Quincy M.E. (1976–1983): Season 8, Episode 14 - A Loss for Words - full transcript

I don't understand how this
man could've done what he did

with all these warning
signs staring him in the face.

He didn't know what
he was staring at.

He couldn't read?

- That's right.
- What?

You look like you've just
rubbed noses with a freight train.

Sooner or later,
they're gonna find out.

What's his motive for
blowing this place to bits?

In a word, insurance.

For your information, Droyden didn't
have any insurance on his factory.

Arnold, I handed you that memo
myself. Didn't you read the memo?



Arnold can't read.

All these years, he's fooled us?

Gentlemen, you
are about to enter

the most fascinating
sphere of police work,

the world of forensic medicine.

- G'morning, Mr. Droyden.
- Morning, Tim.

I didn't know anybody
else got here this early.

Well, it's the only way I can
do business with the East Coast.

You got those
parts put away okay?

Yes sir. All two hundred pistons
stacked where you wanted 'em.

Anything else I can do for you?

Your foreman tells me that you
do a little welding, is that right?

Yeah, sure. My uncle has
a machine shop in Tulare.

All right, I've got a parts rack
that needs a wheel brace welded.



You think you could
handle the repair?

I know the one you
mean. Nothing to it.

All I need's the equipment.

All right, here's the key
to the parts department,

Oh, Tim!

I'm not making any promises,

but you do a good job, maybe
we'll move you up to welding.

Thank you, sir.

Timothy Hurley, age 19,

height approximately one
hundred seventy-two centimeters,

weight approximately
sixty-nine kilograms,

Flash burns over ninety
percent of his body,

major trauma includes a skull
fracture of the left parietal bone.

Multiple bilateral rib fractures

and a fracture dislocation
of the left shoulder.

Apparently the
victim of an explosion.

I saw what was left of that building
from the freeway this morning.

It looked like a bomb hit it.

We should be grateful
this was the only casualty.

Another two hours and that
place would've been full of workers.

The first reports said that he was
inside a solvent booth that exploded.

It's a wonder he
wasn't blown to bits.

If he'd been directly outside the booth,
there wouldn't have been much left of him.

Sam, take a look at the face...

These glass fragments...
Hand me the tweezer, will you.

Hmm.

Oh Quincy, I was hoping
you'd have begun the internal.

This one has become
rather pressing...

How can I put a rush
on an industrial accident?

You're the one who says 'one
death can save a hundred lives.'

Listen, I'm not trying
to stampede you.

It's just that our field
investigator has sealed off

the accident scene to everybody,

pending your autopsy results.

Sounds as he's as
thorough as I'd him like to be.

The problem is that the
Occupational Safety Investigator

is on his way out there, too.

Now, I can't have a battle
with OSHA with over jurisdiction.

- Who's our investigator?
- Chatham.

Oh, Chatham. I'm glad you're
being daring. Good for you.

I thought you were
sending Kovaks?

Now it's funny you should
ask that, Sam, because I was.

But then I remembered
that Chatham

has thirty years as an insurance
investigator under his belt.

Now that's more experience
in situations like this

than the rest of the
department combined.

He's unflappable,
h e's eagle-eyed...

- He's a great dresser...
- What?

What're you worried about?

Worried! I'm not
worried. It's just that...

Well, you know Arnold...
He is rather stubborn.

Well listen, we're doing
too much talking here.

Now when you've got some
results, give him a call at the scene.

Great dresser.

Yep. Right. Uh...

Anything in his
system? Alcohol? Drugs?

So far, we haven't found a thing,
except for the fumes he was inhaling.

- What kinda fumes?
- A mixture of hydrocarbons.

Sam's trying to
sort them out now.

One thing we know, there was a high
concentration of methyl ethyl ketone.

No wonder it blew. That
stuff's really powerful.

Anything else of interest?

Well, there were bits of smoked glass
we removed from around his eyes...

Well that would be the glass from his
welding mask. He really blew himself up.

Okay, thanks Quince.

I'll talk to you later.

- Mr. Chatham?
- That's me.

I'm Peter Lassiter. Cal-OSHA.

What's this about
sealing off the building?

Just a precaution, til I get the autopsy
results. I got 'em, so you can go in now.

Title Eight of the State
Labor Code empowers us

to investigate
industrial accidents.

I don't need your
permission, thank you.

And, if the autopsy is over, then
I assume your work is over, huh?

Not quite.

Arnold, I got closeups of everything within
twenty feet of where the body was found.

Well, that's a
good start, Eddie.

Do the same with
the rest of the building.

No 'thirty-fives.' Keep
using that press camera.

Ok, but you wouldn't say that if you had
to lug all this stuff that goes with it.

Now, Jim, you start shooting over
there and work your way around, okay?

Well, it's obvious what happened,
once this spray booth blew,

flames rushed through the drain

out to the solvent holding tank.

That second explosion,
what most of the damage.

Almost like a primer
setting off a bomb.

Mr. Chatham?

Mr. Droyden's can see you now.

I wanna look at something.
Go ahead, I'll catch up with you.

Okay, I thought you might.

Boy, this is some mess.

- Uh, do me a favor, will you?
- What's that?

I left my glasses in the
car and I'm blind as a bat.

What's that sign say?

It's a "Danger" sign. It says "Explosive
Environment. Wear respiratory protection."

- "Use..."
- That's what I thought. Okay thanks a lot.

I got in a little before five a.m., had
some important calls to make back East.

And what exactly did
you ask Mr. Hurley to do?

Oh I told him about a parts rack in
the sandblasting bin that needed repair.

Told him to fix it...

How do you suppose he ended up
welding, not in a sandblasting booth but

in a degreasing booth
filled with solvent fumes.

Well that's what don't understand. I
would not've let him within a hundred yards

of that room with
an acetyline torch.

Here, Jim. Would you fix this?

You said the victim was
not a full-time welder?

Well no but he was being trained. We
were moving up from inventory control.

Well now maybe that's it.

Maybe he saw something in the
degreasing room that needed repair.

Maybe he was just trying to show
initiative. He was a very nice kid.

Well, was he checked
out on a respirator?

Or a combustible gas indicator?

All our employees are.

And I have the documents to verify
that he went through the training.

But he didn't use either one of those
things when he went in that room.

That's what's crazy.
He knew better than that.

Maybe he didn't
know better than that.

Could be you just think
he knew better than that.

Right on the welding unit

was a sign just like this one...

"Caution. Do not use in confined
space without testing atmosphere

"with Combustible
Gas Indicator."

That's this
doo-hickey, right here.

You insert this rod
into the atmosphere

that you're testing and when
the needle goes over into the red,

that means you've got
to turn the ventilator on.

Maybe he didn't
know how to operate it.

Well the instructions are

printed right on the unit. And
they're easy to read, to understand.

But there's more.

Right on the door of the
spray booth was that sign.

"Explosive environment.

"Wear respiratory protection.
Use non-sparking tools.

Do not expose to flame..."

I don't understand how this man could
have done what he did with all these

warning signs
staring him in the face.

Well it's simple.
He didn't stare back.

At least, he didn't know
what he was staring at.

- He couldn't read?
- That's right.

- What?
- I spoke to his sister.

She's still shaky,
but she swears he

couldn't have gotten
past the first syllable

of these warnings.

Isn't reading required for
training in jobs like these?

They showed me some documents
that state that he was trained.

But I'm checking 'em out now.

If you wanna be accurate
about this man's death,

make sure that you mention it took more
than an explosive environment to kill him.

Yeah, and enough
ignorance to set it off.

Arnold, that's very
nice work. You're really

proving your value
to this department.

Thank you, Doctor Asten.

Uh, sir, with your permission, I'd
like to do a little follow-up on this one.

What sort of follow-up?

Well,

just enough to

answer a few questions
in my own mind,

before we put it to bed.

You think there might be
more than an accident here?

You seen as many insurance cons as I
have, you begin to get a little paranoid.

But like they say,
just cause you're

paranoid doesn't mean
you don't have enemies.

Arnold, follow your instincts.
But keep me apprised.

Thank you, sir. See
you later, gentlemen.

Okay.

What do you think, Quincy?

I think in this day
and age it's a tragedy

that a man has to die
because he can't read.

I mean, what do you
think of Chatham?

I think he's great. Why?

Well, I'm sure you've know
Irv Kroner is retiring soon.

I need to find a new
Chief of Investigations...

What about Kovaks? I thought
he was our senior investigator.

Well he is...

But I'm not committed to anyone and I
wonder if I shouldn't widen my thinking

on this.

I want someone who's going
to look at every single case

with the kind of healthy
skepticism we just saw.

Someone who won't
take things at face value.

I couldn't agree with
you more on that one.

Right after tomorrow's staff
meeting, I think I'll tell Kovaks

and Chatham that they're both
under consideration and that

one of them will
get the promotion.

That's putting a lot of
pressure on them, isn't it?

Pressure's what
that job is all about.

Oh, you have any cream?

Cream? Hey,
speaking of pressure..?

Oh yeah, I'm sorry. I forgot.
I hope you like it black.

Sorry, sir.

I really don't know what
to say, Doctor Asten.

It's an honor being
considered for Chief Investigator

Honor nothing. It's a
grueling job. Long hours.

The only advantage
is the raise in pay.

You'd be making fifty
percent more than you do now.

Fifty percent?

That's the first year.
But it goes up from there

Well, it's not as if I
don't need the money.

You'd be earning
every cent of it.

It's not just a desk job.

The Chief Investigator goes into
the field every time a case warrants it.

Who decides if it warrants it?

Well he does. The rest
of the time he's busy

reading the other
investigator's reports,

making sure there're no major
omissions, or inconsistencies...

Well I don't want you to
jump into anything, Arnold.

You take your time
about it. If you'd like

to be considered for
the post, let me know.

Thank you.

Thank you, Doctor Asten.

Whatsa matter?

You look like you've just
rubbed noses with a freight train.

Doctor Asten is considering
me, along with Tom Kovaks

for Chief Investigator.

Arnold, that's terrific!

You're not worried
about not getting the job.

No. I'm worried about getting it

You know more than anyone what
running this department involves

Hey, are you forgetting I'm on
your team? You're not in this alone.

Behind every great man...

Yeah but this is different,
Harriet. I'm not sure I can do it.

There's a lot more paper work, and
sooner or later, they're going to find out.

Don't sell yourself
short, Arnold.

You're twice the
investigator Kovaks is. And

with me backing you
up, we're unbeatable,

We've come this far
as a team, haven't we?

You really think
we could pull it off?

Piece o' cake.

Now that your wife's passed on,

there's only one person in the
world that knows you can't read me.

And my lips are sealed.

Oh Arnold, just a minute. I
was on my way to your office.

Those records you
requested just arrived.

I think you should
look at them right away.

Uh-huh.

- What do you think?
- Ah, it's very interesting.

Yeah, but what do you think?

Well I'd like to read it
some more before I say.

Of course you would.
By the way, Arnold...

I don't mean to be keeping you
in suspense on that promotion.

You'll have my decision
by the end of the week.

Good morning.

Harriet, how's your ulcer?

My ulcer's fine.
I'm not sure if am.

Would you come in, please?

Whatcha got there?

That funny. I was about
to ask you the same thing.

Dr. Asten just handed
it to me in the hall.

I think it's about
the Hurley case.

Timothy Hurley's
high school transcript.

Hmmm.

Says here he maintained
a below C average

at Tremont High, through
the eleventh grade.

What happened then?

He dropped out.

The real question is, how
did he make it that far?

I thought this
kid couldn't read?

Maybe I'm not the only
one with a fairy godmother.

Did Doctor Asten say
anything about the job?

He's gonna decide
by the end of the week.

How do you feel about it?

My gut feeling is if
I can just nail down

this Droyden factory
case I got it made.

Did we get the
prints from Eddie?

Yeah. Picked 'em up
myself. Here they are.

Harriet, you're the greatest.

I don't know what
I'd do without you.

Y'know something? Neither do I.

Eleventh grade?
And he couldn't read?

It's amazing.

"Amazing" isn't
the word I'd use.

Disgraceful is more like it.

What were they teaching him
for eleven years? Meditation?

I hate to say it, I have a
grandson in high school.

But education isn't
what it used to be.

Look at this.

Now, he had the same English
teacher for his last two years in school.

Why did she pass him?

What kind of a classroom
was she running there?

Why don't you go find out?

- What?
- You can.

You don't even
have to be a parent.

You just make arrangements with the high
school principal to sit in on her class.

"It was the best of times,
it was the worst of times,

"it was the age of wisdom, it
was the age of foolishness..."

Very good. Mark, you
wanna pick it up from there.

"It was the epoch of belief, it
was the epoch of incredulity,

"it was the season of Light, it
was the season of Darkness..."

Now, do you hear the
rhythm in those words?

That's what we call cadence.

And cadence isn't only in
poetry, but it's in prose too.

But you really have to read
it out loud to appreciate it...

Who'd like to go on?
How 'bout you, Helen?

"It was the spring of hope,
it was the spring of despair,

"we had everything before
us, we had nothing before us..."

That's very good.

Who'd like to finish up?

Are you volunteering,
Doctor Quincy?

No, no... it's just that I've
been here for 45 minutes,

and I couldn't help but notice the
same children get called on all the time.

Well some days we don't
get around to everybody.

Well, how about today?

How about this young lady?

This young man?

And the gentleman over there?

All right, Dana,

do you want to pick
up where Helen left off?

"We...

"were...

"going...

"die... dire...

"Direct." Jim?

"We...

"were all going...

"direct...

"to...

"He...

- "Heeve..."
- Frank?

You're next.

"We...

"We...

"We..."

Saved by the bell.

Well, Mr. Gould said
you weren't a parent.

But he didn't tell me why you
wanted to sit in on my class.

Well, I guess you
could say I'm concerned

about kids like those
last three you called.

The non-readers?

Well, Doctor, I guess not everybody
was meant to be a brain surgeon.

There're always going to be those
students who fall behind the rest.

So what do you do?

Just write them off as
breakage? As damaged goods?

No, I do the best I can.

Those children couldn't read
when they walked into my classroom.

I didn't create their problems.

You evidently haven't
cured them either.

I'm not a healer, I'm a teacher.

To all of your students, or just the
gifted ones? The ones who can keep up?

Look, if I took the time

with my poorest students,
to go back to square one,

I'd have to neglect the children who
come into this room who have real promise.

Now, is that your idea
of effective teaching?

No, but pretending the Dana's and the
Jim's and the Frank's can read is worse.

Do you remember a student from
three years ago, a Timothy Hurley?

Hurley.

No, no I don't think that I do.

Maybe you'd recognize him.

Oh! Tim Hurley. Yes,
I do remember him.

He was a very quiet one.

Now I wasn't able
to do much with him.

Ms. Norton, I'm a coroner.

I did an autopsy on
Timothy Hurley, Monday.

He died in an
industrial accident.

I'm terribly sorry
to hear that, but...

but are you why telling me?

He died because he couldn't read
a plainly worded safety warning.

He couldn't read the words
that would've saved his life.

I don't believe this!

Are you seriously trying to blame me
for something that happened to a student

three years after he
left my classroom?

Well you knew he couldn't read.

Of course, I knew.

How could you
have passed him on?

It's like sending an
animal into the wild

without any claws,
without any survival skills.

Doctor Quincy, I don't
know where you live,

but obviously it's
not in the real world.

Do you have any idea how difficult
it is to be a teacher these days?

I mean, with parents
who don't care?

With school administrators

whose worry more about
their own report card,

because they're
answerable to a school board

who is answerable to the voters.

The first time I
flunked a child,

his parents and the principal came down
on me so hard I didn't know what hit me.

Oh, I was outraged.

But I had to learn
to compromise,

to be practical, to
think about the majority,

You want to know why no
teacher ever failed Timothy Hurley,

that's why.

What is it you teach about
two wrongs not making a right?

One of you had to say "stop."

This boy has to learn to read
and write before he can go on.

I mean you're our border
guard, the checkpoint.

How can you justify passing
him? What are your criteria?

He came to class
most of the time.

He tried.

He met the minimum standards.

Like the three
students I just saw?

Like the poor boy

who couldn't read the first
word of a simple sentence?

Oh, you want to
help those students?

Stop yelling at me and get the
money for a remedial reading program.

So that mean you're
gonna pass them too?

I flunk them

and they've lost their
last chance at a diploma.

Ms. Norton,

what good is a diploma to a student
who can't read the words on it?

Morning, Doctor Asten.

Arnold, listen. You all set
for the meeting you called?

Hey, Monahan and Brill will
be here in a few minutes...

You'd better look at this
before we get started.

Right away, Sir.

Where's Harriet?

She called in sick.
Her ulcer's acting up.

I'm covering for her today.

I don't know if it's the copying
machine or my eyesight.

But I can't...

Oh I'm glad to wee
you've got Asten's memo...

I'll be right there in a second.

Monahan doesn't exactly
have the patience of Job.

Besides, I want to talk to
you about a couple of things.

Wasn't there something
you wanted to ask me about?

It'll wait.

I called maybe a dozen
other manufacturers

in the same business
that Droyden is in.

None of them ever use methyl
ethyl ketone in a spray booth.

If they want to use
it as a degreaser,

they pour it into a barrel, dip
the parts in, never as a spray.

But, it does have a
legitimate industrial use,

as a degreaser, or whatever...

Not the way Droyden used it.

My guess is he took a barrel of
that stuff poured it into the drain hole

of that spray booth, just to
blow that place to kingdom come.

I hope you've got
more evidence than that.

Droyden was there at the factory
that morning by his own admission.

He said he came in early to call the
East Coast, according to the OSHA report.

But he never made a
phone call that morning.

How do you know?

I've got what you might call
my own personal "Deep Throat"

at the phone company.

He never made a
long distance call.

He was there at five a.m.,

to send Timothy Hurley
into that death trap.

That boy was nothing
more than a human fuse!

Arnold, didn't the owner say he
send the kid into the explosion zone,

that it was Hurley's mistake?

He lied about the
phone calls, didn't he?

I'm betting he lied
about other things too,

like not knowing Hurley
couldn't read, for starters.

Now, what's his motive for

blowing this place to bits and
committing murder in the process?

In a word, insurance.

You wouldn't believe what some
people will do for a settlement.

Wait a minute. What's going on
here? Is this some kind of a joke?

I thought you told him about that letter
Droyden got from the insurance company?

Arnold, I handed you that memo
myself. Didn't you read the memo, Arnold?

Well,

I was in kind of a hurry...

Well, I guess you were
in "some kind of a hurry."

For your information, Droyden didn't
have any insurance on his factory.

He let his policy
lapse four months ago.

So much for industrial
sabotage and homicide.

Look Doctor Asten,
do me a favor.

In the future will you
tell your investigators

to get the facts before they
accuse someone of murder.

Let's go, Brill.

I... I'm sorry...

One mistake!

One mistake, and he's not gonna
get the biggest promotion of his life?

Now that's not fair!

You're talking about Chatham.

I'll tell you what's not fair.

Pointing fingers first,
asking questions afterwards.

Now that's not fair!

That's not a quality I can
afford in a chief investigator.

Can't you let it slide
by, just this once?

The pressure's on, Quincy.

You didn't take the
phone calls I did today.

First, Captain Scarelli,
Monahan's superior,

wondering what kind of a
haywire operation I'm running here.

Then Droyden's attorney called.

Don't ask me how, but he got
wind of a murder accusation.

They all want Chatham's
head on a platter.

And you're going
to serve it to them.

I didn't say that.

But, I am thinking of
asking him to retire.

What?

To save him any
further embarrassment.

Or worse.

Hello, Doctor Quincy.
Anything I can do for you?

I certainly hope so,
for Arnold's sake.

What about Arnold?

Don't tell me he got
squeezed out of that promotion!

Kovaks takes over,
the first of the month.

Arnold can work
circles around Kovaks.

I know. I work for both of them.

Couldn't you talk
to Doctor Asten?

Believe me Harriet, losing that promotion
is the least of Arnold's problem's.

What do you mean?

What's happened?

Our friend may
lose his job, period.

What?

He misses one memo... one,

and suddenly the roof caves in?

Harriet, he didn't miss that memo.
Doctor Asten handed it to him.

Maybe he didn't have
a chance to read it.

Then he shouldn't have
tarred and feathered Droyden

before all the evidence was
in. That was incompetent.

Incompetent?

Whose side are you on, anyway.

Well, you have to be
objective about the facts...

How many cases has Arnold
cracked wide open because

he pushes for the truth,
when another investigator

might be ready to
close the books?

Imcompetent?

I suppose you're perfect. Oh,
you've never made a mistake...

Oh come on Harriet...

Then how can you call a man
"incompetent" just because he can't...

Because he can't what?

Nothing. You've
got me all upset...

Harriet, you started
to say something...

No, no I didn't... Please, Doctor
Quincy, I've got work to do...

We're talking about the
man's job. His livelihood.

Now don't hold back.

It's not for me to say.

You have to.

You've been with him so long.

Now you can help him.
Tell me what it is he can't do.

He can't read.

What?

Arnold can't read.

Are you saying
he's a slow reader?

He can't read Shakespeare?
Whatta you mean, he can't read?

He cannot read, Doctor Quincy.

Not a nursery rhyme.
Not a street sign.

Not a comic book.

He certainly couldn't
read that memo!

It doesn't make any sense.

The man has a responsible
job, he's had it for years.

How is it possible?

I'll tell you how it's possible.

Blind people have
seeing eye dogs.

Arnold's always had
"reading" eye-dogs.

At home, it was his wife.

At work, there was always
someone like me to protect him.

I was out sick the day
that memo came through.

That's how this
whole thing happened.

Arnold was blind that day.

So he's fooled us...

all those years,
he's fooled us...

No.

It looks like he fooled himself.

Please, Doctor Quincy,
whatever you do.

Remember that Arnold
is a very proud man.

If word of this gets out, I'm worried
about what it might do to him.

Oh honey, I feel like I'm
up a creek without a paddle.

I don't know how
to approach him?

And suppose he denies
he has a problem?

And if I do reach him,
where do I send him for help?

Honestly, Quincy,

sometimes I think you confuse
me with the Yellow Pages.

What makes you think
I've got all the answers?

You've always had them before.

And if you didn't, well I thought
you'd know where to send me.

Oh, so now I'm
a cross-reference.

I thought you came over to see
me tonight, not a card catalogue.

I did, honey.

I came because I
love you and I love

your company, I love your linguini
and... I really need your help.

I'm sorry.

All right. All right, Quince.

It so happens I do know someone
with the expertise that you need.

Her name's Jill Geary.

She runs a volunteer
tutoring program.

I'll give you her
number before you go.

Thanks, honey.

It's a remarkable thing,
what we take for granted.

Like the privilege and pleasure of picking
up a book and being able to read it.

Speaking of books...

You're not doing such a hot
job of "reading" me tonight...

What?

"The... m... man

"has the...

"ap... apple...

"in his... h...

"han... duh...

"in his hand."

Very good, Cynthia.
That was very good.

Now why don't you
try this one right here.

A week ago that woman couldn't
read her own name on a gas bill.

That is some progress. And fast.

Think that's impressive?

A year ago neither could
the man tutoring her.

Reading so changed his life,
he wanted to pass the gift along.

You know, Emily was right,
you do work miracles here.

You teach someone to read, you
open up the whole world to them.

It's like opening
the eyes of the blind.

Now if that's a miracle,
there's one in everybody.

Am I keeping you
from something? No.

Although noon, I have to get
back home and fix lunch for the kids.

What about this afternoon?

I have four tutoring sessions,

and I've got to be outta here at
five to get dinner on the table...

Well, there's still a half-hour
'til noon, can I have it?

- Time for what?
- To teach me.

Haha, sure.

You mentioned
'functional' illiteracy.

I don't think I
understand the distinction.

Years ago, if you could
read and write your own name

you were considered literate.

Try to get away with
that in today's world.

Functional literacy
is just having the skills

to cope with
everyday situations,

The census says you're literate
if you finished the fifth grade

but it takes a
ninth grade ability

to read the antidote
on a bottle lye,

a tenth grade ability
to fill out your taxes.

How many people
fall into that category?

Functional illiterates?

Conservatively, say,
twenty-five million...

Twenty-five million?

Almost one in five adults.

And every year, you can tack
on another million in dropouts.

I had no idea the
problem was that big.

You're not alone.

We've never had a national
crisis that was a better kept secret.

And there're still too
many people in high places

denying we've
even got a problem.

Who supports you?

Some days a prayer.
Some days a shoestring.

The Community Center
provides the space.

Private donations pay for the
materials, when we can get them.

These days, it's hard to
find a corporate sugar daddy.

Maybe they think the problem's
so big, you can't put a dent in it.

Oh, but they're wrong!

You put a one-on-one
tutoring program like this one

in every community in the
country... you'd better believe

you'd make a dent.

This is a crisis, but
it's a solvable one.

About my friend... the one
I mentioned on the phone.

Why has he gone so long
without looking for help?

You see that sign,
Doctor Quincy?

What's that, Russian?

No, it's gibberish.

That's what a sign looks
like if you can't read.

Most illiterates
make adjustments

to a world where all
words look like this.

Now, if you think that's scary,

it's not nearly as
terrifying as the unknown.

And that's what
reading is to them,

a dangerous unknown world,

Our job is to make
it less frightening.

Do you think you can help him?

I know I can. As long as he's
willing to take the first step.

Look what I found, trying
to put a little class in my...

Stored in Barney's
Bargain Basement.

Don't forget, I want
the name of the tailor.

- Glad you could
make it, Hi Arnold.
- Nice of you to ask me.

Y'know it's good for me
to get out of the house.

I don't get out as
much since Gwen died.

How d'you like
the raincoat here?

Eleven bucks in Sweeney's
Basement. Is that a bargain or what?

Kind of a cross between
a bargain and a "what."

Uh oh, you're starting to
sound like my daughter.

Take a look at the menu will ya?

I'm starving.

You go ahead and order for
me. You know what's good here.

At least take a
look. It's interesting.

Maybe I'll have a
hamburger, and play it safe.

No no, my conscience
won't allow it.

I think he saddles
his hamburgers.

Try the second from
the top, the duck.

Oh yeah, I didn't see
it here, roast duck.

One of my favorites.

Oh, I...

hate to talk about
work at dinner, but

take a look at this report, will
you? Asten's been on my back.

You did the spadework
on it a couple of weeks ago.

Well...

I mean, can't it
wait 'til tomorrow?

Well, it's kind of important. Just take
a look at it and give me your opinion.

The light in here is terrible...

You can't tell what's
in that report, can you?

What's that supposed to mean?

Any more that you couldn't tell that
the second item from the top is not duck

but steak.

What's your point?

You can't read.

Congratulations.

That's quite a discovery.

Is that why I got
invited out to dinner?

Is that what this whole
elaborate thing is about?

Why? What're you trying to do?

I'm trying to help.

- Help me?
- Yeah.

Mind your own business.
I don't need your help.

You must think I'm
some kind of a dummy.

Listen to me.

I'm not a dummy!

Maybe I can't read,
but I'm not stupid!

I know that, Arnold.

My parents are
from Eastern Europe.

We came here when I was eight.

School was a nightmare
from the word "go."

'Cause of the language barrier,

things got much tougher, and
I just got more and more lost.

My parents couldn't help me.

I fell so far behind,
I started fakin' it.

You have no idea how much I envied
people who could read. All my life.

I'd go to the library
when I was a kid,

and check out
books. Lots of books.

Is that a laugh or what?

An illiterate who loves books,

It's not too late, Arnold.

I know a woman who runs a
one-on-one tutoring program.

It's confidential. All you'd have
to do is go down and talk to her.

Who're you kidding, Quincy? You
can't teach an old dog new tricks.

What if I went
down there with you?

Butt outta my life?

I never asked you for any help.

And I don't need your help!

I haven't needed it for 61
years, I don't need it now.

- Arnold please...
- Mind your own business!

Keep your lousy dinner!
I don't need charity!

Hi Harriet!

Good morning.

Where've you been? Doctor Asten's
been looking for you all morning.

Down at the County
Planning Department.

These are the original
plans to the Droyden factory...

What do you plan
to do with those?

Look,

just 'cause I can't read words,
doesn't mean I can't read a blueprint.

I used to partner with a guy who knew
construction backwards and forwards.

And he taught me
everything in the book.

I've got work to do.

Uh, Harriet...

You know what?

It finishes my case.

- You find something?
- You bet I did.

Get Droyden's insurance
company on the phone,

and get hold of Peter
Lassiter at Cal-OSHA.

Yes, sir.

I got it!

First of all, this
loading dock here,

was designated for parts
that waiting to be machined.

Finished parts like these
pistons that were burned,

they should have been on
the other side of the factory...

And you think they were placed
there with the knowledge that

there was going
to be an explosion?
- Lemme finish.

This vent right here

leads directly into the
solvent holding tank

the one that blew up,

it was right inside
this loading dock,

This cap was off.

So there was plenty of air
to make that tank explosive...

Just like the
carburator on your car.

And if that cap had been
blown off in the explosion,

the vent pipe would've been
considerably more stressed.

That's right.

These parts were the
real target of the sabotage.

What makes you so sure?

Well, I did a little
more checking.

Even though his
building wasn't insured,

he had millions in coverage on
these parts under another policy.

Each one

of those two-hundred
landing-gear pistons

sells for forty-five
thousand dollars!

And they were insured
for the full value!

Just one question:

why would someone destroy an
inventory that was already sold,

just to get the
replacement value?

Why not just deliver
the goods and get paid?

That's right.

There was something wrong
with these parts. That's gotta be it.

Gentleman...

Who authorized you
to come back here?

I thought your
investigation was over.

Not quite.

Well, I suggest you
move it elsewhere.

I've got a bulldozer coming
back here in about ten minutes.

Mr. Droyden,

Call off your bulldozer.

Nothing is to be disturbed anywhere
on these premises until we're through.

All right, what is
it you want now?

Well, I want some samples of these
parts that were damaged by the fire.

All the parts have already
been sold for scrap.

Oh no.

Nobody touches
them until I say so.

And I'd like all the documents
you've got on these parts,

specifications, contracts,
manifests, the works.

Now, that's pure
harassment. You'll get nothing.

Mr. Droyden, you
leave me no choice.

The next time I come back,
I'll have a search warrant.

- You going back
to your office?
- I think I'll stick around

in case Droyden
tries to beat the clock.

Okay, good idea.
I'll see ya later.

Hello, Quince.

I'm sorry about the other
night, walking out 'n all that.

I got kinda hot...

Oh, I owe you an apology.
I really was out of line.

- You still willing to help me?
- Any way I can.

Well, I have strong reason
to believe that Droyden

set up that explosion,

so he could collect the insurance
money on those finished parts.

But it only makes sense if there
was something so wrong with the parts,

that they would've been rejected
by the companies that bought them.

- And you want me
to examine them?
- Yeah.

Why me? I'm not an engineer?

You have the X-ray equipment.
You're the best scientist I know...

I don't have a lot of
time on this, Quince.

See, I finagled a
few of those parts

before a warrant
was even been issued.

So I gotta prove my case in a hurry,
or I could be in a lot of hot water.

And if you're wrong, we'll
both be in a lot of hot water.

That's right, you're
right. I know that.

- I just didn't have
any other place to turn.
- Where are the parts now?

The parts?

I got 'em on gurneys
in the hallway.

What?

You don't have to do
it if you don't want to.

C'mon. We've got some
gurneys to move down to X-ray.

Then I can expect
it this afternoon.

Okay, I'll be waiting.

Would somebody mind telling me

why there are airplane
parts sitting on our gurneys?

Well, that's part of
the inventory that was

damaged at the
Droyden factory fire...

I know what they are.

Droyden's attorney called.

He told me about airplane parts
you seized without a court order.

But why are they on our gurneys?

I was afraid there wouldn't
be any evidence left

if we waited for that search
warrant to come through.

Evidence.

We've only used x-rays so far and
the results have been inconclusive.

We?

For all that risk?
All that risk?

And you're wrong?

There is another method of
testing for defects in metal...

We're waiting for the
magnaflux equipment to come in.

I'm sorry, Quincy. But I'm
pulling the plug on this fiasco

before we're hauled into court.

It wasn't Doctor Quincy's fault.

I don't care who
initiated it. I really don't.

I just don't want one more
minute of county time spent on it.

Not one minute!

Well, I guess that's it, hey?

What are we gonna do
with all that equipment?

The idea is to run an electric
current through the metal.

Then we sprinkle
magnetic particles over it.

If the particles slide
off, the welds are good.

And if they stick?

They build up where
there's a magnetic field

which only forms around
a flaw in the metal...

I don't know why you're
doing this for me, Quincy.

If Asten finds out we're
ignoring a direct order,

I don't even want
to think about it.

We're not ignoring him.

He said we weren't to take any
more of the county's time on this case.

Well, this isn't the County's
time. It's ten-thirty-five.

It's our time. Gimme
the magna flux.

Thank you.

Look at that, Quincy!

They're sticking.

Just like you said.

It's sticking!

Which means the weld is no good!

And how much you wanna
bet they're all like that?

Let's try another
one. Turn it off.

Destruction of evidence is a
serious matter, Mr. Droyden.

Since when is running
a business a crime?

You forget, I'm the one
who suffered the losses!

I'm just trying to
recoup my losses.

I can reuse this metal
in the spare parts.

We arrived a little
late, gentleman.

Mr. Droyden has conveniently
destroyed every one of those parts.

Not every one. I brought a few of them
down to the coroner's office as evidence.

We tested the welds
for structural integrity.

Every single one had the same
fissures beneath the surface.

We have evidence
they were all defective.

That so-called evidence
is useless in court.

It was illegally obtained. I
could sue the pants off you.

Well then you could
also go to jail for murder.

This is crazy. That
explosion was an accident!

Was it?

How about you, Mr. Evans?

You're the Foreman
that hired Tim Hurley...

You could be just as guilty
of homicide as your boss...

No! I had nothing to
do with that boy's death.

What really happened
that morning?

I can't tell you
exactly. I wasn't here...

All I know is

Mr. Droyden got real
interested when I told him

that Hurley was having some
problems because he couldn't read.

Just hold it. That is a lie!

I guess I should've suspected
something when I found out Hurley

stacked those pistons
on the wrong dock.

He never would've done that
unless somebody told him to.

You knew you couldn't
deliver those parts,

not with those defects.

So you found a
way to destroy them.

They were just as good as
sold, thanks to the insurance.

You guys are crazy.

I'm calling my lawyer.

He was a good kid.

Why'd he have to kill him?

The boy couldn't read

maybe he thought
it was no great loss.

"This... is...

"is a... l...

"leg.

"This is a

"nn...

"neck."

Arnold, that's fantastic! It really
is. You're making great progress,

You think you can handle this?

"Hh...

"hih...

"hhh...

"ihh..."

I'll give you a hint.

It's something you say,
when after sixty-one years,

a man reads for the first time.

"Hhi...

"hip... hip.

"Hip-hip...

"Hip...

"hoo...

"ray...

"Hip-hip, hooray!"