The X-Files (1993–…): Season 8, Episode 10 - Badlaa - full transcript

[ All Hailing Taxis ]

[ All Clamoring ]

[ Speaking In Foreign Language ]

Sorry, sorry.

[ People Shouting ]
Paise.! Paise.!

Home to America,
Mr. Potocki?

Not a moment too soon.

Next in line, please.

[ Metallic Creaking ]

Poor bastard.

[ Creaking And Rolling ]



Here's 50 paise.

Buy yourself some WD-40.

[Wheels Creaking ]

[ Whispering ]
Oh, for crying out loud.

Listen, fella,
I already gave.

Do you understand English?

[ Screaming ]

Long flight, huh?

Bombay to D.C.?

You know, I always wondered

do they serve, like,
Indian food on the plane?

If there's anything else

I can do for you, sir...

[ Chuckles ]



[ Creaking ]

[ Slow, Labored Breathing ]

[ Breathing Gets Louder ]

[ Breathing Stops ]

[ Doggett ]
Things that land

in your in-box,
huh, Agent Scully?

Good morning.

I'm sorry I'm late.

I didn't get a chance
to look at the case fiile.

The traffiic's terrible.

Beltway's a nightmare.

Takes longer to get crosstown

than it does
a plane ride from India

which is where our victim
flew in from last night--

Bombay.

Who are we talking about?

Hugh Potocki.

Importer lexporter
from Minneapolis.

Laid over in D.C.
on his way home

when all this blood
drains from his body.

Did the M.E. see it?

- The body?
- Yeah.

Tox test ruled out
hemorrhagic fever, Ebola,

anything exotic.

Something killed this man

but it doesn't seem to be
any foreign disease.

- No sign of forced entry?
- No.

No one was seen coming
or going from this room.

The maid found the body

20 minutes after a bellman
left Mr. Potocki here.

Whatever happened,
happened fast.

So, basically what
you're saying is that

nobody knows anything.

But then I guess that's why
it's in your in-box.

So, what do you think,
Agent Scully?

Haunted hotel room?

Alien invaders?

Sloppy vampires?

There is one small thing.

The cops missed it
their fiirst time around.

Well, that looks like

a child's print.

Yeah. That's what
it looks like.

You know

there was a ring of thieves
when I was back in New York.

They used kids for B&E jobs.

Mm...

Squeezing in
through cracked windows,

that kind of thing.

But this, this is beyond.

No. From what I see,
Agent Doggett,

from the way this man died,

I doubt it was a kid
who did this.

Thanks.

I'm not quite ready yet

to lose all my
faith in humanity.

But regardless,

I'd say it's wise
you keep an open mind.

[ Kids Yelling ]

[ Woman ]
The better the economy gets

the harder it is to fiill
these kinds of jobs.

And the problem is

that people look at it
as just a paycheck.

They don't realize that
as maintenance engineer,

you are playing
an important part

in these kids' lives.

And I can't tell you
how wonderful it is

to fiind someone as enthusiastic
as you are, Mr. Burrard.

And I understand you
can start immediately?

That's wonderful.

[ Sighs ]

Big fella, isn't he?

Big is a relative term,
Agent Doggett.

It took three strong men
to wheel him in here.

He tipped the scale
at 402 pounds.

Uh, Hugh Potocki was
a big man, big appetites.

Loved big cars,
big houses,

big business.

Divorced twice.

He carried two alimonies,
one with child support.

Never missed a payment.

In fact, he seems
to have spoiled

his wives and kids.

I'm missing the point.

It seems he loved
big women too.

Considering the
evidence and motives,

we can probably rule out

his ex-wives as suspects.

Well, considering
what I found here today,

I'd say I have to agree.

Tissue damage.

Massive trauma
to the lower intestine

and the rectal wall.

Is that from something
going in or coming out?

Well, unfortunately,

there's so much damage
that it's hard to tell.

I took MRIs, which reveal

further shredding
throughout the abdomen

and, uh, into
the stomach area.

India's a major transit point
for the Golden Triangle.

This guy flew in and out
of India half a dozen times

over the past 18 months.

Are you suggesting
that he's a mule?

A courier of heroine
or opiates?

Drug dealer?

Fills a latex balloon
with heroin, swallows it.

We've all seen this
kind of thing before.

But what if somebody
got to him en route,

forcibly extracted the drugs,
tearing it from his stomach?

Well, I'd say, uh, that's
a good theory, Agent Doggett,

not to mention a graphic one,

but there would have been traces
left of drugs in his system.

Nor does it account
for the blood loss

that this man experienced.

Then we're right back
where we started.

Nobody knows anything.

Not exactly.

I ran a decay analysis

to, uh, determine
the time of death.

Liver temperature,
buildup of gases,

extent of rigor--
routine stuff.

It's not 100% accurate,
but it gives us a range.

What's the range?

24 to 36 hours.

Well, that's just wrong.

Well, it would mean that,
uh, Mr. Potocki here

would have died
before he left Bombay.

No. It would mean

that a dead man boarded
a plane in India,

changed planes in Paris,
hailed a cab at Dulles

and then checked
into a downtown hotel

and tipped the bellman.

In my experience, dead men
don't tip, Agent Scully.

I told you
to keep an open mind.

[ Metallic Creaking ]

[ Kids Yelling ]

[ Laughter ]

Oh...

look what he just
did to my scooter.

- That's mine!
- You going to take it from me?

[ Man ] Hey.!

Leave him alone.

What's going on here,
Quinton?

I know you.

Your name's Trevor?

You're in seventh grade, right?

Don't you guys have anything

better to do
than pick on sixth graders?

Well, he ran into me.

- That's a lie!
- Enough.

You want to be a bully?
Find somebody your own age.

I'll talk to your father
if I have to.

Come on, Quinton.

[ Creaking ]

Yes. Thank you.

Sorry to wake you.

Good-bye.

Bad connection?

Consulate in New Delhi.

Three weeks ago
an American businessman

was found dead
inside his hotel room.

Take a look.

A Mr. Albert Brecht of Spokane.

The reports have been hard
to piece together.

The medical records
are in Hindi.

Death certifiicate's in Farsi

and the news accounts are in...

I don't know-- letters
I've never seen before.

But I did get you a translation

of Mr. Brecht's autopsy results.

Internal trauma.

Tearing in the abdomen.

You're the doctor--
It sounds like

the same M.O.,
doesn't it, Agent Scully?

Look at this.

Albert Brecht's passport
was a recent issue

and it has his weight
at 205 pounds,

whereas here, an Indian
medical examiner has him listed

at 238 pounds
just two hours after his death.

Well, if there's one thing

people lie about,
it's their weight.

Well, that's a pretty big lie.

I mean, that's
a 33-pound discrepancy.

Well, he was a big man,
that's for sure.

Yeah.

As was our D.C. victim.

All the better
for accommodation.

Accommodation?

Well, something has
to account for the weight gain,

Agent Doggett.

What if whatever it is
that killed these men

entered and exited them
of its own free will?

I mean, something....

small...

with small hands...

living...

inside the victims as a...

as a stowaway of sorts.

You know I agree
that having an open mind

is important
to crime solving, but...

this theory of yours

requires an openness that I'm...
I'm just not comfortable with.

I understand, Agent Doggett,

and I can't prove it...

but I bet that if we had weighed
Hugh Potocki

when he fiirst arrived here
from Bombay

that he would have been 33
pounds heavier than his corpse.

It's a theory, Agent Scully,
but to my mind and...

pretty much the rest of me,
it-it... doesn't work.

I appreciate your resistance,

but so far this evidence
supports it.

Except one thing...

Even if

there was something living
inside of Hugh Potocki

when he arrived here
from Bombay...

you said that Mr. Potocki
was already dead.

[ Crickets Chirping ]

[ Creaking ]

Dad? Dad. Dad! Dad.! Dad.!

Dad? Dad. Dad! Dad.! Dad.!

Quint, what is it?

There's a man in here.

What?

What are you talking about?

He was here, Dad.

Right over there.

He had no legs!

Quinton...

Quinton, listen to me.

The things that you imagine,

the things
that-that you dream,

are not real.

And what's not real
can't hurt you.

But, Dad, it was real. It was.

Quint, there's nobody here.

Try to get some sleep.

Okay?

[ Commentator 1 ] There's no
denying the world order has changed.

The United States
is the sole super power--

in both a military sense
and an economic one.

With this comes
responsibility.

[ Commentator 2 ]
No one's dismissing

American responsibilities,
here or abroad.

But Third World debt relief,
in my view,

would be a positive
step toward solving

Third World issues
and Third World problems.

Well, now it's my turn
to disagree.

Relieving that debt would allow
these countries

to fiind solutions without
American intervention...

I think you're being naive...

There's no denying
the world order has changed...

[ Screaming ]

Dad?

Dad?

The first dead body I saw,
I was 19 and a Marine.

This boy...

Criminy.

Yeah.

That's not all he claims he saw.

That's what the cops told me.

That's why I thought
we should come down here.

He said he called his dad in

because there was
something in his room.

I asked him to describe it.

He said that it was a munchkin.

That it had no legs.

And that it was keeping
itself up with its arms.

Well, that's a pretty good trick

considering what
I just found upstairs.

Palm prints
in the boy's bedroom.

They match the ones we found
in Potocki's room.

And that's the good news.

It just doesn't serve
your theory...

because this thing didn't
get in here in anybody's body.

It came in through
the bedroom window.

How can you be sure?

There was another print

on the sill outside
the locked window.

And somebody must have closed it
after this thing got in.

Right.

Which is exactly what the boy
said that his father did.

But it's the father that
I have a problem with here.

I mean, he had none of
the massive hemorrhaging

that we found in Mr. Potocki.

In the coroner's initial report,
he makes it sound like

the guy died
of a cerebral embolism.

The one

salient detail in the external
exam were the eyes...

in which all of the
blood vessels are broken.

Unless that's just
the fiirst stage.

[ Labored Breathing ]

This is Special Agent
Dana Scully.

I am a medical doctor
about to perform

an unauthorized
procedure on a body.

The subject
is a Caucasian male.

Age, uh... I don't remember
at this particular time.

His height is about six feet.

And his weight is...

quite possibly
subject to change.

I suppose distension could be
due to decomposition gases...

But that seems unlikely.

[ Metal Crashing To Floor ]

[ Creaking ]

[ Phone Rings ]

[ Phone Continues To Ring ]

[ Children Chatting ]

Reliability's one of the most
important parts of your job.

We were very worried
when you didn't

show up this morning.

[ Creaking ]

[ School Bell Ringing ]

They're called fakir--

ascetic masters bound to acts

of self-torture
to attain enlightenment.

We shot this video
when I was traveling

through India back
in the late '70s...

Oh, man,
look at my hair back then.

Agent Mulder consulted
with Dr. Burks on occasion,

and I have to admit

that I've been skeptical
of him in the past

but he does have
certain insights.

Well, we could use
some insights.

Uh, well, I-I'm
embarrassed to admit,

but I-I'm not sure I know
what the heck's going on here.

These ascetic masters...
they have abilities?

Oh, absolutely.

An-And abilities similar to those
you told me about on the phone

have been ascribed to what
are know as siddhi mystics.

The siddhi are
a very mysterious

and particularly powerful
order of fakirs.

These siddhi,

they pass on their secret
practices from father to son

gaining occult powers

with each generation.

What kind of powers?

Powers of the mind.

Powers that help them
manipulate reality.

Powers that allowthem
to become invisible

or tiny as an atom.

Well, I hope they're tiny.

Where, whoever it is,
is going.

Chuck...

could one of these
siddhi mystics

make you believe
that he vanished in a room

when in fact, he's standing
right in front of you?

Totally.

Or disguise themselves

appearing in front of you as,
uh, well, virtually anyone.

I'm sorry, Dr. Burks,
you're a...

you're a professor of what?

I run the
Advanced Digital Imaging Lab

at the University of Maryland.

And, um, I dabble.

You dabble.

Well, this has been...
insightful.

Doesn't surprise me.

What?

It's hard to believe
in something

when you can't understand it.

- Leave me alone.
- No, I want to say I'm sorry.

- No, you're not.
- Look, I am.

Would you just... listen.

I'm... sorry about your Dad.

I, I think I know who did it.

Agent Scully?

Chuck.

Thank you for, uh,
coming down here again.

Not at all.
Uh... I'm just a little curious.

I mean, it's always Mulder
who'd been doing all the calling

- and...
- This, uh...

this case, I-I-I-I'm just...

I'm trying to see it
the way that Mulder would,

and... please have a seat.

Of course.

So, what seems
to be the problem?

You described these,
uh, siddhi mystics

as being religious men.

Extremely.

They believe their powers
derive directly from the Divine.

So, presumably, using those
powers for murder

would be in opposition of that?

Worse.

It would violate the very
foundation of ascetic life.

It would endanger
their eternal soul.

Which got me thinking
that, uh...

if these siddhi hold so fast
to their orthodoxy

then what would cause them
to break their faith?

I don't know.

Something human?

Revenge?

Well, maybe.

[ Sighs ]

This is...
an American chemical plant

in a village
in India called Vishi.

It's just outside of Mumbai,

which is a better known
to us as Bombay.

About six months ago

the plant inadvertently
released a small cloud

of methyl isocyanate gas.

118 of Vishi's mostly indigenous
population were killed.

It wasn't very well
reported over here.

I spent all night

cross-checking the, uh,
victims of the disaster.

And one... fiinally
caught my attention.

Now, it's-- Oh, here.

It's an 11 -year-old boy...

whose father is described
as a being a holy man

of the Chamar caste.

The beggar caste.

Fakirs and mystics are....

well, often of low birth.

Do you think that
this boy's father

could be a siddhi mystic
like you described?

He could be.

But if he's out for revenge,

then why is he killing
the people that he's killing?

[ Car Approaching ]

[ Creaking ]

[ Creaking Continues ]

[ Creaking Continues ]

Ohh!
What's the matter with you?

Nothing.

Trevor?
Where are you going?

Dinner's on the table.

Trevor?

Trevor, dinner!

Trevor!

Trevor!

Excuse me.

She came out to call
her son in for dinner.

That's all we know.

What are we doing here,
Agent Scully?

'Cause I'm not sure.

What are we doing?

A woman died
of mysterious circumstances

not three blocks away
from a previous victim.

External signs
are a direct match.

That woman's eyes.

I saw her eyes.

But dollars to donuts,

there wasn't anything
that crawled up inside her.

Now, I think
we're reaching here,

and I don't know how to say it

but maybe you're seeing things
that you want to see.

Are you questioning
my integrity?

No, I'm questioning
the whole damn case.

From your so-called expert

to the evidence
you've chosen to ignore

to the fact that your approach
has got us no closer

to seeing a pattern or a motive

or even catching this killer
than we were when we started.

I asked you to keep
an open mind.

Yeah, well, I try
to keep an open mind,

but it tends to shut my eyes.

There is something here,
Agent Doggett.

And I'll admit
that it's hard to accept.

But there is a motive

and there is a pattern
and there is a reason

and we will see it...

but not working like this.

Yeah, well...

I hope somebody sees it.

[ Leaves Crunching ]

Trevor.

Trevor, I'm Dana Scully...

What happened?

Your father's in the house.
I'm going to take...

Where's my Mom?

Trevor.

[ Heavy Breathing ]

He was here.

The-The little man.

I-I saw him.

He... he followed me.

[ Heavy Breathing Continues ]

Agent Doggett?

Where is he?

Is that him?

If you mean the janitor,

yeah, that's him,
right in there.

[ Burks ]
Agent Scully called

and said that
you had arrested

what might be an honest-to-goodness
siddhi mystic.

Well, Agent Scully
jumped the gun on that one.

The only thing extraordinary
about this man

is he doesn't speak...

to anyone.

Well, where is Agent Scully?

She left,
after four hours

of attempting to
interrogate this guy.

Unless he jumps up
and does something mystical

in the next ten minutes,
we're releasing him.

What are you doing?

The man sitting there

may not be the man
sitting there.

No one may be there
at all, in fact.

Not in the next
ten minutes, there ain't.

[Whispering ]
Oh, wow.

Agent Doggett?

Y-you got to take
a look at this.

Come on.

It's a trick.

Yeah, but not
of the camera.

Wait, if...

if he's not there...

He could be anywhere.

Yeah?

Sir, I am so sorry
to bother you again.

I know this has been
a terrible ordeal.

Yes... what is it you need?

I need to speak with
your son, Trevor, again.

Is this about his mother?

Well, Trevor told me
that he saw a man.

It was just something
that doesn't quite add up

and I need to be certain.

- Thank you.
- [ Cell Phone Rings ]

Scully.

I think you ought
to get back here, Agent Scully.

There's something...

What?

The janitor, he's here...
but he's not.

I can't...
I can't explain it.

Trevor's not in his room.

I'm sorry,
just hang on one second.

Agent Doggett, what
do you mean he's not there?

[ Clanking And Creaking ]

Who's that?

Hello?

[ Creaking ]

Mr. Burrard...

I thought you...

Well, I-I didn't expect
to see you back at work.

[ Creaking ]

This is the agent
who picked him up before.

Can you make this call?

[Whispering ]
Here he comes.

[ Glass Breaking ]

[ Liquid Bubbling ]

[ Grunts ]

Trevor, are you there?

[ Creaking ]

[ Creaking ]

[ Knocking On Glass ]

Get out of there, let's go!

I can't!
The windows are locked.

Break them, okay!

[Trevor ]
I'll get help.

[ Creaking ]

[ Panting ]

Oh, thank God.

Do something!

Quinton, what's the matter?

[ Quinton ]
It's him.!

It's the little man!

Who?

Trevor?

[Teacher ] All right,
now you boys, you just

stop playing around.

Okay, don't move.

- Stay where you are.
- Wait, wait.

What are you doing?

Stop him.! Shoot him.!

[ Breaths Heavily ]

I can't.

[ Gunshots ]

Oh, my God.

What is it?
What happened?

Agent Scully!

Scully.

[ Crying ]

You going to be
okay, Agent Scully?

I got a drift of what happened
in there... to you.

I mean, sort of.

I shot a young boy.

The good news is,
you're wrong.

But it's what I saw.

With my eyes, anyway.

Do you know what it's like not
to be able to trust your own eyes?

Then why'd you shoot him?

[ Breathes Slowly ]

Because it's what the boy saw.

And in an instant...

I realized that it's what
Mulder would have seen

or understood.

Because that's just how
he came at things...

without judgment
and without prejudice

and with an open mind
that I am just not capable of.

It's been a long night.

Give yourself a break.

[ Sighs ]

This whole thing doesn't
make any sense.

No...

it did.

In some way, it did.

[ Beggars Shouting ]

[ Child ]
I made this.!

[ Child ]
I made this.!