Oz (1997–2003): Season 5, Episode 3 - Dream a Little Dream of Me - full transcript

Brass wants to know who cut his tendon; Redding and Morales form another uneasy alliance; Rev. Cloutier's mysterious influence over his followers grows more intriguing; and Keller returns ...

[bright tone]

[tense jazzy music]

♪ ♪

- Sigmund Freud said
that the purpose of our dreams

is to satisfy
certain instinctual urges

that society deems unacceptable.

For instance, instead of killing
an oppressive father,

which would be
too horrible to handle,

we dream of throwing
our boss out the window.

Freud believed that the mind
will often modify our dreams

in order to keep
strong emotions at bay.



And with less emotion,

a man can get up, go to work,
and be a good citizen.

The difference for us in Oz is,

we don't dream of throwing
our boss out the window,

we actually do it.

[gore squishes]

[tense percussive tones]

♪ ♪

- So, Alvarez...

Who's responsible?

- I wish I knew.

- You didn't see
who stabbed you?

- No, everything happened
so fast, you know?

- Then I guess
my investigation's over.



- Yeah, it's really
breaking you up, ain't it?

- Man.

I'm no doctor, but...

I've seen a lot
of stab wounds in my time.

If that knife had gone in

another quarter of an inch
to the left,

we wouldn't be having
this conversation.

- A quarter of an inch?

No shit.

- No shit.

[bell ringing]

Guess you were lucky, huh?

- You gonna send me
back to Solitary?

- No, no, no.
I mean...

There's no one I'd rather see
rot in solitary than you,

but I figure
I'll send you back to Em City.

Maybe next time,
you're not so lucky.

[tense percussive tones]

♪ ♪

- We gotta talk.

- Oh, you want me
to shank you again?

Okay.
[laughs]

- Can I sit down?

- Blow me.

[laughter]

- Get up.

Have a seat.

- So?

- You tried to kill me.

- No, I didn't.
You're alive, ain't you?

That was our deal.

- You were supposed
to stab me in the shoulder, man.

Blade went in a quarter
of an inch from my heart.

- Must've fucking moved, chocha.

What can I say?

- You ain't gotta say nothing.

I just want you to know
that I know the truth, man.

I'm gonna honor our agreement.

I didn't die.

I ain't gonna retaliate.

- Backing off--
wise move, Miguel.

Listen to me carefully.

I'm never gonna welcome you
back into El Norte,

but what I will do is guarantee
that we'll leave you be.

- What the fuck
are you talking about--

- All scores are settled.

[gate buzzes]

- Excuse me.

[tense percussive tones]

♪ ♪

- I want you to shank me.

I don't know
how you came up with the idea,

but it fucking rocks,

and I see
what it's done for you.

And mostly I see how Morales is.

Him talking to you before,
like he's taking the high road,

being powerful and generous,

but behind his eyes,
he's running scared.

I want to follow you.

- You want to follow me?

- Join your gang.

You're the next wave,

and I want to be
your lieutenant.

Shank me.

- [chuckling softly]

I ain't gonna shank you, man.

But I understand,
you know, you think

you gotta prove yourself
and shit, right?

- Yes.

- I'm gonna have you
do something else for me.

- Anything.

- Kill Guerra.

[tense percussive tones]

♪ ♪

- Step over here, Morales.

- Okay.

- You know who I am?

- Dave Brass, the basketballer.

You played with McManus
against Vahue in those games.

Pretty good for a white boy.

- Who cut my Achilles tendon?

- I don't know.

- Look, I don't care
whose idea it was.

All I want is the guy
who actually did the deed.

- I wish I could help you out.

- You lying piece of shit.

You're gonna regret
that you didn't.

- You know...

You had
the sweetest crossover dribble

I've ever seen.

Juking right,

then planting that foot,
then going left.

I don't know how many times
you dressed down Vahue

with that move.

But you know what they say.

You take away
a basketball god's first step,

and all you got is a CO
with a broken wheel.

[tense percussive tones]

[cheers]

[tense jazzy music]

♪ ♪

- What you doing?

- I've started
a letter writing campaign

to protest
the possible cancellation

of "Miss Sally's Schoolyard."

- This one's signed by Stanton.

- Yeah, he's a good guy,
that Stanton.

- Stanton's in Solitary.

- All right, so I fudged a few.

- Wangler. Adebisi.

Groves--
Groves?

- Okay, I fudged them all.

None of those yerts out there
would rally for the cause.

You want to write one?

- No offense,

but the only thing
I want renewed

is my grandson's chance
to beat his leukemia.

- Right, sorry.

What's the latest
on his condition?

- You gotta pay to play.

There's a cure to be found,
but it'll cost,

and I still haven't figured out
a way to raise the money.

- Next up is Whitney Allen,

star of
"Miss Sally's Schoolyard,"

to tell us about next week's
Mightyball drawing.

Whitney?

- Hi, Warren, how are you?

- Very well, thank you.

Thanks for dropping by.

- Who are all these numb nuts
that play the lottery?

- I've played the lottery.
- Me too.

- Like I said.
Numb nuts.

Out of 51 numbers,
you gotta pick the right number,

not once but six times in a row.

- I say it is possible to win.

- Jesus Christ, Busmalis,

you'd have a better chance
of getting struck by lightning.

- Approximately
1,000 people a year

win a million dollars or more
in North American lotteries.

In contrast...

less than 100 people a year
are hit by lightning.

- So don't forget to play,

'cause the winner
might just be you.

[tense jazzy music]

- Excuse me, Officer Brass.
- Yeah?

- Bob Rebadow.

You've always seemed like
a sympathetic fellow to me.

- What do you want?

- I want you to purchase
a lottery ticket for me.

The jackpot is $2 million.

I'll cut you in.

- Cut me in on what?

- The prize money.

- [laughs]

What in the world makes
you think you're gonna win?

- God told me.

These are the winning numbers.

[ball bouncing]

- Whoop.

Hey, Dave, how you doing?

- What's the deal with this guy,
Bob Rebadow?

- Uh, nothing.

Why, is he giving you trouble?

- No, I just thought
the guy might be psychotic.

At dinner he starts telling me
God speaks to him.

- Oh, yeah,
he's had an ongoing tête-à-tête

with the Almighty
for some time now.

Actually,
he's relatively stable.

- First time
I've touched one of these

since my Achilles got cut.

It's a perfect
fucking ball, man.

Gummy.
Beat-up.

Give you mad handle.

This ball will
make you Pete Maravich.

- Oh, Jesus, Pistol Pete.

Greatest scorer
in the history of college ball.

- When he was growing up,

he used to carry a ball
with him at all times,

no matter what--
in school, on a date--

didn't matter.

He'd even go to bed
with a basketball,

like a marriage.

So I started doing it.

I quit sleeping with it
when I got to college,

but other than that...

- Come on, man.
You want to shoot, shoot.

- It's all right.
- Come on.

I can stick around for a while.

- I gotta go.

Gotta make an extra stop
on my way home.

I gotta buy a lottery ticket.

- Well, another night, then.

We'll stay late.
We'll shoot around.

- You know
how Pete Maravich died?

Playing basketball.

Been retired eight years.

Was out running
in a pickup game,

heart attack,

up and down the court
one minute,

falling over dead the next.

Till death do us part.

He's able to live that,
literally.

But I won't be able to.

So stop fucking asking me
to shoot around with you.

All right?

- Ugh...
- Hey!

- [shouts indistinctly]
- No!

- First of all, let me say
I'm glad you're fully recovered.

Secondly, I understand you want
to return to Emerald City.

And you can understand
that that's a tough call for me.

Before you got... hurt,

you continuously threatened
the lives of Enrique Morales

and the other Latinos,

and plus,
Cyril O'Reily's in there.

- Mr. McManus.

Getting hit by Cyril O'Reily

may have been the single
greatest event in my life.

There I was,
on the brink of death,

and suddenly I could see
all that I had done

and, more importantly,
if I survived,

all that I could do.

Have you ever had
an experience like that?

- Well, yes, I have.

- Whether or not
you bring me back to Em City

is ultimately irrelevant...
and yet I'm drawn there.

Why?
I don't know.

- All right.
Let's give it a shot.

But I want you
to have interaction sessions

with Peter Marie.

- I'm sorry I hurt you.

- Why did you hit Kenmin, Cyril?

- He was punching Ryan.

- Why were you punching Ryan?

- I'd been in the cage all day.

I was feeling feisty.

I decided to show off.
It was stupid.

- [chortles]
Yeah.

- Ryan.
- What?

His bullshit almost
got Cyril transferred

to the fucking insane asylum.

- The rules are
no interrupting and no swearing.

- I take full blame

for everything
that's happened to me.

Which is why
I want to make peace.

- Ah, ah, ah.

Sit the fuck down.

- No.

I want to make peace too.

- Go ahead.

[tense percussive tones]

♪ ♪

- Ah, fuck.

[upbeat rock music]

[man singing
in foreign language]

♪ ♪

[gunshots]

♪ ♪

- Prisoner #02L333.

Li Chen.

Convicted January 14th, 2002.

Four counts of attempted murder.

Sentence: 32 years.

Up for parole in 20.

- [speaking foreign language]

- [speaks foreign language]

[both speaking foreign language]

[both speaking foreign language]

- ♪ Mm ♪

♪ Ah, ah, ah, ah,
ah, ah, ah... ♪

- Okay.

[both humming and singing]

- [laughing]

- Stop laughing, Ryan.
- Ryan, behave!

- I know, okay, okay, I'm sorry,

but Cyril's singing
really sucks.

- Now, I-I have told you

that this program is not
about becoming Pavarotti.

It's about learning
how to express your feelings

through the music.

You did very good, Cyril.

- Thank you.
- That's more like "Pavarotten".

- All right, you try.

[plays major chord]
- Uh-uh.

No, no, the deal was,
I sign up for this class

to spend more time with you--
that's it, I'm not singing.

[gate buzzes]

- So, this session's over,
but next Friday, Ryan,

I want to hear you sing.

- Okay, Mom, but you know what?

I'll do you one better.

- Suzanne,
your next two students are here.

- Whoa, whoa, whoa.

What's this?

- I heard
your mother was teaching,

so I decided
to give it a whirl.

Jia Kenmin.

- Suzanne Fitzgerald.

- Li Chen.
- Welcome, both of you.

- Let's go, O'Reily.

- Yeah, yeah,
in a second, Brass.

- Now, fuckwad.

- Yeah, you fuckin' cripple.
- Bye, guys.

- So, have you guys...

- What's the matter, Ryan?

- I got a bad feeling, man.

- About what?

- About that piss stain,
Jia Kenmin.

I know he's perpetrating,

I know he's plotting
something against us.

I think
he might want to hurt my ma.

- I like her.

- Yeah, well,
she likes you, too, Cyril.

- You want to trade?

- Trade?
Trade what?

- I'll give you
my most prized possession

if you give me her.

- We don't have to trade, Cyril.

We can share her, you know that.

- Really?
- Yeah. Hey.

Don't I share
everything with you?

Hey, Jia.

- Your mother's
a wonderful person.

- Yeah, well,
see that she stays that way.

- Meaning what?

- You fuck with her one time,

you go back into a coma.

This time, it's permanent.

- Look, you have nothing
to fear from me.

But Li Chen,
he is a different matter.

He's one sick fuck.

[tense percussive tones]

♪ ♪

- You're dreaming,

you're deep into REM sleep,

and someone walks in,
someone who's dead,

someone you love--
a father, a mother, a friend--

and you're happy to see
that person alive and well,

happy to have a conversation
to say the things

you never got a chance to say,

but then you wake up,

and the person you loved
is still dead...

and you get to mourn
all over again.

[tense percussive tones]

- About fucking time.

♪ ♪

What happened to the pool table?

- Hey, it's in dry dock
for repairs.

- Spread the word,
I want a meeting

of the entire brotherhood.

We got some unfinished business
with Chucky Pancamo.

- [chuckles]
Hey, Petey, what's shaking, man?

- Schillinger's out of Ad Seg.

So, when they letting you
out of here?

- I don't know.
Dr. Nathan won't say.

Things cool with Morales?

- Yeah, yeah, drugs are running
the same as always.

- The kitchen?

- Good, it's under control.

- Hey, Petey.

Don't get used
to runnin' things.

I'm still fuckin' breathin'.

- Yeah, I know.
I know.

But we gotta waste Schillinger

for what he did to you,
you know.

- We'll take care
of that Nazi fuck

when I'm back in circulation.

Capisce?
- Yep. Capisce.

- I got news.

Schillinger's out of the hole.

- Good.

Now we can sit back

and watch the Nazis
wipe out the Sicilians.

- Yeah, but that ain't gonna
do nothing about them spics.

You know,
they as strong as ever,

and you know
Morales is gonna keep

his pact with Pancamo.

- Unless... Morales sees this
as an opportunity

to move three squares forward,
change partners.

I want you to tell Enrique

I want a sit-down.

[gate buzzes]

[tense percussive tones]

The older I get,
the more I realize

that my appetites
are merely habits.

I don't crave power anymore.

I just want it
'cause I always had it.

When I first arrived here
at Emerald City,

you made me
a very generous offer

to share the drug trade,

but I ain't used to partners,
so I said no.

Ever since then,

we've been rattling
the sabers at each other,

with neither one of us
gaining very much ground.

- I'm beginning to think
you don't know how to die.

- Oh, Christ, what's this now?

I'm gonna shut 'em down.

- No, no, wait.

Signal your men to get ready,
but let's wait.

- I'm missing the point here.

- Months ago,
we agreed to a truce.

Only thing is, neither one of us
meant the oaths that we swore.

I say we make the lie a reality.

I say we work together.

Peace.

[tense jazzy music]

- Well, I'll be fucked.

- All it means, Tim,

is now they're one big
happy tit factory.

- Not when Pancamo finds out.

- Fuck.

- We gotta talk to Chucky.

- Fuck Chucky,
I can handle this.

- Petey.

- My father ran operations here.

I run operations here.

- Adebisi took you down, man.

- That was Pancamo's fault.

Okay, that motherfucker was
supposed to be watching my back,

and he did fucking shit.

- So what the fuck
are we gonna do?

- We're gonna show
these assholes

the Sicilians
are still in charge.

We're gonna massacre
the fucking Nazis.

Where's Said?

- Why?

- 'Cause I want reinforcements.

[tense percussive tones]

♪ ♪

I need a brief conversation
with Minister Said.

Excuse me.

May I sit?

I'll come right to the point.

- Please do.

- Me and you,
we have mutual interests.

Common enemies.
Schillinger.

I want him dented,
and you want him dented,

and I'm hoping
we can work something out.

- You were raped by Adebisi.

- Yeah, well, I'm asking--

- I'm answering.

You look like
you may have resolved the rape

in your own head.

Doesn't change the facts.

Here in Oz,
you will always be known

as one of Adebisi's bitches.

No matter what you do,
you cannot change that.

- I can.

- Good luck.

- Thank you.

[clears throat]

- Peter.

- What?

- He's fucking right, you know?

And we... well,

you're our paisan,

but we decided

we're not going after the Aryans

unless Pancamo gives the word.

[tense percussive tones]

- Fuck all of yous.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

- Hey.

What can I do for you?

- I came to pick up
the pool table.

- Yeah, is it fixed yet?

- Yeah, the ball return
was a little hinky,

but I un-hinkied it.

- Hey.

You got the toaster done?

- Hold your Calvins, boccie boy.

I'm in the middle of something.

- Yeah, well,
I got lunch coming,

so these jokers can wait.

- We don't wait for wops.

- Someone's gonna
teach you manners, Vernon.

- Yeah, well,
it ain't gonna be you, prag.

[laughter]

- Whoa, look out!

[men grunting]

[blows landing]

[tense percussive tones]

- Fuck off!

[yells]
Let me up!

- You know--
- Let me up!

- I always wondered...

Was Adebisi's dick
bigger than mine?

- Ah! Fuck you!
both: [laugh]

- Fuck you!

No!

- You be the judge.
- No!

- I managed
to stop the bleeding,

but he's still in
pretty bad shape.

♪ ♪

- Take him to the psych ward.

♪ ♪

- Oh, yeah.

Pool table's working good now.

[laughter]

- Have you been working
for the warden for a long time?

- Not that long,
but long enough.

- I'm the one who saved
Glynn's life, you know.

Mm-hmm.

'Cause when Clayton Hughes
was gonna stab him,

I grabbed Hughes,
and I pulled him off.

- Oh.

- You're very pretty.
- Thank you.

- [groans]

I've been in Solitary
for almost a year,

and you're the first real woman
I've seen since I got out.

- Real woman?

- Well, there's, you know,
there's the female hacks.

[door handle shuffles]

- Penders, come in.

- Okay.
Bye.

- Now!

Close the door.

What can I do for you?

- Well, I'm out of Solitary,
and I want to stay out,

so I think the best thing
for me to do

is to avoid any... altercations,

which means as little face time

with the other prisoners
as possible.

So I want to know if,
instead of working in the shop,

if you can give me a job here.

- In my office?
- Yes.

- No.
- Warden, that--

- Don't say I owe you.

I have a very negative
reaction to that.

Your presence here
would only remind me

on a day-to-day basis

of what happened
to Clayton Hughes,

so the answer is no.

In fact...

if you see me coming, hide,

because the best thing for me

is to stick you back
in Solitary.

Stay out of my sight.

Okay?
Officer!

- Warden, that's not right.

[door handle shuffles]

That's not right.

- Bye.
- That's not right.

- Wet dreams are the best.

You start having them
at, like, 12 years old.

Every other night,
you're making love

to the most beautiful women
in the world--

Pam Grier, Barbi Benton,

even the lovely little
Jodie Jensen

in your fifth grade homeroom.

Then you grow up,

and the wet dreams happen
less frequently,

but now you're getting
the real thing, so who cares?

Until one day you realize
the woman that you're with,

maybe even married to,

don't look like Barbi Benton,
ain't fucking like Pam Grier,

and will never love you
as purely and innocently

as little Jodie Jensen.

[scoffs]
Wet dreams.

A boy don't know
how good he's got it.

- This new law
brings the death penalty

back to our state

and limits
a condemned man's choices

to either lethal injection
or the electric chair,

and I'm confident
that this version

will sustain
all judicial review.

And once again,

our message to miscreants
is clear:

stop murdering our families.

Stop the violence.

[door handle shuffles]

- Tobias,
would you like to sit here?

- No, why?

- You're gonna hurt your neck
straining like that.

- It's just...

Keller's coming back
from Cedar Junction today.

- We know.

- I haven't seen him in months.

I'm a little anxious.

How do I look?

- Anxious.

- I was hoping
you were gonna say fuckable.

- Misdeal.

- Warden!

I'm touched you came down
to welcome me home.

Where's the red carpet
and the marching band?

- Cut the jokes, Keller.

- Yes, sir.

You know, I want you to know,
this time around,

I intend to be a model prisoner.

Gonna be the best-behaved man
in Emerald City.

- That'll be fine,

except you're not going
to Emerald City.

- No?
Where, B?

- For the time being,
you'll be in protective custody.

- Protective custody... why?

- You'll see.

After he changes clothes,
take him to interview room two.

[door handle shuffles]

[tense percussive tones]

- Well, well, well,
Agent Taylor, what a surprise.

- Sit.

- I been riding hump all day,
I prefer to stand.

- Suit yourself.

State of Massachusetts
let you out of prison

because Gaetano Cincetta
says you didn't hire him

to kill Hank Schillinger.

He says
Chucky Pancamo hired him.

- That's old news, Spanky.
- True.

But one question, though.

Why would you confess
to hiring Cincetta

when you didn't?

Why would you cover for Pancamo?

- I owed him.
- You're lying.

- Prove it.

- I do have one piece
of new news for you, though.

The Brice Tibbetts murder case.

A witness has come forward.

Imagine that.

After all this time,

a citizen decides to step up
and do the right thing.

This citizen picked your picture
out of a mug file.

Tomorrow you and I
are gonna drive into town

and see whether he or she
can pick you out of a lineup.

In the meantime,
we're keeping you isolated.

But don't get
too comfortable, though.

Your real home's
gonna be death row.

Officer...
put this caviar on ice.

- Put an "X" on that one.

- Hey.

- Hey, how'd your meeting go
with Freddy Rudolph?

- Good.

We're feeling very positive
about his parole.

- Excellent.

- Well, I mean,

I said that before, didn't I?

- Will you stop
beating yourself up, Catherine?

You did the best
you could for me.

[gate buzzes]

I have to go.

Come here.
Give Daddy a kiss.

I love you.

Will you give Daddy a kiss?

- Yes.

- Mmm, you smell good.

I'll see you on Saturday,
okay, dumpling?

- Bye.

[tense percussive tones]

- So, Officer Howell...

You and me are gonna be spending

an awful lot of time
together, huh?

- Think you can handle that,
tough guy?

- Well, I know if I can't,
you'll make me.

Hey, Sister Pete.

- Hello, Chris.

May we speak privately?

- Knock yourself out, Sister.

- How are you?

- Off-balance.

Yesterday,
I was in Cedar Junction

serving life
on a murder for hire,

and all of a sudden,
they tell me,

"Oh, you're not guilty for that.

You're going back to Oz."

I'm on the bus,

I'm looking forward
to coming back here,

and the FBI tells me

that they got a witness
against me

for an old murder rap.

I'm facing the death penalty.

- What you need
is a good lawyer.

- Yeah, you know of any?

- I'll find somebody.

If you need anything else,
give me a holler.

- Sister Pete?

I want to spend
some time with Beecher.

- I'll see what I can do.

[door handle shuffles]

- The death penalty?

Christ.

- I'm hoping
Catherine McClain will recommend

a lawyer from her office.

- Catherine.
Yeah, that's a good idea.

- Meanwhile, I'll ask the warden
about all the specifics.

- While you're there,
will you ask him...

I'd like some time with Keller.

- I'll see what I can do.

- The answer is no!

- May I ask why?

- You can ask,
but you won't like the reason.

- Try me.

- Chris Keller tortured,
sexually abused,

and murdered three men.

Why should I try
to make him happy?

- And Beecher?

- Beecher is once again
the victim

of someone else's excesses.

- Oh, come on.
- This discussion is over.

- Leo!
- This discussion is over!

[tense percussive tones]

♪ ♪

- You know
when you're driving in your car

or maybe taking a shower,
and suddenly,

you remember
some great dream you had,

and that dream made you feel
so good or bad or whatever,

you can't help but try
to recapture every detail.

The next thing you know,

you missed your exit ramp,

or the hot water's gone cold.

Well, in Oz,
if you take a shower,

and you space off,
even for a second,

some cocksucker is sure
to shank you in the back.

Daydreams can be deadly.

[men talking indistinctly]

[man laughs]

- What do you want?

- What do you want?

- Not a thing.

- Not a thing.

- Robson, get out of my way.

- Robson, get out of my way.

- Imam, come with us.

- Say another word, Robson.

Say one more word,

I'll snap your cracker neck,

right here, right now.

- Robson!

Move your sorry ass onward.

[tense percussive tones]

- Yes, sir, boss.

♪ ♪

- Imam, you have to control
the anger in your heart.

Remember the words of Allah.

- What words would
those be, Arif?

What advice would
Allah have for me?

[beads rattling]

- Look, I don't mean
to speak beyond my position,

but he has got serious--

- I know
what you're thinking, Ahmad,

but Minister Said
is a great man.

He's having troubles
right now.

That is why
we must not abandon him.

- No, no, not abandon him.

Of course not, he's our brother.

But is he the one to lead us?

Look, I feel that he has got--

- Enough!

Help me pick up these beads.

- Did you ever use drugs?
- No, ma'am.

Not so much
as a marijuana cigarette

has ever touched my lips.

- I have.

Heroin.

Crack cocaine.

- Kareem?
- What?

You thought my journey
to Allah was easy?

- No, it's just that...

when I was using,
you never said--

- That is a period of my life
of which I am not very proud of.

- Hmm.

Unlike now?

[tense percussive tones]

[gate buzzing]

[indistinct chatter]

♪ ♪

- Follow me.

- Yo, man,
what's up with that?

"Miss Sally"
is on the TV, man.

- I said come.

What are you doing with Poet?

- Poet? What, nothing.

- He wasn't trying
to sell you drugs?

- Come on, man.

Only titties we was talking
about was Miss Sally's, man.

- You are not to talk to him.

- Why, what's up with that?
We just snapping.

That's my boy, we go back.

- What'd I just say?

Now, remember,
one word from me to McManus,

and you go straight back
to Solitary.

Now, go.

Straighten out your cell.

Hey!

Now, you better obey me.

[tense percussive tones]

♪ ♪

- Oh, dude.

You look like
you need some bounce, bro.

Shitload of tits came in today.

- Step off, bro.

You know I can't be doing
no drugs and shit.

Motherfucker Said's
watching me 24/7, man.

Glynn has me tested
once a week and shit.

- Well, yo, last year,
Glynn was having me tested, man.

I got the way around that.

You know Billy Plana?

- Mm-mm.
- He works bedpan.

He pissed for me,
then switched the cups out.

You could pay, right?

Well, he'd piss for me,
he'd piss for you.

- Hook me up.
- I got you, dawg.

- Omar?

- Oh, fuck.
- Omar?

- Fuck.

- Oh, man.

- Open your hand.

- Yeah, I was just--

- Be quiet.

Open your hand.

Give it to me.

- Damn.

- You forget Omar White exists.

I'm not gonna
warn you again, Poet.

- Fuck this shit, man.
- Yo, yo, yo, Poet, man.

My cap, man.

Fuck, he got all my money.

[gate buzzes]

I should be working and shit,
you know what I mean?

[tense jazzy music]

♪ ♪

- Omar didn't actually
take a hit?

- No.
- Well, good.

- But he will.
He'll find another dealer.

By day's end, he'll be high.

- Well, yeah, all right.

Let me know if he uses.

- McManus.

That's all you have to say?

- Well,
what do you want me to say?

- Wait a minute,
you asked me to help White.

You asked me to save him.

- Yeah.

- In the process,

you convinced me
that if I can turn him around,

I might find a way
past my own troubles.

- Mm-hmm.
- I bought in, McManus.

I bought in
hook, line, and sinker.

I'm still buying.

Now, I need this to succeed,
for my own soul.

- I know.

- So why you refusing
to help me?

- I'm not refusing anything.

I got nothing to offer.

Said, this is all on you.

Omar White
is the million dollar question.

There's an answer,

but I'm never gonna
come up with it.

I believe you can.

I'm basically a spectator now,

but I think
your instincts can find the key.

If not, we're all fucked.

- Omar, when you finish up,
come see me.

- Yo, man, look.

Yo, you're making
my motherfucking head hurt,

all right?

I don't feel like
hearing no goddamn

drug speech now, shit!

- We're not gonna
talk about drugs.

- Then what?

- I don't know, anything,
just a conversation.

- Look, I don't want to have
no damn conversation now.

All right?
Shit.

- We're gonna have
a conversation anyway.

You understand me?

Now...

What is your favorite color?

Answer.

- White.
- White.

Why is that?
'Cause your name, right?

- It's clean and shit.

- Fine.

One more.

What was the last thing

that you were
really passionate about?

- You know,
tell you the truth, man,

I don't think
I ever gave a shit about shit.

- Oh, come, man,
there must've been something.

- Nothing.
- Come on.

Something you wanted to do.

Something you wanted to be.

Come on, Omar.
Give me something.

Give me something.

- Cowboy.

[chuckles]

That's right.

Motherfucking black cowboy,
Jack, yeah.

When I was a kid,
you know, I saw...

I saw this movie
from the olden days and shit

with... Herb Jeffries.

Yeah, what was it called?

"The Bronze Buckaroo" and shit.

That's it.
- Black B Westerns.

Black movies,
all black cowboys,

made for black audiences
in the late '30s.

So, guns and horses, huh?

[gate buzzes distantly]

- Yo, man, never mind

the motherfucking guns
and horses.

That motherfucker
Herb Jeffries...

He could sing.

- So, this is excellent.

- What's excellent?

- Well,
you've identified an interest,

and that's
an important step forward.

See,
finding the right activity

a constructive way
of spending your time,

can make all the difference--
do you know what?

I'm gonna set up a meeting
with Suzanne Fitzgerald.

- O'Reily's mother?
- That's right.

She's doing
community service work here.

- Why am I meeting who?

- She teaches singing.

- Yo, that all sounds great
and shit, except for one thing.

I can't sing.

- "Can't" never
did anything, Omar.

- What does that mean?

- I don't understand.

You're pissed because
we've started a music program?

- No, no, I'm pissed because
I'm just hearing about it.

I'm the state liaison,
for Chrissake.

- Oh, and you have to report
everything back to your pal,

the governor.

- Leo.

There's no money in the budget
for a music program.

How do you expect
to pay the freight?

- Well, Suzanne Fitzgerald
is donating her time.

The other costs are minimal.

I'll do what I always do.

Take a little from here,
a little from there.

- The arts
are an important part of life.

- Oh, really?

I couldn't get you
anywhere near

a theater and art gallery
when we were married,

especially
if there was football on TV.

- Ellie, I really think
this program can help

some of these guys.

- Tim,
you're setting yourself up

for another fall.

You always bet everything
on the impossible.

- That's not true.
- Yeah?

Look at us.

Get an estimate of the cost.

I'll see if I can wrangle
some cash from Devlin.

- You were very smart
in marrying her.

- Mm.

- She was very smart
in divorcing you.

- So, I ain't gotta sing?

- No, you don't have to sing.
- I don't?

- But I do encourage you
to try at least once,

before we give up.

- My voice ain't no good.

I mean, it's too deep.

Like Barry White,
you know, just bad.

- You know what, I think
you might be more of a tenor,

so let's try this.

♪ Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah ♪

You try.

[piano music plays]

- You know, you sure
are a fine-looking woman.

- Okay, well, new idea.

Let's try starting
with a song, okay?

I bet you know this one.

♪ Jesus loves me, this I know ♪

♪ For the Bible tells me so ♪

♪ Little ones to him belong ♪

♪ They are weak,
but he is strong ♪

- I know that, that's...
that's "Jesus Loves Me."

- ♪ Yes, Jesus loves me ♪

♪ Yes, Jesus loves me ♪

♪ Yes, Jesus loves me ♪

♪ The Bible tells me so ♪

- See, now, you--
you a singer.

- It's your turn.

- I heard...

I heard you was O'Reily's moms.

- That's true.

- Growing up...
you make him sing too?

- [sighs]
No.

- Why not?

- It's a long story.

- So is mine.

- Omar, you know,
I'm not asking for the world.

- Damn!

[keys strike discordantly]

I mean, I try to be graceful
up in here, right?

I'm trying, all right?

You said
I didn't have to sing, right?

- I said I wanted you to try.
Now, sit back down, please.

- Motherfucking liar, man.

Everybody's always
fucking lying!

- Officer Brass!

- I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.
I take it back.

I'm sorry.
I take it back.

Forgive me, I didn't--

- Suzanne, you all right?

- Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.

Shh, shh, shh, it's okay.

- Get off the floor,
you fucking mutt!

- Stand up.

Let's try again.
Come on.

Sit down.

Come on.

Want to try this?

- I heard once that every person
in your dream is actually you.

Even if you're dreaming
about you

and some motherfucker
you can't stand,

you're actually dreaming
about you--

And the motherfucker
part of yourself

you can't stand.

- Your mother got all riled up
about civil rights.

Hell, things wasn't as bad
as they was in the South.

But she dragged your daddy
on down to D.C.

to hear Dr. King.

To join the march.

- And you didn't go?

- No.

I stayed in town,

waiting on something better
to come along.

Your parents were part
of the most important event

of the 20th century.

And here I am,
two days into a five-day drunk.

- I miss Mama so fuckin' much.

- I know, I know.

- I got a postcard
from my honey.

She's in Maui.

- Oh, yeah, Maui?
Man, Maui's awesome.

You know you can actually climb
down into a volcano there?

And the women,
they got great, great...

They got great
inner beauty, man.

- You been to Maui?

- No, I just read it
in "National Pornographic."

You know,
lots of color photos and shit.

- Does it bother you

that your girlfriend
is in Hawaii, Chico?

- No,
I know Consuela still loves me,

and I want her to be having
a good time and all,

but that postcard,

it really ripped my heart out,
you know?

Places I'll never see.

- There are worse things than
your woman going on vacation.

- Yeah, like what?

- She could leave you.

She could send you
a letter one day and say,

you know,
she thinks the time has come

for her to move on
with her life.

I'm saying...

I thought the worst thing
that could happen to me was

losing my legs--
losing my freedom--

but Annabella, that's...

Like losing my manhood.

Another big chunk of who I am.

[tense percussive tones]

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

- [groaning]

- I wish I could understand you.

♪ ♪

- Jaz Hoyt's sitting in the Hole

because of
the Reverend Cloutier.

You work the mail room,
don't you, Gunner?

- Yeah.
- Great.

Make sure today
that you're the one

pushing around the mail cart.

Make sure you do deliveries
to the hospital ward.

And when you get there,
waste Cloutier.

- How?

- I'm told
a lot of burn victims suffocate.

[tense percussive tones]

♪ ♪

- There you go, dago.

- Fuck you, punk.

♪ ♪

[man groaning]

- What's this doing here?

- I guess Cloutier's got mail.

- [groaning]
- Officer! Officer!

Officer!
Officer!

- Damn it!

- Get the fuck off him!

- Okay, okay, okay.

Look at me.
Look at me.

[gate buzzing]

- Where's Gunner?

- In Solitary.
- And Cloutier?

- Alive.

- Shit!

Now I gotta tell Jaz.

- Come here.
- What, what, what?

- I saw him.
- Saw who?

- Cloutier, in the Hole,

all of a sudden, he appears,
looking healthy.

- You were dreaming.
- I saw him.

- That's crazy.

- I saw him
just like Jim Burns saw him.

- Jim Burns is dead.
You killed him.

- We killed him.
- Okay, look.

Relax, all right?

- Fuck you, "relax."

[tense percussive tones]

♪ ♪

- Put the cigarette out.

- Okay, okay.

- Smoking's bad for you, Jaz.

- Yeah, I know.

Oh, shit.

Help!
Lopresti!

Help!
- They cannot hear you.

I'm in your mind.

I'm all the guilt

stacked up inside your soul
your whole life,

ever since
you killed your first cat.

And I'm not going anywhere,

unless...

- Unless what?

- You do something for me.

- Anything.

- Kill Timmy Kirk.

- But--
- Kill Timmy Kirk, Jaz.

Or I'll be visiting you
every night

for the rest of your life.

[rattling]
- Hey!

Put the cigarette out!

- Dr. Nathan says that
the Reverend Cloutier's recovery

is remarkable.

He should be talking in weeks.

- Good news.

- Don't hondel me, Kirk.

You were the one who arranged

to have that biker
try and kill Cloutier.

- How'd you like a blow job?

- Kirk!
- The fuck's wrong with you?

What are you--
[grunts]

- Hoyt!
Officer!

- [groaning]

What the...
what the...

- Ah!

- [groaning heavily]

Oh, Jesus.

Oh, God!
Oh, God!

Bless me, Father,
for I have sinned.

Oh, no!

[yelling]

- I confess
to the murder of Jim Burns.

I confess to the murder
of Ralph Gulino.

I confess
to the murder of Brian Lawlor.

I confess to the murder
of Adam Decoursey.

I confess
to the murder of David Horton.

- Gloria, Hoyt's claiming
that Cloutier ordered him

to kill Timmy Kirk.

- That's insane,
Cloutier can barely move

and can't even speak yet.

- I don't know.

Hoyt really seems to believe

that Cloutier appeared
to him last night.

- You think Hoyt's going
for the insanity defense

to keep him off death row?

- Maybe...

Gloria.

- Yeah?

- Where is he?
- Uh...

Did you move Cloutier?

- No.
He was here a minute ago.

- Well, now he's gone.

[tense percussive tones]

♪ ♪

- But on entering the tomb,

I saw a young man
sitting at the right side,

cloaked in a white robe.

And they were amazed.

He said to them,
"Do not be terrified.

"You are looking
for Jesus of Nazareth,

"who was crucified.

He has risen."

- Everybody's got
their own brand

of miserable shit
to deal with in life,

but if you keep
your eye on your dream,

you'll pull through.

In Oz, the opposite is true.

The way to get through the shit

is by having no dreams at all.

In fact,
one of the biggest consolations

for a man doing time
is knowing 90% of people

in the outside world
don't realize their dreams.

So, you see, we're not
really missing out on anything,

are we?

[tense jazzy music]

♪ ♪