Oz (1997–2003): Season 4, Episode 9 - Medium Rare - full transcript

Six months have passed. Said was acquitted of Adebisi's murder on grounds of self-defense. "Up Your Ante," a game show, has joined Miss Sally in the prisoner's TV lineup. McManus and Glynn have done their best to keep the events leading up to Adebisi's death a secret. News producer Lisa Logan tours Oz in preparation for the arrival of hard-hitting reporter Jack Eldridge, who will also be spending a night with the new inmate the cameras will follow around on his first day. That man is Omar White, a jittery, homophobic addict fiending for drugs. Busmalis drives the cameras away. After an interview with Beecher Lisa considers focusing the piece on his struggles in Oz. Beecher taunts Keller and Ryan with on camera hints of their involvement in the murders; Keller threatens Ryan when Ryan wants to deal with Beecher; Pete dodges questions; Tidd interrupts a tense moment between Lisa and Vern. After a mention of Adebisi's drug-and-sex videotapes by Poet, Lisa decides to make the piece about the mystery surrounding his final days. Eldridge arrives, digging for information on Ryan after Ryan hints at their past connection. Eldridge blindsides Said with questions about his part in Adebisi's death. Worried about damage to Em City and his and Glynn's careers, Tim points Lisa toward the man he blames: Querns, who kept quiet in exchange for Glynn keeping quiet over his unethical methods. Per Glynn's advice, Querns turns down requests for an interview; per Querns' advice, Glynn destroys the tapes. Glynn and Jack have an off-the-record conversation, leading Eldridge to realize Glynn was a good man caught up in a situation he couldn't control. Jack cancels the Adebisi story. Offering him a constant supply of drugs, Ryan manipulates White into helping him settle an old score against Eldridge. Unfortunately, White tries to attack Eldridge directly in front of the guards. White goes to solitary. Eldridge chooses Cyril for his podmate, sensing good story potential. Cyril, who hasn't been taking his medication, remembers Eldridge and blames him for his mother getting cancer (Eldridge did a piece on Ryan on Cyril when they were in charge of their local Irish gang, painting them as monsters. Their mother developed and died from cancer not long afterward.). Cyril beats Eldridge to a pulp. As he recovers from serious injuries, the network decides to cancel the piece on Oz. Lisa resigns in protest.

[TV static drones]

[bright tone]

[tense jazzy music]

♪ ♪

- Oz...

the name on the street

for the Oswald State
Correctional Facility,

Level Four.

Now, in Oz, our entire day
is structured.

We know when we'll eat,
sleep, work,

when we'll have
free time.



Now, giving a man who's
locked up free time is a joke,

'cause there are still
all kinds of restrictions

as to what you can
and cannot do.

Some people try
to better themselves

by reading or exercise.

Some pray.

Some plot.

Some just watch TV.

male announcer:
Live from Burbank Studios

in Burbank, California,

it's time to play
"Up Your Ante."

And here's your host,
Gordon Elliott.

- Hello, and welcome
to "Up Your Ante."

And let's meet our first
contestant tonight,



Mr. John Carpenter.

[applause]
- Hello.

- Now let's meet our star.

Joining us this evening,
the divine, the purr-fect

Miss Eartha Kitt.

Eartha, thank you so much
for being here.

The category
is style and fashion.

Take a look
at this photograph.

Can you tell me what kind
of beard this man is wearing?

- I think I need a hint.

- Eartha?

- Well, I can
give you a hint.

It can also be called
a Rob Petrie.

- Oh!

- Rob Petrie?

- It's a goatee,
you stupid fuck!

- Come on, just say it.
Just say "goatee."

- He could say "goatee,"
but he'd be wrong.

- That's not a goatee?

- It's a Van Dyke.

- Van Dyke?

- Rob Petrie?
Get it?

- No.
Who's Rob Petrie?

- Yo, would y'all just
fucking clam it up

so I can hear the answer?

[buzzer blares]
- Count!

- So it's either a Dick
or a Van Dyke...

[inmates groaning]

- What's the answer?
- Up my ante!

- Yes, television
keeps us busy,

keeps us happy.

- I'm what we call
a segment producer.

Each of our shows is divided
into four ten-minute stories,

anchored by
a different newsman.

I work
for Jack Eldridge.

- Ah, I like Eldridge.

He's a ball buster.

That piece you did
on heating oil,

he really tagged
that corporate clown.

Have a seat.

- We want to do
a three-part series on Oswald.

You know, inside one
of America's toughest prisons.

- No.

- No?

- Like I said, I saw
what he did to that guy,

and I don't want to be
that guy.

- What have you got to hide?

- Nothing, but in the four years
since we had the riot,

life around here's
been rough.

Attitudes are just starting
to settle down.

You bring in
the TV cameras,

you're gonna stir
the situation up.

- Well, I've spoken
to the commissioner,

and he's agreed.

- Then I'll call
the governor.

- He also agreed.

- Well, if you already
had permission,

if you already knew
it was a done deal,

why'd you even ask me?

- To get
your honest reaction.

First we're gonna do
an overview of life in Oswald.

Then we're gonna follow
one new prisoner coming in,

and we will close
with Jack Eldridge

spending the night
locked in a cell.

- Spending the night?

- Yeah, just him
and one real inmate.

- By the way,

when does the great man
get here?

- Not till the day
we actually shoot.

For the next few days,
I'm gonna have a crew here

while I do
preliminary interviews

with you staff members

and as many prisoners
as possible.

Please understand,

our goal is to show
the audience

how incredibly difficult
your jobs are

and to kick "60 Minutes"
in the ass.

- That's all.

Tomorrow
and for several days,

a television crew
will be walking the halls,

taping a piece on Oz
for their news magazine.

[inmates applauding
and cheering]

Quiet down!

Quiet!

Now, I know,

when the cameras
are rolling,

you guys will run through
your bag of tricks:

plead innocent,

run scams, cry foul,

or whatever else you think
is gonna get you some attention,

get your faces on TV.

But let me warn you.

When those cameras
are gone,

I'll still be here.

When the story airs,
I will be watching,

and I won't forget what you say
or what you do.

That is all.

[intercom beeps]
- Lights out!

[tense percussive tones]

- I gotta think of some good
shit to tell this jamoke.

He's only gonna use
the best stuff.

- You gonna
make shit up?

- Well, I can't tell him
the truth, can I?

But I want to be on camera.

Can't let these matinee idol
looks go to waste.

- [laughs]

- Callate.

- Ay-yi-yi.
Callate.

- Pendejo.

- You gonna sit down
with those newspeople?

- Yes, I am.

I got a lot to say about
the conditions up in here.

- Well, what if they ask
about Adebisi?

- Adebisi.

The court found me
innocent of his death

by way of self-defense.

Even McManus testified
on my behalf.

- But still,
the reporters

are bound
to dig up old bones

and make us Muslims
look bad.

- Arif, I am not afraid.

[toothbrush rustling]

- We gonna be on TV?

- I am.

[spits]

But if you see a camera,

you duck out of sight,
all right?

- Why?

- You don't remember
Jack Eldridge?

- No.

- Well, I do.

He fucked us over, Cyril.

He fucked us real bad.

This might be our chance
to get even.

Go to sleep.

[thunder booming]

- Hey, girl!

[suspenseful music]

♪ ♪

[gunshot]

♪ ♪

- Prisoner number 01W711,

Omar White,

convicted
January 4, 2001,

murder in the first degree.

Sentence: 75 years.

Up for parole in 20.

[flashbulb pops]

- Yo, that's what
I'm talking about.

Check it out.
Look at the poontang nookie.

- This is receiving
and discharge,

where prisoners come in,
where prisoners go out,

unless they're in
a body bag.

- Okay, so which one
is Omar White?

- White, Omar!

Yeah, yeah, yeah,
yeah, yeah, come here.

I'm Officer Murphy.

This camera crew
has been authorized

to follow you
on your first day.

You got a problem
with that?

- Oh, like, um--
like I'm gonna be on TV?

- Yup.
- Heh.

I ain't got
no problem with that.

What, you and me, baby?

- Easy, Omar.

- Mr. White, you will be
serving 75 years for murder.

Is that correct?

- Look, I ain't even
know the bitch.

I mean, why the fuck--
why would I shoot her?

- Well, she was
the prime witness

at your cousin's
murder trial.

See, the mistake was not killing
that little girl too.

- You think?

Shit.

I mean, shit.
[laughs]

- Get back in line,
you mutt.

- Who the fuck are you
calling mutt, huh?

- Jake, Willard,
escort Mr. White back in line!

- Who the fuck you talking--
- Get out of my face.

- Hey, hey!
See what I'm saying?

I'm gettin' hosed up in here
in this motherfucker.

Get your hands off me,
motherfucker!

Y'all don't know
who you're fucking with.

- So...[clears throat]

500 prisoners arrive each week?

- Uh-huh.

- And how many
are released?

- Not enough.

This is Emerald City,
also "Em City,"

the experimental cell block

started by Tim McManus
five years ago.

In Em City,
the prisoners are given

a lot more leeway
than the rest of Oz.

- Hey, baby,
how about a little head?

- Hey, Hoyt,
move along!

Jesus.

- Okay, the first one
I want to talk with

is Tobias Beecher.

- Um, all right,
this way.

- Okay, Mr. Beecher,
the way this works

is that you and I
are just gonna talk

very informally, no pressure,

and based
on our conversation,

we'll decide if you get
interviewed by Jack Eldridge.

- So the camera's
not on now?

- No, yeah,
it's on.

But we can turn it off
if you want.

- I don't care.

- Okay, you came
to Oswald in 1997

as a result of a DUI

and vehicular manslaughter
conviction.

- Uh-huh.

- Prior to that,
you were a successful lawyer

from a prominent family
with a wife and two children.

How has being in prison
changed you?

- [scoffs]

- Well, describe
some of your experiences

since coming
to Oswald.

- Describe?

Hmm...

Ever read
the book of Job?

- According to the file,

at one point, you had
your arms and legs broken,

and at another,
you were stabbed.

- Yeah.

You wanna see the scar?

- You once tied
a fellow inmate down

and defecated on his face.

- Yeah.

- Is that what it takes
to survive?

- I'm not the man I was.

Or maybe now I'm the man
I always was and never knew.

- All these incidents
involved two other prisoners,

Christopher Keller
and Vernon Schillinger.

Tell me about your
relationship with them.

- We sing in the choir
together.

[inmates yelling]

[tense percussive tones]

[buzzer blaring]

- What's going on?

- Well, either he stole drugs,
or he owes for drugs.

♪ ♪

- So there are a lot
of drugs in Oswald?

- Define "a lot."

- Well, how many people
in this unit

use heroin
on a regular basis?

- I don't know.

- One in two, one in three,
one in 20?

- I don't know.

- Okay, how about sex?

- Is that an invitation?

- [scoffs]

Right.

Is there a lot
of homosexual activity?

- Well, by homosexual,

do you mean deep-rooted love
of one man for another

or guys fucking guys
in the ass?

- Ass fucking.

- Shit happens.

- And the authorities...
- Frown on it.

But they do their darndest
to stop it.

- As they do
on the drug taking.

- Yes.

- And have you?

- What?

- Fucked a guy
up the ass?

Gotten fucked?

- Well, if I had,
why would I say so to you?

- Tobias Beecher.

- What about him?

- I don't know.
You tell me.

- We sing in the choir
together.

[tense percussive tones]

- That camera's
making me so nervous,

I can't even shuffle.

- Give me the cards.

- Do I look okay?

- You look like you.

- Oh, shit.

When I was on TV
after I escaped,

I couldn't believe
how bad I looked.

My skin was gray.

- Gentlemen, I'm looking for
some background information

on Tobias Beecher's relationship
with Vernon Schillinger--

- Get the fuck
away from me!

- Okay, relax, Busmalis.

Come on, let's talk
to somebody else.

Come on, Come on.
Come on. Let's go.

- We'll go over there.
We'll go over there.

- That's nice.

Now all of America's gonna
see you acting like an asshole.

[tense music]

♪ ♪

- What do you want?

- That news bitch was asking
an awful lot of questions.

What did you
tell her about me?

- [scoffs]
Get the fuck outta here.

- You tell her
anything about us,

you tell her anything
about anything...

- And what, huh?

What are you gonna do?

- Shakedown!

[pounding on window]

- Later.

♪ ♪

- Get up. Get your shirt up,
you asshole.

- Get the fuck
outta here.

[laughter, indistinct chatter]

[dog barking]

[laughter]

- What do we have here?

Come on, Brace,
I'm taking your ass to the Hole.

[laughter]

[static crackling]

- I think
I take drugs because...

I know they're
destructive.

I feel unworthy
of love.

- Oh, Christ,
what a load of shit.

- Tobias.

- No, look at him being
all sincere and cuddly

'cause of them.

Keller's nothing
but a poser.

- Shut the fuck up,
Beecher.

- Yeah, shut up,
Beecher.

You're spoiling this
for everybody, man.

- Oh, yeah, O'Reily?

Oh, right, you and Keller
are butt buddies now.

Let me see,
when did that happen?

When who died?

- What you fuckin'
sayin', huh?

- That's enough now.
Stop it!

Turn that camera off.

Turn it off
right now.

Now!
Turn that light off.

Off!

- Tobias Beecher
and Christopher Keller.

- What about them?

- There's a lot
of bad blood.

- There's a lot
of spilled blood.

- Why?

- The men in Oz
are very distressed--

mentally, physically,
and morally.

- Christopher Keller,
for example,

is a sexual predator.

So does that factor into
his problems with Beecher?

- You know, I'm really
not comfortable

specifically talking
about these cases.

- Okay.

Have you ever
been harassed?

Have you ever been
sexually threatened

by one of the inmates?

- No.

No.

- Hey, what are we
gonna do about Beecher?

- Do?

- You heard the guy
in rehab.

The fucker almost goes public

about us killing
Shemin and Browne?

- He's playing around.

He would have never
spilled all the beans.

- Oh, you're sure
of this?

- It's just his way of saying

that he still loves me.

- You know, the two of you
are just so fucked up, man.

- Whoa.

Don't you hurt Beecher,
O'Reily.

You hurt Beecher,
I might have to hurt you.

- Don't make any threats,
K-boy.

Might put me
in a bad fucking mood.

[gate buzzes]

- Vern, check her.

- She's not my type.

- Your type?

She got a pussy,
ain't she?

- Yeah, and like you're gonna
get anywhere near her pussy.

- Unit B is your
typical cell block.

- And how many units
are built like this?

- Uh, ten.

Hey, Vern, you're up.

- Him?
What about me?

I give good story.

- Yeah?
- Yeah.

- Maybe later.

- All right, this way.
Come on.

- So you're
a white supremacist.

- You people
in the media,

you love to label us.

I know, no matter
what I say here,

you're gonna trim it
and make me look like a monster.

But...
I'm no monster.

I'm a widower

whose first son
died tragically.

I'm gonna be a grandpa.

I believe in family,

in America,

in God.

Does that sound evil
to you?

- Now, your other son, Hank,

has been accused of kidnapping
Tobias Beecher's children

and of murdering
his son Gary.

The FBI believes
you orchestrated the crime.

That sounds
pretty evil to me.

- Lady, you don't want
to be having opinions

about things that you
could not possibly understand.

- Oh, if I didn't know
you were such a fine,

upstanding citizen,

I might consider that
a threat.

- Yo, I got
something to say.

Schillinger's a pussy.

[laughs]

Hey, sit down.
[laughs]

- Shut your face,
nigger.

[inmates clamoring,
alarm bell ringing]

- Hey, stop filming!
I gotta get you out of there.

- Keep shooting! Keep shooting!
- Let's go. Move it!

Let's go! Outta there!
- Keep shooting!

- Move, move, move,
move, move.

[tense music]

- Move it.
That's it.

- So this Beecher story,
you think it has legs?

- Oh, yeah.

Usually the less
people are willing to say,

the better the story.

I just gotta
figure a way in.

- Each prisoner is assigned
a number and photograph,

and then they're sent
to their respective units.

- And White's going
to Em City, right?

- Yeah, God help us.

[flashbulb pops]

♪ ♪

Here you go.
Home, sweet home.

Come on, let's go.

- Yo.

- What, you crippled
or something?

- No, I'm physically
challenged.

- Well, you got
any tits?

- No.

I don't do drugs
no more.

- Well, you ain't no faggot
or nothing, huh?

- No!

- Well...

thank God for that.

[exhales sharply]

Can't stand
no motherfucking faggots.

Drive me crazy.

♪ ♪

- So what now?

- It's nighty-night.

[intercom beeps]

- Lights out!

- Hey.

- The fourth estate
is gone?

- Yeah, for today.
- Any problems?

- Well, we had
a minor skirmish in Em City

and a major battle
in Unit B.

- They get everything
on tape?

- Oh, yeah.
- Did our guys respond?

- Both incidences
over in a flash.

- You know, I don't care
if the prisoners look bad.

I just don't want us to.

- Well, she seems to be
mostly focusing on Beecher.

- His is a cautionary tale.

- Let's hope Logan
doesn't dig too deep.

I wouldn't want her
uncovering any skeletons.

- You mean Adebisi?

- Among others.

- Television is a medium
rarely well done.

My Uncle Bilbo
said that.

Okay, somebody said it first,

but my Uncle Bilbo was
the first one to say it to me.

Now, don't get me wrong,

I love watching
the news on TV.

Dan and Tom and Peter

and maybe a little Jim Lehrer
if I'm feeling brainy.

I flip back and forth
between news shows

in hopes of catching
the same story,

'cause each news show
tells a story a different way.

ABC leaves out a fact
that CBS makes a big deal of.

CBS interviews its expert,

who totally disagrees
with NBC's expert.

NBC goes in depth,

while ABC gives the same story
five seconds' airtime.

You see, I figure if I catch
all three versions,

maybe combined, I get
a little taste of the truth.

[buzzer blares]

[intercom beeps]

- Count!

[dramatic percussive tones]

[indistinct chatter]

- 88P217.

96J522.

98A498.

92M220.

97A413.

♪ ♪

- Yo.
Yo, yo, dog, dog.

Hook me up, baby.

Come on, man,
don't be mean, man.

Come on.

Why you wanna
do me like that, dog?

- Omar, my man.

Jesus Christ, you're looking
a little crispy there, brother.

- I gotta get
some tits.

- Wow.

You know, times
are lean right now.

The hacks--

they're doing too good a job
keeping that shit out of Oz.

Trick is, you gotta know
the right person.

You have a good day.

- Yo, yo, yo,
yo, yo, yo.

Look, I been to
every nigga up in here.

Look, man, they think--
they think I'm a narc, man.

These motherfuckers, they don't
know me, man, I mean--

- Hey, shh.

Abracadabra.

♪ ♪

- Now what you want
in exchange for this?

- Well...

- I ain't gonna suck your dick
or nothing like that.

- Hey, I'm no
fucking fag.

I just might need you
to take care

of a little business for me,
that's all.

- I got no problem
with that.

- Knock yourself out.

[bell rings]

- Hypocrisy.

Hip-hoc-risy,

that's what this is.

See, they strip me
of my clothes,

they strip me
of my rights,

they strip me
of my self-respect,

all 'cause they say
I broke the rules

trafficking
in illegals.

But they more guilty
than I could ever be.

Fucking uppity-ups.

See, they the ones that let
Adebisi sing and snort and suck.

And when his blood ran out,
when his blood got spilled,

the truth ran out
and the wall of lies got built.

After Said greased him,

fucking hacks act like
he ain't never even breathed in.

And the lies got buried
with his number.

- You saying there was
a cover-up?

- Yeah, there was
a cover-up.

Sheets and blankets,

enough to cover up all them
high-and-mighties.

- The warden too?

- The warden
more than most!

- All right, come on,
that's enough.

- You see? You see?

They're still trying
to shush me.

- You got any evidence
to back up these accusations?

- Yeah.

There's a videotape.

Adebisi, he documented
the whole drama,

just like you doing
right here.

You know what I'm saying?
Right up until the fade.

You ask O'Reily,
you ask Said, you ask--

- All right, shut up, Poet.
Come on, let's go.

We gotta move on.
- No, he's got something to say.

- He's always got
something to say.

Come on, let's go.
- Hypocrisy!

- Yeah, okay.

- Conspiracy!
- Right.

Take a nap.

[tense percussive tones]

- Jack...

I found our story.

I'm not sure about
all the details yet,

but something screwy happened

surrounding the death
of an inmate.

Yeah, and evidently
it's all on videotape.

Well, the sooner
you get here, the better.

Officer Murphy--

- You ready?
You're gonna love death row.

- Yeah, rather
than do that,

I wanna go back and interview
a couple of prisoners again.

- Okay.

- And I'd like
to do so in private.

- Private?
- Without you present.

- That's not
gonna happen.

- Don't worry.

I'll get permission.

- She asked to see
Said and O'Reily again?

What's she want
with them?

- Murphy thinks it might have
to do with Adebisi's death.

- But O'Reily wasn't
involved with that.

- I know.

- I miss Mama.

- So do I.

- Why'd she have
to die, Ryan?

- [exhales deeply]

I told you
a thousand times, Cyril,

the cancer ate her up.

Hey, Miss Sally's
on TV.

Why don't you
go watch, okay?

Please?

- All right.
- Okay.

How's it going, cuz?

- I need some more tits.
- Whoa.

I don't got
a never-ending supply,

you know what I'm saying?

- You know,
just a little bit, you know,

just till I feel a little
better, you know what I mean?

- You know, it's too bad
you got here when you did.

Six months ago,

we had tits coming out
of our fucking asses.

When this guy Adebisi
ran the operation,

the well never ran dry.

- What happened to him?

- He got shanked.
But that's not the point.

When he died,

the spics and the wops,
they took over everything.

And between you, me,
and this sink,

they're doing
a half-assed job.

- How come brothers
don't organize?

- They should.
They need a leader.

I mean, right now, all they got
is this fool Poet.

He's a complete come stain.

- You know, I used
to run my block.

- Well, there you go.

Maybe you should
step up, huh?

- Yeah. [chuckles]

- Come here.

Have some.

- Shit yeah.

- You see, to get anybody's
attention around this place,

you gotta do
something large.

- Large?

- Yeah, like Adebisi,
he was large and in charge,

bigger than life,
feared by one and all.

- Yeah, well,
that's what I want.

I want 'em to fear me.

- Then you gotta
kill somebody.

But not just anybody.

You gotta go huge,
monumental,

somebody...

famous?

- Like who?

- All right, who's next?
Come on through, lady.

Step over here.
Open your purse.

Next!

[detector beeps]

Put all metal objects
in there.

And you're visiting...

- Peter Thorpe.

- Go through again.

And your name is?

- Helen Keating.
[detector beeps]

- And the watch.

- For Christ's sake,

what do you think
I'm trying to smuggle in,

a fucking bazooka?

- Oh, Officer,
can you please...

- Ah, Tom, listen, he's okay.
Let him in.

- Oh, why didn't you say?

I'm a big fan.

[gate buzzes]

- Good job.
- Yeah.

Oi, oi!
Wake up.

- Jack?
- Yeah?

- This is
Ryan O'Reily.

- Uh-huh.

- Jack Eldridge.

- Oh, how do
you do?

- Hi. You don't
remember me, do you?

- No, afraid not.

Have we met?

- Yeah, about 20 years ago.

- Oh, well,
you'd understand, then.

- Yeah, you must meet so many
people in this job, right?

- What was
the circumstances?

- It's not important.

- Oh.
- Okay, Ryan.

Comfortable?
- Yes.

- [clears throat]

- And we are rolling.

- Where were you
when Adebisi died?

- The common room.

- Any inkling as to what was
gonna happen to him?

- No, no, as far as I could see,
Said and Adebisi,

they were getting along
just fine.

- Okay, so walk me
through this.

You were in
the common room...

- Doing nothing.

- [mouthing words]
- And?

- I heard this noise
from Adebisi's pod,

and he had these white curtains
hanging up in the room,

and, poof,

they just went red with blood

everywhere, splattered,

and then Adebisi,
he falls out of the pod,

down on the ground, dead,

and Said follows out

with the shank
still in his hand.

- Well, have you any idea
what led to the fight?

- No.
- All right.

You tell me there were curtains
on the windows of Adebisi's pod.

Is that unusual?
- Yes.

- Was Adebisi privileged?

- Privileged?

- Well, was he allowed
to get away with things

the rest of you weren't?

- [chuckles]

Hold on for a second.

Excuse me.

Wanna kill these things?

- Sure.
Dale, guys, cut.

What's the problem?

- You want
that kind of knowledge,

you're gonna have to pay.

- Oh, we don't pay informers.

- Then I'm not saying
another syllable.

- Ryan, in the prescreen,

you said that you would tell
everything you know.

- Look, I tell,
it's gonna cost me.

The warden's gonna be up my ass
like one of them proctoscopes.

All I'm looking for here
is a little compensation.

- No!

Get the fuck out.

- Suit yourself,
Mr. Eldridge.

Pleasure
to see you again.

- That bastard.

Find out where the fuck
I know him from.

- Mr. Eldridge,
how am I gonna do that?

- Well, use your head!

I certainly didn't
meet O'Reily

at a cocktail party
on the Upper East Side.

20 years ago.
I bet I did a story on him.

Track it down!

Commendable work, love.
Nice fucking interview.

[bell ringing]

A pleasure
meeting you finally.

I've admired you
for years.

- Thank you.

The feeling is mutual.

- I've read
both your books.

- Well, actually,
there are three.

- You know, I've always felt
that your conviction was...

politically motivated.

- Gentlemen?
- What?

- We're ready if you are.

- Well, just relax.
Speak your mind.

[clears throat]

Minister Said,
you murdered Simon Adebisi.

- [chuckles nervously]

No, I, um...

defended myself.

He attacked me
with a knife.

- Why? Why did
he attack you?

- Well, I was under
the impression

that we were gonna talk
about the conditions in Oz.

- Well, isn't this
one of the conditions,

brutality,
senseless violence?

Was his attack on you
unmotivated?

- No.

- So you said something to him.

You did something to him.

- I am a Muslim.

I did not agree
with some of the ways

that Adebisi
was conducting himself.

- Then why did you ask
to move into Adebisi's pod?

You see,
I have here a form

signed by you,
requesting the change.

If you hated
Adebisi so much...

- I didn't say
I hated him.

- Then why live
with such an animal?

- I was trying
to save him.

- And yet instead
you killed him.

What about the videotape
documenting Adebisi's conduct?

- You know, right now,
I would like to move past

this particular
conversation

and speak about
the larger issues.

- Do you deny
that there's a videotape?

- Every day, we suffer

fundamental civil rights
abuses.

- The tape, sir,
yes or no?

- I am done
talking with you.

- Minister, we are only
trying to get the facts.

- That part
of the story is over.

Don't you understand?

Adebisi is dead.

Adebisi is irrelevant.

- Nothing that brings about

the death of a man
is irrelevant.

You want us to hear
what you have to say, fine.

You have to tell us
what we need to know first.

- And then which part
will be aired?

- [chuckles]

- They're definitely working
the angle on Adebisi.

- His death?

- Nope, what went on
before that.

Poet told them
about the videotapes

that Adebisi made.

- Christ.

- Yeah, and they're
trying to verify

that the tapes exist.

- Maybe we should
pull the plug.

- I can't do that.

I spoke to both
the commissioner

and the governor,
and they feel

if we back out now,
it'll only look worse.

And since I never told either
of them about the videotapes,

well, I sure as hell
can't tell them now.

- Well, you may
have to, Leo.

The truth may
have to come out.

- [sighs]

[tense percussive tones]

- Hey.
- Hey.

- So you got
information for me?

- I can't go on camera and say
the things that need to be said.

- Why not?

- Because it'll be
the end of Leo's career

and the governor will
have enough ammunition

to close down
Emerald City permanently.

- Okay.

So then what would you
be willing to say?

- On camera, nothing.

But as deep background...

The guy you want to go after
is Martin Querns.

- He ran Emerald City
after you.

And what about
that videotape?

Have you seen it?

Has Glynn?

Come on, talk to me.

- What you're asking me to do
is betray a friend.

- Friend?

He fired you.

- With good reason.

And he gave me back
Em City.

Like I said,
go after Querns.

- Leo, what the fuck
is going on?

I get a call asking me
if I'm willing

to be interviewed
by Jack fucking Eldridge?

- Well, they found out
what went on in Em City

when you were
in charge.

They heard about
the videotapes.

- Fuck.

When you asked me
to resign,

you said no one would
ever know the reason,

that we were gonna
keep it internal

so that neither one of us
would get hurt.

- Refuse to do
the interview. I did.

- Fine.

Where are
the videotapes?

- In a safe place.

- What are you
keeping them around for?

Destroy the tapes, Leo.

Destroy the goddamn
motherfucking tapes now!

[door slams]

[tense music]

♪ ♪

- Warden.

- Mr. Eldridge.

- So I understand
you've canceled our interview.

- That's right.

- May I ask why?

- You can ask.
I won't answer.

- Come on,
off the record.

Between two guys
holding their dicks.

- I was thinking of running
for lieutenant governor.

I spent too much time
in front of the camera.

- Between you and me,
off the record...

[zipper zips]
That's bullshit.

[urinal flushes]

You've spent how many years
at Oswald?

- Too many.

- Yet it would bother you
to leave, right?

To quit?

To be forced out
because of some indiscretion,

because some mishandling
of the job was exposed on TV?

- I've spent my entire life
punishing people,

and over the years,
I've had to make choices.

Some were good,
and some led to violence.

Lives have been lost,
and I wonder,

could I have stopped
the carnage?

- Simon Adebisi...

could you have
prevented his death?

- Yes.

Balls-out truth,
I should be fired.

But I'm afraid whoever
they bring in to replace me

would only be worse.

It's a terrible thing
to reach this point

and realize your whole life
has been a sham.

- So for a man whose job
is meant to punish others,

you ultimately punish yourself
more than anyone.

- Off the record?

- Yes.

- No comment.

[gate buzzes]

- Lisa.

- What?

- The Adebisi story,
it's a dead end.

- What?
Jack, no.

- My instincts tell me
that none of the principles

are gonna come forward
with the facts.

- Well, we've faced tougher
resistance than this before.

I can get McManus
to crack.

- There are people who do things
for malicious reasons.

This prison
is full of them.

I don't think
Leo Glynn is one.

He's imperfect,
but he's not incompetent.

- That is no reason not
to expose what happened here.

A man died.

- Yeah, from all appearances,
a bad man.

- Oh, you're making
judgments now?

What, Simon Adebisi's life is
not as important as the pope's?

- Don't get
high and mighty with me.

I've brought presidents,
serial killers,

corporate giants
to their knees.

- And now's not the time
to go soft.

- I'm going home.

Big day tomorrow.

- You're making a mistake,
Jack.

Letting this story go
is a fucking mistake!

- Yeah, probably, but, you know,
every once in a while,

even a newsman
has to have a heart.

- Hey, can I have your
autograph, Mr. Brokaw?

What a dick.

[bell rings]

[intercom beeps]

- Journalists are supposed
to be impartial.

They're supposed to keep their
personal opinions to themselves.

However, on TV, we know
what the reporter is feeling.

We see Sam Donaldson
or Andrea Mitchell

giving us the facts,

but with the camera
that close up,

we can also tell
by a raised eyebrow,

a tiny inflection

what they really think
about the person

who they're
reporting on.

Now, Walter Cronkite,
he had the poker face.

Nobody ever knew
what old Walt was thinking.

So while he was
telling the truth,

he was also lying
to the camera.

That's genius!

- Yo, yo, yo, O'Reily,
O'Reily, my man.

Yo, I forgot
to thank you, man,

for getting me put down
in this cafeteria, man.

This shit is dope.

- Oh, hey,
no problem, cuz.

Hey, come here.
Come here. Come here.

I got a little
something for you.

Hey, little morning
pick-me-up.

We call it a duster.
Yeah.

So, Omar, I hear
you're the lucky fuck

who's gonna spend the night
in the cell with Jack Eldridge.

- I'm gonna be
a TV star, shit, like...

like Martin Lawrence

or Bart Simpson
and shit.

- [laughs]
- This shit is good, man.

- Have some more.
Have some more.

You know, I just hope he doesn't
disrespect you, that's all.

- Dis me?
How he gonna dis me?

- Well, I overheard him
telling somebody yesterday

that you were a faggot.

- Yeah?
- Yeah, that's what he said.

- Faggot?
- Yeah.

- I ain't
no motherfucking faggot!

- Well, no, hey.
Omar, Omar, Omar, hey.

I know that.

But, you know,
them news media cocks,

they love
to twist shit around.

You know, they don't
give a fuck about the truth.

They make a guy look the way
they want him to look

for the sake of their story,
to boost the ratings.

You know what I'm saying?
- Ratings?

Fuck the motherfucking
ratings.

This motherfucker ain't
calling me no faggot!

- But the funny thing is,

is the tabloids say that
Eldridge is actually a faggot.

- I heard that somewhere.
I know.

- Yeah, he's like one of them
closet cases, you know?

But to cover up
his shame,

he's gonna skunk you
on national television.

- No.

- Hey, O'Reily.
- Huh?

- Those eggs ain't
gonna fry themselves.

- I'm coming.

- Okay, let's go, man.

- I'm coming.
I'm coming.

Hey, if I were you,

tonight when I was alone
with that cocksucker,

I'd teach him a thing or two
about being a real man.

Enjoy that.

[detector beeps]

- Hello, hello.

- Mr. Eldridge.
- Hey, Jack.

- Hello, Lisa.

- Jack.

- What did you find out
about Ryan O'Reily?

- When he was 16, you did
a piece on urban gangs,

about how the black kids
were taking over

the turf of the whites,
especially the Irish.

- I interviewed O'Reily?
- Yeah.

And his brother, Cyril.

Here are
the transcripts.

Lisa.

- I don't have time
to read that.

Did Jack make
O'Reily look bad?

- I reviewed the tape
last night, and yeah...

the O'Reilys came off
as being brutal, heartless.

- I want to see
that tape.

[gate buzzes]

- Let's go.
Come on in.

Watch the paint.

At 5:00, all the prisoners
are locked down in their cells.

9:00, lights out.

- Until...

- 6:00 a.m.

- Oh, mamacita, querida.

- Keep it in
your pants, Guerra.

Let's go.
Keep a-moving.

Jesus.

[buzzer blares]

- There he is.

- There's the fuck.

- Omar, just chill out
till tonight.

- No, no, no,
that bitch is mine.

- No, Omar.
Hey, Omar!

Wait, wait,
wait, wait.

- Get the fuck off me.

Hey, hey, hey!

Hey, you!

You fuck.

You fuck.

- What's your problem,
White?

- I got your punk
for you, all right?

- White, what's your problem?
- What's my problem, huh?

- Calm down.
- He's my problem!

You know what else? I got
another problem too, all right?

This!

This is
my fucking problem!

Hey. Hey, hey.

- Hey, hey, hey, relax, man.
Relax.

Calm down, White.
Let's go.

- Hey!
- Fuck!

He's got a knife!

- Come on, get 'em up!
Come on!

- Central, this is 11.
We got a 66.

Lockdown!
[buzzer blares]

- Come on, Mineo,
you guinea fuck,

you want some more?

- Put down the shank!
- Come on!

- Put down the shank!

- Come on,
you fucking bitch!

Come on,
I'll fuck you up!

[men yelling]

[tense music]

♪ ♪

Motherfuckers!

Motherfuckers!

Motherfuckers!
Motherfuckers!

- God damn it.

- Motherfuckers!

- This is exactly
why I didn't want you here

in the first place.

I think, at the very least,
you ought to postpone.

- No, by postpone,
you mean never reschedule.

- Our concern is for
your safety, Mr. Eldridge.

- I've been in this game
a long time.

I can take care
of myself.

- So we're gonna go ahead
with it tonight?

You're gonna sleep in a cell?

- Yes, but of course,

now we have to find someone else
to match up with Jack.

- Well, we could put you
in a cell alone.

- Ted Koppel did that
on "Nightline."

It was complete
horse shit.

- Then who?

- I've been reading the files
on the O'Reily brothers.

The younger one, Cyril,

he's now brain damaged

and under medication
to control his actions.

I choose him.

- I don't want my brother
involved with this, okay?

I refuse.

- O'Reily,
I don't have a choice.

You don't have a choice.

Let's just try to make it
through the night

and pray for the best.

- You know what?
You pray.

Say a whole
fucking rosary.

- You tested the camera?

- Twice.
We're good to go.

- All right.

Lock me up.

- I wish you'd let
the SORT team be here.

- No, I want this to be like
any other typical night.

[tense percussive tones]

♪ ♪

[buzzer blares]

- Here we go.

♪ ♪

- Hello, Cyril.

I'm Jack Eldridge.

- Hello.

- Jack, you ready?

- [clears throat]

- You're on.

- It's 5:00 p.m.,
and already--

It's only 5:00 pm,

but the prisoners
of Emerald City

are already in lockdown
for the night.

Two to a cell with nothing
but a pair of beds,

a sink,
and a toilet.

The room is about the size of
the average American bathroom,

and it smells
like one as well.

Imagine, if you can,
spending the rest of your life

locked up with a complete
stranger in your bathroom.

- Who you talking to?

- Well, that camera,
which I want you to ignore.

So this evening, here we are
at Oswald Penitentiary.

- Jack, you gotta
move to your left.

You're blocking him.

Oh, that's good.

- What do you do
before lights out?

- Wait.

- For what?

- The lights to go out.

[chuckles]

- Um...here.

Yeah, that's it.

And then?

- Um...

I say my prayers
and sleep.

- Oh.
- Hmm.

- And what
do you pray for?

- Oh, I pray to Jesus...

that Ryan will be safe
and Aunt Brenda

and my daddy
will smile...

and they'll take care
of my mama in heaven.

- Your mother died?

- Years ago
in the hospital.

I hate hospitals.

- Here.

- I hate the smell
of hospitals.

I mean, the medicine
tastes bad.

- Yeah.

- Ryan tells me
to take my medicine,

but I don't sometimes.

Like today.

[chuckles softly]

[dramatic percussive tones]

♪ ♪

- Ah.

What about, um...

before the accident?

Do you remember
anything about that?

- There are flashes
once in a while...

like now.

I see you...

and I think
maybe I know you.

[woman crying]

- We met many years ago.

You were 15.

[punch lands]

You, your brother, and I,

we talked about
your lives in the gang.

♪ ♪

[glass shatters, fire whooshes]

- You made Mama sad.

You made Mama cry.

You gave
my mama cancer.

- Holy shit!

- Central, this is 11.
We got a 66.

- Ryan said at the grave
that you gave my mother cancer.

[tense music]

- [grunts]
- Cyril!

Cyril!

- You gave my mama cancer!

- Cyril!
Cyril!

- You gave
my mama cancer!

- Cyril!

Cyril!

[pounding on window]

Cyril!

- Mama!

Ryan!

- Cyril!

- Jack!

Jack! Jack!
- Ryan!

- Oh, Jack.

- Oh, did you--
Lisa, did you...

- What? Did I what?

- Get it all on tape?

[tape rewinding]

[Cyril speaking backwards]

- Television has the power
to enlighten, to inform,

to lay the bare truth
before the eyes of the public.

Television
is an extraordinary gift,

as much a miracle
from God as Lazarus

rising from the dead.

But do we use
the gift wisely?

Have we ever?

- News anchor Jack Eldridge

became a part
of his own story yesterday

as what many industry insiders
called a ratings stunt

backfired.

Convicted murderer
Cyril O'Reily

brutally beat Eldridge,
causing the veteran reporter

to suffer
a severe concussion,

four broken ribs,
and a punctured lung.

He remains at Benchley Memorial
in critical condition.

Despite the objections
of Eldridge's producer,

Lisa Logan,
the network has decided

not to air
what was intended to be

a three-part series
on life inside

Oswald's maximum
security prison.

The Emmy and Peabody
Award-winning Logan

resigned in protest.

We all wish Jack
a speedy recovery.

[bright tone]

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