Oz (1997–2003): Season 5, Episode 5 - Wheel of Fortune - full transcript

Robson stirs up problems between White and Said. Meanwhile, Pancamo's illness might save some work for his enemies, Schillinger makes a friendly but suspicious overture towards Beecher, and...

[bright tone]

[tense jazzy music]

♪ ♪

- People are always looking
to have their fortunes told.

They get their cards read,
their palms read,

even the bumps
on their head.

Well, if that card
ain't credit,

why read it?

If that palm ain't
holding something,

let it go,
and shit,

if you've got bumps
on your head big enough to read,

forget about
your future, yo,

because your problems
are in the here and now.

- Ahmad Lalar was murdered
by James Robson.

- You keep saying that,
but you offer no proof.

Look, I need evidence.

A witness,
the murder weapon, anything.

- Robson may not have
sliced Ahmad himself.

He may have assigned
another Aryan to do the job,

as he did
Salah Udeen.

- Then getting a conviction
is gonna be even harder.

- So what do you
intend to do, warden?

- Continue
the investigation.

- Oh, yes,
you drag out the process,

hoping that everyone's
gonna forget?

Let me tell you this,

We won't forget.

- [groaning]

- Lalar's death
must not go unpunished.

- It won't.

Believe me,
Robson's day of reckoning

and retribution is coming.

- Mail call!

- Yo, um, you got
Minister Said's mail in there?

- You know, Omar,

I discovered that the minister
and I have something in common.

- Yeah, okay.

- We both
support slavery.

For me, slavery
don't exist anymore,

which is
a damned shame.

But according to this book
in the library,

for those Muslims,

slavery is alive
and well in Africa.

That's right.

I figured Said
must've known that, too,

since he went
and got himself one.


- What the fuck
you jabbing about?

I ain't nobody's motherfucking
slave and shit, man.

- You tote that barge,
you lift that bale.

You's his house nigger.

- You motherfucker!

- Omar!

Come here!

- Yo, look, I know
I ain't supposed to fight, but--

but don't no-motherfucking-body
talk to me like that!

- Come here now!


- You heard that shit, yo?

- Fuck, huh?

I am your
fucking nigger, huh?


- ♪ I want to hold your hand,
walk along the sand ♪

♪ Laughing in the sun,
always having fun ♪

♪ Whoa, whoa ♪

- You sing
like shit.

- ♪ I want to hold your hand,
walk along the sand ♪

♪ La la la ♪

♪ I want to hold your hand,
walk along the sand ♪

♪ La la la la ♪

- What was Reggie Rawls
doing in this room?

- Oh, Reggie?

He's a big fan, man.

- He's a major drug dealer
in Unit C.

- No, yo, man, he hear music,
he drawn in and shit.

- Omar...

Are you selling drugs
from this room?

- No.

- Are you
selling drugs?

- Well, yeah--
yeah, man.

What the fuck?
Huh, shit.

I mean, shit, I ain't
doing them and shit, man,

or using them
or nothing.

You know,
what you thinking, man?

I mean, that's
the deal, ain't it?

- No, it is not.

Selling drugs
is using them.

- My piss test
say different.

- I don't care
what your drug tests say.

It's what I say
that matters.

- Yeah?

- Well,
I say fuck you.

fuck you.

- No, fuck you!

- Hey, yo, Said...

- Fuck you!
Fuck you!

- Oh, no!

- Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
- No! No!

- Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck you!
- No! Help!

- I'm waiting.

- For what?

- An explanation.

- Like I said,
for what?

- For the beating
you put on White.

- A reason makes
a difference, McManus?

I beat him!

I failed him,

him and myself.

- Everything
was going so well.

Why didn't you
come to me?

- You don't get it, McManus,
you don't get it.

- The only thing I need to get
from you is an explanation.

And until I do,
you can fucking rot!

- [sobbing]


- I tell you, I don't know
why the motherfucker

attacked me, man!

- You're beat to shit
for no reason, bullshit.

- All right, I'm gonna
be honest with you.

But look, don't let what I say
blur the fact that

what I'm getting ready
to fucking tell you

is the absolute, straight up,
goddamn, motherfucking truth.

You understand?

I was moving drugs,

- You're fucking
shitting me.

From your
practice room?

- No, man, look, wait,
hear me out.

I was threatened.

I mean,
I didn't do nothing, man.

I swear to fucking God,
I didn't touch shit.

- Who are you
moving them for?

- If I tell you that, man,
I'm dead.

I'm seriously dead.

- All right, all right,
let's put that aside for now.

- McManus,
I am clean, man!

I am clean--

Like, fucking spotless.
- Shut up!

Will you fucking
shut up one second?

- I'm just--just afraid

you're gonna put me back in
Solitary again, man.

- Goddamnit, Omar,
I oughta.

All right, all right, all right,
here's the deal.

From now on,
you rehearse in your pod.

No more
fucking practice room.

And if your piss shows even
a hint of aspirin, you're toast.


Do you
understand me?

- I hear you.

Afternoon, gents.

- Our Imam is in the hole
'cause of you.

- Uh-uh.

That motherfucker's in there
'cause he can't get a grip

on his own
goddamn guidance.

- You're toxic, White.

You managed to turn
the only person on your side

against you.

The rest of us,
we saw this disaster coming.

Every day Said
is in the hole

is a day
you're out here alone.

- Yeah?

Well, I gotta
go practice.

Fuck me.

[gate buzzing]

- [muttering indistinctly]
I hate your voices.

- Hey, McManus.

- Lockdown's in
a couple of minutes.

Why aren't you
in your pod?

- Look,
where you headed to?

To the hole?

You know, 'cause maybe you
and me should go on over there,

you know, maybe see how
Said's weathering the storm.

- Why, what do you care?

- I'm kind of
floundering here.

- Floundering?

- I mean, old mojo,
you know, I mean,

it ain't treating ol' Omar
so--so great these days.

Without Said...

Everything's just
kind of harder.

I mean, I really need that fuck.
Who knew?

[gate buzzing]

[tense percussive tones]

- Come on.

You're going back
to Em City.

- What if I refuse?

- You'd be the first person
who did.

- I'm not ready to leave.
I don't deserve to.

- You know, Omar told me
what happened and why.

- Why...

And yet again, I--
I lost my humanity

in pursuit of what I thought
was the greater good.

- You know, Said,

I don't think that you
lost your humanity at all.

I think what scares you
is that your actions

are completely human.

Let's go.

- McManus, either I find
my soul in this place,

or I am lost forever.

I need more time.
I need more time, please?


- Man, this is crazy.


All right.

I'll wait
to hear from you.

And then you're
back in Em City

with Omar White.

[doors shut]

[tense percussive tones]

♪ ♪

- What kind of people
become fortune tellers?

Most times, they're
a bunch of half-literate,

middle-aged women
who only tell you stuff

they wish would
happen to them.

They fabricate
your dreams,

because theirs got
dashed on the rocks.

So, how you
figure dat, huh?

Having your
future told...

By someone
who ain't got one?

- Doctor, what the fuck
is wrong with me?

I'm hot,
I've got rashes,


- Well, I'm afraid
what you have is--

it's called
a staph infection.

Sometimes when
a wound gets infected,

toxins are released
into the bloodstream,

and these toxins
tunnel into tissue and--

- That's why
all the drugs?

- Well, antibiotics, yes.

But your system seems
to be resistant to them.

- And I got this from
being in the hospital?

- Yeah.

- Am I gonna die?

- Look, we're doing
everything we can, all right?

I'm sure that...

- Oh, Christ,
don't let me die.

I don't
want to die.

I don't want to die
lying in my own shit.

- [whistles]

- Oh, man,
oh, man,

I'm getting hard just
looking at that beauty.

- Rack 'em, prag.

- So, I hear Pancamo caught
the flu or something.

It may be fatal.

- Good.

If it isn't,
when he gets out,

we'll make it fatal.

- Schibetta's in the psych unit,
Urbano's in the hole,

and the Sicilians don't run
the cafeteria anymore.

Those wise guys ain't looking
that wise these days.

- Meanwhile, we got
other fish to fry.

You know, sweat pea,
I like a nice, firm ass.

You need to
go to the gym.

- Yes, sir.

- And if you see your buddy
Adam Guenzel there,

I need you to give him
some pertinent information.

- About what, sir?

- About his buddy,
Tobias Beecher.

- How was your visit
with your mother and dad?

- She cried
the whole time.

It was embarrassing.

- Well, you should
be grateful

somebody's crying
about you at all.

[gate buzzing]

- Okay,
that's enough.


Come on, stop.

- Oh, cut it out.
- Come on.

- I'm gonna go
use the free weights.

- Oh, I got to get you
back to Em City

before I go to work
for Sister Pete.

- I can get back
to Em City myself.

- Yeah, but...

- Look, I gotta start
being my own man.

- Ah, okay.

- Hey there,

- Fuck you.

- Hey, what's with
the attitude, man?

Hey, pal, I'm in here
because of you, remember?

I didn't want
to rape that girl.

- Look at yourself,
look at what you've turned into.

- I had to,
to survive, you know?

- You don't see me
all dolled up.

- That's because
you've got Beecher.

And from
what I understand,

you're paying the same price
for protection that I am.

- Bullshit!

- Oh, come on, everybody knows
Beecher's a fucking fag.

And everybody knows that
you're sucking his cock.

- What?

What'd you say,
you stupid fuck?

Come on, fuck!

[gate buzzing]

You fucking bitch!

- Fucking psycho!

- You want to tell me
what that was all about?

- Winthrop
came on to me.

I had to
set him straight.

- I thought you two
were friends.

- Not anymore.

- All right, since this
is your first offense,

I'm gonna be lenient,

but you only get one hall pass,
you understand?

- Yes, sir.

- So, he slapped you
on the wrist?

- Just like
you said he would.

- You don't want to spend
any time in the hole, Adam.

- I already got my lecture
for the day, okay?

- Hey, are you all right?

- Don't be fucking
touching me!

- I want to say something
about our last session,

when we were
discussing homosexuality.

At the time,

I implied that I've never
harmed you, Beecher.

Well, my reaction
was knee-jerk.

You have to understand,

I was worried about
saying anything out loud

that might expose me

to possible disciplinary

or legal action.

[clears throat]

I did abuse you
when you arrived.

And for that,
I am sorry.

I ask your forgiveness.

- Tobias...

Do you accept
his apology?

- I...

I don't know.

- So, the FBI has decided to let
the local D.A. prosecute you.

- Why?

- The eyewitness
that came forward

claims to have seen you
dump Brice Tibbetts' body

in a field outside
of Alden Township.

But the FBI only has
jurisdiction if they can prove

that you brought Tibbetts
across the state line,

which they can't.

- Let's say that
I did dump the body.

It doesn't mean that
I killed the guy.

- Exactly.

See, now if I'm gonna
keep you off death row,

we'll have to create
that doubt in the jury's mind,

but you said
you didn't kill Tibbetts.

- That's right.

- Then what were you doing
with the body?

- It wasn't me.

- Okay, 'cause
the eyewitness,

he picked you
out of a lineup, so...

- Catherine,
it wasn't me.

Now this witness says that it
was nighttime, right?

There's no lights
at nighttime, right?

All of a sudden, this
motherfucker's got x-ray vision?

- Well, jeez, Keller,
you don't need me.

See, you can just
plead your own case.

- You're prettier.

- Not by much.

[gate buzzing]

The arraignment's

- Mm-hmm.

- Ready for a little trip
into town?

- What, and leave
this place?

I don't know.

- Officer?

Till the A.M.

- You going
to see Toby?

- Yes.

- Tell him I had
a funny dream about him.

He was elected president
of the United States.

- I had a dream
about you and me.

- Yeah?

- We were gladiators.

Your name
was Sextus.

Mine was Cunnilinga.

- God, it is
good to see you.

Yes, you too.

- Oh, I spoke
to Holly this morning,

and she said she had
such a great time

at Adventure Country
with you and your son Brad.

- She's a wonderful kid.

- How'd your meeting
go with Keller?

- Good.


We're well on our way
to building a solid defense.

Toby, he never talked
about these killings, did he?

- No.

- You wouldn't lie to me
in order to protect him?

- No.

- Okay.

I'll see you.

- Oh, Catherine,

he didn't give you
a message for me, did he?

- No.

- So, there's two ways
this could go, precious.

They both end the same,
with my dick up your ass.

- Beecher, I need
to talk to you.

- Look...

- I didn't want to say anything
in our session,

I tried to convince Robson
not to rape your boy Guenzel.

But you know--you know Robson;
he's headstrong.

Anyway, the Sicilians
stopped him and I'm glad.

- You're glad?

- Yeah, well,
not glad, exactly.

I'm like you.

I'm all turned around,
you know.

I'm trying to stop
the shit in my life,

but it's Oz,
you know?

I realize I can't
stop most of it,

but I can do
some things.

Now, I heard
what's going on.

The warden won't
let you see Keller.

So, I'm offering
on my next mail run

to take a letter
to Keller for you.

- You'd do that?

You would?

- You write it up,
I'll slip it through.

- I'm, uh...

- What?
Amazed, in shock?

- Suspicious.

- Well, you have
every right to be.

But I swear to you,

on the graves
of both of my sons,

I'm just trying
to make up for the past.

Trying to clear my conscience
so I can move on.

Hello there, Keller.

- Schillinger,
my old friend.

- I got a package
from one of your ex-wives,

subscription renewal notice
from "Sports Illustrated,"

and this,
from Beecher.

- What's the game?

- No game.

if you want,

I'll take your letter
back to Beecher.

[gate buzzing]
- Lights out!

- Adam, is everything
all right?

You haven't said
a word all evening.

- Were you a fag
before you came to oz,

or did you
start here?

- What?

- I've been
asking around.

I heard some stories.
Are they true?

- It depends on
what you heard.

- That when you first arrived
you were Schillinger's bitch.

- Yes.

- Then some guy
named Keller's bitch?

- Not a bitch,

- Then what,
his girlfriend?

- People like to reduce things
to their most basic form.

- You're either a fag
or you're not a fag.

And if you are,
you should have told me

instead of pretending
to act normal,

pretending to care about me
for the right reasons.

- Adam, I do care about you
for the right reasons.

- Stay back!
- Come on, don't be an asshole.

- Oh, you'd
like that, huh?

To be up
my asshole?

- Shut the fuck up!

- Get the fuck off me,
you fucking faggot!

[alarm buzzing]
- Just stop.

- Get the fuck off me!

- Break it up!

- I don't need
that fucking faggot!

I'm telling you,
this faggot grabbed me.

I don't want to spend another
night in the same cell as him.

- Fine.

But since all the cells
in Em City are full,

and since you need
a little attitude adjustment,

I'm putting you
in the cage.

- Me?
I didn't do shit!

Get your fucking hands
off me, you fuck!

- The boy's
got problems.

He raped a girl,
beat her brains in.

- I know.

I've known Adam's family
for a long time.

- Yeah, I know, that's why
I made you his sponsor.

But I'm beginning to think
I made a mistake

bringing him
to Em City.

Maybe I should
transfer him out.

- Don't.

I can turn him around.

Give me a chance.

- Okay, a chance.

- Faggot.













- I found a way for you and
Keller to meet face to face.

- Yeah? How?

- Come work for me
in the post office.

I'll let you deliver the mail
to protective custody.

- Quit Sister Pete?

- Well, yeah,
you'd have to.

- And I'd get
to see Keller?

- Every day.

- Okay.

- There's just one thing
that I'd ask for in trade.

- What's that?

- The boy.

Give me the boy.

- What?

- Tell the Sicilians to back off
and let me have him,

to do with
whatever I choose.

- This is what this
has all been about?

- What do you mean?

- The "I'm trying
to change my ways" crap.

You know, it--

I almost
believed you.

- Oh, it's true.

But really,
it's beside the point.

I have a practical solution
to your problem.

- You're asking me to get
the thing I want most

to allow you
to subject Adam

to the same horrors
you put me through?

No way.

- Hmph, not even
for Keller?

- Not even for Keller.

- Well, I have to admit,
I'm stunned.

I admire your strength
of character.

I respect
your decision.

We'll just leave
the whole matter at that.

- Yeah, you never
leave anything at that.

- Well, nobody
changes overnight.

Be sure to eat
your vegetables.

- Who's to say
that the future

ain't fucking with
the fortune teller?

Let's say that she tells you
you're gonna fall in love.

But she
doesn't tell you

that your beloved's
gonna die of cancer,

and that she really
is your long-lost sister,

and a serial killer.

Because the fortune teller
don't know that.

What if God or the spirits
or whatever

is only telling the fortune
teller half the story,

half the truth?

- Fucking Friday.

- Fucking Friday?

- Yeah, you'd think
I'd be happy

with the weekend
coming, and all.

Working in Oz, I never feel
more fucked than on a Friday.

- Hmm, payday.

- I don't know
if I'd call it pay.

Man makes
a dog-shit wage.

Money none of those cocksucking
congressmen would work for, huh?

Hey, you
got to laugh.

- You follow
pro basketball?

- Huh, basketball?

- Yeah.

Who do you think
the worst player in the NBA is?

- Some white guy.

- Actually, maybe
two or three white guys

for the honor.

- Yeah, that's gotta
piss you off, right?

Seeing some of
these jags play pro ball

knowing you're better
than most of them?

- Why would that
piss me off?

You know how goddamn good
you've gotta be

in order to be
the worst player in the NBA?

You gotta
be phenomenal.

- No, I realize that,
I was just saying--

- My point was that even
the worst player in the NBA

still makes league minimum,
$330,000 a year.

- Wow.

- You take away
what the government gets,

your agent's
four percent.

Worst case scenario,
you've still got 160.

Fuck it, 150,
even 140.

Say you want to jerk off
with 10 of it.

That's $140,000 cash,
in pocket!

- Hey Dave, man, I didn't mean
to get you all riled up.

- It's not you.

It's fucking Friday.

- So, all the blood tests
came back negative.

We should run them again
in three months.

- And Martinez,
how are his blood tests?

- Oh, he doesn't have AIDS,
if that's what you're asking.

That doesn't
necessarily mean

it was his blood
that got thrown at you.

- Why'd you douse me,
you prick?

- Because you're the prick,
you prick.

- Hey, stop that!

- Oh, okay, so it's okay for you
to hit this cocksucker,

but not me?

- Officer Brass?

Officer Brass?

- What?

- Do you buy
my Mightyball ticket?

- What?
Yeah, yeah, yeah.

- It's almost time.
I'm so excited.

Aren't you
excited, Bob?

- Excited about what?

- The Mightyball drawing,
$2 million, which if you win

will go towards finding a cure
for your grandson.

How can you not
be excited?

- What if God didn't give me
the right numbers?

What if
I don't win?

Then little Alex dies.

- Today's numbers
will be randomly selected

from 51 numbered balls
out of our lotto draw hopper.

So, everybody,
get it out and get it ready,

'cause it's time
to play Mightyball.


If your number
is drawn,

you could be the lucky winner
of $2 million.

The first number is...


- Seven, Bob,
that's a match.

- The second number
is 10.

- That's two.

- Three.

- The fourth number is...


- Four for four.

- The fifth number is...


And the final number,

and the winner of
$2 million is...


- Motherfucker, you've gotta
be fucking fucking me.


Jesus Christ,
I fucking won!

- You won?

- Yeah, motherfucker,
I won!

Goddamnit, yes!

Oh, shit!

Oh, yeah!


Goddamn, fuck, fuck, fuck!


- I know,
it's wild.

Yeah, all right,
all right.

Okay, okay, bye.

[knocking at door]

- Rebadow's been making
a fuss all day.

He claims that Brass
didn't win the lottery; he did.

- Oh, yeah?

All right, um, well,
bring him in.

- Bob, I need to speak
with Officer Brass.

I've been waiting.

- Slow down,
slow down.

- 7, 10, 3, 49, 30, 51,

those are my numbers.

I had Officer Brass
purchase the ticket for me.

- Bob, uh, memorizing the
winning numbers doesn't prove--

- You don't believe me?
Ask Officer Brass.

- Are you serious?

- On my dying
grandson's life.

- Well, Bob,
Dave Brass isn't here.

I mean, when he found out
he won, he just left.

He didn't go
to his locker.

He didn't...
He didn't punch out.

- Can't you
find him somehow?

- Let me see
what I can do.

- You walk
by a storefront.

A fortune teller
beckons you inside.

You know it's a scam,
but you go anyway.

As she flips the cards,

you say to yourself,
"This is bullshit."

And yet, she says the one thing
you really want to hear.

You lean in
a little closer,

hoping, praying that
she actually knows the truth.

- Well, I came
straight from work.

I'm a C.O. at the Oswald
Correctional Facility.

Well, not anymore.

I quit!

[indistinct chatter]

I won!

[tense percussive tones]

- Tim, any word
from Brass?

- No, nobody's
heard from him.

Not his family,
not his girlfriend.

He left the lottery
claims center

and hopped a plane
to parts unknown.

- Damn.

I was with Brass
during the drawing.

He was out of his mind
because he won,

you know,
as you would be.

But thinking
about it now,

he must have been saying
to himself, "Fuck you, Rebadow."

And I'll tell you,

if it was one of
the other dinks in this joint

and I was Brass,
I would've ripped them off, too,

but to do it
to a guy like Rebadow,

you know, he's got a dying
grandson, not throw him a bone.

I mean, that's
dead-of-winter cold.

- Brass was a good guy.

- Obviously not
that good of a guy.

- When we played basketball
against Vahue,

I got
to know him.

He was the most stand-up,
do-right-by-you person

I ever met.

- Well, guess that's what
two mil can do to a fellow.

- No, it wasn't the money;
he felt fucked over.

I mean, he had
a big pair of gigantic,

NBA tits in his face
and we say to him,

no, no, no, no,
you work in Oz.

You get to get
your Achilles tendon

slashed for no good reason

except McManus can't
keep his fucking mouth shut.

- You gonna blame yourself for
what happened to Brass forever?

- Yeah.

- Dave Brass came to Oz
and filled out an application.

Nobody forced him
to do that, right?

He got his leg fucked up.
That sucks.

But this is
a maximum security prison.

The poor guy got piss
and shit thrown at him.

He could get AIDS.

That'd be a lot worse
than being a goddamned gimp.

But you know what?

He filled out
an application.

Tim, every night I get down
on my knees and pray to God

I don't get shanked
when I come to work.

But what if
it happens?

I mean, what if one
of these fucking animals

ends up
butt-fucking me?

Are you gonna blame yourself
because you brought me into Oz?

Because if you did,
you'd be a goddamed idiot.

I filled out
an application.

- Cold out there,
ain't it?

- Oh, you're telling me.

I wish I had a fur coat like
one of your seeing eye dogs.

- Well, we prefer
to call them guide dogs.

- Well, what's
the difference?

- Well, you work
for the governor.

You should know what it's like
being politically correct.

- [chuckles]
How's the program going?

- Well, it's a real testament
to man's best friend.

I have three of
the more disparate inmates

that I've ever had,

and each of them
are doing a wonderful job.

- I'm impressed.

- Most skeptics
usually are.

- Oh.
- Catch you later.

[tense percussive tones]

- Hey, Lela.

It's hot in here
this morning.

Hey, Lela.



- He's got septicemia,
a serious kidney disease.

He went
into septic shock.

We managed to bring
his temperature down from 105.

- This is, like, what?
A virus?

I-is it contagious?

- No, it's
a bacterial infection.

Oftentimes, paraplegics
are prone to kidney disorders,

especially if they take
poor care of themselves.

- Wait, wait, Augustus is nearly
maniacal about his upkeep.

- There's something else.
- What?

- He's also got a shitload
of heroin in his bloodstream.

- Up, down, back, up!

- Whoa, what the fuck
is this, man?

- Miss Sally's
new TV series, "Sallycise".

It's a health
and exercise show.

- Yeah, well, one of my muscles
is already getting bigger.

- What's
the latest on Hill?

- Is Augustus
gonna be okay?

- Yo, what's up?
Did he O.D., McManus?

- McManus, how's Augustus?

- So, how's he doing?

- You son of a bitch.

Augustus' blood
is swimming in heroin, huh?

You want to fucking
tell me about that, do you?

- I don't know
nothing about that!

Just tell me
how the fuck he is!

- He's dying.

He's lying in
a fucking hospital bed dying.

- Well, why in the hell
are you standing here

trying to talk to me?

- I want to know who gave him
the drugs, Redding.

- I don't know
nothing about that.

I swear to you,
you gotta believe me.

- Why the fuck
should I believe you?

- I'm getting old!

I should've died
a long time ago.

But there's one thing
I won't do,

and that's outlive
that boy.

Now you go and do
everything you can for him,

and I swear to you,

I'll find out who it was
that gave him that smack!

- All right, and when you do,
you bring him straight to me.

You understand me?

- Yo, Burr,
how's our boy doing?

- You been
feeding him tits?

- Why, he overdosed
or something?

I thought it was
a kidney thing.

- Brought on by some
motherfucker that got him smack.

And you're at the top
of my list, poet!

- What, me?
No way, man.

No way!

- I swear to you,
I will root out the truth.

- You keeping digging,

but I ain't
give him shit.

You know, you got
a lot of enemies, Burr.

Before you start
accusing your friends,

you need to go check out
them Sicilians and them Spics.

That's what
you need to do.

[dramatic music]

♪ ♪


- Prisoner number

Greg Penders,

convicted May 7th, 1997,

criminally negligent homicide.

Sentence: 17 years.

Up for parole
in nine.

[gate buzzing]

- You heard the news?
- Yeah, too bad.

Augustus was doing
a great job with Lela.

- Well, what are
the steaks for?

- They're for
today's training.

- We're gonna teach
the dogs to cook?

- You're gonna teach
the dogs self-control.

Now, it's of primary importance
that your dog's attention

at all times
remains focused on you,

even when tempted
with those things that,

as a dog,
they love.

- Like raw
fucking meat.

- Or cats or other dogs,

So, the two of you
head on over there.

[dog whines]

- This is fucking

You know, I haven't seen
a steak in six years,

and now you're gonna
put it on the floor,

so a dog
won't eat it?

- Miguel,
you go first.

Have Julie lead you along,
but towards the steak.

- Yeah, but what do I do
if she goes for it?

- You give her lead
a firm tug and say, "No."

- No!

Julie, no!

Good girl,
good girl.

Come on.

Julie, no!




This is gonna
take a while.

- Cute pooch.

You know, when I was nine
my parents gave me a dog,

this beautiful
Chesapeake Bay retriever.

One day I decided
to dock the dog's tail.

- Dock,
what's that?

- Amputate.

- Why?

- I just thought
he'd look better.

I grabbed the butcher knife
from the kitchen

and just
cut his tail off,

cropped his ears,
kept on going.

By the time
my folks got home,

they were pissed,
dead puppy everywhere.

- Get your hands off the dog.
- I'm kidding.

- I don't care, get your hands
off my fucking dog.

- Do what
he says, Jia.

- Someday, Morales.


- Are you
protecting me now?

- No, I just hate
that yellow scum fuck,

and I've got
a question to ask.

You've been tight
with Mukada, right?

- Yeah, on and off.

- I was wondering something.
- What?

- Where the fuck's
his office?

[knocking at door]

- Open.


What a surprise.

- Yeah,
you're telling me.

Nice digs.

- So?

- I fried a guy once.

That's why I'm here.

I chucked his useless ass
into a transformer.

Now, he begged me
not to kill him.

I mean, that's what put me
over the edge, the begging.

- So, now you're feeling
guilty about this.

- Fuck, no.

I'm thinking, I was the last guy
to hear this jag's voice.

I own his last words.

- I'm not following.

- I got a feeling
you own my sister's,

and I want them.

- Oh, well, yes,
we did have a chat

shortly before
the bus crashed.

And she said that
she loves you very much,

and that she was very
excited about seeing you.

- And I couldn't
wait to see her.

I mean,
her smiling face.

She was the spitting image
of our mother.

Now you gotta
tell me, Father,

did Annette
at least die happy?

- She seemed to be
in very good spirits,

except for the problems that
she was having in her marriage.

- Oh, wait,
she was having problems?

- Yeah, you didn't
know about that?

- No, what kind
of problems?

- Well, I'm not sure
of the specifics.


Maybe you better
ask her husband.

- Yeah.

Yeah, I'm gonna
do just that.

- Goddamn, you look nicer in
here than you did out.

- At least you still
look like shit.

- It's been
a tough time,

the funeral and all.

- Yeah.

Well, how you doing
about Annette?

- Okay, I guess.

I mean,
me and her, we was--

- Hey, hey, hey,
I know.

She was a cunt.

- Man, you don't know
how happy I am

to hear you say that,

I mean, I didn't want
to come down here

and lie to you
about Annette.

I mean,
all of a sudden

she wanted to be
this model, right?

She was walking
around South Beach

and she's shoving
her tits in the face

of every agent
and photographer in town.

- If she was
spreading it around,

you gotta set her straight.

- She kept wearing
these skimpy tops

no bigger than
fucking rubber bands.

You know what I did?
- What?

- I cut a fucking chunk
out of her arm.

Believe me, the bitch
wore sleeves from then on.

- That put her right?
- Fuck, no.

The girl would spread her legs
for anything that moved,

and sometimes
for things that didn't.

I mean, I don't like to
disrespect the dead, Enrique--

- Hey, you know what,

You never will again.

My sister was a saint,
you motherfucker!

Son of a bitch!


- Enough! Let him go!

- You motherfucker!
- Let him go!

- You cocksucker!

- Father?

F-father Mukada?

Come here, please.

- I heard that
you'd been transferred

back from Benchley Memorial,

that you'll recover
from the stabbing.

- Where's Hoyt?

- Hoyt confessed
to a series of murders.

Today he's being
transported to death row.

- Father, I want to make
confession as well.

I want to be
a Roman Catholic again.

- No.
- What?

What do you--you--
you can't refuse me.

- I sure as hell can.

- Welcome
to death row, Hoyt.

- In olden times,
when you wanted to know

what the future held,

you'd drag your lamb down
to the local witchy woman,

where she'd proceed
to slice him neck to ass,

and read his hot,
steamy entrails.

From this, somehow,
your fortune was revealed,

from some woman
with cataracts and no teeth,

watching your
livestock bleed out.

Seems to me,
all you've done is lost a lamb,

which ain't gonna help
your fortune at all.

- No!

You fucking pig!



- His violent episodes
are increasing.

Every day now he's getting
into some kind of brawl.

We can't just
keep sedating him.

- Well, then get him
out of Solitary.

It's making him go crazy.
Send him back to me.

- Ryan, I've tried.
The warden refuses.

- Why?

- Ryan, your brother
killed Li Chen.

- In self-defense.
He was gonna rape my ma.

- But unfortunately,
you have no proof of that.

And Jia denies ever
having said that to you.

- Fucking chink bastard.
Because of that cocksucker,

Cyril's facing
the death penalty now.

- If only we could
find someone else

to corroborate
your story.

- Oh, fuck,
wait, there is.

I've been so distracted,
I forgot--Glen Shupe.

He overheard Li
threatening my ma.

- I'll go tell Leo.

- [sighs]

You gotta handle it
so careful.

You know, you gotta treat it
like a piece of fine glass.

It's that fragile.

- What is?

- Happiness.

- Did you or did you not
tell Ryan O'Reily

that Li Chen was gonna
rape O'Reily's mother?

- I did not.

- Take him back
to Emerald City.

- I think I need to go
into protective custody.

- Okay.

- Leo, it's obvious
he's lying.

He did tell Ryan
about Li Chen.

- Listen, it's not for me
to decide, Peter Marie.

That's the jury's job,

but you better explain
to Cyril O'Reily

+that what he needs now
is a good lawyer.

- Yeah, this is gonna
be a tough one.

The history
of Cyril's violent behavior,

the death
of Hamid Khan,

putting Jia Kenmin in a coma,
various other altercations.

That'll all play right into
the prosecution's hands.

And, Sister,
according to your analysis,

he knows right
from wrong.

- Yes.

- Right, like I said,
this is gonna be tough.

I'll take the case.

- You will?

- But Mr. O'Reily,
if I were in your shoes,

I'd go with
a name brand.

- Wait, what do you mean
a name brand?

- A lawyer
who can razzle-dazzle,

someone who will turn Cyril's
mental state into a cause,

headlines, op-ed pieces,
segments on the nightly news.

- You can't do that?
- Not as well as others.

You need Barnum
and F. Lee Bailey,

Johnnie Cochran,
Ken Starr.

- Come on, get real,
those guys are expensive.

- Yes.

- So, I guess the question
for you and your family is...

How much is your
brother's life worth?

[gate buzzing]

- so, I'm the cause
of all of this?

- Ah, no,
you're not.

- Yeah, because you
tried to warn me

that something could happen,
and I didn't listen.

- Look, don't
blame yourself, okay?

The truth is, having you around
has been great for me and Cyril.

Now we just gotta
figure out some way

to get him off
of death row.

- Let's do
what that woman said.

Let's hire
a big-time attorney.

- You got money?

- Well, I've got
some savings.

- Well, whatever you have
is not gonna be enough.

- Well, have you talked
to your father,

to your Aunt Brenda?

- Why, what good
would that do?

- Well, I'm not sure,

but they--they deserve
to know what's going on.

We need
a family meeting.

- You and Dad,
in the same room?

- Yes.
- Have you seen him lately?

- No, I haven't seen Seamus
O'Reily for over 30 years.

But I can't think
of a better reason

to stare
the old bastard down.

[tense percussive tones]

- I don't know.

Hey, Dad.

Aunt Brenda, hi.

How are you?

- I brought
chocolate peanut clusters,

Cyril's favorite kind.

- Oh, I'll make sure
he gets 'em, thanks.

Have a seat.

- Suzanne.

- Brenda.

- For God's sake, Seamus,
we came all this way.

Take another two steps.

- I won't bite.

I promise.

- Like you ever
kept a promise?

Let's get down
to business.

- Okay, so I, uh,
I explained the particulars

to the both of you
over the phone

and I just--
I need to know.

Can we afford to hire the best
lawyer to defend Cyril?

- Well, how much
are we talking here?

- Upwards of 20,000.

- Oh, sweet Jesus.

- Well, neither one of us
have that kind of money,

not even if we stacked together
our nickels and dimes.

- Aunt Brenda, I remember
when you got hurt on the job,

and the company,

they cut you a big,
fat compensation check.

- That's the money
I live on, Ryan.

I mean, that's all
I have for my old age.

- Don't you be asking Brenda
to risk her future

because of Cyril.

- She says
she loves him.

- I do.
- But not enough.

- Wait a minute,
wait a minute.

How come your mother hasn't
asked her family to step up?

- You know as well as I
that my family disowned me.

- Oh, that's right,
they disowned you.

But not for walking away from
your husband, your children, no.

For blowing up
that cop.

For bringing shame
on your father,

the lace-curtain fuck!

- I have accepted responsibility
for my actions, Seamus.

Maybe it's time
you did the same.

- Hey, I took fucking
responsibility 32 years ago!

By putting food
in their mouth,

paying the rent,
wiping their dirty asses!

And where were you?
Where the fuck were you?

- Let me ask you something,

And tell me the truth
for the first time in your life.

You and Tessie got together
real quick after I left,

and you had Cyril
a year after we had Ryan.

- So?

- So, were you fucking her
behind my back?

- Yeah.

In fact, I fucked her
the day Ryan was born.

- Okay, enough!


We're talking
about Cyril here, okay?

You know,
I mean, shit,

we're talking
about saving his life.

I mean,
this shit don't matter.

I mean...

- You're wrong, Ryan.

The shit
is all there is.

You say we have
to save him, for what?

A lifetime in Oz,

you know, with
his mind all a muddle?

Maybe the only generous thing
we can all do for the boy

is to let him die.

- What?

- Come on, Seamus,
give me a ride home.

- No, no, Brenda,
please don't go.


- There's more.

There has to be more to a family
than just blood, Ryan,

more than Christmas dinners
and the birthday cakes,

and more than old hurts
and unsettled scores.

We're not a family.

We never have been.

You knocked on
the wrong door, honey.

- See you in another
three decades, you cunt.

- I'm so...
I'm so sorry for that, I...

- No, it's okay.
It actually, uh...

Went better
than I expected.

- [laughing]


Oh, Ryan.

You know, she is wrong,
she's wrong,

because you and me and Cyril,
we are a family.

I mean, maybe we're
tattered and torn,

but we're gonna
get through this.

- Yeah, Aunt Brenda's right
about one thing, though.

The best thing we can do
for Cyril is to let him die.

- Oh, shit.

[gate buzzing]

- Hiya, Ryan.

- Hey, kid.

Oh, wait.
Shh, shh, shh.

Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey,
it's okay.

- What happened?

Was I bad again?

- Yeah.

- Sorry.

- It's okay.

- Can we go back
to Em City now?

- No, Cyril, I'm afraid
you have to go back to Solitary.

- I don't like Solitary.

- Oh, I know.

- It's scary.
- I know.

- It's lonely.

- Believe me, if I could
trade places with you,

I'd do it
in a fucking second.

- Ryan?
- Yeah?

- Are you crying?

- No, boys don't cry.

- That's right.

Daddy always said,
"Boys don't cry."

- And daddy knows best.

- Out of the way,

Are you gonna
behave yourself, hmm?

- Yes, sir.

- Listen...

For all the gypsies,
seers, tea leaves,

tarot cards,
and ouija boards,

your life
is your fucking life.

No, check that.

There is one person who tells
the future for a living,

and he's right 100%
of the time.

Who's this
magical motherfucker?

He's called the judge.

And all of us in Oz,

we got our fortunes told.

And let me tell you,
the future...

It ain't bright.

[piano playing]

♪ ♪

[tense jazzy music]

♪ ♪

[bright tone]