
and eat it, come on.

[door opens]

- Nothing like fresh squeezed
orange juice.

- Cellmates.
It's like being married.

- Rebadow still ignoring you?

- Worse.
He's like a different person.

It's like when I was gone,
some alien took over his body.

- He certainly has changed.
- It's unsettling.

After a certain age,
people shouldn't change.

- Shh, here he comes.

- Mr. Morales...

- Whoa, slow down there,
Rebadow.

- I wanna talk to you.

- Let him be, Chico.

What do you need?

- When I agreed
to kill Hernandez,

you said in return
I could have anything I wanted.

- True.

And now you want me
to repay the debt?

- Yes.

- Okay.
What can I do for you?

- I want you to let me
kill someone else.

♪ ♪

[soft dramatic music]

♪ ♪

- Daddy!

- [laughs softly]

♪ ♪

[both laugh softly]

- Daddy?

Daddy?

♪ ♪

- [crying]

- He has these dreams a lot?

- Ever since his kids
got nabbed.

- Well, I'll speak to him.
- Sister Peter Marie, too.

Given her relationship
with Beecher,

she's being rather...

[exhales]
Casual about all this.

- That's not true.

- I can't help
thinking her distance

has something
to do with me.

- Well, shocking as
this seems, Keller,

not everything on the planet
has to do with you.

- Keller's right.

It is about him.

The doubts he put in my mind
about being a nun,

my effectiveness
as a psychologist...

- But, Pete,

Beecher needs you.
- Ray, I know.

Do you remember what I said
to you a few weeks ago

about putting on a facade
so I could get through each day?

- Sure.
- I am unable to comfort Tobias.

I mean, I--I don't
even look him in the eye

because I know that if I do,

my facade will crumble.

So that--that's worse than--
than no help to him.

- Beecher hasn't been out
of his cell for two solid days.

He just lies in his bunk,

sobbing like a wuss.

[cries mockingly]

- Good.

That's what's truly elegant
about this plan of mine.

We don't physically
touch Beecher,

and yet the damage done
is far more hideous.

Time to put parts
three and four into motion.

[ominous music]

♪ ♪

Hank?
Yeah.

Want you to drop off
the other package.

Right,
where we talked about.

Bye.

- You should
stop smoking, Father.

- I know, I know,
it's bad for my health.

- There's a law about smoking
in public places

in state-owned buildings.

- Is this bothering you?
- Yes!

[knocking]

- Hello, Tobias.

Thank you, officer.
Wait outside, please.

- Take a seat, Toby.

- I know what this
is about, Dad.

The FBI found Gary?

- Yes.

- Gary's body.
He's dead.

- Yes.
- I knew.

I knew when I heard
about the hand.

And Holly?

Any news?
- No, no, not yet.

I'd like to go
to Gary's funeral.

- We've already
made arrangements.

- I want him buried
right next to his mother.

I wanna see
the graves I've dug

lined up one next to the other.

- Oh, son, son.

[cries]

- It's funny,
I can't cry.

I don't have
anymore tears left.

[knocks on door]

- [crying]

- Chris, I wanna
ask you something,

and I...

I probably
haven't asked you

'cause I didn't wanna
know the answer.

I know you were married
all those times,

and I'm wondering
if I was the first,

you know,
the first man.

- [laughing]

- Well, I guess that
answers my question.

- No, no, it doesn't.

I just, uh...

think it's an odd conversation
for us to be having

right before you go
to your son's funeral.

The FBI says
you're responsible

for a series
of homosexual murders.

- The FBI...
- I'm not asking you to tell me

if you committed the murders.

I'm asking you if you've ever
felt this way with another man.

- No.

I have not felt this way.

I swear, Toby.

- You're lying.

- Toby, I'm not--

- You're lying.

[tense music]

♪ ♪

[breathes shakily]

Sweet dreams, baby.

[breathes deeply]

[knocks on door]

- Yes.
[door opens]

Ah, come in, sit.

Thanks, officer.

Smoke?

- They're bad for you.
[lighter clicks]

- Shirley Bellinger,
before she was executed,

gave me a little hint
as to who impregnated her

when she was in Oz.

She said,
"neither rain nor snow,"

which I believe is
part of the old motto

of the U.S. Postal Service.

Since you deliver the mail
to death row,

I'm thinking she was telling
me that you were the father.

- Well, you're wrong.

I never had
sex with Shirley.

Not that I didn't want to.

Even if you had been right,
what's it matter?

She's dead.

- I don't know you,
Schillinger.

I don't know what
you're capable of.

I know your reputation,
of course.

But even so,
I find it hard to believe

that you would cut the hand
off a small child.

That you would kill
a boy who never

hurt a soul.

- I never did anything
to Beecher's kid.

- I'm gonna tell
you something now.

Beecher is the one
who found your son, Hank.

- I know.

- You know.

- Yeah,
he did it to fuck with me

the same way he did with Andrew.
- No.

He did it to make up
for what happened to Andrew.

He did it in the hopes
of putting the anger

that exists between you
behind you.

This I swear to you
on my vow as a priest.

If I'm lying to you,
may I be damned for all time.

Schillinger,
don't let anything happen

to Beecher's daughter.

If you have any decency
left inside you,

if you...

if you have a soul...

You'll let that girl go free.

♪ ♪

- All right, so, you asked me
to do a little digging, right?

So, I dug here, nothing.

I dug there, zip.

But then, a gusher.

Tell me.
- Tell me.

I got valuable information

and we haven't even
negotiated a price.

- How much?

- Hey, I got kids, too,
all right?

My youngest, Tabitha,

she needs massive
amounts of dental work.

That poor girl's teeth
are fucked up, man.

They're all rotted out.
- Save it.

- Please, not now.

- All right,
but you pay the dental bills,

every last one of them.

- Okay.

Just tell me what you know
about the kidnapping.

- [exhales slowly]

According to a very reliable
source on the outside,

this was a job for hire.

The actual perp's name

is Bob "Big Butt" Tolan.

- Who hired him?

- I hesitate.

- Why?

- Because it's
someone I understand

is very near and dear to you.

- Who, for Christ sake?

- Chris Keller.

♪ ♪

- Can you be
sure of this?

- I'm as sure as anybody
can be about anything.

♪ ♪

- I need you to find
out the truth.

- That's my job.

- He's done a lot
of fucked up things to me,

but this makes no sense.

- Guys like Keller
are hunters.

They kill for sport.

♪ ♪

- You think you're
a pretty cool customer, huh?

- Well...
[clears throat]

Let's just say I spent my share
of time in interrogations.

- You ever hear of a fellow
by the name of Mark Carocci?

- [exhales]
No.

- Byam Lewis?
- Nope.

How about Bryce Tibbetts?
- No, no, and no.

- All three of these men
were homosexuals.

All three hung out
in the same gay bar.

All three turned up dead.

That is after they were
sodomized and tortured.

- Yeah?

- Yeah.

But here's what's curious.

You moved to the city
in December of '97.

These men were killed

in January, March,
and May of '98.

You got sent to Oz
in June of that year.

Suddenly,
the killings stopped.

- What a bizarre coincidence.

- We know you're guilty.

- [laughs softly]

You got proof?

Evidence,
witnesses?

- You frequented
the same gay bar.

- [chuckles softly]

Ah, well, you know,
that doesn't make me a murderer

anymore than it
makes me a fag.

- And yet you are,
aren't you?

A fag?
- [laughs]

- You suck
Tobias Beecher's cock.

- He sucks mine.

- From what I hear,
you and he have had

a pretty bumpy
courtship, huh?

Lots of pain inflicted
on both sides.

You in on this latest round?

- I don't follow you.

- The death of his son.

- Me kill his son?
You're joking, right?

- Now, when have you ever
known the FBI to joke?

[bell rings]

- Lights out!

♪ ♪

- How you doing?

You been very quiet today.

♪ ♪

- Let me ask you something.

What should I do if I ever
find out who killed Gary?

- You should whack him.

I'd help you.

- Yeah?
- Be my pleasure.

What the fuck!

Ah!
- You murdered my son!

[both grunting and shouting]

[buzzer sounding]

- Get the fuck off him!

- You think I'd do that?

- You're capable
of fucking anything!

- [shouts]

♪ ♪

[both shouting]

- You bitch!
[screams]

[indistinct shouting]

- I'm here for my money.

- Pay him.

- You really got a kid
with rotten teeth?

- Yeah.
You should see her mouth, man.

Nothing but decay.

- Genetics?

Or environment?

Like in everything else,

society searches
for the magic bullet,

the easy answer.

'cause the more complex
the answer is,

the more terrified
we become.

Is the root of violence
much deeper,

much darker?

How about pure evil?

[drill whirring softly]

Maybe we human creatures
are inherently evil.

Maybe evil is ingrained,

embedded in our souls.

Flip Wilson used to joke,

"The devil made me do it."

Maybe he was right.

Or maybe not.

- Hello, Hank?

Yeah.

Want you to drop off
the other package

at the grandparents' house.

No.

Alive.

[tense jazzy music]

♪ ♪

♪ ♪