Oz (1997–2003): Season 6, Episode 7 - Junkyard Dawgs - full transcript

Three new inmates arrive at Oz, one of whom is particularly close to the O'Reily clan. Meanwhile, the Keller-Beecher-Schillinger triangle gets even more pointed, and an awards banquet ends in a fateful discovery.

[TV static drones]

[bright tone]

[tense jazzy music]

♪ ♪

[camera shutter clicking]

- Junk...

is the stuff that
was once valuable to us,

but that we now
have no use for.

Some junk is put away in storage
in the hopes of possible reuse.

Some junk
is discarded.

Either way,



it's never really gone,
it's only out of sight.

Junk is still
and always somewhere.

[camera shutter clicking]

[gate buzzes]

- Hell, Hill's book, man,
he writes good.

Make me
a little jealous.

- You got any tits?

- Nah, I'm all out.

Man, I ain't had
a taste in so long,

I feel like
I'm in rehab.

- Yeah, we ain't
got no income.

The book binding business
went bust.

The--the wops
block us from slinging.

- Something
will come along.



- You sure?

- I'm like old
Billy Clinton, yo.

I live in a town
called Hope.

[intense rock music]

- Prisoner number
0-3-B-5-6-3,

Stanley Bukowski.

♪ ♪

Convicted
January 16, 2003,

possession and distribution
of illegal substances.

Sentence: 15 years,
up for parole in 7.

[tense percussive tones]

[gate buzzes]

- Hey, new guy.

Got any tits?

- No, man, I ain't
into the hard stuff.

- All right,
you got any weed?

- There ain't nearly
enough weed for the need

in this
fucking place.

But...

I got
a shipment coming in.

- Better watch
where you toke, cuz.

- No, no,
no puffing involved.

Only eating.

I got a shitload
of very green,

very kind pot brownies
heading this way.

[laughs]

Thinking to start
a little industry,

if you get my drift.

- Huh, well, you see, Bukowski,
what you need is partners,

or else certain people
will find out

that you're stepping
on their turf.

We can make
the trouble stay away.

- This is bullshit.

He won't get them
through inspection.

He don't even know
the right hacks.

- Yeah, I got that
all figured out, all right.

The pot is
totally I-o-nized,

so it don't
reek at all.

Not even
to a mutt's nose.

The rest
of the recipe

I'm guarding like
the Coke formula.

Suffice to say, the body buzz,
ooh, is kick-ass.

You know what?

Double fudge, too,

with extra thick icing
for effect.

- Stanley,
you a genius.

- What's up?
- Like that.

Come on, man.

- Mail call.

[bell ringing]

[tense percussive tones]

- That's all?

- Yeah.

Bukowski, you got
a box of brownies.

[tense percussive tones]

- Here you go, cuz.

Morning.

Enjoy.

- Thank you.

- Welcome back
to "Sallycize".

We're gonna play
some volleyball today,

so get your balls out

and make sure
they're firm and round,

'cause we're gonna
bounce them high.

And side and up.

That's right.

Keep your wrists
stiff and stiff...

- This is the best
"Miss Sally" ever.

- And stiff, jump,
good everybody.

Work it arms, stiff,
stiff and hard.

Yeah, hard,
pump it up!

[tense percussive tones]

[gate buzzes]

- Ganja brownies.

Why didn't
we think of that?

- That punk is gonna
suck off our profits.

- Yeah, he could hurt us,
that's for sure.

That bastard
needs a funeral.

- Pena di morte.

- Definitely
butter in these.

- Of course there's butter,
Kenaniah, it's a brownie.

What we're trying
to do is figure out

Bukowski's
secret ingredient.

- Man, we can guess
till we green.

The only answer is

get the recipe
from Bukowski himself.

- Yeah, yeah, then we can
unload his white ass.

[tense percussive tones]

- Look, you fucks
better leave me alone,

or my home boys
are gonna--

- What, why, they're gonna
come after us?

- Yeah.

- Call them,
go ahead.

- Oh, I feel
like Custer.

- Come on, Custer,
let's take a walk.

[tense jazzy music]

- [screaming]

- He's dead?

- I hear
his face melted.

- There go our
latest enterprise.

- Man, what you mean?

We got Bukowski to spill
the secret recipe, right?

- Nah, I called in the specifics
to my cousin Malcolm,

told him
to mix up a batch.

He said the stuff
is shit.

- Wait, wait, wait, wait,
Bukowski lied to us?

- Uh-huh.

- Fuck, man, you can't
trust anybody these days.

- Man, I say it's
the wops' fault.

Let's just go bust
some heads, man.

- Wait, wait, wait, wait.

Yo, I got a plan,
and it all starts with Burr.

[bell ringing]

Hey, Burr.

Yo, Burr,
we--we want back in.

Whatever you want,
telemarketing, whichever.

- For starters,
say that again.

This time,
on your knees.

- You serious?

- Bend them!

- Bend 'em, man,
get down, man.

- Yo, we--we--

- Shut the fuck up.

I heard you
the first time.

Be there
tomorrow morning,

ready to work
them phones.

- Come on, man,
just come on.

- See, Burr, I knew you'd
fill these desks again.

- Yeah, well, I finally
convinced my boys

to follow
the straight and narrow.

- Okay, we're here.

Now, you gonna tell me
your big plan?

- Credit cards.

Every time
we take a order,

we steal
the credit card numbers.

My cousin Malcolm, he can
sell the list for major dough.

- Cyber-slinging.

I love it.

- All right, all right.

[phone dialing]

- 10 months ago, divers swimming
deep in the Pacific

discovered two pieces
of the "P.T. 109."

That's the boat JFK was
commander of in World War II

when it was sunk
by a Japanese destroyer.

In the past, they've also found
the "Titanic," the "Hunley,"

and hundreds of thousands
of other ships lost at sea.

Makes you wonder
how much is down there?

How badly have we littered
the ocean floor?

The best part is,
sea life adapts.

They take our naval junk
and make it their own,

make it their home.

- Rebadow,
where's Stella?

I need to talk
to her.

- Today's the day
of her lumpectomy.

- Oh, God, yeah,
I forgot.

- Stella said she'd
have her friend call

as soon as she
was out of danger.

- I'm sure
she'll be fine.

- Yes, hello?

I'd like to send
some flowers.

[gate buzzes]

- Those white fuckers
fucked him up...

- Any word
from Stella?

- No.

- I thought she'd be done
with the surgery by now.

- Sometimes hospitals
get backed up.

- Hey, bookworm!

Bookworm!

You gonna read
another book, fag?

- Ignore him, Pablo.

- Fuck that.

[tense percussive tones]

[all yelling at once]

- Time for final count,
let's go.

- I still haven't
heard from Stella.

Five more minutes.

- It's now or the hole.

[gate buzzes]

- Bob, don't be worried.

Stella's
indestructible.

- No one's
indestructible.

Funny, I got all
caught up in thinking

she needed me
to beat the cancer,

but in truth
she didn't need me.

And that hurts
all the more.

Oh, thank God.

[tense percussive tones]

- Score is love-love,
everybody.

It's gonna be a lot
of squatting down,

it's gonna be a lot of quick
moves, flexing, thrusting...

- Oh, good.

Time to exercise
the old fantasy muscle.

- They ought to do
a Miss Sally marathon

and bring
the "schoolyard" back.

Especially
since Busmalis

didn't learn his lesson
of the day the first time.

- Miss Sally says, "Don't try
and marry my slutty secretary."

- They're jealous.

The two oldest guys in the joint
are the only true Romeos.

- Yo, Busmalis, you really
gonna do it again?

Getting left at
the altar and all?

- Even if the wedding
do go through,

he gotta play baby daddy
to a kid ain't even his.

- Some might consider that
an act of generosity.

- I consider it
an act of insanity.

The brat was conceived on what
should have been your honeymoon.

That's, like, freakier
than cloning.

- Yo, the warden's not even
gonna let him

get a kick-off
conjugal.

- Yo, marriage ain't marriage
without sex.

- That's right.

- You gonna step
in here, Bob?

- You do have some
serious issues to resolve.

- Great.

[gate buzzes]

Well, to all you lonely,
horny naysayers

with no one but Rosie Palm
and her five sisters

to love you,
I say this.

Right here, baby.

Right in my
big blue balls,

coming back to life
'cause I'm going to the chapel

and I'm gonna
get married, yeehaw!

- Better get
your Viagra ass out.

- Stop that.

She'll be here.

- She's more than
an hour and a half late.

- Do you have any idea
how little time that is

to a man
serving 10 years?

- We'll wait
a little bit longer.

- Agamemnon, you may want to
consider the possibility that--

- Never!

She'll be here
in three seconds.

One, two...

Two and a half.

[door opening]

- Oh, Aggie,
I'm so sorry!

Please tell me that
you got the message.

- What message?

- I called, told some guy
who answered the phone

that the sitter
was late.

He promised
to pass it along.

- Promises don't mean
a whole hell of a lot in Oz.

- Well, mine
certainly does.

Marry me!

- Hit it, Father!

- In 1957, the first satellite
was sent into space.

Since then, 4,186 satellites
have followed.

300 of them
are still up there,

defunct, abandoned.

Some the size
of Volkswagens.

Occasionally you hear
that one of them

is gonna fall out of the sky,
gonna hit the earth.

The experts say,
don't worry.

Most likely it'll
crash into the ocean.

Most times they're right,
but, brother,

I don't want
to be standing around

the one time
they're wrong.

[gunshots]

- I asked to be placed
in Em City for one purpose

and one purpose only,

to find someone
to kill me.

- [groaning]

- Good morning.

Have you figured out
a way to kill me yet?

- No.

Can't fuckin' concentrate
with you sweating me 24/7.

- Could we at least
discuss a timetable?

[gate buzzes]

- Count!

- Yo, I need
to see McManus now.

[bell ringing]

- Of all the ridiculous things
that you've said and done,

and there have been plenty,
this is the most ridiculous.

- Okay, it's crazy, I know,
but look, it's true.

Idzik wants me
to whack him.

- Yeah, right.

You know, this is just
your feeble attempt

to cover your tracks.

You've been threatening
to kill that man

ever since
he got to Oz.

- I know I did,
but I don't now, right?

I mean, there's
something about the man

begging me
to do the deed

I don't know, makes it so--
makes it so wrong.

- Like I said,
ridiculous.

Get the fuck out
of my office.

- McManus--

- Now!

[tense percussive tones]

- Well?

- Look, Idzik,
you gotta--

you gotta look at this thing
from my perspective, okay?

You're asking me
to commit a criminal act,

and yet you refuse
to tell me why.

- I killed Kareem Said.

Why isn't that reason
enough for you?

- For me, yeah, yeah,
that's--but still,

that don't tell me
why you wanna die.

- Okay.

But not here,
follow me.

Light.

That's what
this is all about.

That's what makes
everything happen.

Not just
in this room,

but everywhere on the planet
in every corner of the universe,

light generates life.

That's coming
to an end.

- Well, wait, wait,

what are--what are you
talking about, how?

- When suns and stars explode,
they create new suns,

new stars.

And each time,
these new entities are smaller,

you know, containing less
energy.

And so when they, too,
explode, as they must,

the next stars and suns
are even smaller,

even weaker.

Eventually, all the gas,
all the heat,

all the light
will dissipate,

the galaxies will
grow cold and still.

- What'll--what happens
to us then?

- Without light,
we cease to exist.

- We could maybe, um,
build a rocket ship, right?

- Omar, there'd be no energy
to fuel the rocket to space.

Besides, there'd be
nowhere to go.

There's nowhere to hide
from the inevitable.

All life will stop.

- Damn.

- So don't you see?

Everything that we do,
the plans we make,

the hopes we have,

they're futile.

Being good at a job,
which I was,

building a home,
which I did,

raising a family...

Which I had,

none of it
means anything

because no matter
how we try,

how much we strive
and struggle,

it'll all
come to naught.

Life is
a waste of time.

So that's why I'm counting
on you to kill me.

You will,
won't you?

- Look, look, I need--
I need some more time.

I need some time
to think, all right?

I'll give you
my answer by noon, okay?

[tense percussive tones]

Yo, Reb, you got
any literature on, um...

the end
of the world?

Nebuli, neb, nebuli.

Galaxies and quasars,
it's awesome.

Heat.

Heat and...

Gas.

Simple.

- It's noon, and you said
you'd have an answer by now.

- I do, come here,
come here, look.

I been doing a lot
of reading, you know,

about doomsday scenarios,
like, you know,

from "the Apocalypse"
to "the Crunch Theory,"

black holes,

meteorites bombarding
the earth.

It's just
like you said.

You know, no matter
what we do, someday,

light, heat and gas...

will be
extinguished forever.

But there's one thing,
one thing you didn't mention.

[gate buzzes]

It won't be a void.

You know, there won't be
just nothingness.

You see, the weakest
force in nature

will become dominant,

and that is
g-r-a-v-i-t-y, gravity.

- So?

- So?

So?

Something will
still exist.

There'll still be
an energy in the universe.

I mean, maybe our physical
bodies won't be here,

but we will still be
part of that new dynamic.

Who knows?

Maybe it--
maybe it'll be better.

- I very much
doubt that.

- Yeah, but if there's just
even just the slightest chance.

- Are you trying
to tell me

that you won't
kill me?

- I'm sorry, I can't.

Don't you understand?

I mean, I'm finally
on to something here.

And if I just,
just kept digging,

maybe I'll--
maybe I'll find an answer.

- I'm very disappointed
in you, Omar.

- Well, I know,
but wait, but this is Oz.

I mean,
it's full of murderers.

Maybe, maybe you can
convince somebody else.

- No, no, no,
that's all right.

I have an
alternative plan.

[gate buzzes]

- Count!

[tense percussive tones]

- What the hell?

Murphy,
get down here!

Cuff him.

- Holy fuck.

Jesus fucking Christ.

[tense percussive tones]

- They say one man's trash
is another man's treasure.

Like fish
in the sea,

we take something someone else
doesn't want and repurpose it.

We go to antique stores

and auction houses
paying top dollar,

proud to have
captured the prize.

But when someone
you love dies,

the stupidest object,

their keychain,
a torn sweatshirt,

suddenly becomes
very special,

an icon
to be venerated.

- You wanted
to see me?

- Yes.

Have a seat, James.

- What is it?

- The physical you
took last month.

I got the results back,
your blood tests.

- Oh, shit.

- I think you should
have a seat, James.

- Don't tell me.

I got AIDS.

- You're HIV-positive,

which does not necessarily
mean you have AIDS.

- Jesus Christ!

- The treatment
available today

do wonders for people
fighting HIV.

Thousands of patients
are leading normal lives.

Are you hearing me?

- Promise you
won't tell anyone.

Not anyone.

- No, of course,
I won't.

- Files,
destroy the files.

- I can't do that.

- I can.

[tense jazzy music]

- Lunch,
little brother.

- Is it fluffernutter?

- Not this time, sport.

- He's doing fine.

- Yeah.

- You know, he's still
completely unaware

that he was
almost executed.

I don't know if we can get away
with the charade the next time.

- No, no,
Cyril's gonna be fine.

He's not gonna die.

- Ryan, the court didn't
overturn the death sentence.

One justice ruled for a stay,
and that's all.

- No.

I prayed,
God listened.

He saved Cyril's life,
that's it.

- Ryan.

- Hey, Ma, have a little faith,
all right?

- I will.

[tense percussive tones]

- Look, fuck stick,
I don't make the food.

All right,
I just serve it.

- Ryan?

If you're finished,
I'd like to see you.

I--I don't know
if you're aware that

I was the attending doctor
for your brother's execution.

- No.

- Well, I agreed to be there
in case Cyril needed something.

- I appreciate that.

- Then as they were
strapping him in,

I suddenly had this
flash of my husband...

And the horrible way that
he died at Cyril's hands,

and I thought, "Good, I'm glad
that I'm here to watch."

- I can appreciate
that too.

- Well, I can't.

Revenge is not justice.

You know,
I'm a doctor.

I heal people,
I save lives.

I shouldn't feel happy
at the moment of--

of another person's death,
anyone's,

not even the man
who killed my husband.

- You know, Gloria,
I been thinking,

I really need to do something
to balance out all the--

all the shit
that I've done.

And I--I'd really like
to come work in the hospital.

- Ryan.
- No.

Not to be near you,
you know.

Or just
to be near you.

Ever since I washed
Father Meehan's body,

I've...

I don't know.

I've spent so much time trying
to stay alive here in Oz.

All my energy has been
focused on my survival.

And I'm--I'm fucking
good at it.

So I'm thinking maybe it's time
for me to help others survive.

It's--it's no scam.

I swear to you,
on my brother's life.

- I believe you.

- You do?

[gate buzzes]

- I'll request
the transfer.

- Thank you.

[tense percussive tones]

- Prisoner number
0-3-P-1-3-8,

Sheamus O'Reily,

convicted
February 3, 2003,

murder in
the first degree.

Sentence, 34 years,

up for parole in 16.

- Yo.

- Dad's coming to visit?

- Well, not visit exactly.

[tense percussive tones]

That's one sad looking
plant there, McManus.

- Well, it's supposed to survive
without natural light,

but, ah, fuck it.

- Look, I'm here
about my dad.

- I don't want Sheamus O'Reily
in Em City.

- I don't want him
here, either.

- You don't?

- No.

I just came up here
to make sure that

you weren't gonna
do the right thing,

you know,
try to reunite us

or some kind of
bullshit like that.

I don't want that old bastard
anywhere near me.

[tense percussive tones]

[gate buzzes]

- Welcome to Oz.

- Fuck you.

- Forget about having
too much garbage,

too many bottles, cans,
watermelon rinds,

disposable baby diapers
and such.

What's really terrifying

in terms of the long-term
health of the planet

is toxic waste.

Toxic waste.

You can't put two worse words
together except maybe...

nuclear war.

[explosion]

- "It will have blood,"
they say.

"Blood will
have blood.

"Stones have been known to move
and trees to speak

"augurs and understood relations
have by maggot-pies

"and choughs and rooks
brought forth

the secret'st man
of blood."

- That's very good, Vern.

You have
a natural gift.

Acting is often about
making a lie ring true.

- So do I get
the role?

- Sure.

I'm just a little surprised that
you're so enthusiastic about it,

considering that
we've had so much trouble

with people dying.

- Taking this part
now proves

I've got bigger balls
than anybody in Oz.

- I've come
to audition.

- Too late, Beecher.

- Yeah.

I got the part.

- Oh, all right.

- Oh, no, wait.

My Macduff got sent
to solitary yesterday,

so how'd you like
to try out for that?

- Sure.

- Read this.

- So this is where Macduff
learns that Macbeth

has killed
his wife and son.

[bell ringing]

- "Sinful Macduff,
they were all struck for thee!

"Naught that I am,

"not for their
own demerits

but for mine fell slaughter
on their souls."

"Heaven rest them now."

[tense percussive tones]

- How'd the audition go?

- You're looking at
the new Macbeth.

Still a couple
of roles open.

You ought
to try out.

- No, I don't like
wearing makeup.

I like being backstage,
though.

I'm wanna help out
with props.

- Oh, wow,
wish I had my camera.

This is
a Kodak moment.

- Keep walking,
Beecher.

No one's talking
to you.

- You know, Schillinger,
I am really surprised at you,

associating
with this fuck.

After all, he killed one
of your Aryan brothers.

- What are you
jawing about?

- Franklin Winthrop.

Killer Keller
snapped his neck.

- He's lying.

- Course he is.

Why would Keller
want to whack Winthrop?

- He did the deed
for me,

out of love,

to avenge
my father's murder.

- Guard, guard!

Aah!

- Any of this ring
a fucking bell, huh, Vern?

Goddamn you.

Look at that,
I can still cry.

You know what?

I'm proud of that.

- [laughs]
You pussy ass bitch.

- Shh.

- Don't shush me,
motherfucker.

- Chris, you did
kill Winthrop.

- Yeah.

- That's okay.

He was nothing.

But Beecher knows
too much about both of us.

He's gotta die.

- Yeah.

- I'll deal with it.

- No, I'll kill Beecher.

- You?

- Before I whack him,

I just want to fuck him
in the ass one more time.

- Hello?

- Suzanne told me to tell you
to wait for her here.

I love props.

What looks
real isn't.

Like this shank.

Hah!

See that?

It's fake.

At least I know I got
your attention now, though.

- I'm trying
to learn my lines.

- He speaks and yet
he says nothing.

What of that?

- Shut up.

- Oh, okay.

You know, I've always
thought actions speak

louder than words
anyway.

Now, this one's real.

By the way,
these are real, too.

- Hey, Suzanne.
- Hey.

- Late for rehearsal?

- Well, no,
doesn't start till 3:00.

- I got a note from you asking
me to let Beecher out early

for a catch-up rehearsal.

- I didn't write
any note.

[tense percussive tones]

- Time to wake up, Toby.

- [muffled]
You fucking cocksucker!

[screaming]

- Shh.

It's just like
the old days, huh?

You as my bitch.

- Fuck you.

- Fuck me.

Fake...

Real.

Or did I get them
mixed up?

Let's see.
- [yelps]

- Hope I got your
attention now.

Toby...

Schillinger
wants you dead.

That's no secret,
right?

[whispering] I told him that
I would do it.

Ask me why.

- Why?

- To keep you alive.

That's right.

I've been pretending
to be Schillinger's butt buddy

to keep you safe,

so that you and I
would know of his plans.

[gate buzzes]

But I know how...

bullheaded you are.

I knew that if I had told you,
you wouldn't believe me.

I concocted this
whole goddamn thing

just to convince you that
I'm on the up and up.

Now, if I was really siding
with Schillinger, Toby...

- [grunts]

- You'd be dead
already.

But instead...

All I really want...

Is for you
to love me again.

- What the fuck
is going on here?

- Just a little harmless fun
between two consenting adults.

[gate buzzes]

- So...

Does Beecher believe
you're betraying me?

- Motherfucker doesn't
know what to believe.

- [laughs]

- I'll fill in the rest
as we go along.

He's so proud
of his tears.

We'll give him
something to cry about.

- Hey.

[tense percussive tones]

- Junk is garbage.

We Americans dump
400,000 tons of garbage

every day in over
6,000 landfills.

Problem is, as the population
keeps growing,

the amount of our
available space diminishes.

Remember
a few years ago

that barge that kept
sailing around

'cause no one wanted to accept
its decaying cargo?

Imagine a future
full of ships,

detritus stinking
to high heaven,

trying to find a port.

[gate buzzes]

- How'd it go?

- Rejected my parole.

- Yeah, my wife and I are
retiring to Sarasota, Florida.

- Nice.

- Luis, can I have a moment
of your time, please?

- Sure, um...

- We'll wait for you
in the lobby.

- Okay.

- Um, Miguel Alvarez,

I want you to have
a meeting with him.

- Why?

- Well, so that
he can apologize to you

for hitting you
at the last hearing.

- Does this have anything
to do with me taking over

as head of the parole board
when Steve retires?

- No, this has to do
with a guy

who's making a genuine attempt
to be rehabilitated.

Look, I--
I see Miguel every day.

You see him once
every three years.

I believe
he's changed.

Give him a chance
to prove that to you.

- I'll think about it.

- Please!

- I'll think
about it, Tim.

[gate buzzes]

- He said no?

- He said maybe.
- Oh.

I guess
that's something.

- The key, Miguel,
is keep on track.

Don't get sucked up
in all this shit.

- I'm trying.

- I know.

- It's fucking hard.

- I know.

[bell ringing]

- Hello, Miguel.

- Hey, Cathy Jo.

How are you?

- I'll be better when
we finish this legal stuff.

The lawyer says
once you sign these,

all of Wolfgang's property
is mine.

- You look beautiful.

- Thank you.

- You know, I didn't,
I didn't know Cutler that well,

but he's gotta
be a dope

for treating you
the way he did, you know?

If it was me,

I'd worship
at your feet.

- I guess we should
deal with this.

Then again,
what's the rush?

[child laughing]

- No, nothing
fucking at all.

- I heard Cathy Jo
visited again.

That mean you signed all
the property over to her?

- Not exactly.

- It's either yes or no,
Alvarez.

- Or it's not exactly.

She isn't sure that
she wants everything.

- What the fuck
does that mean?

- I don't know.

Says she wants
more time.

Give her time.

- All right,
just get it done.

- Hey, I'm just doing
what the widow wants.

It's just
like you asked.

Jesus, you guys
gotta calm down.

- I don't trust
that little spic.

Next time she comes,
I want a mole in that room.

I don't think
I trust her either.

[tense percussive tones]

- Prisoner number
0-3-T-3-2-3,

Alonzo Torquemada.

Convicted
February 6, 2003,

assault in
the first degree.

Sentence, 10 years,
up for parole in 6.

[men shouting]

- Who the fuck
is that?

- It's Torquemada,
the club owner,

the king
of the night.

[gate buzzes]

- Miguel Alvarez,

I hear you're
the man to know.

- Whoever told you
that was an idiot.

- Quieres festejar?

- No, thank you.

I hate heroin.

- Oh, I ain't talking about
that street shit, sweetie.

I'm talking the latest
in synthetics.

You ever done destiny?

D-tabs.

Like a six-month
mardi gras.

- I'm up for parole
in a couple.

I'm gonna keep my record
and my head clean.

- I like you.

You're smart.

You can be
my numero dos.

- That's funny.

Of the drag queens?

- Oh, no.

I intend to run
all of Em City.

- You're gonna run Em City?

You gonna beat the wops,
gonna beat the niggers?

- That's right.

- Taken one too many
of them D-tabs, baby.

- Trust me, Miguel,

once the boys get
their hands on this shit,

every con in Oz
will be mine.

[tense percussive tones]

- Junk is also classic slang
for narcotics,

usually heroin.

The people using
are junkies,

and as a result,
lives can be destroyed.

Junk bonds cause
financial disaster.

Junk food brings
nutritional ruin.

Junk mail is just
plain irritating.

Our lives are
fill with dreck.

But the hardest dreck
of all to clear away

is the one of
our own making.

- Yood...

I'm gonna ask you again,
and this time I want the truth.

Did you see who murdered
Willy Brandt?

- No.

- It happened right here.

You were somewhere
in the area.

How could you
not have noticed?

- What I saw, I saw.

What I'll say
is another matter.

- I could force you.

- Warden, I'm smart enough
to know that what happened here

is a small thing that's tied
to the tail of a dragon.

My advice is to forget about
who killed Willy Brandt

and who killed
Mayor Loewen

move on before
that dragon comes out

and bites you
in the ass.

[gate buzzes]

- Officer Johnson,
what can I do for you today?

- Another job.

- Oh, geez.

- Last one, Lionel.

- That's what you said
when I killed Willy Brandt.

- Brandt was small potatoes
compared to this.

- Yeah?

Who?

Oh, geez.

- Guess what?

I found out
who's getting

the Correctional Officers
Association's

Lifetime Achievement Award

at tonight's banquet.

For 34 years dedicated service,
courage and calm,

the award goes
to Leo Glynn.

Congratulations.

No one deserves this
recognition more than you.

- Yeah, right.

You know as well as I
the only criterion

for the Lifetime Achievement
Award is survival.

- Ooh, we've gotta get you
to loosened up for tonight.

- Well, I'm not
gonna loosen up

until I put Wilson Loewen's
murderer behind bars.

- Brandt murdered Loewen
and now Brandt's dead.

- He's dead because someone
didn't want Brandt testifying

as to who paid him
to kill Loewen.

- Oh.

- Hey, Leo, I need to
ask you a couple of ques--

Wow.

- Tim, come back here.

[tense percussive tones]

[indistinct chatter]

- Ha-ha.

- Last time I wore
this getup was--

was at your
40th birthday party.

- Ah, geez, thanks for
reminding me, Sean.

I wasn't
feeling lousy enough.

- I was thinking of
heading over, you know,

have a couple of belts
before all the droning.

Huh?

Rumor is Leo's gonna get
the lifetime achievement award.

Ceremony's in a half-hour,
you know that, right?

- Yup.

- So what's the problem?

Little Tim need help
with his clip-on?

[bell ringing]

- Come here.

I think there's gonna be
trouble in Em City tonight.

- Sure, but no more
than usual.

- Yeah, but, you know, maybe I
should stay here just in case.

- Do you not want
to go to the party?

- Well, what the fuck
do you think?

- I think you must
really love your job,

or hate your boss.

- Count!

- I'm gonna party.

[tense percussive tones]

- 98-A-4-98, 92-M-2-20...

[light upbeat music]

♪ ♪

- [laughing]

- Listen, shouldn't we...

Shouldn't we get
the show on the road?

- Not without Leo.

- Yeah, where is he?

- I'll get him.

[knock at door]

Leo?

Leo?

[tense percussive tones]

Leo?

Jesus.

[indistinct chatter, laughter]

♪ ♪

- Leo!

Officer,
call code one!

- Turn off that music!

Turn off that
fucking music!

- Get that gurney here!

Leo, can you hear me?

I can't feel
his pulse.

[tense percussive tones]

Oh, my God,
he's dead.

- You know how to get out
of any labyrinth?

- No, Tim, I don't.

- Well, the second
that you go in,

you just put
your hand on the wall

and then you walk.

And as long as you keep
your hand on the wall,

you'll get out.

But this maze,

the one that I designed,
it doesn't have any walls.

I don't understand
why you and Leo

being together
bothered me so much.

I mean, the whole point
of our divorce

is so we could
both be happy, right?

- Now neither of us is.

You know what I miss most
about being married to you?

You always knew
how to comfort me.

[crying]
I loved him so much.

[tense jazzy music]

- [whistling]

- According to statistics
from the United States

Bureau of Justice,

the prison population has grown
by almost 550,000 since 1991.

That's an increase of 69%.

Junk yard, prison,
same difference.

Only in prison,
the junk we're discarding,

the flotsam and jetsam,

are human lives.

♪ ♪

[bright tone]