The X-Files (1993–…): Season 3, Episode 17 - Pusher - full transcript

A seemingly unmotivated murderer, who can apparently talk his victims into killing themselves is on the loose and it is up to Mulder and Scully to study the clues left to them by the person and capture him.

Let's get this show on the road.

Federal agents!

Get down!

Get down!

Turn this thing off.

You're Pusher, I presume.

You must be Frank Burst.

You know, I got to tell you,
you got the greatest name.

Agent Collins, read him
his rights and let's get him

- out of here.
- You have the right to remain silent.

If you choose
to give up that right,



anything you say can and will

be used against you
in a court of law...

Think you can hold me?

I want him in a waist chain
and leg irons.

I want him
in a car with a cage...

Loudoun County unit, whatever.

I'll ride shotgun.

You know, it'd really help me
out if you gave us your name.

Pusher's good enough.

You know, Deputy, I just
got to say that your uniform

is really the most
soothing shade of blue.

I'm not kidding you.

I notice those things.

It's a sky blue.



Very calming.

Very tranquil.

I think the word
for that particular shade

is cerulean, actually.

Cerulean blue.

Okay, okay.
We get it.

It's a nice shade of blue.

Cerulean blue.

Cerulean makes me
think of a breeze.

A gentle breeze.

Hey, Mr. Blackwell,
put a sock in it.

Cerulean

is a gentle breeze.

Cerulean, a gentle breeze.

Stop!

When the truck hit us,
I was knocked unconscious.

Deputy Scott Kerber
was mortally injured.

Before he succumbed, he managed
to pull himself out of the car,

dig his keys out of his pocket,

and his last breath was spent
unlocking my prisoner,

who, despite his own injuries,
managed to escape on foot.

Calls himself "Pusher."

What's his story?

He cold-called me
about a month ago.

Confessed to a series
of contract killings

going back
over the course of two years.

He wanted to turn himself in?

No.

It was a game.

He was bragging.

See, the thing
about these murders is

nobody considers them murders.

They went down
in the books as suicides.

So you think
he was just a crank?

No.

He knows too much
about each case,

too many details that were
only in the police reports.

What connection did this
dead deputy have with him?

None, as far as I can tell.

Kerber was a good cop.

Then why did he free him?

Pusher kept rambling
about cerulean blue.

Kept saying

how it reminded him

of a breeze or something.

"Cerulean blue is like
a gentle breeze,"

over and over,

and then, uh,
Kerber pulled into the truck,

and blammo.

So you think that Pusher
somehow talked him

into doing this?

He willed him into doing that?

Willed him? How?

No kidding. How?

Your guess is as good
as mine on this one.

See, Pusher likes
to leave clues.

"Ronin."

"Ro-neen."

It's a samurai without a master.

What? You never saw Yojimbo?

Still, what does it mean?

Means I bet I know, ten-to-one,

what this guy's got stacked
on the back of his toilet.

Agents.

Oh, thanks.

Here's volume ten.

I'm sorry.
I couldn't help noticing.

I was in Georgetown
this weekend.

Guy knocked me down,
stole my purse.

They get him?

Do they ever?

No offense.

Excuse me.

Mulder, I'm still not sure
what we're looking for.

Samurais without masters
have to advertise.

Yes, but advertise for what?

I mean, how...
how did this Pusher convince

an otherwise honest
deputy sheriff to free him?

I mean,
I'm sure you have a theory.

Suggestion is a powerful force.

The science of hypnosis
is predicated on it,

as are most TV commercials.

I mean, they're designed
to plant thoughts in your head.

Inducing someone to buy
hair color is a little different

than inducing them to drive
in front of a speeding truck.

But the mechanism
of suggestion is the same.

It's just a lot more powerful
in this case.

I mean, this guy
calls himself "Pusher."

Can't we take that to mean

that he pushes his will
onto other people?

Well, even if he could
push his will,

why would he cause an accident
when he himself was in the car?

Maybe he really didn't want
to go to jail.

Look at this.

"I solve problems. O-S-U."

O-S-U. Ohio State University?

No, it's a Northern Virginia
area code.

I've seen this ad
in all these magazines

dating back to April 1994.

The time span of the murders.

O-S-U.

O-S...

U.

Osu. It's a Japanese word.

It means "to push."

I say we run down
those telephone numbers.

Hey.

I think you drooled on me.

Sorry.

What time is it?

It's, uh... 20 to 3:00.

No luck, I take it?

No, nothing here,

nothing at the other
two pay phones.

I checked in with Burst;
he's beginning to think

it's a wild goose chase.

Hello?

Are you two just
going to sit there all night?

Don't bother hunting around
for me; I'm far away.

Okay on the trace.

Although I was watching you
up until about an hour ago.

You and your pretty partner
seem awfully close.

Do you work well together?

Who is this?

What's your name?

Sorry, G-man.
It's not that easy.

You have to follow
my little bread crumb trail,

prove your worth.

So far, you're doing all right.

Why do I have to prove
my worth to you?

You think this is a game?

What, do you want to be found?

All right,
where's my next bread crumb?

Right in front of you.

Let your fingers
do the walking, G-man.

Okay.

Not a complete trace.

They think he was using
a digital scrambler.

"Let your fingers
do the walking."

Phone book.

No, no. What if Pusher

was the last person
to use this phone?

Can you redial
on these kind of phones?

Hang on a second.

Murphy.

Yeah, it's me again.

We want the last number
dialed out from this location.

Just ring it on through.

Okay.

Hi!
You've reached Tee-Totallers...

golf driving range and pro shop.

Our hours of operation
are 7:00 a.m. to midnight

Monday through Saturday,

and 7:00 a.m. to 10:00 p.m.
on Sundays.

So he's a killer and a golfer.

Rings a bell, huh?

Let's go, G-woman.

Oh, yeah!

Strong shot.

Good shot. Hoo-hoo!

All right, gentlemen, I'm using

this here non-sanctioned ball.

It's got a core of uranium...

or some damned thing,
I don't know what.

Gets up there like Sputnik.

Yeah!

About time.

Konnichiwa, gentlemen.

I was never here.

Police!

- Get down! Get down!
- Whoa! Okay.

Okay, okay, relax.

Relax.

Let me see your face.

Take it easy.

Come on.

That's right.

That's right.

Hey, Collins.

Listen.

I need you to do
something for me.

Will you do something for me?

Mulder.

Collins?

- God...
- What the hell?

Collins, what the hell
are you doing?

Collins,

let it go.

Stop me!

Collins.

Put that down.

Light up,

light up, light up, light up...

Come in!
This is Burst!

Get a burn unit over here!

Yeah, Collins is down.

- Bad, yeah, real bad!
- Light up, light up...

I don't know what happened!
Get over here!

Yeah, get somebody over here.

Now!

Collins, it's all right.

It's all right. Take it easy.

Federal agent!

Light up, light,

light, light up...

Oh.

Bet you five bucks I get off.

Rise and state your
name and address for the court.

Robert Patrick Modell.

3083 Roseneath Avenue,
Apartment 9,

Alexandria, Virginia.

Agent Mulder,
does the FBI believe

that this defendant
is responsible for 14 murders?

That is correct, Your Honor.

Well, in each of the cases,

the coroner's office
ruled suicide.

We believe that they were
indeed murders, Your Honor.

You believe?

But do you have
any actual evidence?

We have the defendant

on audio tape
confessing to the murders.

On several separate occasions,

he clearly
identifies them as such.

Furthermore, the defendant
knows crime scene details

that were only available
to the police.

Your Honor, one of
these so-called "murder victims"

threw herself
under a commuter train.

This was a crowded platform,
100 witnesses.

Nobody pushed her.

No one was within
30 feet of her.

But your client was present.

Which is how he knew
your crime scene details.

Make your point, Agent Mulder.

I believe that these people died

because it was
the defendant's express will

- that they do so.
- His will?

This man admitted
to being a killer for hire.

I believe he has
a unique suggestive ability

which makes for the perfect M.O.

He is able to talk his victims
into injuring themselves.

I can't believe this.

Do you want to run that

by me one more time,
Agent Mulder?

Yesterday, a federal
law enforcement officer

was induced to self-immolation
by the defendant.

I witnessed it.

All these other officers
witnessed it.

Your Honor, we have Modell's
confession. All we're ask...

Your Honor, the evidence
chain for this case

has been rather difficult
to establish.

We're asking
the court's indulgence

while we complete
our investigation,

and we'd like to have
Mr. Modell held for trial

based on the strength
of his taped confession.

What about this audio tape,
Mr. Modell?

Did you confess to 14 murders?

Keep it simple. No details.

Unfortunately, yes, Your Honor.

Not that I remember any of it.

This was, uh,
basically a drunken phone prank

on the part
of my client, Your Honor.

A phone prank?

He had the details
of every case, Your Honor.

And Robert deeply regrets

the distress and confusion
this situation has caused.

Do you deny these charges?

Absolutely, Your Honor.

I'm not guilty.

Thank you very much.

Will you excuse me for a minute?

I believe you owe me
five dollars.

Hey, your shoe's untied.

Made you look.

How do you do it?

Hey, Modell.

I know your name now.

I know where you live!

I dug up a few more things
on our Robert Patrick Modell.

Let me guess:
he was an average student,

he attended an average
community college,

he did an average stint
in the military.

Which branch of service?

Not his first choice.

He wanted to be a Navy Seal,

then he wanted to be an
Army Special Forces Green Beret.

Promptly washed out of both,

though not
for lack of intelligence.

He ended up being
a supply clerk at Fort Bragg.

Served two years,
general discharge.

Did you know
that he applied to the FBI?

He didn't even come close

to passing the psych screening.

You got a copy of that?

Yeah. They found him
to be acutely ego-centered.

He has no regard for
the feelings of others,

instead, perceiving
people as objects.

He's extremely suspicious
of governments and authority.

Yet he wants to be in authority.

The screener caught him in

a dozen self-aggrandizing lies...

saying that he was
a master of martial arts,

that he had been trained

by Gurkhas in Nepal
and ninjas in Japan.

Ninjas are said
to have the ability

to cloud the minds
of their opponents.

Are we talking
kung fu movies, Mulder?

He certainly clouded the mind
of that judge, Scully.

Even if Modell could,
he didn't need to.

We barely had
a case against him.

Oh, we had enough to get past
a simple preliminary hearing.

Modell psyched the guy out.

He put the whammy on him.

Please explain to me the
scientific nature of the whammy.

I don't know, maybe-maybe
it's some mental aspect

of some Eastern martial art,
you know,

the temporary suppression
of the brain's chemistry

produced by a specific timbre
or cadence in Modell's voice.

His voice seems to be the key.

Mulder, Modell's
last known employment

was as
a convenience store clerk.

He has never
been trained by ninjas.

He has never even
been out of the U.S.

He is just a little man

who wishes that
he were someone big,

and we're feeding that wish.

That failed psych screening...

if Modell could actually
control people's minds,

right now he'd be
an FBI agent, right?

He'd be a Green
Beret, a Navy Seal.

Maybe the ability
came to him more recently,

like in the last two years.

Well, o-okay.

What's your big theory?

How do you explain
what Agent Collins did?

I mean, this is a sane man,
a family man

with no prior history
of psychological problems...

sets himself on fire.

You witnessed that.
How does that happen?

What do you need me to say,
Mulder,

that I believe that Modell
is guilty of murder? I do.

I'm just looking
for an explanation

a little more mundane
than "the whammy."

Well, he's laughing
at us, Scully.

Excuse me.

Where might I find
the computer records section?

Fourth floor, west wing.

Thank you very much.

Can I help you?

I need to know some things...

...Holly.

Great.

Just let me have
the keyboard for a minute.

I'd love a print-out of this.

And a cup of coffee
when you get a chance.

I wish I could get my hands

on the guy that did that to you.

I'd make him pay.

This is great, Holly.

It's perfect,
just what I wanted.

Can I help you?

No. No, thanks.

We're, uh... we're just fine.

Look,

we're in the middle
of something here, so...

Who are you and what
are you doing here?

Take a walk, Mel Cooley.

Let me go! Let me go!

Shut up!

Holly, call security.

Holly.

He's the one.

He's the one who mugged you.

Holly, call security now!

Make him stop hurting me, Hol...

Shut up! Holly, now!

Holly?

Holly!

Security.

I've got a situation
in here, fourth floor...

Hurt him back.

Sir, I'm so terribly...

terribly sorry.

I don't know why I...

Oh, God.

I'm so sorry.

All right,
let's hit the bricks, huh?

Holly, can you
tell us anything more

that might help us understand

why you attacked
Assistant Director Skinner?

It's like suddenly

I was watching myself
from across the room...

doing these things.

It's like he was
with me inside my head.

Modell?

That's the only way
I know how to put it.

Excuse me, sir?

Can we speak outside?

Yeah. Sure.

Uh, Holly, excuse us
for a minute, please.

I reviewed the building
security tapes.

Modell can clearly be seen
entering and leaving unnoticed.

He had the word "pass"
on his lapel.

Guards that waved him by

don't even remember
seeing him at all.

And you're saying this same
mysterious phenomenon

is the reason I have a
size-seven heel mark on my face?

I'd have to agree
with Agent Mulder, sir.

I can't even
begin to explain how,

but I think that Modell is
responsible for your injuries.

Why's this guy
so interested in you?

What do you mean?

He left with
one file... yours.

He didn't access any others.

Now he knows where you live.

And you know where he lives.

- Go pick him up.
- Yeah, for what?

About the only thing we got on
him now is criminal trespass.

Well, that's enough
for a warrant.

Police! Get down!

Police! Get down!

Police! Get down!

Modell!

Lights coming on!

Look me right in the eye.

Right in the eye.

Svengali.

All clear...
no one's home.

Search the whole building.

And nearby buildings, too.

We know that Modell likes
to watch from a distance.

Check the place out.

I'll talk to the neighbors.

Hey, Scully, check this out.

"Mango-kiwi tropical swirl."

Now we know
we're dealing with a madman.

Is there anything else
you can tell me?

Yeah.

Yeah, when does it date to?

Right.

Thank you very much.

Tegretol.

What's that?

It's to relieve
Modell's seizures.

He has temporal-lobe
epilepsy.

I just talked to
his doctor's office.

They wouldn't give me
much over the phone...

just that that prescription
dates back to April 1994.

What causes epilepsy
this late in life?

Uh, head injury,
neurological disease,

- a brain tumor or lesion...
- A tumor?

The growth of brain
tumors has been linked

with the reported occurrence
of psychic ability.

Mulder, those reports
are completely unsubstantiated.

Look, just bear with me
for a second.

What if Modell's
suggestive ability

is really a form
of psychokinesis?

Brought on by the brain tumor?

Well, it fits. All those
protein drinks in his fridge?

Maybe he's got to replenish
the metabolic energy

that he uses in the process of
controlling somebody's will.

Mulder, more to the point, if
Modell did have a brain tumor,

the effects on his health
would be more debilitating.

It's likely that he simply
wouldn't be well enough

to play these
cat and mouse games with us.

Maybe he isn't.

Maybe that's the whole point.

- What do you mean?
- His exhaustion at the driving range.

He didn't let us capture him.

He was too sick to escape,
too tired, too wiped out.

Why would a killer
who is so proficient

confess to murders that he'd
already gotten away with?

Maybe he's dying.

And wants to go out
in a blaze of glory.

Not with a whimper but a bang.

Get the tracing gear.

Hello?

Hey, hey, hey, what do you say?

What's up, Modell?

How you doing?

Long time no see.

Told you I know where you live.

Nice apartment, Modell.

Who does your decorating?

The Grinch that stole Christmas?

Agent Frank Burst,
the guy with the great name.

Say, Frank, are Agent Mulder
and Scully there?

Yeah, we're here.

Perfect.

Frank, how much do you weigh?

Excuse me?

About how much do you weigh?

Anything to keep you talking
you piece of...

I don't know, about 190, 195.

Ha! 215 if you're a day.

You're totally the wrong weight
for your height.

I mean, no offense, Frank, but
you're built like a fireplug.

Yeah, and I got
stubby little legs

gonna kick you right in the ass.

You going somewhere
with this, Modell?

Well, it's just
that it can't be healthy.

And you look like
maybe you're a smoker,

you probably take a little drink
now and then,

eat greasy fried food...
sausage, bacon, eggs over easy.

Frank...

Onion rings that soak those dark
stains through the cardboard.

And I'm guessing you shake on
that salt like a maraca.

Frank...

Frank, hang up the phone.

What are you talking about,
Modell?

What's your point?

Well, you know what that's doing
to your arteries.

Terrible things, Frank.
Terrible things.

Frank...

Waxy yellow chunks of plaque
are tumbling through

your bloodstream,

sticking like glue
to your arterial walls...

Hang up the phone.

Keep talking, you bastard.

...squeezing shut your aorta.

Can you feel it, Frank?

Come on, man, hang up the phone.

Can you feel your aorta...

- Frank, hang up the phone!
- Back off!

Frank, hang up the phone!

I said back off!

Hang it up!

Finish the trace!

Mulder...

Somebody hang up the phone!

There's this medical condition
called pachyemia.

It's when the blood thickens up

in your veins
like strawberry jam.

Agent Scully.

Finish the trace!

Frank, hang it up!

Hang up!

Your heart flatlines...

Frank...

And you die, Frank.

Frank?

Yo, Frank?

No pulse.
Get an ambulance.

Yeah, we need an ambulance
to 3083 Roseneath Avenue,

Apartment 9.
Possible cardiac arrest.

Roger that.

Modell?

Hey, Mulder.

How's Frankie boy?

What is it, Modell,
really, that you want?

A worthy adversary.

It's obviously not

that fat lout
lying at your feet.

And I'm hoping it's you.

Why me?

I've read all about you.

You're a top criminal profiler.

Oxford University grad,
all-around bright young man.

You know what makes
guys like me tick, right?

You think you see
right through old Bob Modell.

Sick old Bob Modell, right?

You're dying, aren't you, Bob?

What? Do you want to take

a few innocent people with you
before you go?

Biology tells us
we're all dying.

And original sin tells me
ain't nobody innocent.

Yeah, and some are more
innocent than others.

Now, why don't you just
tell me where you are.

Oh, you want the phone number?

Sure. Just, uh...

It's 555-0197.

You know, it's just a pay phone.

In two minutes, I'll be gone.

You mean you killed this man
for nothing, you sick bastard?

Me? No, haven't you
caught on, Mulder?

They all kill themselves.

Where's Modell calling from?

Gas station parking lot.

12,000 block Chain Bridge Road.

It's a pay phone,

just like he said.

Fairfax Mercy Hospital is right
down the street from there, huh?

Fairfax Mercy Pharmacy.

"Fairfax Mercy Pharmacy."

He must need
regular treatment, Mulder.

Well, let's go find out.

We found Modell's car.

Engine's still warm;
he's probably in the building.

All entrances covered.

Do we hold or go in?

Hold.

Right. Thank you.

Hold.

Roger.

The outpatient office says

Modell is scheduled
for a 2:30 MRI.

That's right now.

How do you want to play this?

I think I should go in alone.

- Why?
- My team can flush him out.

What if Modell
turns one of your men

against the others...
in a crowded hospital?

I think we should
give him what he wants.

You.

We stand a better chance
if we're separated.

I'll go on mic.

That way,
you'll know what he's doing,

where he is at all times.

You got a radio, something
to keep my hands free?

Got just what you need.

Two lux video camera.

It'll practically see
in the dark.

It's designed
for bomb disposal work,

to keep only
one officer at risk.

See?

Think I get the Playboy Channel?

Smile, Scully.

Take it.

No. I wouldn't want

to end up pointing it
at anybody except Modell.

Let's get this show on the road.

Federal agent.

Go about your business as usual.

Scully, do you read me?

I'm with you, Mulder.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

SWAT team, hold outside.

SWAT team still holding.

Mulder!

Two shots fired!

SWAT team!

No, not yet!

Everybody keep moving!
Federal agent!

Let me see...

Mulder, I'm losing you.

Damn.

Mulder!

Agent Mulder!

Wait. Agent Scully.

You getting this back there?

Mulder, what happened?

Looks like the guard
shot the technician,

then he shot himself.

His gun is missing.

Brophy, tell your men
Modell may be heading your way.

SWAT team,

suspect is armed
and is possibly making

his way out of the building.

We copy.
We're ready for him.

Shooters in position.

Mulder, wait, wait.

Get close
to the computer monitor.

Over here?

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Right there.

There.

That light mass
in his temporal lobe.

Right here.

You were right, Mulder.

Now check around you.

Modell's chart should be
somewhere around there.

We're batting a thousand,
Scully.

Modell's dying.

He's got nothing to lose.

Mulder, just get out of there.

Go.

Mulder?

Mulder!

God!

We think they're
three doors down.

We've got both ends
sewn up tight,

but there are six critical
care rooms we can't get to.

If we gas the halls, we
might kill those patients.

Why do we keep giving this guy

exactly what he wants?

Just wait for a signal from me.

You're clear.

Mulder.

Thanks for joining us.

We've got a dozen law
enforcement officers

outside in the hall,

another 30 in the parking lot.

Regular convention.

So whatever you've got planned,

it's not going to work out
the way you want it to.

You don't know
what I got planned.

Two warriors of equal skill
fight to the death.

One is a student
of Japanese budo...

...the way of war.

Budo teaches the warrior

to leave himself
outside the battle.

In other words...

...to disregard his own death.

Because of that,

the budo warrior always wins.

I am that warrior.

I don't fear my death.

So I...

I'm going to give you...

...one pull of the trigger
against me.

One-in-six chance.

One. One pull.

Wait.

Mulder, look.

There's pure oxygen
in this room.

There's no telling

what could happen
if you pull that trigger.

Piece of cake.

Your turn.

Mulder, no.

Mulder, yes.

Go.

Mulder, listen to me.

Give me the gun.

We can stop
this thing right now.

You and I can just
walk outside of this room...

No! Damn you!

You bastard!

Mulder, hand me the gun!

Mulder, you don't have
to do this.

You're stronger than this.

Your turn, Scully.
Got to play by rules.

Pull the trigger, Mulder.

Mulder, fight him.

You can fight this.

Come on.
Pull the trigger, Mulder.

She shot you.
I read it in her files.

Payback time...
shoot the little spy!

I'm going to kill you, Modell.

Yeah, pull the trigger,
you get another crack at me.

Scully, run!

Scully...

Scully...

Federal agents! Get down!
Get down! Get down!

There's no telling
how long he'll hang on,

but he'll never
regain consciousness.

You know, we thought
he was undergoing treatment.

We were wrong.

What do you mean?

Read his chart.

The MRis were a way to gauge
how much life he had left,

but he consistently
refused treatment.

The tumor remained operable
right up until the end,

but he refused
to have it removed.

Why?

I think it's like you said.

He was always such a...

little man.

This was finally something
that made him feel big.

I say we don't let him take up

another minute of our time.

I made this!