All language subtitles for Beyond.Belief_.Fact.or.Fiction.S02.E01.WEBRip.Amazon.en-us

[music playing]

Things aren't always
what they seem to be.

Some things are beyond belief.

NARRATOR: "Beyond
Belief: Fact or Fiction,"

hosted by Jonathan Frakes.

We live in a world where
the real and the unreal

live side by side,
where substance

is disguised as illusion,
and the only explanations

are unexplainable.

Can you separate
truth from fantasy?

To do so, you must break through
the web of your experience

and open your mind to
things "Beyond Belief."

[music playing]

This drawing has been baffling
people for nearly a century.

Some of us see it as a
fashionable young lady

and some of us see it as the
portrait of an old woman.

So which is it?
Young or old?

Or is it both?

Tonight, we will be
entertained by stories

that will be based on reality.

Others will be totally
fabricated by a writer.

At the end of the show, we'll
tell you which is which.

But be forewarned.

The difference between
fact and fiction

may be as invisible
as the difference

between young and old.

The airplane pilot
has been a fixture

in the panorama
of American heroes

ever since the Wright brothers.

And no matter how sophisticated
the latest computer flight

technology becomes, it's the
image of one individual using

brains, skills, and guts to
conquer the skies that appeals

to the adventurer in all of us.

Michael Rater's
father was such a man.

He was once his son's hero,
his mentor, his protector.

And his son grew up to share his
father's passion for adventure.

But nothing he ever
did would prepare

Michael for the strangest
adventure of all.

[music playing]

MAN: I hadn't landed at this
little airport in a long time.

It was a regular destination for
my dad and me in the old days.

All I planned was a quick stop.

This was one trip that wasn't
destined to go as planned.

As I walked up to
Roger's coffee shop,

a lot memories came rushing by.

I had known Roger since
I was a little boy.

So when he asked me if I would
deliver a package for him,

of course, I said I would.

Hey.

Michael, good to see you, pal.

How about some coffee?
- Sounds great.

Good.

There you go.

Hey, listen.

I really appreciate you
doing me this favor.

You're a life saver.

Hey, anytime, Roger.

You know I think
of you as family.

Watching you run up like
that, it sure reminded

me a lot of your father.

Yeah, I think about
him all the time.

Yeah.

Your dad was a great guy, one
of the best pilots I ever saw.

You know, I still miss him.

Me too.

Let me get the package.

Yeah.

MICHAEL (VOICEOVER):
I'd almost forgotten

about that photo of Dad and me.

It was a few minutes
after it was taken,

and he gave me his wings.

It really upset me when I
lost them a few years ago.

[siren blaring]

[screaming]

Oh, my god!

Oh, my god!

Daddy!

Daddy!

[crying]

Hey, Michael.

What's wrong?

Is somebody taking your plane?

What the hell?

8-7 Bravo, come in.

8-7 Bravo, do you read me?

8-7 Bravo, do you read me?

8-7 Bravo, come in.

[music playing]

Who took your plane?

Whoever it is,
he's in trouble.

He's leaking oil.

Oh, no.

Oh, my god.

Oh, no!

What the-- it's empty!

There's no one in there!

Yes there was.

What?

Michael, come on.

Get away from there, Mike.

How could a plane fly itself?

Did Michael leave his
engine running with controls

on automatic pilot?

If so, how did those
pilot wings suddenly

appear in the cockpit,
wings that Michael

had misplaced years ago?

Were they suddenly jarred loose
from some crevice of the plane

by the crash, or is the
explanation more mystical?

Maybe Michael's father
spirit did take the controls

to save his son from harm.

Your challenge is to decide did
this story really happen or is

it just a flight of fancy.

NARRATOR: Coming up-- a woman,
home alone, fears for her life

on "Beyond Belief:
Fact or Fiction."

A lockbox-- a good idea
if you're one of the 70

million people in
the United States

who keeps a gun in your home.

Whichever side of the gun
issue you happen to fall on,

nobody wants to see
innocent people harmed.

Tom North kept his
gun in a box like this

for years along with
bullets, registration

papers, and a manual.

He raised two children through
college without incident.

The box was locked tight and
stored out of harm's way.

But the time had
come now to bring

out the weapon
again to help guard

his house from unseen enemies.

This, then, is a story
of a gun, a premonition

of terrifying proportions, and
the deadliest enemy of all--

fear.

WOMAN (VOICEOVER): I knew that
sooner or later, Tom would want

me to learn how to use
his gun, especially

with everything that was
going on in our neighborhood.

It always felt so safe and
secure inside our house.

But first the people
down the block

were robbed, then across the
street, and then our neighbors

right next door.

Suddenly, it didn't feel quite
as secure as it used to feel.

Tom had been planning to
give me the gun for weeks.

He even took it out
to a shooting range

so that he could make sure
it was working properly.

But as for me, I wasn't
as strong as Tom.

In fact, I wasn't sure I'd ever
be able to pull the trigger.

If that were me--

I mean, if I'd seen
that guy in this house--

You know, I am so
sorry I wasn't here.

You know the Drakes woke
up and found him there,

this guy in a ski mask just
rifling through their drawers,

inches away from them?

This guy has really
gotten brazen.

Did the police say
it's just one guy

that robbed all three houses?

I hope so.

I hate to think our
neighborhood would become

a mecca for hordes of hoodlums.

Just what kind of
warped mind thinks

that terrorizing a neighborhood
is an OK way of life?

I just hope it gets
figured out soon.

I don't think this is a good
time for me to be traveling.

Maybe I should cancel.

Oh, honey.

Look.

You've worked for this.

You've waited.

We prayed for this promotion.

And now with the kids
grown and out of the house,

this is the perfect time for
you to follow your dream.

Still.

I'll be all right.

Yeah?

Well, I'll just
make sure of that.

Oh, Tom, no.

I'll just end up
shooting myself.

I know it.
- No.

This gun only shoots bad people.

Is that what your
father told you?

Uh-huh.

And you bought it?

Well, sure.

He was a cop.

He wore a uniform.

He carried this piece.

I'd be nuts to challenge him.

I don't know.

I don't understand these things.

I mean, I don't even
feel comfortable

being this close to a gun.

Look, don't worry about it.

We're going to go out
to a shooting range.

I promise you, once you
get used to using this gun,

you'll see there's
nothing to be afraid of.

Well, let's just
forget about this.

I'm hopeless.

Hey, you did fine.

Oh, yeah, I hit the target--

barely.

It was your first time.

Look, you will get better.

Sure.

When?

I hope to God you never
have to use this gun.

But if you do, you'll
know how to handle it.

Yes.

WOMAN (VOICEOVER):
That night, my anxiety

and fear about the gun
was very heavy on my mind.

[glass shattering]

[gasps]

[clunking noise]

[dial tone]

[rattling noise]

[gasps]

[crashing noise]

No!

No!

No!

[screams]

No!

No!

Oh!

Oh!

It's all right.

It's just a dream.

OK?

WOMAN (VOICEOVER):
It was so real.

I kept pulling the trigger
and it wouldn't fire.

Well, this gun is in
perfect working order.

Well, it's old, Tom.

I can't count on it.

No, no, My father always
maintained this gun.

He got very little use.

He always kept it perfectly
clean and greased.

He did, did he?

This gun won't let you down.

It was just a bad dream.

I know.

You going to be
all right tonight?

No promises.

Maybe I should cancel my trip.

No, no, don't.

No, I have to deal with this.

And you definitely have to work.

So I'll be all right.

WOMAN (VOICEOVER): A few days
later, Tom had to leave town,

and I was destined to relive
my premonitions of terror

all over again.

But this time, it
wasn't a dream.

[glass shattering]

[gasps]

[dialing]

[dial tone]

[banging noise]

[crashing noise]

[gun clicks]

No!

Mom!

Stop, Mom!

Mom, it's me!

Stop, Mom, it's me!

Stop, Mom!

It's me, Mom!
It's me!

It's me, Mom!
Stop!

Oh!

Oh, god, I almost killed you!

MICHAEL (VOICEOVER):
I couldn't believe it.

The gun was going off by
itself, finding its own target.

In a stunning turn
of events, it had

shot and killed the intruder
who had been hiding in our house

all along.

A son who comes
home from college

in the middle of the night,
finds he's forgotten his key,

and decides to let himself
in through a patio door.

Ironically, a genuine
intruder had already

broken into the house, too.

How do you explain the fact
that this gun would not

shoot the son,
yet moments later,

it fires and hits the intruder?

Could it be that this
gun had a special safety

feature, one that only permitted
it to fire at a true enemy?

Or is this a gun that
has only been fired

by a writer's imagination?

NARRATOR: Next-- a
painter possesses

a mysterious secret
power on "Beyond

Belief: Fact or Fiction."

What mysteries lie within
the frame of a portrait?

Why do the eyes of a
painting often seem to follow

as we walk across a room?

The fact is once someone
paints our portrait,

a curious phenomenon
takes place.

There's a silent understanding
that the painting itself

will outlive both its
subject and its artist.

Painter William
Corzine understood

the power of the portrait
far more than most men.

For him, it was a
power that would

eventually pose the question--

does art imitates life or death?

NARRATOR: Art is an elusive
and complex subject.

For centuries,
people have argued

over it, attempted to
define it, redefine it, all

in an effort to describe it.

For renowned landscape
artist William Corzine,

his foray into portrait painting
produced a strange power

he never knew he had.

This is the story
of an artist that,

by all outward appearances,
seems to be blessed

or cursed with a very
unique power, one

that would change his life
and the life of his subjects

forever.

All finished.

Oh, William.

It's very lovely.

You can take
delivery on Wednesday?

Wednesday?

Would you like
me to postpone it?

No.

I just didn't think
it would be so soon.

NARRATOR: What was this
strange power William Corzine

held in his hands?

What made his
clientele so unique?

And why is it that
Edith Waterson,

just like all the
others, never picked

up her finished portrait?

Annie, what if it's wrong?

It's not wrong.

You've been chosen.

You have a special gift.

NARRATOR: And as William's doubt
grew, so did his reputation.

His special gift passed
secretly by word of mouth

to a very select
group of people who

all had one thing in common.

[coughing]

Don't stop.

Keep painting.

Good news, Daniel.

Your portrait is finished.

I think you'll be pleased.

Thank you.

When can I expect--

You can take
delivery on Monday.

NARRATOR: To all his
subjects, William

was their last salvation,
their last hope

to halt the endless days of
suffering, agony, and pain.

- Hi.
- Can I help you?

Well, I would like you
to paint my portrait.

Oh, I'm sorry.

This is a private studio.

I know.

Look, I don't have
a lot of money.

I can't afford to pay you much.

But I really need you
to paint my portrait.

It's not about money.

I'm just very selective
about who I paint.

Mrs. Waterson said
you would help me.

NARRATOR: And he went
about painting her

as fast as he could,
doing his best to capture

her spirit on the canvas.

William was determined to
end the painful torment

of this afflicted
young lady who had come

to him in her moment of need.

Your portrait is done.

Something the matter?

No.

No, it's good.

It's just overwhelming.

I didn't expect it
to be so powerful.

When can I take it home?

You can take
delivery on Wednesday.

NARRATOR: Michelle's
portrait would

be one of his most satisfying.

But it set off a
chain of events that

would tear his world apart.

- William Corzine?
- Yes.

How can I help you?

It's about Michelle Taylor.

What about her?

She's dead.

I want to ask you a
couple of questions.

NARRATOR: He learned he was
the last to see her alive.

Michelle had died under
very mysterious conditions.

They told him all about
her and the circumstances

surrounding her death.

His mind raced with
1,000 thoughts.

How could he have trusted
her so completely?

I made a terrible mistake.

What are you talking about?

The police were just here.

Michelle Taylor is dead.

But isn't that why
you drew her portrait?

Amy, she wasn't sick.

She was depressed because
her boyfriend left her.

Oh, god.

She was 23.

She had her whole
life ahead of her.

But I painted her portrait,
and it killed her.

NARRATOR: William had one
last portrait to paint.

He worked endlessly,
painting day and night,

until it was finally done.

The portrait was, without a
doubt, William's finest effort

to date.

His body was discovered
by his assistant

the following morning.

An autopsy revealed that
he died of a heart attack.

Was this a desperate attempt to
escape justice or a final test

for William Corzine,
an experiment

to resolve his own
uncertainty, his own disbelief

that a mortal man could possess
a power over life itself?

Did William Corzine
really have the power

to end the lives
of his subjects,

or were their deaths a logical
extension of their extremely

fragile states of health?

If so, then how do
you explain the death

of Michelle Taylor, a young
woman in the prime of her life?

Of course, she was
despondent over a lost love,

and deep depression
has been known

to contribute to the
demise of an otherwise

healthy individual.

And what of William's
final gesture?

Did he really take his own life
by painting a self-portrait,

or had the gruesome
circumstances of his life

become too much for
his heart to bear?

Could this story of an artist
be inspired by actual events,

or is this a tale
of artful deception?

NARRATOR: Next, two
boys explore the life

and death corridors of
a hospital on "Beyond

Belief: Fact or Fiction."

An all-access
pass is a precious

commodity because it takes
you wherever you want to go.

Everybody wants one.

Yet they're only issued
to a precious few.

People will pay thousands
of dollars for such passes

at sports events, rock
concerts, press conferences.

At a hospital, it takes
on a different meaning.

Only the most qualified
professional personnel

can be allowed to have one.

The rest of us can only
guess what life and death

mysteries are hidden within the
corridors of a medical center.

But with the help of
this pass, two young men

were about to find out.

MAN (VOICEOVER):
The first time I

met Eddie was when we
shared a room together

at the county hospital.

I didn't know too
much about him,

only that his father was
a doctor at the hospital

and that he was afraid of dying.

They had him taking
test after test,

but nobody would tell
him what was wrong.

I found out later he
had a heart murmur.

But when this
story happened, all

I knew about Eddie's condition
was that he was just like me--

very, very, bored.

Eddie, will you knock it off?

You're driving me nuts.

99 channels and nothing on.

- Hi, son.
- Hey, Dad.

How you doing tonight, Kevin?

Never better, Doc.

Nothing nicer than strained
green beans for dinner.

I can sympathize.

At least it's dry in here.

So were the green beans.

So Dad, being
that you work here

and all, how about checking
me out and taking me home?

Sorry.

One more day, kiddo.

I thought you
said it was nothing.

I'm sure it is.

We just have to run
a couple more tests.

Sorry.

One more day, right?

I promise.

Hey, I got to go pick
up your mom and Chad.

Traitor.

Sleep tight, son.

All right?

Later, Doc.

Later, Mr. O'Donnell.

I have a feeling
there's something

my dad is not telling me.

What if I have some
kind of deadly disease?

That would be cool.

That means I get
the room to myself.

What are you doing?

You dad shouldn't
leave things just lying

around in his coat pocket.

You stole that?

I prefer the word "liberated."

We've got to give it back.

Your dad is not going
to need it tonight.

Let's go out and
have a little fun.

Of course, if you're too scared,
you can stay in here all night

and watch infomercials.

Look, my dad has worked
here ever since I was born.

I've been over every square
inch of this hospital.

I bet there's one
place you haven't been.

Woo, hello!

Relax.

The morgue.

Showtime.

Oh, now this is cool.

And this is your
brain on formaldehyde.

I don't think this
is such a good idea.

Help me!

Help me!

We can get in really
big trouble for this.

No, this is excellent.

Oh, rock on!

Just chill.

Let's see who's behind
door number one.

What are you doing?

Are you nuts?

I'm sorry.

I forgot you're afraid of dying.

That's it.

I'm going back.

Somebody is coming.

Hide, quick!

The ghost is clear.

Come on.

Looks like somebody
just checked in.

That's it.

I'm out of here.

No, no, no.

Not until you open it.

No way.
Forget it.

Come on.
Don't be such a baby.

Just open it.

Ever heard of
respect for the dead?

I don't think our new
friend is going to mind.

I open it, then
we'll leave, right?

You have my solemn word.

[sighs]

Here's-- Eddie, it's you.

[screams]

MAN (VOICEOVER): When I
came to, I didn't see Eddie,

but I could hear the nurses.

Imagine Dr. Anderson losing
two sons, both Eddie and Chad,

in one night.

What happened?

Oh, a real tragedy.

Dr. Anderson and his family were
in a car accident last night.

He's fine, and so is his wife.

The other son, Chad,
died instantly.

So what happened to Eddie?

Well, after the
accident, they brought

Chad's body to the morgue.

Eddie saw it last night,
and his heart gave out.

Well, who can blame them?

They were identical
twins, you know.

MAN (VOICEOVER):
I'll never forget

Eddie or that terrible night.

Had Eddie remained
in his hospital room

instead of snooping
around the morgue,

he might still be alive today.

His father would
have had a chance

to gently and lovingly tell
him of his brother's death.

Instead, the way he came
upon his twin brother's body

so unexpectedly proved to be
too much for his fragile heart

to handle, and all because he
went to the morgue, a place

he didn't belong.

Did the fates conspire to bring
a curious boy and the body

of his identical twin
together at the same time,

or are we conspiring
to mislead you?

NARRATOR: Next,
a radio talk show

host encounters a
mysterious caller on "Beyond

Belief: Fact or Fiction."

This is Jonathan Frakes,
and you are the next caller.

If it's true that the pen is
mightier than the sword, what,

then, do we say
about the microphone?

Talk show radio hosts use this
instrument to reach millions

with thoughts and opinions
designed to provoke, amuse,

influence, and shock
all in the name

of what they call good radio.

Despite the appearance
of a democratic exchange

between a talk show
host and his listeners,

it is the host who holds
the balance of power.

With a flip of a switch, he
can cut off any annoyance.

But what happens when
that balance of power

becomes unbalanced,
when the microphone

becomes the instrument
of a living nightmare?

Is it still good radio?

MAN: OK, line one, you're
on with "Kincaid All Night."

Go ahead.
MAN (ON PHONE): Hi.

My name is--

NARRATOR: Clive Kincaid was the
hottest thing in talk radio.

His late night show
was so popular,

there were plans of syndicating
it across the country.

Of course, Clive made his
living at the expense of others.

Clive had no use for
the people in his life,

especially his listeners.

He thought of them
only as numbers.

And with enough numbers,
his ratings would rise,

and he would get
more famous, more

wealthy, and more powerful.

WOMAN (ON PHONE): Something
like a flying saucer.

So you believe you saw a UFO?

Let me tell you something, pal.

You haven't got a clue.

You're brainless.

You could sell space
between your ears.

WOMAN (ON PHONE): Why
can't you believe it?

Because you're an idiot.

You're about as bright
as a two-watt bulb.

What's it like
going through life

with the porch light on dim?

WOMAN (ON PHONE):
All I'm saying,

I was sitting in my yard--

Wave bye bye, pal.

Next caller.

You're on "Kincaid All Night."
What do you want?

BOY (ON PHONE): Is
this Clive Kincaid?

No.
It's Ricky Ricardo.

Whatever drug you're on,
why don't you up the dosage?

I just wanted to make sure
I'm talking to Clive Kincaid.

[laughs]

They're out there.

They are out there.

Let's go to line 3.

OK, what's your question?

BOY (ON PHONE): My question is
about your son, Ronnie Griffin.

What did you say?

BOY (ON PHONE): Robbie Griffin.

Remember him?
- Yeah.

Time to wave bye bye.

See you, sonny boy.

The psychos are out
there tonight in droves.

We'll be back.

So stay tuned and
don't touch that dial.

Clive, we've got a
slight technical problem.

What are you talking about?

We can't hear the caller.

It sounds like you're
talking to yourself.

Well, I can.

And I don't want you to put
those wackos through to me

anymore.

Conscience is not
the voice of God.

It is the gift of God.

Cheap cookies.

They're all the same.

[groans]

No they're not.

This is Clive Kincaid,
and you're listening

to "Kincaid All Night."

BOY (ON PHONE): It's me again.

Hey, only one call
per wacko per night.

Wave bye bye, pal.

Is anybody listening?
What's going on here?

- I can't hear you.
- Do I get any help at all?

Come on.

Next called.

"Kincaid All Night."

What do you want?

BOY (ON PHONE): You never
answered my question.

Do you remember Robbie Griffin?

Yes, I remember
Robbie Griffin.

But if you think you're
going to take some name

from the past and
screw with me, you've

got another thing coming.

Wave bye bye.

"Kincaid All Night," talk to me.

BOY (ON PHONE): Try all you
want, but you can't get rid

of me.

Why didn't you
ever call or visit?

I don't get this.

I can't hear
anybody but Kincaid.

Something is
seriously wrong here.

OK.

OK, let's deal with
this, all right?

Why not?

I've always been honest
with my audience,

so I'll be honest with you.

Listen, I was passing
through Fort Wayne, Indiana,

and I met someone.

We had a one night
stand, all right?

She calls me a few months
later, and she tells me

she's going to have the baby.

BOY (ON PHONE): So you never
called or visited your own son?

No.

I went to see him once.

I was going through Fort Wayne
again, so I looked him up.

I found him.

I drove over to where he lived.

And there he was,
tossing a tennis

ball up against the wall.

He looked just like me.

I wanted to get out and meet
him, but I lost my nerve.

BOY (ON PHONE): You
left out a part.

I had a baseball glove.

Who is this?

BOY (ON PHONE): It's me, Dad.

It's Robbie.

Robbie is dead.

He died last summer!

This is freaky, man.

Who the hell is Robbie?

I don't know, but we got
to get him out of there.

Clive?

Clive?

Unlock the door. .

What's he looking at?

Clive?

Clive?

I better call Artie.

What the hell do you want?

Why don't you leave me alone?

I never wanted a kid.

I wanted a career!

Damn it, anyway.

What would I do with a kid?

I can't believe this.

What's he doing?

He's losing it.

Of course I thought of you!

Can't you cut him off?

I'm trying everything.

The controls aren't working.

BOY (ON PHONE): It's OK, Dad.
You messed up.

You know it.

I know it.

Don't you call me Dad!

My son is dead!

BOY (ON PHONE): I want
to talk to you, Dad.

Shut up.

Shut up!

Shut up!

Shut your face!

Stop screwing with me!

You are not my son!

Get out of my life!

Who was the
voice on the phone?

Was it really the
spirit of the dead son

that Kincaid had
abandoned years before?

Something unusual was going on.

Because at exactly
10:25, lightning

knocked out the utility
lines outside the studio.

Phone company records
show that no calls at all

were made from that point on.

Yet that was the exact moment
that the mysterious calls

from Robbie Griffin
started to come in.

By the way, that was the
last time that Kincaid

ever appeared on the radio--

a curious twist,
because his show

that night achieved its
highest ratings of all time.

Is this story of a radio talk
show host haunted by his past

based upon fact?

NARRATOR: Coming up, we'll
find out which of our stories

tonight were fact
and which was fiction

when "Beyond Belief" returns.

Now let's find out
which of our stories

tonight have been
inspired by actual events

and which ones
are totally false.

Our story of the pilot whose
plane took off by itself

and then crashed to the ground,
ultimately saving his life--

was that a work of fiction?

He ain't going to
pull out of that.

Was this story inspired
by an actual event?

Yes, a similar event
did take place.

Our tale of the gun that
refused to fire at the son

returning from college--

how do you judge this one?

Well, this story of a
gun that wouldn't fire

at innocent people was
actually based on an incident

similar to this one.

And now the artist who
seemed to hold the power

of life and death in his hands.

Was it reality-based or false?

I would like you
to paint my portrait.

No, I'm sorry.

This is a private studio.

Look, I don't
have a lot of money.

I can't afford to pay you much.

But I really need you
to paint my portrait.

It's not about money.

I'm just very selective
about who I paint.

Mrs. Waterson said
you would help me.

If you guessed that there was
an actual recorded happening

of an artist that seemed to
have this power, you were right.

There was.

And what about the
tale of the boys

who lifted the hospital pass and
used it to explore the morgue?

True or false?

Woo hello!

It's you.

This tale of a young
man who confronted

the dead corpse of his identical
twin and then died himself?

Pure fiction.

What did you make
of the radio talk

show host who was haunted by a
phone call from his dead son?

Robbie is dead.

He died last summer!

This is freaky, man.

Who the hell is Robbie?

I don't know, bur we've
got to get him out of there.

Clive.

Clive.

Clive, unlock the door.

Was there an
actual story that we

based this otherworldly
confrontation on?

Not this time.

It never happened.

Once again, we tried to
demonstrate the blurry

line between fact and fiction.

Were you able to
separate the two?

And can you accept the fact
that certain truths defy logic

and fall into the category of
being simply beyond belief?

I'm Jonathan Frakes.

NARRATOR: Join us
for more stories

next time on "Beyond
Belief: Fact or Fiction."

[music playing]

Preuzeto sa www.titlovi.com