Touched by an Angel (1994–2003): Season 5, Episode 23 - Black Like Monica - full transcript

Tess... what is it?

How many times is he
gonna ask me to do this?

How many times?!

What is it?

This was around his
neck a few minutes ago.

Whose neck?

What do you want me to do?

I've been through
this so many times,

but enough is enough!

I'm coming home!

She left, and I don't know
what my assignment is.



Yeah, you do.

My name is Monica.

I am an angel sent by God

as a messenger of
hope and peace and truth.

I am not magic.

I cannot predict the future.

I cannot alter the past.

Whenever I am on this earth,

I've always come in human form

to appear more like you.

But I was never
less of an angel,

except once.

For one day in spring,

I discovered just
how human I could be.



I don't have wings, you know.

But that day...
God forgive me...

That day, I wished I did.

♪ When you walk down the road ♪

♪ Heavy burden, heavy load ♪

♪ I will rise and I
will walk with you ♪

♪ I'll walk with you ♪

♪ Till the sun
don't even shine ♪

♪ Walk with you ♪

♪ Every time, I tell
you I'll walk with you ♪

♪ Walk with you ♪

♪ Believe me, I'll
walk with you. ♪

♪ Swing low, sweet chariot ♪

♪ Comin' for to
carry me home... ♪

- ♪ Ooh... ♪ -All right,
people, line up, everybody!

- Come on.
- Not yet, Charlie, not yet.

Louise, now.

"Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,"

"Follow the Drinking Gourd"

and other Negro spirituals
were actually coded messages

to encourage slaves to escape
and follow the constellations

to the free states in the North.

Along the way, passengers on the
so-called Underground Railroad...

A secret network of
homes and businesses

where fugitive slaves
could stop and eat.

- This band of angels...
- Slow down, Henry.

Were antislavery activists

who believed slavery was wrong,

and wanted to help runaways
to their journey to freedom.

One of these was a man
named Elijah Jackson.

Elijah Jackson,
like many others,

kept a candle burning
on his window of his house

to tell any fugitive

that this was a
safe place to hide.

Watch out! It's gonna fall!

Can we get some
help here, please?

Where's Mooney?

Has anybody seen Mooney?

It's looking good, Lavonda.

Thank you, Mayor.

I just have one concern here.

I need you to
educate me about this.

Uh, is it still appropriate to
call them "Negro spirituals"?

Maybe we should call them
"African-American spirituals,"

or just "spirituals" would do.

What do you think?

All my research indicates

that at the time, the
phrase was "Negro spiritual."

And I'm comfortable with that.

Well, good.

That's all I care about, then.

So... I learned something today.

Historically accurate
beats politically correct.

Okay.

Excuse me. Lavonda, you got

a real problem with
this scenery up here.

I-I-I know, I know.

Mooney was supposed to be
here to finish building the supports.

Lavonda, I-I've got
to excuse the band.

There's a basketball
game tonight,

and, uh, they
need some time off.

I understand.

Excuse me, please.

Oh, please tell me
that you're the lady

from the State Historical Board.

No, I-I'm sorry.

Are you the sheriff?

Yes, ma'am. What
can I do for you?

I want to report a murder.

I took them back to the road,

and I discovered something
about human beings

I had never observed before.

Good people...

Kind and essentially
decent individuals...

Can, in an instant,
transform themselves...

into one single,
terrible monster

called a committee.

Looks like they tied a
rope around his feet,

and another one around his neck,

laid him sideways and
just ran over him until...

You okay, Charlie?

I-I can't believe it.

He built the whole
thing, you know.

The scenery, the platform.

And yesterday,
he was so excited.

He wanted to show me something

that he'd found in
some old cemetery.

I said I didn't have
time right now.

You didn't, Lavonda; you've been

working yourself
to death on this.

Tom, excuse me, uh,

what does a
reserve officer do? I...

I mean, should I be, uh,
taping the area or something?

What, are you
gonna run yellow tape

around the woods, Charlie?

Hey, James, I-I'm just trying

to be helpful here.

All right,

- what do we got here, folks?
- Mr. Mayor...

Oh, my God in heaven.

It's Mooney.

My God.

Somebody definitely
wanted that man dead.

Cy, come take a look at this.

Monica, this is Cyrus.

He's the city manager

and owns the local diner
and the ambulance company.

I never thought I'd actually

see you driving one
of these things, Cy.

Oh, well, it was my idea.

I thought we better get the
lay of the land, so to speak,

before we got too many
people involved in this.

- You know what I mean.
- No, sir, I don't.

Looks like the mayor's
called a little meeting

of the City Council.

You guys gonna vote on this?

- What are you talking about?
- Hate crimes

are a federal offense.

Yeah, I know that,
Jimmy. I'm gonna call

the FBI as soon as I get back.

Now, now, now, hold on here.

Do you know who did this, ma'am?

No, uh, I was just out walking.

Uh, I found the body over there.

I'm the investigator here.

Can I ask the questions, please?

Tom, you and your deputy
are employees of the city

and county of Aynsville.

- Oh, man.
- And I am instructing you

to back off while we
make some decisions here.

Ed, there's a dead
man lying right there,

and we're gonna
start taking votes?

Charlie, you want to be a
volunteer deputy right now,

or a City Council member
with one of those votes?

Aynsville has never
gotten any notice in

150 years.

Now, all of a sudden,
something good happens to us.

Lavonda discovers this
Underground Railroad connection,

and we finally get on the map.

And Rosa Parks arrives tomorrow.

I can't believe it.

The mother of the modern
civil rights movement is coming,

and somebody murders
an African-American

the day before she shows up.

My point, exactly.

Now, if this poor fellow

had been dispatched three
weeks ago or two weeks from now,

it would've been a... a
horrible, lamentable murder,

but a murder, period.

Now, let it happen the day
before we're memorialized

as the southern
Illinois cradle of freedom

and it's a hate crime.

And if you think the media...

Good Lord, they're
coming from Chicago,

Springfield, St. Louis...

Once they get ahold of this

it's gonna be nothing
but irony and headlines.

National headlines!

Now, this is a good town.

We've never had a
race problem here, ever.

But you get a bunch of those
FBI boys crawling around

in the middle of a
civil rights parade...

Mister, we are done for.

It'll be Aynsville,
hotbed of racism,

and we will never live it down.

And it's not fair!

Nobody in this town
could've done such a thing,

except you know who.

Everybody's thinking it.

It was those Foley boys.

You don't know that.

Probably.

He's right.

I saw them the other
day in that old truck,

harassing Mooney while he
was putting up the platform.

I've already had the
Foleys figured for this.

So what's your point here?

The point is, there's a lot

riding on the next
couple of days.

Ain't that right, Mayor?

You better believe there is.

The governor's coming.

I'm gonna hit him up for
funding for that new bridge.

Now, Cyrus is counting
on that diner business

to make up for January,

when the roof fell in.

And Lavonda, this
poor woman deserves

to have her hard work rewarded

and not overshadowed
by this mess.

So what? We just drive off

and leave poor
Mooney lying in the dirt?

Well, well, now, now, uh...

I-I could take the body
back to the morgue, Tom,

without anybody noticing.

You can, uh, continue
your investigation;

just don't tell nobody.

Hey, no, no, no, no.

It's-It's not a cover-up.

We're just... postponing
this thing for a while.

I can think of four

amendments to the Constitution
that are being ignored here.

For heaven's sake,
the man is already dead!

Why kill the town, too?

You remember that
kid at your school

that killed herself in
the girls' bathroom?

You kept that pretty
low-key, as I recall.

Now, what is wrong

with taking it a little slow?

As a matter of fact, if
it hadn't been for this

Monica woman, he could've
been laying there all week

before anybody could've known.

He lived out in the woods.

He doesn't have any family.

No one's gonna
miss him, I'm afraid.

Lavonda,

you're not seriously
considering this.

I don't like it, Tom.

But it's taken me three
years to make this happen.

I found the Jackson diary.

I organized the pageant.

I got Rosa Parks as
the guest of honor.

I got Mooney to build the stage.

He put his heart and
soul into this thing.

Mooney would've
wanted it this way.

You didn't even know Mooney.

Of course I did.

He did some work
for me up at the house.

And I don't appreciate
your tone, James.

That tone is the
righteous indignation

of a black man
watching the mayor...

Hey, hey, I do the best I can...

Stop it, stop it!

Calm down.

What was Mr. Mooney's
full name, please?

Huh?

Mr. Mooney...

A human being... was horribly
and cruelly murdered today.

We can't imagine
the agony of this man.

We cannot know
his last thoughts.

But surely as his body
was stretched across

that field, and he heard
the key in the ignition,

he knew that he
would die, and he knew

that it was hate
that would kill him.

That he died today

is not an inconvenient
coincidence.

It's a message that
no one is listening to.

Amen.

Should we take a vote?

Do I have anything
to say in this?

No!

And maybe that's a good thing.

Then you can always say you
were just following instructions.

Now after Mrs. Parks
and the governor leave

on Saturday, we wait a
suitable amount of time,

and then we officially
discover the body.

All those in favor,
raise your hands.

All right, we have one
more piece of business.

The events of the next two
days will go on as planned,

with nothing to
poison the celebration.

That means we must all do
everything necessary to insure

that no one here
decides to spoil it.

No one.

No. No.

Absolutely not.

In for a penny,
Tom... in for a pound.

I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry.

They called it
protective custody,

but I wasn't the one
they were trying to protect.

They had to protect themselves
from the truth and from me.

And yet, the memory of
Mr. Mooney's broken body

crying for justice
on a lonely road

could not be banished so easily.

Jimmy, I got a copy of
Rosa Parks' schedule here.

You want to take a look at it?

Fine.

Fine.

You're thinking I didn't fight
hard enough, aren't you?

That I could have
turned this thing around.

'Cause you think I
couldn't have done it.

Right?

I mean, like we still
need Elijah Jackson

to put a candle in
the window to save us.

- Oh, come on.
- No. Really.

You knew somewhere deep inside

that it really wasn't
gonna matter what I said.

I'm a deputy, I'm black, and
nobody's gonna listen to me.

For crying out loud,
everybody listened to Cyrus.

They weren't listening

to a black man, they
were listening to a rich man.

Well, maybe that's a good thing.

If a black man can have
so much influence in a town,

then things have changed, right?

No, you really would like to
believe that, wouldn't you?

That the Foleys are just
some kind of dinosaur

left over from the '50s.

Everybody thinks it was
them, and it probably was.

But it doesn't matter so
much that you think they did it.

You hope they did it.

You're darn right I hope
they did it, because...

Because then you wouldn't have

to look any farther
for racism in this town.

Or any closer.

I'll say one thing
for the Foleys.

At least I know
where they stand.

I want to see her.

You know who she is, right?

Yes.

I mean, this is the woman

that inspired the bus
boycotts in Alabama.

She's the one that
wouldn't give up her seat

on a bus to a white man.

I mean, Rosa Parks
has been my hero

ever since I was a little girl.

Now she leads something

called Pathways to Freedom,

and they take children on
buses all across the country.

And they trace the history
of the civil rights movement.

And she is coming here
with those children tomorrow.

And I'm going to
have dinner with her,

and tell her what I've
tried to do in my own way

to follow in her footsteps.

I have dreamed about that
moment all my life, Monica.

Of meeting Rosa Parks like this?

I don't imagine that
you would understand

why it means so
much to me personally.

But you might understand
what it means to this town.

Look out there.

The discovery of Elijah Jackson

has brought this town together.

I didn't know this
town was divided.

Every town is divided.

Some just don't know it.

Do you know what
was in the cemetery

that Mr. Mooney
wanted you to see?

I have no idea.

Anyway, I

am truly sorry that
you've been detained,

but I do believe
it's for the best.

Lavonda,

if I were black, would I
be detained right now?

Honey, if you were black,

they wouldn't have listened
to you in the first place.

Whatever parade they
were planning for Saturday

could never equal
the procession of souls

that paraded through the jail
that day, seeking absolution,

transforming my tiny prison
cell into a confessional.

I just want it clear,

young lady, that,
uh, this is being done

for your own protection.

Well, I mean, that's not to say
that this is a dangerous town.

It's just we need to
proceed with caution

and-and moderation
in all things.

I taught civics
before I took over

as principal here.

One day I did an
experiment in class

and I asked the-the
students, uh...

if you could change
the color of your skin...

All else being equal...
Would you do it?

The African-American
students started to laugh.

George Carter looked
me in the eye and he said,

"All else being equal, Mr. Ryan,

you wouldn't have
asked that question."

Those Foley boys did it

and their daddy
was a white trash,

foul-mouthed, racist pig, too.

They've been trouble for years.

Another day or two's not
gonna make much difference.

It made a difference
to Mr. Mooney.

Am I a prisoner?

A suspect?

Monica, you're not even here.

Can I ask you a question?

Sure.

Who are you?

What were you doing out
on that road this morning?

What road?

Touché.

What can you tell me
about Mr. Mooney?

Mooney was a nice old guy.

I don't know. I guess
he wasn't that old.

It's just that he came to
town about 14, 15 years ago

looking for some family
he heard used to live here.

So, he was all alone?

Yeah.

I heard he lost his whole family

in a tenement
fire up in Chicago.

I guess that's why
he came down here...

Looking for more kinfolk.

Anyway, Mooney finally

took to searching door to door

and wandering
through the cemeteries.

He kind of got a
reputation around here

for being a little crazy.

But he wasn't crazy.

He was just... he was just
trying to figure out who he was.

And you?

Up until today, I
thought I knew who I was.

Maybe it takes a day
like today to find out.

Who are you, Monica?

That was a pretty
impressive speech you made

out there this morning.

The question is,

did you say it because
you really meant it,

or did you say it because

it was the politically
correct thing to do?

I meant it with all my heart.

I'm sure you did.

And what if you'd been black,
and Mooney had been white?

It doesn't matter.

I would have done
the same thing.

Really? You're sure?

Yes.

Color makes no difference.

Well, this has been a
complicated day, Monica.

Maybe it's time
we all turned in.

Why am I here, Father?

What good am I
behind these bars?

What good am I?

The longer I stay here,

the more tired, hungry,
afraid, human I feel.

Search me, oh, Lord,

and know my anxious heart,

for Father, I am so confused.

Every angel knows

that God is not the
author of confusion.

God brings order out of
chaos and light out of darkness.

And that night, he
brought out of me the truth

I never wanted to see before.

Angels don't really
need to sleep, you know.

But sometimes, I
suppose, we need to dream.

I knew at that moment
that it was not a dream

of the past, but a
vision of the future...

a road I was not
sure I could travel.

I was nervous walking down

the street the next morning.

I expected everyone to notice
the miraculous change in me.

But no one seemed
to notice me at all.

Thank you.

Morning, Loretta.

Good morning, Charlie.

You want some coffee?

Please.

Thank you.

Excuse me.

I'm looking for a
gentleman in town.

His name is Mooney.

I know Mooney.

You a friend of his?

Not exactly.

We have a mutual friend.

Well, it's funny you
should mention it,

'cause Mooney comes
in here every morning

for the early bird breakfast,

but he didn't today

and he didn't yesterday.

Jerry says that Mooney guy
stood up everybody yesterday.

And that scenery on the
stage out there fell down.

Practically killed
Tom McKinsley.

Hmm, well, then
something's wrong.

'Cause Mooney's
strange, but he's reliable.

That man's either
sick, in jail or dead.

Well, that was quick.

I don't care if you have to
use dogs and helicopters.

I want that... What?

We got trouble.

There's a black
woman over at the diner

asking about Mooney.

Ah, forget it. We've
got bigger fish to fry.

That Monica woman is missing.

How'd she get out?

I don't know.

Neither do I.

It was an interesting
plan, though...

Violating someone's civil rights

to make sure Civil
Rights Day goes well.

Rosa Parks gets here at noon.

I've got a lot of interviews.

Don't let me down, boys.

By the way, uh,
Sam Haskett tells me

that Bud Foley walked into the
hardware store three days ago

and bought a brand-new rope.

Just in case
anyone's interested.

She's coming. Two minutes.

Excuse me, you the sheriff?

That's right.

Uh, I'm looking for
someone in this town.

His name is Mooney.

Uh, Mooney, yeah.

I-I know who that is, but, uh,

gosh, I can't really tell you
where to find him, though.

Excuse me.

Oh, uh, Rosa Parks is
going to be here any minute.

That might be something
you'd like to see.

That was her.

Did she ask you about Mooney?

Yeah.

Well, what are we going to do?

Don't ask me, Charlie.

I'm just following
orders, remember?

♪♪

One, two, three.

Her name is Rosa...

Her name is Rosa...

Her name is Rosa...

Excuse me.

Um, I wonder if
you could help me.

I'm looking for
someone called Mooney.

He lives in this town.

Girl, what you doin'?

You walking around here asking
everybody alive where Mooney is.

Are you family or something?

No.

Then take some advice
from a brother, all right?

Drop it.

Just let it lie.

I don't understand.

Trust me, you don't want to.

Listen, they did it to us again.

You get it?

It was in that moment

that I realized that
neither a white Monica

nor a black Monica would
penetrate the wall of fear

that those six people had
built around themselves.

And so the question remained:

Why, then, had God
changed me at all?

I was still foolish enough

to think that I had
been transformed

so that I might
understand how it feels

to live inside black skin.

Of course, I recognized
the subtle differences.

There's one.

In black skin, I was a step
removed from the world.

Where before I met
everyone instantly as Monica,

now I was black first
and Monica second...

If they asked my name at all.

But you know what?

No one ever did.

May I have a glass
of water, please?

Yeah. Sure.

♪ Sometimes I wake up... ♪

Something else had changed, too.

I felt thirsty.

It may not sound
like much to you,

but angels don't
often get thirsty

any more than they get
sleepy or even dream.

But I had done all those
human things that day.

♪ Radio plays... ♪

Thank you.

♪ Makes me wonder
what went wrong... ♪

Whole busload of them
just showed up today.

There's going to
be more tomorrow.

Nobody's even found him yet.

So we move him a
little closer to home.

Let's go, Bud.

- Hey, Carl.
- Hey.

Have you seen a woman
around here... out-of-towner,

really pretty, long
dark hair, dark eyes,

kind of petite?

No. Nobody like
that comes in here.

Hmm.

I saw the Foley boys leave.

Were they in here
a couple nights ago?

- Wednesday?
- Yeah.

Yeah. They got loaded

and started talking
about killing all the blacks.

Why didn't you call me?

They do that every week, Tom.

Tess!

I decided to walk
back to the road...

hoping that somehow
Tess had returned.

Tess!

In all our years together,
I had never seen Tess

as anything but my friend,

but today I understood
for the first time

that even an angel
must be stronger

and tougher and prouder

if she's going to make a
difference in black skin.

No one ever ignores Tess,
and no one ever forgets her.

What were you doing here
with Mr. Mooney, Tess?

Oh, God, what am I to do now?

Tess.

Did you hear something?

- It's gone.
- What?

That old boy's carcass is gone.

What happened?

Figured them nigger
lovers down at City Hall

just decided not to mention it.

We got ourselves a
Watergate cover-up here.

So what do we do?

We go back and do it again,
Bud, and this time we do it right.

Come on, get in the car.

Come on, go back the other way!

Block from outside!

In that moment, I
realized everything.

I was human, and
I was going to die.

- Come on, get her! She's getting away!
- Through there!

Yeah, down here!

Oh, God. Oh, Father, please.

Please, please.

I'm so afraid.

Oh, dear God in
Heaven, I'm so afraid.

Please, please.

Make me white again.

Please, please.
No... Please don't. No!

Relax, lady.

You seen a nigger
woman come through here?

No.

Sorry if I scared you.

Wasn't her.

Wha... what?

My God.

Oh, my God.

I'm so sorry.

I'm so sorry.

How's it going?

Pretty quiet.

Listen, I had a strange feeling
today about the Foley boys.

Like they might do it again.

So I got Charlie out at the
Two-Timer keeping an eye on 'em.

Charlie on a stake-out.

Yeah, I figured it's so
obvious, nobody'll ever guess.

Anyway, he says they're
drinking up a storm

and talking about ghosts
and a cemetery or something.

Hmm. I'll bet.

I'm going to the diner. Come on.

Is that...?

Well, I'll be.

Monica? Monica,
hold it. Wait, wait, wait.

Wait, wait.

Oh, help me, please.

You've got to stop them.

It could have been me.

It should have been me.

Oh, my God, what have I done?

What's going on?

The Foley brothers.

They're going to kill someone.

No, they're not.

Yes. They're looking
for someone to kill.

An innocent person
instead of me.

You got to stop them.

Monica, the Foley
brothers are sitting in a bar

drunk as skunks.

They're not going anywhere
without me knowing about it.

You don't understand
what I've done.

I've got to explain.

Where's Mrs. Parks?

Where's Mrs. Parks? I
want to talk to Mrs. Parks.

Mrs. Parks is
asleep in the hotel.

No, I'm not.

Let her come over here.

What are you doing
in here, Mrs. Parks?

I like to sit on the
buses and think.

And who are you?

My name is Monica.

I'm an angel, sent by God,
as a messenger of hope

and peace and truth.

I'm not magic.

I cannot predict
the future, and...

I cannot alter the past.

Whenever I'm on this
earth, I come in human form

to appear more like you.

But I'm never less of an angel.

♪♪

And now I don't
belong in Heaven,

and I don't belong on earth...

because I've betrayed both.

And now I know in my heart

that when those
men were chasing me,

if I had been white...

I never would have begged
God to become black.

God is good, Monica.

He forgives and heals.

He heals angels, too.

Especially an angel who's
been human for a day.

Tess.

Oh, Tess.

Do you know what I've done?

Yes, baby.

I'm sorry. I'm so ashamed.

I know. Me, too.

I gave up on the world
yesterday and let the Father down.

And I'm not proud of that,

but our God is a great
God, and He forgave me

and He's forgiven you.

Why do you think
He let you be black?

To change this town,
change these people?

Mm-mm, baby.

To change your heart.

Because you can't go on
preaching against the darkness

until you've seen
it in yourself first.

And there are not too many

politically correct
ways to do that.

You just have to
jump in and dig deep

until you face yourself.

And you've done that,
and I'm proud of you.

Now, I say that you've
got something real

to say to those men out there.

I have something
real to tell you, too.

I love you, Tess, and I never
really understood until now.

I love you, too, baby.

Now, come on.

Go on out there and
do what you got to do.

Don't be afraid.

I am an angel.

But for one day,

I knew what it felt to
be thirsty and tired...

a weak and frightened
earthbound human.

And I discovered
something hiding...

fear in a... in a
dark corner of myself

that I didn't even
know was there.

You, too, must look
deep into your own hearts

and seek out that
same dark corner,

and as hard as it will
be, you must confess it

to each other and to God.

For the color of racism is fear.

So please,

don't worry about
saying the right words...

as long as you
say the true words.

Um...

I...

I hate it when
you call me Jimmy.

I'm not your boy.

I'm a man.

And I hate it when every time

I walk into a nice store
or a fancy restaurant,

everybody looks at me
like I'm from another planet.

I can't, man.

Sure you can.

You think every white person
in this town is prejudiced.

You think every one
of us is out to rip you off.

Well, sure.

I mean, what have we
been all talking about here?

White people, they
got something in them.

They love to see us put down.

Every one of them?

Every one.

They try to hide it, but I
know what they're thinking

when they pass me on the street.

Really? What was I thinking

when I loaned you that $500
last year, when we went fishing?

I even had you over to the
house every Christmas Eve.

You even had me over?

I-I try to be a good
man, a fair man.

I think racism is wrong,

and I try to keep up with
what I'm supposed to say...

"black," "African-American,"
"people of color."

I don't pull a black man over

just because he's
driving a Mercedes.

I contribute to the Negro
College Fund, but...

I still don't get why you've
got one language for us

and another one for each other.

And I resent that every
time I go out of my way

not to do something
that might seem racist,

some black guy always knows it

and manages to
make me feel guilty.

I've got a lot of black
friends in this town,

but you know what?

God help me, every time I
shake the hand of a black man,

something deep inside...

Something I can't explain...

Something involuntary

makes me want to wipe
my hand on my pants,

and I don't know why.

I'm sorry. I know it's terrible.

And I am sorry...

and I pray to God that
He will cut it out of me,

because I don't even
know where it's coming from.

So... that's the truth.

And I don't know
where we go from here,

but at least I know
where we stand.

Yes, I think you do.

You're standing
on God's side now.

Bingo.

It was Elizah, not Elijah.

This is Andrew.

He's the angel who was
with Mr. Mooney that day.

The diary that
Lavonda found was old.

It was difficult to read, and
she made an honest mistake,

but the real hero of the
Aynsville Underground Railroad

was-was not a white man.

It was a free black woman.

And her name was
Elizah, Elizah Jackson.

After the Civil War, she married
a man named Howard Mooney,

and they were Jackson
Mooney's great-great grandparents.

And this? This is what
Mooney wanted Lavonda to see.

He not only found the truth,

he found his family, too.

I think it's about time

Mr. Jackson Mooney
got a little respect.

Tom, where have you been?

You've got to get into costume.

What is she doing here?

She's gonna ruin everything.

No, she's not.

We are.

After you, James.

Ladies and gentlemen,
ladies and gentlemen,

may I have your
attention, please?

Hold it down,
please. Hold it down.

We have a very important, very
sad announcement to make...

Sometimes I still shake
my head and wonder

at the things that human
beings are capable of.

And then I remember the
most human hour of my own life.

I will never be the same.

And neither will the
town of Aynsville.

And when I get home, I'm
going to find Mr. Mooney.

And I'm going to
tell him... thank you.