Oz s04e05 Episode Script

The criminal mind.
For the past two hundred years, scientists, sociologists and other folks who fret about such things have debated whether a person commits a violent act because of their environment or their biological makeup.
What turns on the red crime light in a man's brain? If we find the cause, can we eliminate the effect? Can we end violence now and forever? Prisoner number 00G115.
Detective Bruno Goergen.
Convicted March 15th, 2000.
Illegal possession and sale of firearms, murder in the first degree.
Sentence, 36 years.
Up for parole in 18.
You know that guy? No.
He's just so fucking ugly.
"He's just so fucking ugly.
" This guy When I first saw you, I thought: "What the fuck is Johnny Basil doing in Oz?" And then I remembered last year you went to Narcotics, right? One of the greaseballs told me your name was Desmond Mobay? - You gonna blow my cover? - Depends.
On what I do for you.
None of the inmates know I'm a cop.
It was part of my deal when I turned state's evidence.
I got a new identity too.
Now, scumbags out there find out the truth, I'm prime beef for any asshole looking to up his cred.
And so? So one hand washes the other, my brother in blue.
You know what I remember the most about you when we were working the streets together? What a bully you were.
Strong-arming people when there was no need.
You were always a bad cop, Goergen.
I wasn't surprised when I heard you went down.
So you do want me to tell the guys you're undercover? I would be happy to help you in any way I can.
Glad we understand each other.
Excuse me there, butch.
"Butch"? Yo.
Normally when a police officer's brought into Oz, I give them special counselling.
Why? It's going to be tough for you, going from a position of authority to being strip-searched.
You might feel humiliated.
- Not me.
- Vulnerable.
Okay, that's fine.
But if you should experience feelings like that, I just want you to know I'm here.
Thanks.
Later.
- You know, my wife's an ex-nun.
- Really? Yeah, she fucks like a $500 whore.
Must be all those years of pent-up chastity.
Tidd, you know what I hate more than anything? - What's that, Mondo? - This white trash trying to be thugs.
I feel you.
I hate that too.
How about you, pussy? How you feel about that, huh? What I hate is jive-ass niggers.
How the fuck is this you watching my back? I got a C.
O.
There as soon as I could.
You should've pulled those apes off me.
Apes.
Yeah.
Niggers.
Yeah.
I jump in and save you, a fucking white redneck asshole, - I might as well pack up and leave Oz.
- Then maybe you better start packing, because anything like this fucking happens again, everyone's gonna know who you are, and you're a dead man, Johnny.
Mobay, did you forget? What? If you want to join us, you gotta kill somebody.
I haven't forgotten.
The new man doesn't want any violence in Emerald City.
So you gonna do the deed, make it look like an accident.
Do it far away from here.
Got you, man.
Hill.
Hill.
I'm asleep.
Hear that? It's me snoring.
- I need your help.
- I don't give people help.
Adebisi and the others say they will let me in if I kill somebody.
And what? You want me to volunteer to be your victim? No.
I have decided who to kill, but I need your cooperation to do it.
Man, that shit you're snorting is rotting your brain out.
I ain't helping you kill nobody.
- But - No.
No way, no how.
- But - Look, shut up, Mobay.
I'm tired of hearing your lips flap.
Let me get some fucking sleep.
- We got problems.
- What? - My cellmate, Hill, knows you're a cop.
- Shit.
- How? - Who knows how? He says he'll keep quiet for a price.
He wants a meeting.
- Where? - The dress factory's freight elevator.
Now, I say we tip his chair and let him go tumbling down the shaft.
Right.
Fuck.
- Are you sure this guy's coming? - Yes.
Geez, you don't know how good you got it till it's gone, man.
All those times I moaned about walking the beat.
I'd give my fucking right nut to be in the snow, working the fucking Spic Day parade.
Okay, Mobay, I'm here, man.
What you want? Think you got me over a barrel, don't you? - What? - So long, Butch.
What the fuck are you doing, man? What the fuck are you doing? Wait, wait.
Let me, let me.
Mobay, for chrissake! Mobay! For chrissake, wait! No, man! Please, man, please! Fuck me! You should've let me tell you the plan.
What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you out of your fucking mind? Lockdown, lockdown! - What the fuck happened? - Someone died.
An accident, far from Emerald City.
I'm seriously considering moving to another cell.
- Relax, brother.
The worst is over.
- Yeah, right.
Hey.
What are you doing here? I thought we agreed you shouldn't come visit.
Hill thought he recognised you.
I am here because I am worried about you, partner.
You're supposed to be e-mailing me regularly.
Not only don't I hear from you, but when I do, the reports make no sense.
I was in the Hole for a few days.
Are you using? - No.
- You are.
I can see it in your eyes.
- Okay.
But I had to.
- That's it.
I'm telling the lieutenant to pull you out.
No.
Schmand wants the job done.
And I'm so fucking close to busting these guys.
Look, I know I fucked up, but I can turn it around.
I know I can, Kina.
Trust me.
Okay.
But I want to hear from you every day.
Every goddamn day.
Warden, we need to touch you up a bit.
- Touch me up? - This is Cassandra and Betty.
- They're makeup and hair.
- What's the hubbub? The warden's shooting a public service announcement.
Oh, that's right, I forgot.
Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honour to come before you - Are you all right? - I may be getting the flu.
I believe a man has to be prepared to accept responsibility Quick as you can, guys.
Warden, your wife is here.
- Mary.
- We need to talk.
Excuse me.
Warden, we're moments away here, sir.
Please.
Excuse me.
- What's the matter? - I just got a call from a reporter asking about your brother.
Well, I knew this was coming.
He says that tomorrow the Tribune is breaking the story that Mark is serving a life sentence for murder, - and did you have any comment.
- I got a lot of comments.
None of them printable.
Warden, I'm sorry.
We're trying to make our little movie here.
We're on a very, very tight schedule.
Excuse me.
I'm sorry.
Thank you so much.
Sorry.
Guys, just sign off on him, all right, so we can get this over with.
- This isn't such a terrible thing.
- Oh, no? I anticipated that some dedicated journalist would eventually dig up the dirt.
There's a way to use this to our advantage.
- How? - Your brother committed murder, yes.
But you got him to turn himself in.
Three months after the fact.
The press doesn't have to know when you knew.
I'm starting to feel like Ronald fucking Reagan.
We also leak the news that your daughter was raped.
The public will love the fact that you know all sides of crime.
I'm not gonna exploit Ardeth's rape just to get elected.
Leo, people don't vote for candidates because of what they believe, or their position statements, or any of that shit.
They elect a father, a husband, and a good old guy they can chug a beer with.
Someone who understands pain because he's suffered too.
And you've suffered, Leo.
All I'm saying is, let them weep for you.
I said no, that's no.
My advice is, get your hat out of the ring.
I need a lieutenant governor who's got balls.
Open the goddamn gate! I'm a family man and there's nothing harder for a family man than to see those he loves suffer or cause suffering.
My brother's crime devastated us.
My daughter's rape did too.
There's a new study out which claims that some people are wired to commit violent crimes.
That they have defects in their brain.
That they have less grey matter in their pre-frontal lobe.
Just behind the eyes, they're missing the piece that keeps rage inside.
If true, those people are predestined to rape and murder.
They cannot be held accountable.
Anatomy is destiny.
I don't care a fuck about this goddamn toilet paper, you know.
- Take your fucking piece! - All right.
Lock down! Lock down! McManus, where's your fucking sense of fun? - Hello.
- Tim? - Yeah.
- Diane.
- Yeah? - How are you? I'm good.
I wrote you, but I didn't hear back.
Did you get my letter? Yeah, I got it.
I've been busy.
I heard.
You're running Unit B now.
- My boys behaving themselves? - Diane, what do you want? - To see if you're okay.
- I'm good.
I gotta go.
Tim.
- Hey.
- How's things? The truth? I miss Diane.
I miss Em City.
I'm constantly constipated.
I've managed to completely and literally fuck up my entire life.
That's how I am.
Constipation, that you can fix.
Right.
Want to grab a beer? No, thanks.
I got a date.
Every time I ask you to do something, you're otherwise engaged.
I'm getting paranoid.
You pissed at me? When Glynn fired me, what did you do? - I called you immediately.
- Yeah, you were very sympathetic, and then you took my job.
Only temporarily.
I told Glynn I did not want to replace you.
I brought you into Oz! When I was fired, you should have quit.
- Tim - I gotta go.
Tim, you know, give me a break here.
Kareem Said.
According to this file, you are one incredible pain in the ass.
Well, that is only one interpretation.
Another could be that I strive for justice where there is none.
What I strive for is peace and quiet.
My mandate from Warden Glynn is simple: No violence.
I applaud you on your mandate.
I abhor violence.
That is incredibly sweet of you.
I'm thinking of making some changes, and I'm hoping you're not gonna stir up any trouble.
Depends.
What kind of changes? Patience, patience.
"We must be as patient with others as we expect Allah to be with us.
" Now, you don't mind if I quote you, do you? Found this in the bottom of the drawer.
McManus must have left it behind.
- I gave it a quick read.
- And? Didn't really hold my interest.
Too self-righteous.
You can go.
Hundred dollars.
Hundred dollars.
That's all for you if you want it! Prisoner number 00K251, Kevin Ketchum, a.
k.
a.
Supreme Allah.
Convicted March 22nd, 2000, murder in the second degree.
Sentence, 25 years, up for parole in ten.
This is your sponsor.
He's gonna help acclimate you to life in Emerald City.
Kevin Ketchum, Kareem Said.
My government name is Ketchum.
My real name is Supreme Allah.
All right, let's go, Allah.
- Who's that? - Supreme Allah.
I knew him back on the corner.
What kind of a name is Supreme Allah? - He's a five percenter.
- Five cent of what? He's a five percenter.
They believe that five percent of all black men are enlightened with a true understanding of life.
Yeah, they also believe that the black man is God, and that we whiteys are the devil.
They're like Muslims, except they smoke weed, they deal drugs, and they do what they gotta do.
Oh, fuck, he's gonna be my cellmate.
Shit! Bye-bye.
- Peace, black man.
- Look, look, I ain't buying what you're selling, dog.
I met a lot of you five percenters along the years, with your prophet Musa and how much the earth weighs shit.
You know, we stuck in here.
We stuck in here together.
And I don't need you preaching me, understand? - Yeah, all right.
- All right, then.
- They call you Poet, huh? - Damn skippy, they call me Poet.
Can I read some of your stuff? Why do you want to read any of my stuff? I like poetry.
You know, I suck at writing myself.
- Start on page 16.
- Thanks.
Some of my shit got put in that anthology.
Damn! Hey, this is good, man.
Fuck me, man.
No more pens.
You must fall in line behind us.
I ain't got no problem working with you.
You're not hearing what I'm saying.
Oh, I hear clearly, Arif.
Thing is, you don't want me any more than the devil does.
You will obey me.
You don't want to be touching me, son.
This is getting us nowhere.
Why don't you all just back off? Supreme Allah, you call yourself Muslim.
But we believe that your way, - that is a corruption of the truth.
- We don't want you poisoning the minds of the young brothers here in Oz.
I'm gonna speak my mind while I'm here.
And whoever listens, listens.
Whoever don't, be damned.
Thank you, officer.
You want me in or out? Out.
- There you are.
- Yes.
- What are you up to, Adebisi? - Me? - Nothing.
- Nothing? So how am I to be included in your nothing? The earth is about to quake.
I came to warn you.
Take shelter.
- How big a quake? - Big.
But you, you can be safe with me.
Once again you honour me with your offer of protection.
- And once again you refuse? - Regretfully.
You can ask a girl out on a date so many times and get refused.
You could just tell me what's going on.
Count! You'll find out soon enough, eh? I have decided to junk the council that used to meet regularly, and replace that system with trusties who will be responsible for citing grievances and maintaining order.
These trusties will be Simon Adebisi, Chucky Pancamo and Enrique Morales.
Now, having met with each of you individually, I've decided to transfer several of you back to gen pop.
The following men will follow Officer Johnson out.
- This sucks! - No one asked your opinion, Hoyt.
That's enough out of you.
Grab your stuff! This is nuts.
Making Adebisi, Pancamo and Morales trusties? I mean, they're the three worst motherfuckers in this place.
And transferring all the Aryans and bikers? - I mean, what kind of logic is that? - I'm not Tim McManus.
I'm not looking to create some Oz version of the Rainbow Coalition.
I reviewed their records.
All of them have repeated incidents of violence.
And Adebisi doesn't? You're just gonna have to learn to trust me.
I wish you'd learn to discuss policy changes with me - before you announce them.
- Not my style.
- Clearly.
- You don't like it, you can follow Hoyt and the rest of them out the door.
- You know what? I will.
- I'll start the paperwork.
- The sooner the better.
- The sooner.
Yeah.
Oh, yeah.
Did you know about this? That you'd been made a trusty? Yeah, yeah.
But I was sworn to secrecy.
How come I wasn't made a trusty? - Ask Querns.
- And how come all these new arrivals, - none of them is Muslim? - Ask Querns.
We had a deal, Adebisi.
That's true.
We did.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I got business to do.
No, no, no.
- We have to talk, Querns.
- Later.
- Now.
- Johnson.
We'll talk later.
Back off, back off.
All right, back! Officers! Get it off! Now! Move it! Man, we've gotta get him to the hospital.
This is Unit B.
Get a fucking gurney over here! - What happened? - He's been raped.
- Gloria, you don't have to - I'm fine.
- No - No, Tim, I'm fine.
Let's drape and prep for an anoscopy.
You know, when I was first elected governor, crime was out of control.
But we went to work, fighting for increased rights for Hey, can you turn that down? I'm waiting for my soap to come back on.
Mac just left Felicia.
Again.
- Turn it the fuck down! - Why are you always so grumpy? - Hey, what are you doing? - Painting.
They just painted our cells a couple weeks ago.
Painting a mural, asshole.
A portrait.
- Of who? - Myself.
I want to leave something behind after they execute me.
What makes you think the next guy in that cell will want to spend his last days staring at your ugly ass? - You calling me ugly, black boy? - Motherfucker! Are my little darlings raising their voices? - Do we need a time out? - Lopresti, how come you're still here? Shirley Bellinger told the warden you were fucking her every night.
Yeah, that bitch almost got me fired.
But I was able to persuade Glynn that she's a lying sack of shit.
But she wasn't lying.
You were eating that pussy like chicken chow mein.
Goddamn! I don't want to hear any more talk about that cunt.
Got me? Things sure are different around here without old Shirley.
Yeah.
That's been happening a lot.
Yeah, fag, you keep me up at night.
God forbid you shouldn't get your beauty sleep.
Maybe you should be in the hospital, man.
No.
Don't want to die in a hospital.
You'd rather die in here? I'd rather expire sunning myself on the Riviera in the arms of a 17-year-old adonis.
But c'est la vie.
Still, maybe you should have yourself checked out.
I thank you, Moses, for your concern.
- You going fag, Deyell? - When you gonna shut the fuck up? When I die, nigger! Fuck! My hand! My fucking hand! Oh, fuck! You gotta remember, Deyell, you hit a wall, generally the wall wins.
Yeah, Moses here is not known for his mental muscle.
I got more brains in my little finger than you.
Well, right now, your little finger is in little pieces.
Listen, try to keep this cast clean.
You're gonna have it on for six weeks.
All done.
Dr.
Nathan, you ain't been up to see Ginzburg lately.
No, I took a short leave of absence.
I assumed Dr.
Prestopnik was examining him.
Prestopnik ain't been up there one time.
Quit yapping, Deyell.
Again.
Have you been having chills, night sweats, shortness of breath? Yes.
A trifecta.
We should probably transfer you to the AIDS ward.
When I got the death penalty for suffocating Antonio Nappa, I thought, "Oh, this'll be fun.
" - Fun? - See what kills me first: The state or the disease.
Guess the disease is winning.
Prisoner number 00K414, Patrick Keenan.
Convicted March 25th, 2000.
Assault in the first degree, rape.
Sentence, 12 years.
Up for parole in seven.
- Hey, O'Reily.
- Hey.
You know Patrick Keenan? - No.
- Patrick, this is Ryan O'Reily.
I heard of you.
You and your brother used to run the Bridges Street Gang.
Yeah.
Boy, that's a nice shamrock.
Oh, yeah, thanks.
My lucky charm.
- So, what did they catch you doing? - Rape and assault.
That so? Patrick's the one who did Dr.
Nathan.
You raped Dr.
Nathan? - Yeah.
- Why? I don't know.
I was in the mood.
He was in the mood.
All right.
Hey, it's good to meet you there, Keenan.
You and me, maybe we can get together and do some business sometime.
Yeah, I'd like that.
Working for the O'Reily brothers.
Okay.
See you.
Yeah! Hey, goldilocks, you want to suck some chocolate? I'm switching him to one milligram of Haldol.
- Are you sure? - What do you suggest, counselling? What the fuck is going on, Adebisi? Letting these assholes fuck with my brother? - We had a goddamn deal! - Relax, O'Reily, before you blow a blood vessel.
I've already spoken to Tidd and Browne.
- Haven't I? - Yeah.
- Browne? - Yeah, man.
This type of bullshit won't happen again.
Okay? He all right? They got him so tanked up on Haldol, it's like he's in a fucking coma.
Is that such a bad thing? O'Reily, I got a question for you.
Stanislofsky, come in.
Sit.
I've been playing catch-up on a lot of what's been happening here.
Been reading the file on the death of one Ralph Gulino.
Tragic.
Drugs very serious problem.
Yeah.
Except he had no history of drugs, so how does he die of an O.
D? A mystery.
I understand you and Gulino didn't get along.
Who says that? Did you ask me a question? Because you don't get to ask me questions.
You are my main suspect in Gulino's death.
You are my only suspect.
I'm gonna be watching you, perched like a Czarist eagle.
You said we should wait.
So we wait, and look what happens.
O'Reily goes to the hacks and tells them you and I killed Gulino.
- O'Reily said that? You and me? - Yes.
So take care of him.
We whack O'Reily now, they'll have all the proof they need.
No, thanks.
I got a birthday coming up.
I don't want to spend it in solitary.
Look, I know that Russian cocksucker's been talking smack about me, Jaz, but you can't trust that motherfucker.
I don't trust him.
I don't trust you neither.
Okay, fine.
Only he's supposed to be your pal, right? I'll bet he hasn't told you about the cell phone.
Cell phone? What cell phone? Ralph Gulino's cell phone.
That's why he killed that wop.
Now who do you trust? What's going on? Droog.
What is problem? Cut the shit.
Give me the cell phone.
Give it to me.
So, what is going to happen to me now? We're thinking maybe you die.
Everybody's always looking for an excuse.
I killed that man because, A, I was abused as a child, B, I had shitty parents, C, I was raised in poverty, D, all of the above.
If the only thing you know from the cradle on up is violence what other choice have you got? Fuck! What other reason do you need? Morning, Bob.
Bob, please, when are you gonna stop this silent treatment? I said I'm sorry that I didn't tell you I was building a new tunnel.
That I didn't ask you to escape with me.
What more can I do? Count.
- How is he? - Not good.
Hey, Beecher, get your ass out here.
Leave him alone.
Beecher, now.
You can see he's there.
Why does he have to stand in line? Rules is rules.
Fuck you.
What? Fuck you.
Fuck your rules.
Rebadow, I expect Keller to be mouthy, but not you.
The man's children have been kidnapped.
His son's hand cut off.
Beecher's obviously in pain.
Why torture him more? Keep going.
All right, quiet down.
Quiet down, now.
Who knew you had balls? Shut the fuck up! A few years ago, I was attacked by some of the black boys, and landed in the hospital.
I remember.
The bruises healed, but I was flooded with fear.
Well, that's natural.
I hadn't felt such fear since I was about to be executed, and then wasn't.
Killing Raoul Hernandez, as as terrible as it was, has I don't know, I feel alive.
I'm not afraid to die.
Teach me.
Teach you what? How to box.
You gotta be kidding me, right? I want to learn to defend myself.
Rebadow, I ain't got the time or the interest.
Take off.
I can teach you.
- Cyril! - No, I can if I want.
Okay, first you gotta learn how to stand.
Fucking Cyril.
Hey, Rebadow, give me your pie, pops.
No.
Oh, you're gonna give me your pie or I'm gonna break your old ass in two.
Okay.
How does it taste, man? You missed a great lunch, but I got you something.
Toby, take it.
Toby, you gotta eat something.
Take it.
Take the fucking orange and eat it.
Come on.
Nothing like fresh-squeezed orange juice.
Cellmates.
It's like being married.
Rebadow still ignoring you? Worse.
He's like a different person It's like when I was gone, some alien took over his body.
He certainly has changed.
It's unsettling.
After a certain age, people shouldn't change.
Here he comes.
- Mr.
Morales.
- Whoa, slow down there, Rebadow.
I want to talk to you.
Let him be, Chico.
What do you need? When I agreed to kill Hernandez, you said in return I could have anything I wanted.
True.
And now you want me to repay the debt? Yes.
Okay.
What can I do for you? I want you to let me kill someone else.
Daddy! Daddy? Daddy? He has these dreams a lot? Ever since his kids got nabbed.
Well, I'll speak to him.
Sister Peter Marie too.
Given her relationship with Beecher, she's being rather casual about all this.
That's not true.
I can't help thinking her distance has something to do with me.
Well, shocking as this seems, not everything has to do with you.
Keller's right.
It is about him.
The doubts he put in my mind about being a nun, my effectiveness as a psychologist But Pete, Beecher needs you.
Ray, I know.
Do you remember what I said to you a few weeks ago about putting on a facade so I could get through each day? - Sure.
- I am unable to comfort Tobias.
I mean, I don't even look him in the eye, because I know that if I do, my facade will crumble.
So that's worse than no help to him.
Beecher hasn't been out of his cell for two solid days.
He just lies in his bunk, sobbing like a wuss.
Good.
That's what's truly elegant about this plan of mine.
We don't physically touch Beecher and yet the damage done is far more hideous.
Time to put parts three and four into motion.
Hank.
Yeah.
I want you to drop off the other package.
Right, where we talked about.
Bye.
You should stop smoking, Father.
I know, I know.
It's bad for my health.
There's a law about smoking in public places.
In state-owned buildings.
- Is this bothering you? - Yes! Hello, Tobias.
Thank you, officer.
Wait outside, please.
Take a seat, Toby.
I know what this is about, Dad.
The FBI found Gary? Yes.
Gary's body.
He's dead.
Yes.
I knew.
I knew when I heard about the hand.
And Holly? Any news? No, no.
Not yet.
I'd like to go to Gary's funeral.
We've already made arrangements.
I want him buried right next to his mother.
I wanna see the graves I've dug lined up one next to the other.
Oh, son.
Son It's funny, I can't cry.
I don't have any more tears left.
Chris, I want to ask you something I probably haven't asked you because I didn't want to know the answer.
I know you were married all those times, and I'm wondering if I was the first, you know, the first man.
Well, I guess that answers my question.
No.
No, it doesn't.
I just think it's an odd conversation for us to be having right before you go to your son's funeral.
The FBI says you're responsible for a series of homosexual murders.
The FBI I'm not asking you to tell me if you committed the murders.
I'm asking you if you've ever felt this way with another man.
No.
I have not felt this way.
I swear, Toby.
You're lying.
Toby You're lying.
Sweet dreams, baby.
Yes? Oh, come in.
Sit.
Thanks, officer.
Smoke? They're bad for you.
Shirley Bellinger, before she was executed, gave me a little hint as to who impregnated her when she was in Oz.
She said, "Neither rain nor snow," which I believe is part of the old motto of the U.
S.
Postal Service.
Since you deliver the mail to Death Row, I'm figuring she was telling me that you were the father.
Well, you're wrong.
I never had sex with Shirley.
Not that I didn't want to.
Even if you had been right, what's it matter? She's dead.
I don't know you, Schillinger.
I don't know what you're capable of.
I know your reputation, of course.
Even so, I find it hard to believe you would cut the hand off a small child.
That you would kill a boy who never hurt a soul.
I never did anything to Beecher's kid.
I'm going to tell you something now.
Beecher is the one who found your son Hank.
Yeah, I know.
You know? He did it to fuck with me, the same with Andrew.
No.
He did it to make up for what happened to Andrew.
He did it in the hopes of putting the anger that exists between you behind you.
This I swear to you on my vow as a priest.
If I'm lying to you, may I be damned for all time.
Schillinger, don't let anything happen to Beecher's daughter.
If you have any decency left inside you If you if you have a soul you'll let that girl go free.
All right, so you asked me to do a little digging, right? So I dug here.
Nothing.
I dug there.
Zip.
But then, a gusher.
- Tell me.
- Tell me? I got valuable information, and we haven't even negotiated a price.
How much? Hey, I got kids too, all right? My youngest, Tabitha, she needs massive amounts of dental work.
That poor girl's teeth are fucked up, man.
- Zabitz.
- All rotted out.
Please, not now.
All right.
But you pay the dental bills.
Every last one of them.
Okay.
Just tell me what you know about the kidnapping.
According to a very reliable source on the outside, this was a job for hire.
The actual perp's name is Bob "Big Butt" Tolan.
Who hired him? I hesitate.
Why? Because it's someone, I understand, who's very near and dear to you.
Who, for chrissake? Chris Keller.
Can you be you sure of this? I'm as sure as anybody can be about anything.
I need you to find out the truth.
That's my job.
He's done a lot of fucked up things to me, but this makes no sense.
Guys like Keller are hunters.
They kill for sport.
You think you're a pretty cool customer, huh? Well, let's just say I've spent my share of time in interrogations.
You ever hear of a fellow by the name of Mark Carocci? No.
- Byam Lewis? - Nope.
How about Brice Tibbetts? No, no, and no.
All three of these men were homosexuals.
All three hung out in the same gay bar.
All three turned up dead.
That is, after they were sodomized and tortured.
Yeah? Yeah.
But here's what's curious.
You moved to the city in December of '97.
These men were killed in January, March and May of '98.
You got sent to Oz in June of that year.
Suddenly, the killings stop.
What a bizarre coincidence.
We know you're guilty.
You got proof? Evidence? Witnesses? You frequented the same gay bar.
That doesn't make me a murderer any more than it makes me a fag.
And yet you are, aren't you? A fag? - You suck Tobias Beecher's cock.
- He sucks mine.
From what I hear, you and he have had a pretty bumpy courtship.
Lots of pain inflicted on both sides.
You in on this latest round? I don't follow you.
The death of his son.
Me kill his son? You're joking, right? Now, when have you ever known the FBI to joke? Lights out! How you doing? You've been very quiet today.
Let me ask you something.
What should I do if I ever find out who killed Gary? You should whack them.
I'd help you.
- Yeah? - It'd be my pleasure.
What the fuck? You murdered my son! Get the fuck off! You think I did that? You're capable of fucking anything! You bitch! - I'm here for my money.
- Pay him.
- You really got a kid with rotten teeth? - Yeah.
You should see her mouth, man.
Nothing but decay.
Genetics or environment? Like in everything else, society searches for the magic bullet, the easy answer.
Because the more complex the answer is, the more terrified we become.
Is the root of violence much deeper, much darker? How about pure evil? Maybe we human creatures are inherently evil.
Maybe evil is ingrained, imbedded in our souls.
Flip Wilson used to joke, "The devil made me do it.
" Maybe he was right.
Or maybe not.
Hello, Hank.
Yeah.
Want you to drop off the other package at the grandparents' house.
No.
Alive.