All language subtitles for Instinct.2018.S01E11.Blast.from.the.Past.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-NTb_track3_eng

Previously onInstinct:I want to go see a friend

who may be able to help.Wait. I'll drive.

He works undercover.

DYLAN:
I'll take whatever

you can get on the victims.

Who are you?

Where did you find out all this?

Does it matter?
Of...

It matters if I want
to get a warrant

to back up these rumors.

You know things you're
not telling me,

but these are my cases.

♪

[people screaming,
frantic chatter]

♪

WOMAN:
New York's Finest!

Joan has told me everything
about you.

: And about
your hush-hush past.

Can the government really
create hurricanes?

Uh, no.

But if I was
going to share

an intelligence
secret with you,

I would totally do it
in a pancake restaurant.

Oh, the sourdough pancakes here
are amazing.

Do you want a drink?

No, thanks.Dylan, I think...

I can help you.

I hope Joan explained,
my reservations

have nothing to do
with you personally.

And yes, I was talked
into doing that

local TV
news segment...

Mistake, small potatoes.
It devalues your brand.

I do not have a brand.
I do not want a brand.

And no offense--
I do not need a publicist.

I disagree.

Now, listen up,
because this is

not-screwing-around Ashley
you're talking to now.

Bring it in.

Come on.

A little closer.

Right here, right here.

Stop.

:
You do not need a publicist.

You need the best publicist.

I am talking about me.Yes, got that.

But my life
does not need publicizing.

Look, the public deserves
to hear about their heroes.

That is why I have arranged

for New Yorkmagazine
to do a story about you.

Well, that's
very impressive, but...

Did I mention you'll be
on the cover?

Now do you want
that drink?

Still no.

But I do have an idea
about that magazine story.

Bring it in.

JASMINE:
I created a monster.

Now she's weighing in
on the venue.

Oh, that has to stop.
This is your wedding.

You know my mom--
she needs to be the star.

She needs to be the star,
the costar, the understudy

and the guy in the lobby
who sells Milk Duds.

You should just
keep her busy.

Give her
something to do.

Lizzie, you may have just

come up with a way
to save my insanity

that doesn't
include vodka.

It's my pleasure,

and you owe me one.

And I'm paying up right now.

I'm putting you
on the grade list.

What?

I'm recommending you
for a promotion.

To second grade detective?

No, to flight engineer
on the space station.

Yes, to second grade detective.

You've closed some
big cases lately.

Dylan shares in that.

Yeah, yeah, he's a genius,
but you are my best cop.

And it's not a favor.
You deserve it.

Thank you, but I'm not gonna
celebrate just yet.

I could be stuck on that
grade list for years.

No, your name's already
on the chief's desk.

This is in the works.

Wow.

It does mean
more responsibility.

I know. That's why
I'm so excited.

Oh.

Lieutenant Gooden.

Any fatalities?

Okay, we're on our way.

Suicide bomber just blew
himself up in Battery Park.

You should get over there.

Dylan asked to be assigned.

Okay.

Hey.
Hey.

The bomb squad's nearly
finished its sweep.

LIZZIE: You asked
to be assigned this case?

No, I just called to
offer my expertise.

Back in the day, my
study on suicide bombers

kind of made me a name in the
abnormal behavior community.

Hmm. Sounds like a fun bunch.

By the way, is there a subject
you're not an expert on?

Whale hunting?
Soap carving?

As a matter of fact,
soap carving

became popular
in 1924...

All clear.Thank God.

Okay.

Wallet and I.D.

DYLAN:
Guess he wanted credit.

Ramzy Kharal, 25.

I'll call the
Intelligence Bureau,

see if he's on
their radar.

Name and appearance suggests
Middle Eastern descent,

but look at his face--
clean-shaven.

Don't bombers shave
in order to blend in?

Yes,

but most Middle Eastern bombers

have beards their entire lives,
so when they shave,

the lower part
of their faces is lighter

from being deprived
of the sun.

The color of Ramzy's skin
is uniform.

That doesn't fit the profile
of a suicide bomber.

Neither does the fact
he was the only one killed.

Malfunction?
Change of heart?

Hard to say, but even an attack
with limited casualties

can cause a devastating
psychological effect on a city.

Did we find
the detonator he used?Blown to bits,

so it's gonna take a while
to get any info.

He lives a few blocks away.
Hey, guys, don't leave.

We're gonna need a
sweep of his apartment.

LIZZIE:
Okay.

Wow.

Judging by all these materials,

I would say Ramzy
was a ringleader

or a member of a cell,

because one suicide bomber
would not need all this.

Our bomber was a graduate
student at Columbia University.

Got his visa from the
American University in Cairo.

I studied Arabic there.

I really need to travel more.

I've never been east
of Flushing.

So you think this
is the beginning

of a wave
of these attacks?

Hey, come here. Quick.

Today's date is circled, and
there are two sets of numbers.

What time did the bomb go off?

1:14.
1314.

Military time for 1:14 p.m.

What about the other
four numbers? 1071.

Since we have date and time,
I'm guessing it's location,

but that's not enough digits
for GPS coordinates.

Unless we assume
they're local.

Can we pinpoint a location

within the city
using those

last four numbers
as a suffix?

Oh, my God.

They're coordinated
for Battery Park,

right where
the bomb went off.

There's gonna be
another attack today.

Yeah, at 1621-- 4:21.

That's in 15 minutes.

Where's 4360?

The band shell in Central park.

If we find our guy,
we isolate and contain

until the bomb
squad gets here.

DYLAN:
Guy's slouching. Too relaxed.

Gait's too loose, steady.The blonde woman
with a case?

DYLAN: No, normal response
to her environment.

3:00-- walking too fast,
hunched over.

Police! Don't move!But I didn't do anything.

Now, listen to me.
We are going to stand

in this position until
the bomb squad arrives.

You understand

Are you okay?Yes, sir.

DYLAN: You all right?LIZZIE: Oh, my God.

It's the woman
we ruled out.

The woman Iruled out.

What did I miss?

♪

REPORTER: Police are scanning
the area for more...

Thank you.

Her name is Barbara Kramer.

She lived in Fort Washington.

How did I miss
her tells?

She was behaving normally.

She stooped
to help that child.

It's as though she switched
off her body's own reactions.

Bombers sometimes
appear drugged.

They sweat.
They have tunnel vision.

She displayed none
of that. None.

We were supposed
to have lunch together,

but she canceled.

Do you know why?

No, I have no idea.

I can't believe she's dead,
and...

in this awful way.

Any recent changes
in her behavior?

She was upset about politics.

She was ranting more,
but who hasn't been?

Was she under any stress?

Uh, her cheating husband
left her a year ago,

and she began worrying
that her playing was suffering.

Was she seeing anyone new?

You know, she hinted at it.

And she was rushing off a lot
after rehearsals, but...

she could be secretive.

She mostly kept to herself.

Did she ever mention
a Ramzy Kharal?

Sorry.
No, that doesn't ring a bell.

LIZZIE: Did your brother ever
mention dating Barbara Kramer?

Barbara Kramer?

No, it doesn't ring a bell.

Ramzy never
mentioned her name?

But if my brother
were romantically involved,

he probably wouldn't
have told me.

I... I ask too many questions.

Since your brother arrived here,

have you had any cause
for concern

about his friends or interests?

None.

He did start driving
for a rideshare company.

I can get you the name.Please.

And I worried about
all the strangers he drove.

But...

he said it's
so expensive here,

and he didn't want
to call home for more money.

He felt my parents
had done enough.

They were so proud of him.

Have you spoken to them?

Yes, they're on the first flight
out of Cairo.

My parents are such good,
decent people.

They don't deserve this.

Don't do the
magazine story.

Wow.

Your contacts
in the publishing world

didn't take long
to get on the phone.

I appreciate your concern,

but you're worrying
about nothing.

Kandahar, Fallujah, Waziristan.

We've seen a lot together.

You used to be careful.

Are you comparing Pakistan's
lawless border region

with a magazine
that did a cover story

about the city's best falafel?

I'm saying former CIA officers
don't hire publicists.

You been spying on me?
Yes.

She's not my publicist.

Two words:

Tony Collins.

Five words:

I have work to do.

Collins was careless.

Anything at
our musician's apartment?

No maps, no explosives,
no nothing.

We ran a check on Ramzy's
sister: squeaky clean.

Any contact at all
between the bombers?

FUCCI:
I haven't turned up
a single text,

phone call or online signal
between them.

So they avoided leaving
an electronic footprint.

But the calendar
is proof of a connection.

Barbara detonated her device
at the exact time and place

that we found
in Ramzy's calendar.

Yeah, and ballistics says
the two bombs are identical.

Still nobody taking credit?Intelligence Bureau's still

sorting through the
chatter. So far, zip.

JASMINE: I suppose the one
piece of good news

is the calendar you found.

The rest of the month is empty.

Let's hope it stays that way.

You sure your segment
is airing tonight?

Past your bedtime?

I was excited about it,
uh, two hours ago.

Since then, I have seen
the three-day forecast,

the seven-day forecast,
a Mr. Food segment

and a story about a
drunk guy who got

into an argument
with a telephone pole.

I surrender.
I'm turning in.

Good night.Night.

Thanks.

Oh, guess what.

New Yorkmagazine

is doing a story
about the squad.

Get out of here.
Yeah.

We're doing a shoot
tomorrow at the precinct.

A shoot? Wow.

And I thought, if they needed

any more photos,
I would suggest Rafters.

You know, cops after work.

Maybe catch you
behind the bar.

Yeah, uh...

Yeah, I don't think so.It would be great publicity.

Well... I'm from the Midwest.

You know, we're not really
as comfortable

with the limelight as you.

Wh

Nothing. I'm just...

Are you saying
I am seeking the limelight?

Well, aren't you?

What are you talking about?

Okay, the man I married
was a brilliant,

cagey psychologist.

Now you have a publicist?

Oh, I do not have
a publicist.

It was a five-minute
meeting.

Which led to this
magazine story.

Which I'm hoping
will include you.

I don't want my life on display.

You know what, Andy?

Anything you do, I am proud of.

Anything.

You have a good month
at the bar,

I'm proud of
your business acumen.

You have a bad month
at the bar,

I'm proud
of your resilience.

I don't care if you finish

the New York City Marathon
or the damn Jumble.

Stupid me to think
you would feel the same way.

Please.

Turn off the TV.

I'd hate to think my segment
would further enrage

your moral indignation.

Mind if I join you?

Wow.

Dylan's super special,
secret friend

has come all the way
to Forest Hills

for a slice at Ray's.

Three enthusiastic
Yelp reviews can't be wrong.

Actually, I've wanted
to thank you

for proving Charlie's innocence.

Losing him was really hard,
but at least now I have peace.

It was my pleasure.

I need to ask a favor.

Shouldn't we be meeting
on a park bench

or a bridge shrouded
in darkness?

Even spies occasionally come in
from the cold for a hot slice.

Mm, somehow you don't strike me
as a pizza kind of guy.

I'm not.

My palate is quite refined.

Need something, pal?Four garlic knots

and a pepperoni
pinwheel, please.Hmm.

So, this is not too
public for you?

Being too public
is not my problem.

It's your partner's.

That's why I wanted
to talk to you.

Okay.

Dylan is being unwise
becoming a public figure.

It's dangerous.

Sounds like you should warn him.

I tried.

He didn't listen.

There was a former
MI6 officer

named Tony Collins.

He wrote a tell-all,

began discussing his work
on television,

did the whole circuit.

Became so distracted
by the attention

that he stopped taking
proper precautions.

They found him floating
in Hackney Brook.

You really think Dylan
is endangering his life?

Let's just say
he's making me nervous.

You don't strike me
as the nervous type.

Spies and nervous systems
have similar functions:

extract and process information

to determine an appropriate
threat level.

And no, I'm not
the nervous type.

So, when I feel this way,
it's usually for a good reason.

Dylan's a big boy, and, um,

I'm not in the habit
of keeping secrets

from my partner.

Wait.

Just in case.

And, uh, if I were to call,
what would I call you?

Julian.

Ramzy and Barbara
showed no warning signs

of being radicalized,
which leaves us nowhere.

Don't drive yourself crazy.

When the evidence
from their apartments

gets here, we'll find a lead.

When's it getting here?ASHLEY: Excuse me.
I don't want it there.

Hopefully by the time
your lunatic publicist

wraps up this dog-and-pony show.ASHLEY: Thank you.

She's not my publicist.ASHLEY: Don't tidy up too much.

Keep it real,
grounded.

Not that grounded.

Get rid of any food
that is blue or moldy.

No time for second thoughts.
The brass love the idea.

Look at you.Don't start.

:
This can only be good
for your promotion.

You're a terrible
whisperer.

Promotion

I'm fluent in seven languages,
and I have

no idea
what you're trying to say.

Okay, it's far from a done deal.

Can we just keep it...

Yeah, on the DL?

Sure.ASHLEY: Pardon me.

Hi. Are you a Mennonite, dear?Um, no.

'Cause it wouldn't kill you to,
you know, take your hair down.

Maria says that with the, uh,
proper shading,

I look like a young Paul Newman.

Is there another Paul Newman
I don't know about?

ASHLEY: Okay!

Let's line up, everyone.

Oh!Oh! That's the stuff

from Barbara
and Ramzy's apartments.

Uh, conference room, guys.Uh-uh.

Get back in line,
Batman and Robin.

Okay, uh, let's do this.

We have work to do.

Okay, this is gonna
be a long day.ASHLEY: Excuse me, honey.

Oh, sorry.We're on either side

of the man wearing
more makeup than you.

Eyes forward, super cops.

One, two, three.

DYLAN:
For a small apartment,

Ramzy sure had a lot of stuff.

Maybe CCU will have more luck
with their computers.

I can't find anything.Check this out.

A prescription for
antidepressants.

Wait.

This is fake.

The doctor's signature
is initials only: AWB.

DYLAN:
And there's no license number.

This prescription
is dated today.

Yeah, and Ramzy died yesterday.

And on the back,
there's tomorrow's date.

What are you thinking?

Everything about this
is phony.

A dosage of
150.8 milligrams?

That's nonsense.Why leave a fake dosage?

150.8.

Numbers. 1-5-0-8.

1508?

You think it's another clue?
Like the calendar?

Well, if it is,
it's a clue that only

a doctor or a psychologist
would know.

It also implies another
attack today at 3:08.

In less than four hours.

Barbara and Ramzy
were working with someone else.

This is an obscure way
to announce an attack.

Unless it's not the code
for the next bombing.

You think someone's
playing with us?

Um, maybe I'm just
grasping at straws.

No, you're not.
Look at the address.

This is Ramzy's apartment.
What the hell?

Why leave us an address
we've already searched?

Maybe we
missed something.

Well, if there is a clue here,

it doesn't have many
places to hide.

Nope.

♪

Nothing.

Nothing.

The ceiling.

Yes, that's
a ceiling.

No, but look.

Th-There's an "M."

LIZZIE:
What, that crack?

That's not a crack.

That was etched there,
into the paint.

Why would someone etch lines
onto a ceiling?

Well, like you said,
maybe someone's playing with us.

Okay, but "M" is not a number.

It was in
Roman times.

A thousand.

And it's next to the fan.

MX.

1010 in Roman numerals.

What location
does 1010 correspond to?

Bethesda Fountain.

Okay, well, at least we have

a couple of hours notice
this time.

You better call it in.Hang on.

You want me to mobilize
bomb squad, CRC,

CSU and ESU
based on a scratch,

a ceiling fan
and Roman numerals?

I do.
Are you crazy?

If this is a clue,
how could anyone

be expected
to solve it?

Look, maybe we're not dealing
with a terror cell.

Maybe we're dealing
with some kind of mastermind

who thinks in numbers
and can recruit followers

who will die for him.

You have to trust me on this.

Okay. Let's do this.

Thank you.

Remember, the color of the day
is purple.

Everyone be careful and call out
anything unusual you see.

Stay focused
and watch each other's sixes.

2:00. Long black coat.

Male, 50s, long black coat,
moving east.

Right on time.
Police! Hands!
Let me see your hands!

Let's go! Let's go!Don't move, sir! Don't move!

It's under my coat.

What?

Who gave this to you?A friend.

Who's your friend?
What's his name?

He gave me $50.

Oh, my...

It's 3:08.

LIZZIE:
Go.

One casualty.
Just the perp again.

The blast radius
was about ten feet again.

Same small device.

I thought I had
the right location.

Well, he obviously wanted us
to go to the fountain.

The guy with the note.
It's okay.

What have you got?A neighbor said

the guy got on his motorcycle,
started it, and boom.

What kind of a bomber

gets on a motorcycle, starts it,

and then blows himself up
in the middle of a quiet street?

I don't know.

DYLAN:
What if the bombers
aren't bombers...

...but innocents?

Strangers.

Unless he wasn't
a suicide bomber.

Maybe he didn't know there was
a bomb in his saddlebag.

That would explain why Barbara
didn't have any tells

and Ramzy didn't fit
the profile of a bomber.

They weren't bombers.

They were victims.

Once ballistics is finished
rebuilding the detonators,

we'll be able to tell
if they were dummies.

So, if Ramzy wasn't part
of a cell, that means someone

went to the trouble
of staging his apartment.

Someone is...

Dylan?

This used to be
Meacham Townhouse.

The Meacham Townhouse?
How do you know that?

Because I've been
here before.

And I don't think
this is a coincidence.

This is personal.

When I was 15, I was invited

to participate
in a two-week program

for gifted students
at Meacham Townhouse.

Dylan thinks the guy who ran
this program fits the profile

of someone who's capable of
carrying out these attacks.

What's his name?

Dr. Avery W. Beams.

AWB-- the same
initials we found

on the prescription slip.

Harris, Zack, find
out all you can

about this Dr. Beams.
On it.

Yes, ma'am.
Bomb squad
verified your hunch.

The detonators were dummies.

Which means that
if it is Beams,

he was in the vicinity
before each attack

in order to slip the device
into the victims' pockets.

And to detonate
the bombs remotely.

So the other bomb sites

had something to do
with Beams, too?

I...

I don't know.

JASMINE: Well,
eat some spinach,

drink a damn sports
drink-- I don't care.

Just do whatever you gotta do

to kick that giant brain
of yours

into high gear.I'll do my best.

Are you okay?

You seem a bit off.I keep guessing wrong,

and every time I do,
someone dies.

It's not a feeling that

Mr. Hot Shot Consultant
is used to.

One question I haven't asked:

Why would Dr. Beams
want to hurt you?

You were a kid.I don't know.

The program started out
well enough...

before it took a turn.

Maybe it's because Beams
couldn't break me.

Break you?

Dylan, what kind of
a program was this?

We found Dr. Beams' obituary.

Died 11 years ago.
Not our guy.

Thanks. Uh...

Anyone else from this program
that would want to hurt you?

The only other people
I remember were kids.

Maybe this is a dead end.

We should keep working
our other leads.

No. The initials

We went down that path
and came up empty.

Is it worth calling
your super special,

secret friend?
No.

Okay.

Okay, let's go over Ramzy's
list of passengers,

see if he had any
repeat customers.

And we should also
revisit the CCTV footage.

So, you get started on Ramzy,
and I'll head over to TARU.

♪

Now, this would make a
great magazine cover.

Consultant
for the police

working late after
his shift is over.

Dedication.

I'm sorry if I surprised you.

It's a nice surprise.I won't stay long.

I-I know you're
probably busy, but, uh,

I also know you probably
haven't fed yourself.

Yeah, I don't have much
of an appetite right now.

I just feel like...

I'm completely useless.

Well, that's unlike you.

Still, takeout Chinese is
light on the stomach, right?

I mean, when my dad had
his gallbladder out,

they gave him Jell-O and
Cantonese barbecued pork.

Look, I'm... I'm really sorry
for what I said last night.

I got upset

because...

I haven't told you something.

The real reason I
didn't want to be

in the magazine article
is because...

I haven't told my folks
I gave up being a lawyer.

What?

The man who came out
to his parents at 16

is too afraid to tell them
he's had a career change?

It was more than just
a... a career change.

I mean, when I passed the bar,
it was their proudest moment.

I was their son,
the lawyer.

First lawyer
in the family.

My folks worked
their asses off

to put me through
law school, so...

the last thing they want to hear
is that I threw

their tuition money
and my law degree down the drain

to do the same job
as my Uncle Otis.

If they accept who you love,

they'll accept what you love.

That's... that is...
that's really beautiful, Dylan,

and completely wrong.

Well, just tell them
that you bought the bar

as an investment
with all the money

from your fancy law firm.

Hmm?

You see, you're not
completely useless.

You know, it's
crazy, I...

I have always dreamt
of owning my own business,

and yet letting my parents down
is a lifelong fear.

You believe that?
I am a grown man

whose childhood dreams are still
in a steel-cage death match

against my childhood
fears.

DYLAN:
Childhood dreams.

Not "MX." "MT."

Meacham Townhouse.

I am so sorry, Andy,
but I've got to go.

Sorry.

♪ Something's got
a hold on me... ♪

Care for a drink?

No, thanks. Working.

I have to say I was
surprised you called.

Yeah, so was I.

So, did you find
anything?

I did, indeed.

In the late '80s
and early '90s,

there was a bit of
controversy surrounding

a program for gifted students
at the Meacham Townhouse.

What kind of controversy?

I'm not sure,

but from what I was able
to piece together,

there was some kind of unethical
psychological experiment

conducted on unwilling teens.

How come I wasn't able
to find any of this?

It appears the test
was conducted

in concert with the government.

Which is why
the test files

and the participants'
names have been redacted.

Took quite a lot of digging
to unearth

what little information
I was able to find.

The government? I think
I'll have that drink now.

Sorry I couldn't find
more specifics.

Dylan knows
the specifics.

Dylan was involved?

My God, was he one of the kids?

I don't know. He doesn't want
to talk about it.

And you think

Dylan is connected
to the bombings?

Again, don't know.

The only viable suspect
died 11 years ago.

But whatever this is
all about, I'm pretty sure

it has something to do
with the experiment.

Hey, Dylan.

This won't hurt a bit.

No such thing as
coincidences.

I know there aren't.

Tell me what happened.

You can trust me.

It was called
The Whitford Project.

Psychology gone off the rails.

In what way?

Like I said, the first week
of camp was fun--

lectures, debates,
academic competitions.

Then one afternoon
during the second week,

we were each given a partner.

Mine was a nervous,
awkward kid...

like me.

And we were instructed

to spend every second
with one another

and to share our innermost
hopes and dreams.

My partner said...

I'm gonna devise a comprehensive
theory of optimal processes,

win the Fields Medal, and solve
the Riemann hypothesis.

DYLAN:
And I said...

Study all over the world.

Play with the Philharmonic.

Ride a motorcycle
just like my father.

Just like our victims.

One a foreign student,
one a musician,

and one on a motorcycle.

Same one as my dad had.

And Beams ran the test?

Yes.

He wanted to see how
much we could endure.

What the threshold was
to break us.

This won't hurt a bit.

DYLAN: He monitored
our reactions to stress.

LIZZIE:
What kind of stress?

DYLAN:
He humiliated us.

Told us our partners
had belittled our dreams.

Undermined everything
we hoped to accomplish.

A 12-year-old writing a concerto
with the Philharmonic?

Why not a ballerina?

That was your partner's joke.

You know it's fully unrealistic,

right?

You're mediocre at best,
according to your partner.

Young man,

he's heard you practicing,

and he's thinks you're,
well, deluded.

I don't believe you.

I was so sure it was Beams...

because he knew all my dreams.

But Beams is dead.

And he's not the only one
you told your dreams to.

What was your
partner's name?

John Raymond.

His name is John Raymond?

Yes, and Raymond
may have suffered

psychological damage
from the experiment.

My guess is antisocial
personality disorder.

Whoa, whoa, don't tell me
what you guess.

Tell me what you know.He's a brilliant guy.

Got his PhD.DYLAN:
In mathematics.

Which he talked about
all the time when he was a kid.

He liked nothing more
than number puzzles.

And now he's talking
to us-- to Dylan--

with numbers.
Okay.

Still listening.

He taught at some
top universities.

But the jobs never lasted
very long.

He got poor evaluations
or didn't

get along with his colleagues.

He bounced around...Until a few years ago,

when he landed
at a community college

in Hudson Valley.Where he finally

published his opus
and was fired for plagiarism.

That's the trigger?Dylan was the trigger.

The book he plagiarized
was Freaks,my book.

It seems the publicity

surrounding Dylan's
book's release

coincided with Raymond's
deterioration.

Where's Raymond now?Uh, well, we have no idea.

He disappeared
off the face of the earth.

No credit cards, no bank
account, no phone number.

I don't know where he is,
but I know where he's been.

The bomb site at the band shell.

He had to have been
there to plant the bomb.What?

The one we profiled
is John Raymond.

I was so busy
looking for the bomber

I didn't see it was John.

It was 30 years ago.

This means he detonated
the bomb with a timer.

Yeah, so okay, we know
what he looks like,

but unfortunately,
we don't know

where he's going to attack.

Oh, he was luring me in
from the start.

He knew I'd want this case.

He blames me
for destroying his dreams,

and now he is determined
to destroy mine.

We should run any numbers
associated with Raymond's past

that could nail down
the time and location

of today's attack.

JASMINE: The attacks
are aimed at Dylan,

so maybe the numeric clue is...
is personal to you.

We need a list
of all your numbers:

social, faculty I.D.,
bank accounts.

Check the GPS coordinates 4753.

Steppingstone Park.

That's where we had recess.

11:23 a.m., Steppingstone Park.

That's where he'll be.

Are you sure?Yes, yes.

We weren't allowed to refer
to each other by name

during the experiment.

We had to use
our test subject numbers.

John Raymond's number
was 11234753.

How do you
remember that?

Because mine was 11234754.

1123-- 11:23.

I'll mobilize snipers,
bomb squad and CRC.

And we have three hours
to figure out

whose pocket Raymond's gonna
plant the next bomb in.

Oh, I think I know the answer
to that one, too.

You do?

There was one more dream
I shared with John.

♪

Hello, John.

Sorry I didn't recognize you
at the park,

but it has been
quite a few years.

Stay where you are.You, too.

Take your hands out
of your pockets.

You won't shoot me.No.

She would.

And they would.

JOHN: I've got more
than one bomb.

You didn't deserve
what happened to you, John.

But neither did
those people who died.

It's Beams you should
be angry with.

Who we should both
be angry with.

I know.

That's why I killed him.

Told him it wouldn't hurt a bit.

I lied.

You once had dreams

to accomplish
something big, John.

Something noble.

I have no dreams.

But I remember all of yours.

I know.

That's why you chose
the baby carriage.

Because I once told you

how much I wanted
to be a father.

Why do you get everything
while I have nothing?

I always believed in you, John.

You were the best
mathematical mind I ever met.

What do you think
about the recent stab

at the Riemann hypothesis?

The proof seemed flawed
to me, but I...

I can't say why.

Well, they got
the zeta function wrong.

Then tackle that.

All you ever needed was time,

and now we can
make that happen.

We'll get you the help
you need in a hospital.

But this is the best offer
you will ever get.

Take it.

LIZZIE:
Go, go, go!

Get him out of here.OFFICER: Hands down.

So, I guess this collar will
clinch your promotion, huh?

I'll celebrate
once it becomes official.Huh.

Thanks a lot, jackass.

Hey, I had no
control over...

What was that about?

Oh...

You fired your publicist,
and we got

bumped from the cover.

Thanks a lot, jackass.

There's a picture inside.
Hmm.

Good.

Oh. She was right
about the hair.

:
Oh, I can see why Fucci's upset.

He wasted $20 on a Moroccan
red clay mask for nothing.

The staple's right
through his forehead.

You know,
I never told my parents

about what happened
in the townhouse.

Well, you were a kid.

You probably didn't trust
anyone had your back.

For years, I just assumed
the other kids were fine.

You don't need to blame yourself

for getting through that test
unaffected.

No, I wasn't unaffected.

Just took me 30 years
to find someone

I wanted to share
the memory with.

So thank you.

I trust you've got my back.

So, how did your
publicist take it

when you told her you wouldn't
be working together anymore?

She said,
"That sounds great,"

and then asked
if I'd be interested

in writing a cookbook.

She's not a great listener.

Well, maybe some more quiet
will be good for you.

Maybe.

Sweeping things under the rug
isn't the answer,

but neither is living
your life on display.

Well...

guess that applies
to me, too, huh?

You'll find a way to
break it to them.

Yeah. How about this?
How about, uh...

"Hey, Mom, Dad,
remember that landmark decision

"you thought I'd author?

"Well, today the decision
I made was whether

the daily special should be
coconut shrimp or clam strips."

We are so lucky to be
able to do what we love.

Yeah.

John Raymond caused
a lot of pain,

but he reminded
me to be grateful

for the dreams I've
been able to realize.

Only one left unfulfilled.

You think it's time?

What do you think?

I think we've been
talking about fatherhood

since we fell in love.

Maybe it's time.

Maybe it is.

♪ Maybe we'll get
40 years together ♪

♪ But one day I'll be gone...

So much for quiet
in our lives.

:
Oh, God.

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