All language subtitles for Oz.S06E06.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-AlfaHD_track3_eng

- Fact:

2.5 million people die in
the United States each year.

This, of course,

is using the dictionary
definition of "dead,"

toe-tagged
and body-bagged.

The number one cause
of death in America:

heart disease.

- But not all heart disease'll
leave you dictionary "dead."

Some will kill you
and still leave you living.

Yeah.

We got a whole lot
of walking dead in Oz.

- Toby, there you are.

I've been looking
everywhere for you.

- Get the fuck
away from me.

- I heard what you've
been telling people.

Do you honestly believe
I would fuck you over

just to
get you back?

- Don't play
the wounded puppy.

I know who you are.

- Toby, I love you.
I need you.

- Oh, you're only
making it worse.

- You've gotta believe me,
I'm innocent.

- Okay.

Let's say I give you
the benefit of the doubt.

Let's say you didn't
do it on purpose.

The bottom line is,
I believe you would,

that you're capable of it.

That's the kind of man
I think you are,

and I wish to God
I'd left you on death row.

- How's it goin'
there, Chris?

- Go away.

- Ah, I can understand you
being a little testy.

I heard about what
went on in the gym.

It's a heartbreaker.

- I'll survive.

- I know you will.

You always do.

I remember when we first served
time together back in Lardner.

Christ, you were--

what, 17?

You came walkin' into that
cell block, strutting, really.

I said, "There is one
tough little motherfucker."

- Oh, what is
this, Vern?

Why the sprint down
memory lane?

- Been thinkin' about
how close we were.

- You protected me,
I sucked your cock.

That was it.

I didn't love you.

- I didn't love you,
either.

But you gotta admit,

what we had was
more than nothin'.

- So what?

Too much shit's happened
between us since Lardner.

Yeah, because
of Beecher.

Now that he's done,

I'm saying
let's be friends again.

No cock sucking,

just two guys lookin' out
for each other.

What do you say?

- Okay.

- Cancer,

the scariest fuckin' word
in the English language,

and the second-leading
cause of death.

It might be your Zodiac sign,
but more likely,

cancer will eat
your insides up.

Do you know why
it's so fuckin' scary?

'Cause the word itself
is a cancer.

Just the idea of it
can infect you.

The stress of it can spread
through your spirit.

The fear can turn
into the disease.

- Yo, Rebadow,
over here.

- What do you want
today, Pablo?

- I want to know what the fuck
your problem is, man.

I mean, why are you treating
Miss C. like a bitch?

- She's not a bitch.

- That's right,
she's a nice lady.

She's helping me
ride out my time,

and yet you're bringing her
the fuck down.

And the cancer?

It ain't that
big a deal.

That's right,
she told me yesterday.

I guess she needed
someone to talk to

since you're acting
my younger fuckin' sister.

Maria freaked when
my ma got breast cancer.

Of course,
she was eight.

And mi madre?

She squashed that disease
like it was a cockroach.

I bet that's somethin'
you can identify with.

- Stella...

Could you sit a minute?

I've dealt with a lot
of death in my life.

- We all have.

- But for me, this place
was never more a prison

than when Alex Jr.
Was dying.

- I'm not dying,
Robert.

- You don't know that
for certain.

- I'm sure as hell
more certain than you are.

And you may want to bone up
on your apologies,

'cause this one sucks.

- I've been insensitive
and self-absorbed, I'm sorry.

I just couldn't deal
with the prospect

of losing someone else,
someone I love.

- You don't love me,
Robert.

- Yes, I do.

And I promise
to be here for you.

- I don't want you here.

Listen, I'm glad you understand
what I'm going through,

but your worries,
your concerns,

don't dissipate simply
because you 'fess up to them.

My lumpectomy is in
a couple of days.

As much as I appreciate
your feelings for me,

right now, you are just
not good to have around.

- Yes.

You're right, of course.

But let me say
one thing before I go.

- What, are you nuts?

Requesting a transfer
into Gen Pop,

Emerald City,
especially?

That's where
Said lived.

People there
loved him.

- Not everybody.

- I'm tellin' you, Idzik,
this is suicide.

- The worst thing
about being in prison,

the thing I didn't
factor into my equation,

we're in lockdown
so early,

I never get to see
the night sky.

I used to go to the planetarium
every single evening.

Yeah, I'd peer through
the telescope

and search the universe...

Looking for a sign.

But there never was one.

Everything out there
is so still.

I didn't even see
a shooting star.

- You have got
a lot of nerve

I mean, bringing that
scumbag to Em City.

- Omar, all we've got
in Em City are scumbags,

including you!

I mean, given
everything you've done,

starting with the cold-blooded
murder of Felicia Brown,

I don't exactly see why
you are so self-righteous.

McManus,
the man killed Said.

Oh, oh, I grant,
all right, right,

you and the minister
didn't always get along.

- That's true,
but we respected each other,

most of the time.

- It's an insult
to Kareem's memory,

you bringing him here.

- Just a few days ago you were
beggin' me to let you see him.

- Yeah, yeah, yeah,
see him, see him,

yeah, but not to have
to breathe the same foul air

with him on a continuous basis,
and shit, damn!

- Omar, Omar!

I want your promise
no harm will come to Idzik.

Now swear to me.

- No!

- Don't give me a reason
to stick your ass

back in solitary permanently!

- Yeah, okay.

Okay, okay, okay!

I won't hurt Idzik.

- Good.

Now, I want you
to meet him.

- Huh?

- Lemuel Idzik,
Omar White.

Omar's gonna
be your sponsor.

- McManus only put us together
to fuck with my head,

and maybe yours, too.

- Why would he do that?

- He's looking to kick my ass
back to solitary, right?

So, he buddies us up and shit,
man, you know,

knowing there's gonna be
motherfuckin' trouble.

- Between us, why?

- Because I'm lookin'
to whack you, man,

for whacking Said.

- Ah, I see.

Perfect.

As the clock runs out,

the hands of fate
are applauding.

- What--what the fuck's
that supposed to mean?

- I asked to be placed
in Em City for one purpose

and one purpose only.

- Yeah, what's that?

- To find someone
to kill me.

- Detective Tarnowski.

- Hello, Warden,
it's a pleasure.

- What can I do
for you?

- I'm from homicide here,

replacing Detective McGorry
on the Wilson Loewen case.

- Replacing McGorry, why?

- She was rotated
out of the unit.

Happens all the time.

- Not in the middle
of a major case.

- A major case that, for all
intents and purposes, is over.

- Let's go
to my office.

- Willy Brandt confessed
to the murder.

What more
do you need?

- Brandt had no motive to
assassinate Loewen,

except money.

Now, he admitted he was paid
to do the crime by a C.O.,

Adrian Johnson.

- Did you
interrogate him yet?

- Not formally,
but I talked to him,

and he's guilty.

I want to find out why
Johnson ordered the hit.

- Come on, warden,
the reasons are racial.

Loewen conspired to kill
two little black girls

back in the '60s.

That would make
any man angry.

- McGorry thought
something else was going on.

Didn't you read
her report?

- Sure, sure.

Between you
and the doorpost,

my lieutenant wants me
to wrap this stinker up fast,

and that's what
I intend to do.

So, let's
find this C.O.--

- Johnson.

- Yeah, and put
this baby to bed.

Now, which way?

Do you know a prisoner
named William Brandt?

- I know who he is.

I don't know him
personally.

- You never had
any contact with him?

- Maybe once or twice.

You know the way shit flies
around here, warden.

- How about
Lionel Kelsch?

- Same thing.

- Did you ever meet
Mayor Wilson Loewen,

either before or after
he was incarcerated in Oswald?

- Nope.

- Where were you
the night he was killed?

- Home in bed
with my wife.

- All right, officer,
thank you very much.

- I'll get back
to work.

- I'd hardly call that
a comprehensive interview.

- You got a problem
with this guy, warden?

- No.

Until now I considered him
one of my top C.O.s.

- Then why would you be
willing to take the word

of a convicted felon
over his?

I'd say Johnson
is innocent.

- Hello, Leo.

- Oh, Perry,
thanks for coming by.

Sit.

You know, I'm just starting
to use the Internet,

starting to really
see its potential.

- Leo, you said
this was urgent.

I'm a busy fellow.

- I know you are.

Taking care of the governor,
that's a big job.

And let's face it,
Devlin is a needy man.

But you have
been amazing,

cleaning up all of his messes,
his indiscretions.

- What's this about?

- Well, I was just reviewing
officer Adrian Johnson's file.

I noticed he attended
the Middlesex Academy for Boys.

Out of curiosity,

I went to their website
where they list the alumni.

You and he graduated
the same year?

- Actually, he was a senior
when I was a freshman.

- Ah...

We suspect Johnson paid Brandt
to whack the mayor.

- What?

- When the truth
comes out,

it could do real damage
to you, to your career.

Guilt by association.

- I don't believe that Adrian's
connected to Loewen's murder,

but I appreciate
your concern.

- Mmm.

Well, I'd just hate
to see a fine man like you

take an unnecessary fall.

- What's up, Perry?

- There's something
I need you to do.

- Kill Willie Brandt?

- Yes.

And Leo Glynn.

- The third leading cause
of death in America is stroke,

or as they like
to call it these days,

brain attack.

Serious.

That's a real
medical term.

But who the fuck among us
ain't had their brain attacked

and had some part of themselves
shut down, paralyzed,

which forces us to
keep on attacking back?

- After Cutler died,

I started...

From my old ways,
you know,

bullying people
and waving my dick around.

I've crossed a lot of lines
in my life, Sister.

But hurtin' my wife,

that was one line
I never thought I'd cross.

I always said I would
never lay a hand on Liesel.

You know,
being in the hole

gave me time to really
think about who I am

and who I want to be.

- All right.

Let's imagine that
you could do it over,

the visit with Liesel.

What would you
do differently?

- I'd talk.

Hug her.

Yeah.

Stroke her hair,

but not put her hand
inside my pants.

What the fuck
was I thinking?

- And you would
talk about, what?

- I don't know.

Life.

Life without her,
how much it sucks.

- And?

- And that stuff
with Cutler, I guess.

- What stuff?

- You know what stuff.

- Yes, James, but by
articulating what happened,

you accept it.

- It's the first step
in healing.

- I would tell my wife
that I was raped,

and that's why I didn't
call her for so long.

And I would tell her
that I'm sorry

that I turned into
such a fucking fuck-up.

- I, um, I came to Oz
nine months ago.

I--I was a virgin,
so, right away I was targeted.

So, I kept
breaking the rules,

refusing to go to work
or take a shower,

shit like that.

They put me on
special restrictions.

I figured I'd be safe,
locked in my cell all day.

But then...

They put this lowlife
in my cell, and he...

He beat me
till I said yes.

As he was doing it,

I could hear the TV
in the C.O.'s office.

They were watching
"I Love Lucy."

- Thanksgiving Day,

six guys come into my cell
while I'm asleep.

They held me down and they put
a razor to my throat.

- I asked for a kit
to collect evidence

to prove what happened.

The C.O. waited two days
to take me to the infirmary.

- He said, he bought me
for two cartons of Kools.

- By the time
the nurse examined me,

there was nothing
left to find.

- I--I tried to ride,
but I ran out of money.

- They took turns orally
and anally penetrating.

- Someone wrote my mother.

She wrote the warden.

- I was rented out.

- Please help my son.

- $3 for a blow job,.

- The hack told me...

- $5 for anal sex.

- Quit whining,
to stand up and fight.

- I saved the sleeping
medication Sister was giving me,

10 days' worth,
1,000 milligrams.

One night, after,
I took 'em all.

I had no choice.

- I had no choice.
- I had no choice.

- I had no choice.
- I had no choice.

- I had no choice.

- you want any of
Morales' stuff?

- No.
- I feel bad.

Enrique was really angry
at me when he died.

- Well, it's probably
best he's dead.

He would've made
your life miserable.

- True.

But he's got
no family left.

They're gonna stick his body
in Potter's Field.

- He ain't gonna know
the difference.

- More and more, compadre,
I'm tired of all this shit.

- I hear you, man.

- Pancamo asked me
who was gonna lead El Norte.

- What'd you say?

- You.

- Fuck that.

I told you, man,

I'm keeping my head down
till my next parole hearing.

- Miguel.
- No.

- Alvarez, you got
a surprise visitor.

- My girlfriend Maritza?

- No, one,
Cathy Jo Cutler.

- She's the...

- Wolfgang Cutler's
grieving widow.

- Right.
Well, that's good.

Now, I can figure out why
he left me all his shit.

- Yeah, good luck.

- Hey.

Hi.
Cathy Jo, right?

- Yes.

Thank you
for seeing me.

- Sure, of course.

- Mr. Alvarez, I'm here
to ask you, beg you.

Wait, wait, wait.

- Okay, first of all,
Miguel, all right?

Let me just save you
a little speech or whatever.

I don't want
your husband's crap.

- Oh.

I didn't know
you decided that.

- Yeah, no, I just did.

- I didn't sleep
a wink last night,

thinkin' what
to say to you,

the new owner of the bed
I was lyin' in.

- You gotta do somethin'
for me first, okay?

You gotta tell me
why he did this.

- Believe me, I've been
wrackin' my brains.

He did like
to fuck with me

when it came
to the purse strings.

Serves me right,
maybe, you know?

Why did I marry him
if I never loved him?

You're not married?

- No, no.

Girlfriend...

She don't
come around now.

Ah.

- Well, um, I guess
that's all, then.

Thank you for being a better
husband than my husband.

If that makes sense.

- Anytime.

Maybe I'll
see you again?

You know, if I gotta
sign papers, whatever?

- Okay, Miguel.

- Cathy, all right.

- Say your prayers,
Enrique.

- No, don't.

- You're just
like Martinez,

a nasty man
who deserves to die.

- Thy kingdom come,

thy will be done on earth
as it is in heaven.

Give us this day
our daily bread,

and forgive us
our trespasses

as we forgive those
who trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.

Amen.

You know, someday,
maybe soon,

these guys are gonna be
carrying my body out.

- Nah, you're gonna
get paroled.

I've been thinkin'...

We should
set up a meeting

between you
and Luis Ruiz.

- I hit the motherfucker
in the face.

He's not gonna come by
for afternoon tea.

- Steve Dawkins is retiring
from the parole board,

and the rumor is that Ruiz
is gonna get the job.

You're gonna need him
to be on your side.

- Fine.

I'll do whatever
you two guys say.

I just don't want to end up
like Enrique Morales.

You know, I don't want
to end up as the landfill.

- The autopsy report shows that
Enrique Morales was suffocated,

same as Martinez.

- What, do you think
Dave Brass did the job?

- I'm betting both murders
were done by the same man.

I need a list of
all the patients

who were in
the ward both nights.

- I already checked,
there wasn't one.

- Well, Morales had
a lot of enemies,

could be two killers.

- What about your staff?

Didn't they see anything?

- Oh, you know the night shift
is skeletal at best.

- Who was on duty?

- Carol Grace,
Gerald Lesowski.

- Carol Grace.

You know, Morales said
something to me about her,

that I should
check her background.

Where's she from?

- Well, I don't know.

She was hired
before I got here.

- Pull her file.

- Breathtaking.

That's a nice way to describe
someone or something, right?

What the fuck's so good about
having your breath taken?

Respiratory disease
clocks in at number four

on our little hit parade
and for good reason,

'cause regardless of who
takes your breath away,

be it four packs a day
or just one chick,

you're dead
just the same.

- Carol.

Would you step into my office
for a minute, please?

- All right, doctor.

Oh, hello, warden.

- We looked at your
employment record, Carol.

Before coming
to Oswald,

you worked at Millard Fillmore
Hospital in Buffalo

and St. Eligius
in Boston.

- What is this about?

- You were fired
from both institutions.

Why?

- Jealousy.

The patients always
liked me the best.

- We checked with the head
of nursing at both places.

A combined total of eight men
died on your watch.

- And I checked our own
death certificates.

Three prisoners coded
while you were on duty.

- What are you implying?

- The police will
take you downtown,

to the homicide unit.

- All right, just let me
get my things.

Get out of
my way, you!

Ahh!

God, help me!

Leave me alone
you fuckin' bastard!

Leave me alone,
you Spanish cunt!

You fuckin' bitch!

Spanish cunt!

Let me go!

- Accidents are the fifth
leading cause of death.

But you know
as well as me,

there's no such thing
as an accident.

That's just
some bullshit word

we used instead
of blaming ourselves,

because no matter what
damn lie you've been told,

we're the leading
cause of death, mankind,

and there's no cure for us.

- It's the wages.

We cannot compete
with Arif.

- I'm not worried, Burr.

- Yeah, well,
I can see that.

Explain why.

- This is a prison.

There are 28,000 men
sitting around

with nothing to do.

In economic terms, the labor
supply dwarfs its demand.

- Yeah, but what makes a prison
is the pride inside,

knowing that
the other inmates

are making 20 times
as much as you are?

- I'll say it again,
supply and demand.

You, my good friend, are going
to do some more recruiting.

- I already tapped
all of my soldiers.

They've gone
AWOL on me.

- Then you're gonna
have to branch out.

We can manage half-staffed
a couple of days, but that's it.

- Life is about wherever
you gon' get to...

- Suppose you wouldn't want
to trade that service spoon

for a telephone,
O'Reily,

come on over
and join our company?

Yeah, that'd be
a dream come true,

pissing off strangers
at dinnertime.

- Ain't no money
in the kitchen.

- That's why my middle name
is "Subsidize."

- Hello, boys.

You fellas are new here
in Oz, right?

Haven't really had
a chance to settle in yet.

Well, rather than get involved
in all the tribal shit

that goes
on around here,

you need to know
that these days,

Oz has a better
place to turn.

Mm-hmm.

It's called
employment.

- I heard about that.

You with
that guy Arif?

- No.

I'm with me,
Burr Redding.

Telemarketing.

- I'm gonna try and get seconds
before they shut down.

- For all
the flak it gets,

a sales position
in telemarketing

is a fine way to keep
yourself active.

- I just remembered, I got a
appointment with Sister Pete.

- What about you?

You gotta go jerk off
or something?

- No, I mean,
I'd take the job.

- Oh, good boy.

- But I'm dyslexic.

- Here, clear my tray,
you squirmy little maggot.

- Yo, boss man,
this be payday.

- Yeah, I--I know.

- Where's my money?

- You're gonna have to wait
till the end of next week.

- What?

- I'm waiting on a check
from one of the publishers,

and when it clears,
I'll have your money for you.

Just trust me.

- Trust you?

Fuck.

Excuse me.

- I'm telling you, Poet,

except for the money
I've been stealin',

I'm stone-cold broke.

We cannot wait
any longer, man.

We've got to get back
to selling tits.

- I'm way ahead of you,
Reggie, way ahead of you.

Got a little contact
on the outside,

my nigga sky bar.

Shipment coming
in today.

- All right, my dogs.

- All right?

- Ah-ha, yes!

- Hey, Poet.

It's too bad about
your friend Sky Bar.

- What about him?

- Oh, you didn't hear?

Got run over
by a Chevy...

37 times.

Augustus Hill: Prisoner number
9-7-G-1-4-1,

Samuel Gougeon...

Convicted august 5, 1997,
manslaughter.

Sentence, 19 years.

Up for parole in 10.

- But let me
tell you about

the greatest
political campaign of all,

"Jesus' love", and God himself
is running for office.

- Put that phone down,
choir boy!

That's just straight-up
fucking dumb,

using my workplace as a front
for your gospel-mongering.

- I'm sorry, I--

- oh, yeah, no shit.

And now,
you're going to repent.

Mmm.

I've got
a special job for you.

- I guess this is one of
those times you don't ask,

what would Jesus do?

Make it fast.

- For I acknowledge
my transgressions and my sin--

is ever before me.

Bless me, oh father,
according to thy loving kindness

and according to the multitude
of thy tender mercies.

- It was you,
wasn't it?

- Come inside, Arif.

- You're a pathetic,
corrupt man, Redding.

You know what?

- The corrupt part, I do.

I wouldn't say
pathetic, though.

- Vandalizing my business
to repopulate yours?

What do you call that?

- Downsizing for
the overall good.

- This is your chance
to go to Glynn

and tell the truth
before I do.

- Nobody's going
to anyone, son.

Business wasn't
very good, was it?

- How would you
know that?

- On Wall Street,
we call it reconnaissance.

And you ought
to be grateful to me.

Now, you can collect
your insurance

and get all that money back
your Muslim brothers have lost.

And you can put all that
aggravation behind you.

Hmm?

Don't mention it.

- Did he confess?

- I need time to think.

- What's there
to think about?

He's guilty, right?

- No.

What happened to our machinery
was an accident.

- 13 years after banging
the opposite side of the gavel,

the Supreme Court
did an about-face

and decided last June
to bar the death penalty

on retarded defendants.

"The large number
of states

"prohibiting the execution
of mentally retarded persons

"provides powerful evidence
that today

"our society views
mentally retarded offenders

as categorically less culpable
than the average criminal."

- So, how's Cyril doing?

- He hasn't defecated
on himself again,

and he's
sleeping a lot.

- How much is a lot?

- In and out,
all day long.

- Oh.

Maybe that's
a good thing.

You know, I mean,
we're still waiting to hear

about the stay from
the state Supreme Court,

but, I don't know,
I mean, if we don't get one,

maybe he can just nap
up until the time

when they put him
to sleep for good.

- Ryan, lethal injection
isn't just falling asleep.

- What do you mean?

- It definitely makes execution
easier on the public,

easier on the staff,

but we don't really know how
painful lethal injection is.

What I can tell you
is a little-known fact

that it was invented
by the Nazis.

- What?

- Hitler's personal physician
devised the procedure

as a means
to kill off children

and eventually used it
on adults as well.

- Hitler?

- Given the concern
those bastards had for mercy.

- No, I just--

I just want what's best
for Cyril, that's all.

- Well, I was wondering
if maybe the electric chair

wouldn't be
the better way to go.

- The chair?

Why not just feed him
to the fuckin' lions?

- Think about it.

I mean, he's had
electroshock therapy,

which isn't such a far cry
from electrocution.

I mean, at least in his mind
it wouldn't have to be.

By now, he's used to the straps
and the electrodes.

Just tell him he's going in
for a special session.

He might never know
the difference.

- Fuck.

- Hey.

Psst.

Come on, Cyril,
wake up.

- Hmm.

- So, you want the good news
first or the bad news?

- The good news.

- All right.

The good news is you're going
to have your last ECT session

in a couple of days.

- Why is this
the last session?

- Well, because you've been
such a champ so far, you know.

And because you've
been so great,

they're gonna
move you back upstairs.

They're gonna fix up
your cell all special-like,

and they're gonna
give you a TV, hmm?

- Really?

- Yeah.

- I can watch
what I want?

- What we want, bro.

I'm gonna be
there with you.

- You are?

- Yeah, and um...

They're gonna make you
this big dinner

where you can eat
whatever you like.

- I can have
a fluffernutter?

- You can have
two fluffernutters.

- I can have
two fluffernutters.

- So, you want to hear
the bad news?

- All right.

- They've got to--

they've got
to cut your hair.

- Why, I like my hair?

- I know you do, buddy,
but for this last session,

they've got to cut it,
I'm sorry.

- Will it grow back?

- Homey, you put
Rapunzel to shame.

- It's gonna grow back,
right, Ryan?

- Yeah, right.

- Fingernails gonna
grow down there, too.

Gonna go from
Rapunzel to Elvira.

- Yo, homey,
come on, man.

Just focus on
the hair, all right?

We don't need
a color commentary, okay?

Actually,
you know what?

Let me get
a few snips in.

I've been wanting
to do this for years.

Holy shit.

God damn it, Cyril,
I can see your face again,

you handsome fuck.

- Ryan, look.

- Listen...

I haven't been very friendly
since I got to Oz,

but now,
I've talked to Suzanne,

I'm aware of how hard
you've tried

to stop your
brother's execution.

I admire
your efforts.

I want you to know
at the hour of his death,

everyone in Em City
will be with him.

- Oh, yeah?

How?

- You'll see.

- Let's go, O'Reily.

- Any word yet from
the state Supreme Court?

- No, you'll stay in
your brother's cell tonight.

And then when they
take him downstairs,

we'll bring you
back here.

- I was wondering if
at the time of his death,

you know,
I could be alone?

- Stay in your pod?

- I--I was thinking maybe I
could walk

in your meditation maze.

- All right.

- Following a particularly
heated trial,

which seems to have only
magnified the disagreement

on the execution of
the mentally challenged.

So, this afternoon
at Oswald Penitentiary--

- What was that
about Oz?

- Nothing.

- Why does that man keep
watching me and taking notes?

- It's part of
the last ECT session.

They always do that.

- I think I have
a stomachache.

- It's all that fluff
and stuff, you big freak.

Hey, what do you say
we lie down for a little while,

you know,
get a snooze in?

- I forgot to ask
for Rolaids.

Are you okay, Ryan?

- Yeah.

As long as
you are, buddy.

- Each individual state
has to decide if a person

is retarded or not,

meaning a murderer could get
a life sentence in Maine

where he's
considered retarded,

but the gas chamber in Iowa
where he's normal enough to die.

Same guy,
same problems, same crime,

two opposite fates
depending on

which invisible state line
he crosses.

Guilt and innocence,

hell, one's entire identity

is now a matter of
geography.

- One thing I didn't
tell you, Cyril,

there's going to be other people
there today watching.

- Who?

- Oh, let's see,
the warden,

Sister Pete,
Ma, Dr. Nathan

and a few other people
you probably won't recognize.

- Oh.

Are you gonna
be there?

No, I want to,
but I can't.

- Why?

- Daddy said, it's not good
for big boys to cry.

- Yeah, well,
you know what?

Dad was wrong,

and I was wrong.

We were all
so fucking wrong, Cyril.

Man, I'm so sorry.

- Did I do something?

- No.

No.

Dr. Nathan, she said
I got this condition, right,

and the only way for me
to cure myself is to cry.

You know, it's got nothing
to do with you.

I'm sorry,
don't be scared, okay?

- Whoops, I think
I got gas from dinner.

Mom.
- Hi.

Any word from Zelman?

- No.

Hey.

- You look pretty.

- Sit down.

I want to teach you this
little prayer that I know.

It goes something
like this, it goes...

- Hey.

There's probably not
a chance I can get a copy

of that journal
you're writing in, can I?

- Afraid not.

- No, just a...

You know, one quick stop
by the copy machine, you know.

No one's got to know.

I swear to God,
I won't show it to anyone.

I promise.

- Your time is up.

- Lord Jesus Christ,
have mercy on me.

- Lord Jesus Christ,
have mercy on me.

Lord Jesus Christ,
have mercy on me.

Hey, come on.

We have to go.
- Amen.

- Hey.

Who loves you, man?

- You do.

- Oh, that's right.

More than you'll
ever fuckin' know.

Listen, I just need you
to relax, okay?

You know,
you get scared,

you just think
about me, all right?

Okay.

My boy.

- What?

- Nothing.

- These are the clothes
you asked for.

- I didn't ask
for any clothes.

Is that Ryan's shirt?

He said
I could wear it?

- There's widespread agreement
that retarded people

are less accountable
for their crimes

than those of
average intelligence.

But if so,

something or someone
has to be held accountable,

has to pick up the slack

and take the rest of
the blame, right?

After all, these victims
still die heinous deaths

and families
still grieve.

If the retarded person
is not fully at fault,

then who or what shares
the responsibility?

God?

Human nature?
Society?

Maybe the question is,

who isn't to blame?

- Why do I have
to wear these?

Where are my shoes?

- Hello, Cyril.

- Hi.

Don't I need my shoes?

- Yea, though I walk
through the valley

of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil,
for thou art with me.

Thy rod and thy staff,
they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me
in the presence of mine enemies.

Thou anointest
my head with oil.

My cup runneth over.

Surely goodness
and mercy shall follow me

all the days
of my life,

and I will dwell in the house
of the Lord forever.

- What the fuck
is going on?

- ♪ Sinking ♪

♪ Caught up
in a world in motion ♪

♪ Such a strange sensation ♪

♪ The chorus uncertain ♪

♪ Like sails
of a mill I spin ♪

♪ Like wheels I move in
a circle ♪

♪ While you stand on the bend ♪

♪ Immune or evasive ♪

♪ Save me ♪

♪ Inside, lookin' in ♪

♪ Complete in yourself
throw me a lifeline ♪

♪ Save me ♪

- Now is your opportunity
to make a last statement.

- Huh?

- ♪ Intimacy and affection,
frozen... ♪

♪ In this game of chance
I forfeit ♪

♪ A full hand of love
with no counters ♪

♪ Like a moth with no flame
to persuade me ♪

♪ Like blood
in the rain... ♪

- Dick, hi.

No, no reason
not to go forward.

We're all set here.

- ♪ While you stand
on the inside looking in ♪

♪ Save me,
inside looking in ♪

♪ Complete
in yourself ♪

♪ Throw me a lifeline,
save me ♪

♪ Throw me a lifeline,
save me ♪

- Yes, this is
warden Glynn.

Uh-huh.

Right.

Okay.

By the order of
the state Supreme Court,

Cyril O'Reily has
been granted a stay,

based on newfound merit
in his appeal.

This sentence
has been postponed

until further notice.

- What happened?

What about
the special session?

- Flash back to 1989
when the Supreme Court

first weighed in
on this issue.

Based on evolving standards
of decency that mark

the progress of
a maturing society,

there is not
sufficient evidence present

of a national consensus
against such executions.

Well, supposedly today,
there is.

Polls show most Americans
agree that an adult

with the mind
of a third-grader

should not be
on death row.

But are we
a maturing society

with evolving standards
of decency?

Who's to say we're
any further along

than some cosmic equivalent
of third grade?

Who's to say,
we, as a whole,

aren't retarded?

Thank you.