The criminal mind-- For the past 200 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?
lf 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;
lllegal 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 l first saw you, l thought,
''What the fuck is Johnny Basil doing in Oz?''
And then l remembered last year you went to narcotics, right?
One of the greaseballs told me your name was Desmond Mobay? Huh?
- You gonna blow my cover? - Depends.
- On what l do for you? - None of the inmates know l'm a cop.
lt was part of my deal when l turned state's evidence.
l got a new identity too.
Now scumbags out there find out the truth,
l'm prime beef for any asshole looking to up his cred.
And so?
And so one hand washes the other, my brother in blue.
You know what l 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.
l wasn't surprised when l heard you went down.
Oh, so you do want me to tell the guys you're undercover?
l would be happy to help you in any way l can.
Glad we understand each other.
Excuse me there, Butch.
Butch? Yo.
Normally when a police officer's brought into Oz
l give them special counseling.
Why?
lt's going to be tough for you
going from a position of authority
to being strip searched.
- You might feel humiliated. - Not me.
- Vulnerable. - Uh-Uh.
Okay, that's fine, but if you should experience feelings like that,
- l just want you to know l'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.
- Know what l hate more than anything? - What's that, Mondo?
This white trash trying to be thugs.
l feel you. l hate that too.
How about you, pussy? How you feel about that, huh?
What l hate is jive-ass niggers.
How the fuck is this you watching my back?
l got a C.O. there as soon as l could.
- Should've pulled those apes off me. - Apes. Yeah.
Niggers, yeah. l jump in and save you,
a fucking white, redneck asshole,
l might as well pack up and leave Oz.
Well, then maybe you better start packing,
'cause anything like this fucking happens again,
everyone's gonna know who you are,
and you're a dead man, Johnny.
Hey, Mobay. Did you forget?
What?
lf you want to join us, you gotta kill somebody.
l haven't forgotten.
The new man doesn't want any violence in Emerald City,
so if you're gonna do the deed,
make it look like an accident.
Do it far away from here.
l gotcha, man.
Hill. Hill.
l'm asleep.
Hear that? That's me snoring.
- l need your help. - l don't give people help.
Adebisi and the others say they will let me in
if l kill somebody.
And what?
You want me to volunteer to be your victim?
No.
l have decided who to kill, but l need your cooperation to do it.
That shit you're snorting is rotting your brain.
l ain't helping you kill nobody.
- But-- - No. No way, no how.
- But-- - Hey, look, shut up, Mobay.
l'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?
Dress factory's freight elevator.
Now, l say we tip his chair and let him go tumbling down the shaft.
Right.
Fuck.
Are you sure this guy's coming?
Yes.
Jeez, you don't know how good you got it till it's gone.
All those times l moaned about walking the beat,
l'd give my fucking right nut
to be in the snow working the fucking Spick Day parade.
Okay, Mobay. l'm here, man. What you want?
You think you got me over a barrel, don't you?
- What? - So long, butch.
What the fuck are you doing, man?
- Fuck are you doing? - Wait, wait. Let me, let me.
Mobay, for Christ's sake.
Mobay! For Christ's sake, wait. No, man, wait.
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.
l'm seriously considering moving to another cell.
- Relax, brother. The worst is over. - Yeah, right.
Hey.
What are you doing here?
l thought we agreed you shouldn't come visit.
Hill thought he recognized you.
l am here because l'm worried about you, partner.
You're supposed to be e-mailing me regularly.
Not only don't l hear from you, but when l do,
- the reports make no sense. - l was in the hole for a few days.
- Are you using? - No.
You are. l can see it in your eyes.
- Okay, but l had to. - That's it.
l'm telling the Lieutenant to pull you out of here.
No! Shuman wants the job done,
and l'm so fucking close to busting these guys.
l know l fucked up, but l can turn it around.
l know l can, Kina. Trust me.
Okay, but l 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 is shooting a public service announcement.
Oh, that's right. l forgot.
Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to...
Are you all right?
l may be getting the flu.
Quick as you can, guys.
Warden, your wife is here.
- Mary. - We need to talk.
Uh, excuse me.
Warden, we're moments away here. Sir, please.
Excuse me.
What's the matter?
l just got a call from a reporter asking about your brother.
Well, l knew this was coming.
He said that tomorrow the Tribune is breaking the story
that Mark is serving a life sentence for murder and did you have any comment.
l got a lot of comments, none of them printable.
Warden, l'm sorry.
We're trying to make our little movie here.
We're on a very, very tight schedule.
Excuse me. l'm sorry.
Thank you so much. Sorry about that.
Okay, you guys, just sign off on him, all right?
- So we can get this over with. - Okay.
- This isn't such a terrible thing. - Oh, no?
We 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.
Press doesn't have to know when you knew.
l'm starting to feel like Ronald fucking Reagan.
We also leak the news that your daughter was raped.
Public will love the fact
that you know all sides of crime.
l'm not gonna exploit Arnet'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,
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 l'm saying is let them weep for you.
l said no. That's no.
My advice is get your hat out of the ring.
l need a Lieutenant Governor who's got balls.
Open the goddamn gate!
l'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 gray matter
in their prefrontal lobe just behind the eyes.
They're missing the piece that keeps rage inside.
lf true, those people
are predestined to rape and murder.
They cannot be held accountable.
Anatomy is destiny.
l don't give a fuck about this toilet paper.
You know, take your fucking toilet paper, all right?
Hey.
Lockdown!
McManus, where's your fucking sense of fun?
- Hello. - Tim?
- Yeah. - Diane.
- Yeah? - How are you?
l'm good.
l wrote you, but l didn't hear back.
Did you get my letter?
Yeah. l got it. l been busy.
l heard you're running unit B now.
My boys behaving themselves?
Diane, what do you want?
To see if you're okay.
l'm good. l gotta go.
- Oh, man. - Tim.
- Hey. - How's things?
The truth? l miss Diane.
l miss Em City. l'm constantly constipated.
l've managed to completely and literally fuck up my entire life.
That's how l am.
Constipation-- That you can fix.
Right.
Want to grab a beer?
No thanks. l got a date.
Every time l ask you to do something,
you're otherwise engaged. l'm getting paranoid. You pissed at me?
When Glynn fired me, what did you do?
l called you immediately.
Oh, yeah. You were very sympathetic, and then you took my job.
Only temporarily. l told Glynn l did not want to replace you.
l brought you in to Oz.
- When l was fired, you should've quit. - Tim.
- l 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 l strive for justice where there is none.
What l strive for is peace and quiet.
My mandate from Warden Glynn is simple: no violence.
l applaud you on your mandate. l abhor violence.
that is incredibly sweet of you.
l'm thinking of making changes and l'm hoping you're not gonna stir up 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 l quote you, do you?
Found this in the bottom of the drawer.
McManus must've left it behind. l gave it a quick read.
- And? - Didn't really hold my interest.
Too self-righteous. You can go.
$100. Ride it out.
That's all for you if you want it.
That's funny.
Prisoner number 00K251,
Kevin Ketchum, aka Supreme Allah;
Convicted March 22nd, 2000;
murder in the second degree.
Sentence: 25 years,
up for parole in 10.
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.
Knew him back on the corner.
What kind of a name is the Supreme Allah?
He's a five percenter.
A five center what?
He's a five percenter. He believes that 5°/% of all black men
are enlightened with the 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, they do what they gotta do.
Oh, fuck. He's gonna be my cellmate.
Shit.
Bye-Bye.
Peace, black man.
Look, look, l ain't buying what you selling, dog.
Met a lot of you five percenters along the years, with your prophet moves,
sayin' how much the Earth weighs shit.
You know, we stuck in here. We stuck in here together.
And l don't need you preaching me, you understand?
- Yeah. All right. - All right then.
They call you ''Poet,'' huh?
Damn skippy they call me ''Poet.''
Can l read some of your stuff?
Why do you want to read any of my stuff?
Like poetry.
You know, l suck at writing, myself.
- Start on page 16. - Thanks.
Some of my shit got put in that anthology.
Damn.
Yo, this is good, man.
Fuck me, man. No more pens.
Yo, yo.
You must fall in line behind us.
l ain't got no problem working with you.
You're not hearing what l'm saying.
Oh, l hear clearly, Arif.
Thing is, you don't own 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.
Well, 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.
l'm gonna speak my mind while l'm here.
And whoever listens, listens.
Whoever don't, be damned.
Thank you, officer.
You want me in or out?
Out.
- Hey there. - Yes.
What are you up to, Adebisi?
Me? Nothing.
Nothing? So how am l to be included in your ''nothing''?
The Earth is about to quake.
l came to warn you, take shelter.
- How big a quake? - Big.
But you, you can be safe with me.
Once again, you honor 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?
l have decided to junk the council
that used to meet regularly
and replaced that system with trustees
who will be responsible
for citing grievances and maintaining order.
These trustees will be
Simon Adebisi,
Chucky Pancamo
and Enrique Morales.
Now having met with each of you individually,
l've decided to transfer several of you back to Gen Pop.
The following men will follow Officer Johnson out:
97H81 3, Henke;
99S81 2, Sands;
98B643, Blakely;
97 S532, Simpson;
95J932, Jarvis;
98H432, Hoyt.
This sucks!
No one asked your opinion, Hoyt.
That's enough out of you. Grab your stuff!
Now this is nuts.
Making Adebisi, Pancamo and Morales trustees?
l mean, they're the three worst motherfuckers in this place.
And transferring all the Aryans and bikers?
- l mean, what kind of logic is that? - l'm not Tim McManus.
l'm not looking to create some Oz version
of the rainbow coalition. l reviewed their records.
All of them have repeated incidents of violence.
- And Adebisi doesn't? - Gonna have to learn to trust me.
l 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? l will. - l'll start the paperwork.
- The sooner the better. - The sooner.
Yeah.
Ah, yeah...
Did you know about this?
That you'd be made a trustee?
Yeah, yeah, but l was sworn to secrecy.
- How come l wasn't made a trustee? - 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, l've got business to do.
No, no, no, no.
- We have to talk, Querns. - Later.
- Now. - Johnson.
We'll talk later.
Back off. Back off.
Hey! Hey!
- Officer! - Get him off now!
Move it!
Damn it, we got to 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--
- l'm fine. - No.
No, Tim, l'm fine. Let's drape and prep for an anoscopy.
You know, when l was first elected Governor,
crime was out of control, but we went to work
- fighting for three strikes - Hey, can you turn that down?
l'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 you doing?
Painting.
Well, they just painted our cells a couple weeks ago.
Painting a mural, asshole, a portrait.
- Of who? - Of myself.
l want to leave something behind after they execute me.
Miles, 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 timeout?
Lopresti, how come you still here?
Shirley Bellinger told the warden you were fucking her every night.
Yeah, that bitch almost got me fired, but l was able to persuade Glynn
that she's a lying sack of shit.
Well, she wasn't lying. You were eating that pussy like chicken chow mein.
- God damn! - l 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.
Jeez. 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? - l'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.
Thank you, Moses, for your concern.
- You going fag, Deyell? - When you gonna shut the fuck up, man?
When l die, nigger.
Ow! 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.
l got more brains in my little finger than you, Lopresti.
Well, right now your little finger is in little pieces.
All right, 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, l took a short leave of absence.
l assumed Dr. Prestopnik was examining him.
Prestopnik ain't been up there one time.
Quit yapping, Deyell.
Again.
You've been having chills, night-sweats, shortness of breath?
Yes, a trifecta.
l should probably transfer you to the AlDS ward.
When l got the death penalty for suffocating Antonio Nappa,
l thought, ''Oh, this'll be fun.''
Fun?
To see what kills me first-- the State or the disease.
Guess the disease is winning.
Prisoner number 00K414,
Patrick Keenan; convicted March 25, 2000;
assault in the first degree, rape.
1 2 years, up for parole in seven.
- Hey, O'Reily. - Hey.
Have you met Patrick Keenan?
No.
Patrick, this is Ryan O'Reily.
l heard of you.
You and your brother used to run the Bridget Street gang.
Yeah.
Boy, that's a-- that's a nice shamrock.
Yeah, thanks. My lucky charm.
- So what did they catch you doing? - Rape, assault.
- That so? - Patrick's the one who did Dr. Nathan.
You raped Dr. Nathan?
- Yeah. - Why?
l don't know. l was in the mood.
He was ''in the mood.'' That right?
Hey, it's good to meet you there, Keenan.
You and me, maybe we can get together and do some business sometime.
l'd like that-- working for the O'Reily brothers.
Okay. See you.
Yeah... Where're you going?
Hey, Goldilocks, want to suck some chocolate?
No!
l'm switching him to one milligram of Haldol.
- Are you sure? - Well, what do you suggest? Counseling?
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.
l've already spoken to Tidd and Browne.
- Haven't l? - Yes.
- Brown? - 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.
ls that such a bad thing?
O'Reily... l got a question for you.
Stanislofky...
come here, sit.
l been playing catch-up on a lot of what's been happening here.
Been reading the file on the death of one Ralph Galino.
Tragic. Drugs very serious problem.
Yeah. Except he had no history of drugs,
- so how does he die of an O.D.? - A mystery.
l understand you and Galino 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 Galino's death.
You are my only suspect.
l'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 l killed Galino.
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. l got a birthday coming up.
l don't want to spend it in Solitary.
Look, l know that Russian cocksucker's been talking smack about me, Jaz,
but you can't trust that motherfucker.
l don't trust him. l don't trust you neither.
Okay, fine. Only he's supposed to be your pal, right?
l'll bet he hasn't told you about the cell phone.
Cell phone? What cell phone?
Ralph Galino's cell phone.
- That's why he killed that wop. - Shit.
Now who do you trust?
What's going on?
Druke, what is problem?
Cut the shit.
Give me the cell phone.
Give it to me.
So what is going to happen to me now?
l'm thinking... maybe you die.
They're murdering me! Guards!
Guards, guards! Guards!
Break it up, break it up.
Get up against the wall. Get up back there!
Everybody's always looking for an excuse.
''l killed that man 'cause:
A) l was abused as a child;
B) l had shitty parents;
C) l was raised in poverty;
D) All of the above.''
lf the only thing you know from the cradle on up is violence...
what other choice have you got?
- Fuck! - Nyet!
What other reason do you need?
Morning, Bob.
Bob, please.
When are you gonna stop this silent treatment?
l said l'm sorry
that l didn't tell you l was building a new tunnel,
that l didn't ask you to escape with me. What more can l do?
Count!
- How is he? - Not good.
88K214, 77P326,
98K514, 97B41 2.
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, l'd 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?
Right! Yeah!
Keep going.
- 96Q415, 18T304... - All right, quiet down!
- Quiet down now! - Who knew you had balls?
Shut the fuck up!
A few years ago, l was attacked by some of the black boys
- and landed in the hospital. - l remember.
The bruises healed,
but l was flooded with fear.
Well, that's natural.
l hadn't felt such fear since l was about to be executed
and then wasn't.
Killing Raul Hernandez, as--
as terrible as it was, as--
l don't know. l feel alive.
l'm not afraid to die.
- Teach me. - Teach you what?
How to box.
You got to be kidding me, right?
l want to learn to defend myself.
Rebadow, l ain't got the time or the interest. Take off.
- l can teach you. - Cyril.
No, l can if l 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 l'm gonna break your old ass in two.
Okay.
You get pie!
How does it taste, man?
You missed a great lunch, but l got you something. Here.
Psst, psst-- Toby, take it.
Toby, you got to eat something. Take it.
Take the fucking orange and eat it. Come on.
Nothing like fresh-squeezed orange juice.
Cell-mates-- it's like being married.
Rebadow still ignoring you?
Worse. He's like a different person.
lt's like when l was gone some alien took over his body.
He certainly has changed.
lt's unsettling.
After a certain age, people shouldn't change.
Shh. Here he comes.
- Mr. Morales... - Whoa. Slow down there, Rebadow.
l want to talk to you.
Let him be, Chico.
What do you need?
When l agreed to kill Hernandez,
you said in return l could have anything l wanted.
True. And now you want me to repay the debt?
Yes.
Okay. What can l do for you?
l want you to let me kill someone else.
Daddy!
Daddy?
He has these dreams a lot?
Ever since his kids got nabbed.
- Well, l'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.
l can't help thinking her distance has something to do with me.
Well, shocking as this seems, Keller,
not everything on the planet has to do with you.
Keller's right. lt 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, l know.
Do you remember what l said to you a few weeks ago
about putting on a facade so l could get through each day?
- Sure. - l am unable to comfort Tobias.
l mean, l-- l don't even look him in the eye,
because l know that if l do, my facade will crumble.
So that-- that's worse than-- 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. l want you to drop off the other package.
Right. The one we talked about.
Bye.
You should stop smoking, Father.
l know, l know. lt's bad for my health.
There's a law about smoking in public places
- in state-owned buildings. - ls this bothering you?
Yes!
Hello, Tobias.
Thank you, Officer. Wait outside, please.
Take a seat, Toby.
l know what this is about, Dad.
The FBl found Gary?
Yes.
Gary's body. He's dead.
Yes.
l knew.
l knew when l heard about the hand.
And Holly? Any news?
No, no. Not yet.
l'd like to go to Gary's funeral.
We've already made arrangements.
l want him buried right next to his mother.
l want to see the graves l've dug lined up one next to the other.
Oh, Son. Son.
lt's funny, l can't cry.
l don't have any more tears left.
Chris, l want to
ask you something.
l probably haven't asked you 'cause l didn't want to know the answer.
l know you were married all those times,
and l'm wondering if l was the first--
you know, the first man.
Well, l guess that answers my question.
No. No, it doesn't.
l just--
l think it's an odd conversation for us to be having
right before you go to your son's funeral.
The FBl says you're responsible for a series of homosexual murders.
The FBl...
l'm not asking you to tell me if you committed the murders.
l'm asking you if you've ever felt this way with another man.
No.
l have not felt this way.
l swear, Toby.
You're lying.
- Toby, l'm not-- - You're lying.
Sweet dreams, baby.
Yes.
Ah, 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 l believe is part of the old motto
of the U.S. Postal Service.
Since you deliver the mail to death row,
l'm figuring she was telling me that you were the father.
Well, you're wrong.
l never had sex with Shirley.
Not that l didn't want to.
Even if you had been right, what's it matter? She's dead.
l don't know you, Schillinger.
l don't know what you're capable of. l know your reputation...
of course.
But even so, l find it hard to believe
that you would cut the hand off a small child,
that you would kill a boy
who never hurt a soul.
l never did anything to Beecher's kid.
l'm gonna tell you something now.
Beecher is the one who found your son Hank.
l know.
You know.
Yeah, he did it to fuck with me,
- the same way he did 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 l swear to you on my vow as a priest.
lf l'm lying to you, may l be damned for all time.
Schillinger,
don't let anything happen to Beecher's daughter.
lf you have any decency left inside you,
lf 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 l dug here, nothing. l dug there, zip.
But then, a gusher.
- Tell me. - ''Tell me''?
l got valuable information
and we haven't even negotiated a price.
- How much? - Hey, l got kids too, all right?
My youngest, Tabitha,
she needs massive amounts of dental work.
That poor girl's teeth are fucked up, man. They're all rotted out.
Zabitz... 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'' Towland.
Who hired him?
- l hesitate. - Why?
Because it's someone l understand
is very near and dear to you.
Who, for Christ's sake?
Chris Keller.
Can you be sure of this?
l'm as sure as anybody can be about anything.
l 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 l spent my share of time in interrogations.
You ever hear of a fellow by the name of
Mark Karachi?
- No. - Byam Lewis?
- Nope. - How about Bryce 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 stopped.
What a bizarre coincidence.
We know you're guilty.
You got proof?
Evidence? Witnesses?
You frequented the same gay bar.
Oh. Well, you know, 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 l hear, you and he have had a pretty bumpy courtship, huh?
Lots of pain inflicted on both sides.
You in on this latest round?
l don't follow you.
The death of his son.
Me kill his son? You're joking, right?
Now when have you ever known the FBl to joke?
Lights out!
How you doing?
You've been very quiet today.
Let me ask you something.
What should l do if l ever find out who killed Gary?
You should whack him.
l'd help you.
Yeah?
- Well, that'd be my pleasure. - What the fuck?!
You murdered my son!
Get the fuck off him!
You think l'd do that?!
You're capable of fucking anything!
You bitch!
- l'm here for my money. - Pay him.
- You 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,
'cause the more complex the answer is,
the more terrified we become.
ls the root of violence
much deeper, much darker?
How about...
''pure evil''?
Maybe we human creatures are inherently evil.
Maybe evil is ingrained,
embedded in our souls.
Flip Wilson used to joke,
''The Devil made me do it.''
Maybe he was right.
Or maybe not.
Hello, Hank? Yeah.
l want you to drop off the other package
at the grandparents' house.
No... alive.