All language subtitles for Bull.2016.S03E21

We interrupt this episode
of Big Brother to bring you

a special bulletin from
the National Weather Service.

The National Weather Service
has just issued

an Emergency Hurricane Update
for Long Island,

Bronx County, and portions

of Southern Connecticut. Hurricane Nolan,

a Category 4 hurricane,
appears to be changing course

and moving swiftly to the north.

As a result, the governor has extended

the mandatory evacuation zone.

People should seek shelter
and expect wind speeds

of up to 150...

Okay.

That's it for rec time.

Everybody back to your cells for count.

Boss man, how bad is a Category 4?

Say something, will you? Is there a plan?

How come we're not hearing
nothing about a plan?

Don't you walk away from me.

Gentlemen, it's wind, it's rain,

it's lightning and thunder.

It's nothing you haven't seen before.

I just need everybody
to stay calm and stay visible.

We're all gonna be just fine.
Just let me do my job.

Paco, you fill in headquarters
on the new weather situation?

They give you any new orders?

No, man. Landlines must
be down or something.

And none of these bigwigs
gave you a cell number, huh?

So you haven't spoken
to the warden? Captain Price?

All I'm getting is-is dial tones
and static. And by the way,

you left your cell phone here,
and it's been buzzing nonstop.

Damn. My wife.

Hey, Ralph, been trying to get
the count from C block,

but there's no one on C block.

What do you mean, no one's on C block?

No guards. They're not there.

Just guys acting dumb in their cells.

Sammy and the others must've
bailed or something.

What? They just left?

Hey, guys, it's bad out there, okay?

Like, our families, man.

And plus, I just read on my phone

- it-it's mandatory evacuation now.
- Mandatory?

Come on. I'm not just gonna
sit here for 15 bucks an hour

while my family gets hit by a hurricane.

My mom's on oxygen.
She can't move herself.

Wh... what are you guys
gonna do? You gonna stick?

Stick? It's a mandatory
evacuation. I'm sorry, man.

I'm getting the hell
out of here. I know you're

the highest ranking guy,
but you should, too.

Hey!

Our cell is filling up with water here!

I don't think anybody's here.

I think all the guards left.

You might want to get up
on my bunk with me.

Dr. Bull?

Can I talk to you?

My brother-in-law, Ralph, is...

was a prison guard at a
private prison in the Bronx.

Blackwood.

The prison that's been
in the news a lot lately.

Where the two men died, drowned,

and all the prisoners were left
without food and water

and electricity for three days.

Your brother-in-law was one of the men...

one of the prison guards...

who left during the hurricane?

He stayed as long as he could.

He was the highest ranking
corrections officer

there at the time.

The police came
to the house last night...

my house, my apartment...

because that's where everyone was staying

since their house was
destroyed by the storm, and

took him into custody,

in front of his wife... my sister...

and his two children.

They want to charge him with
two counts of manslaughter.

I'm sorry.

I don't know who else to talk to.

My sister was home alone
with my niece and nephew,

and Ralph had the only car,
and she's pregnant,

and a tree fell on the house,

and the roof was about to collapse.

Sis, have you eaten?

Yes, I've eaten. Did you not
see all the empty slots

in the vending machine out in the hall?

I'm worried about you.

That's good. I'm worried about me, too.

This is my baby sister, Kristen.

This is my boss, Dr. Bull,
and this is Mr. Colón,

Ralph's lawyer for today.

Say thank you, Kris.
This is a big damn deal.

Thank you. Is-is it okay if I sit?

Absolutely. Why don't we all sit.

They know we have no money, right?

Not here, not now.

Let's not worry about that just yet.

Right now, our focus should be on getting

your husband out on bail.

Case number 44340.

Ralph, for God's sakes, are you okay?

I'm good. Is-is this you?

I'm Dr. Jason Bull.

This is Benjamin Colón.
He'll be your attorney.

Now let's see if we can
get you out of these cuffs.

That would be great.

Normally, I'm the guy with the keys.

They had you in
protective custody, I hope?

Yeah, solitary.

Thankfully, nobody thought
it'd be a good idea

to put a prison guard
in with the general population.

It's amazing what just 16 hours
in a concrete box

can do to your head.

Poor guy.

If we lose this,
they're not gonna keep him

in solitary forever. He won't
last 20 minutes outside of it.

Well, then... let's not lose this.

Synced & corrected by -robtor-
www.addic7ed.com

Okay,

so now that you're out on bail,
the hard work begins.

We have to prepare for trial.

Okay.

So...

how does a 28-year-old
corrections officer

end up being in charge

of an entire prison during a hurricane?

Well, uh, normally,

Warden Hewitt calls the shots,

but he wasn't there
when the storm turned,

so corporate decided we should
just shelter in place.

And, usually, when the warden is gone,

Captain Price gives the orders,
but when the hurricane was

upgraded to a Category 4, she
was given permission to leave.

I think she has a house
down the shore, she-she

wanted to board it up or something.

But you were next
in the chain of command?

Yes, sir. I was the ranking C.O. on duty.

Had the most years on the job,
which is, like, four.

And at that point,
there were still enough guards

for an operational crew, so no big deal,

but then the storm got worse,

people started jumping ship, and...

And then you jumped ship.

I know how it looks,

but my wife is pregnant.
A tree fell on our house.

I had the only car.

And, besides, the plan was,
I was gonna run home,

get my wife and kids to safety,
and then go back.

I mean, that-that was the plan.
I was gonna be gone

maybe, like, two, three hours.

But then trees started coming down

and power lines started coming down

and the road was flooded
and you couldn't get back. Mm.

Was that really your only option?

Wasn't there someone else
that could help your wife?

A friend? A neighbor?

Well... the-the folks next door
were already gone.

They're the only ones we really know,

the only ones whose number we have.

And it's not like Kristen
could go door to door

in weather like that.

She has preeclampsia.

I mean, she could've had a seizure.

My kids are only eight and five.

Look, they were stranded.

If there was a better option,
I didn't see it.

But the police report said
you weren't the one

who actually ended up
evacuating your family.

No. I-I mean, with the-the trees
and-and the road closures,

by the time I got back to
the house, they weren't there.

And Kristen's phone had died.
She left me a note

saying that a volunteer
rescue van had come by

and-and taken them to a motel.

And I swear, the second
I knew they were safe,

I tried to get back to work.

But the rain...

the-the water just rose too fast.

The-the road back to the prison
was blocked.

I-I-I called corporate, the warden, 911,

everyone I could think of.

There-there was nothing anyone could do.

And I read that,
because the county prioritized

evacuating hospitals and nursing homes,

the inmates were stranded for three days.

We sympathize with you, Ralph,

but let me tell you how it's gonna go.

We are gonna get into court
and the attorney for the state

is gonna say it was reckless
of you to leave the prison,

and that your recklessness
is the only reason

those two men are dead today.

I know that's what it looks like,

but here's the thing:

the prison has a brand-new roof.

They put in new pumps and
a brand new generator last year.

Things my crappy little house
doesn't have.

I thought those men were gonna be safe.

So you're saying you believed
the prisoners were safe,

but your family was in danger?

Well, sounds to me
like he left that prison

to prevent a greater harm.

Where is everybody?

Looks to me like almost half
the jury pool is a no-show.

Probably at home still trying
to chop down trees

or shovel mud out of their basement.

- Great.
- Those no-shows?

Those are exactly the kind
of people we could use

- on this jury.
- How do you mean?

Well, they clearly think
dealing with their family

or their property in
the aftermath of the storm

is more important than
doing their civic duty.

Basically making the
same choice Ralph did.

Bingo.

If only they were here.

All rise.

Ones that did show up... dedicated bunch

of rule-followers and they are gonna

have a very hard time
getting past the fact

that Ralph broke the rules
when he left his post.

The Honorable
Judge Elsa Maynard presiding.

Before we begin

with today's proceedings,

can I get a show of hands

of anyone personally affected
by the storm

who feels they would be unduly burdened

by serving on this jury?

You are all excused.

The court thanks you for your service.

And there goes anyone with

an emotional connection to
the storm's devastation.

That's great.

We're starting voir dire
with less than half

the options we usually have.

- Theo.

I love you, but I need this leg, bud.

Hannah, why don't you take
the boys in the other room

before Aunt Taylor
kicks us out on the street?

Dr. Bull and Mr. Colón need me

to go through your finances.

What? Why?

Like, our checking and savings?

I mean, what does that
have to do with Ralph's case?

Well, we're telling the jury
Ralph had no choice

but to leave his job to help you.

So we're pretty sure
the other side is gonna say

Ralph should have
evacuated you guys earlier,

when it was still a voluntary evacuation.

Before he had to go to work, so...

we want to be able to say...

"Hey, this guy's family doesn't
have the money

"to pay for hotels or taxis

"in anticipation of a hurricane

that might not even show up."

Okay.

I get it, um...
but I have to talk to Ralph

'cause it's his money, too.

Of course.

What?

I don't know, just hormones.

I'm overwhelmed.

Come here.

It's gonna be okay.

So...

Warden Hewitt.

Because there were no employees present

to move the prisoners
to safe and secure areas

when parts of the prison began to flood,

what happened?

Unfortunately, two prisoners drowned.

I have no further questions at this time.

Good afternoon, Warden.

Now, Blackwood is a private,
medium-security facility.

And is it policy for a lone guard to move

- more than one inmate at a time?
- No.

Our guards only carry nonlethal weapons,

so if a cell needs
to be emptied, we require

that there is at least one guard
for each inmate.

One guard for each inmate.

Now, the police report states that

seven cells on the first floor
of the prison flooded.

22 men. Now...

I'm guessing in the case of a flood,

you'd need to move these men
to the highest floor possible.

The third floor.

Now, how long do you think

it would take for one guard
to move these 22 inmates?

One inmate at a time?

A single man, by himself?

That's what I'm asking.

I'm guessing...

eight minutes.

Objection. Speculation.

Your Honor, this is not speculation.

I'm asking the man whose job description

is the "creation and implementation

of the safety protocols."

How they work, and how long

they take to execute.

If we can't ask him, then who do we ask?

Overruled.

Thank you, Your Honor.

So, if it takes eight minutes
to move a single prisoner

from the first floor to the third floor,

and there are 22 men,

we would be talking about almost...

three hours to move all those men.

And what if Ralph tried to do it faster?

By emptying a whole cell at once.

Two men, three men, four men.

Would that have been a safe option?

No.

And why is that?

Because a single guard
could easily be overpowered

when there are multiple inmates.

"Overpowered"?

Well, that sounds dangerous.

So, we are back to our
three-hour estimate.

Now, do you know approximately what time

Ralph left the prison?

Our video shows him leaving
a little after 10:00 p.m.

And do you know what time those
two men perished in their cells?

Again, the video seems to suggest

it was a little after 11:00.

So about an hour later.

So, even if he had stayed there...

right?

Even if he had ignored
his pregnant wife's plea,

who was convinced their house

was going to fall on her

and her two children at any second,

there's a very good
possibility that Ralph

would have been moving
some other prisoner

and would have not discovered
the dead inmates

until an hour or two later.

Maybe.

Or maybe he would have heard
their cries for help.

And been able to do
something to rescue them

before it was too late.

You're right.

That's a definite maybe.

Which reminds me.

Where were you in relation to
the prison when the storm hit?

Driving my wife
to her folks' place in Philly.

Ah.

So the warden gets to
drive his family to a safe,

dry place.

But a 28-year-old prison guard
can't do the same. Interesting.

Objection! Inflammatory.
Warden Hewitt is not

- on trial here.
- I am way ahead

of you, Mr. Monroe.
The jury will disregard

Mr. Colón's assertion.

No, they won't.

Once the generator died,

it was pitch-black in there.

I couldn't see my own hand
in front of my face.

And then the water
started coming up fast.

It was cold.

And it stank like I don't know what.

Everyone was panicking,

climbing up to the top bunks

to stay out of it.

That must have been when Moose fell.

Hit his head.

And by Moose, you mean your cellmate?

Inmate Pawlowski, one of the deceased?

That's right.

I didn't see it. None of us did,
but he must've gone under.

With everybody screaming...

...none of us even noticed
that he wasn't saying nothing.

And then the next time I did see him,

it was when the sun came up.

And he was just laying there.

Floating.

Face down.

All puffy, kind of purple.

I know Moose wasn't no saint.

But he was a man, you know?

Jury is hanging on

this guy's every word.

Why doesn't Benny object,
do something to break the spell?

Because as you just pointed out,
the jury is busy empathizing.

We interrupt, we...
and by extension, Ralph...

look callous and we'd be playing
right into the A.D.A.'s hands.

I've done some bad things in my life.

Sure.

But that doesn't give you the right

to do what you did.

You left us to die

- like animals in cages.
- Mr. Carter,

the defense asserts
that Ralph Kelly left his post

solely to save his family.

Do you have any reason to believe

that that, in fact, is not the case?

Yeah, I do.

Early on, before
the power generator died,

there was already a little bit
of water coming in

through the drains in our cells.

And that's when I heard C.O. Kelly.

He was standing
in the cell block corridor,

on his phone.

And that's when I heard him say,

"I got to figure out
a way to get out of here

before it's underwater."

Objection,

Your Honor. Hearsay.

Actually, I find it's a statement

against penal interest.

I'm going to allow it.

Objection overruled.

The jury may consider the
witness's statement as evidence.

I'm sure you're ahead of me, but...

it is a sea of red over here.

Of course it is.

I never said that. Carter lied.

I'm-I'm telling you.
I never said anything like that.

Ask Kristen, she-she was
the only one I spoke to

- on the phone that day.
- Well,

it's late in the day, but we could try

to subpoena his phone records.

Call Kristen to the stand
first thing tomorrow,

she could tell the jury
what they did say.

What they talked about.

Hmm. She's his pregnant wife.

Anything she says, the jury's gonna take

with a... mountain of salt.

Were there any other
witnesses to this phone call?

Anybody out there in the block with you?

I-I don't know, m-maybe one
of the guys in the cell?

No one's gonna rat out a cellie

to help out a guard unless
they get something for it.

Yeah, well, we don't have
anything to offer; we're not

- the D.A.'s office.
- What about the rescue van driver?

The one that picked up
Kristen and the kids

and evacuated them
before you made it home?

Well, what about him?

Well, you think she might
have said something to him

about you being on your way home?

Maybe. I...

Why? Wha-What are you thinking?

I-I'm not sure she even
got the guy's name.

But if she did say
something to him and we could

- find the guy...
- He could testify to what he heard

and that, in combination
with Kristen's testimony...

Could do some real damage. The good kind.

It could help convince a jury

that the only reason
you left was honestly

just to help your family.

Your Honor,

the defense would like to call
Mrs. Kelly to the stand.

Once you finally got through
to Ralph on his cell phone,

what did you say to him?

I told him that if he didn't come

and rescue us right then,

that we were probably gonna die

right there in that house.

I mean, you can see.

The tree fell right on it.

You could see the sky.
The rain was coming in. I-I...

I was afraid that maybe the whole place

was gonna blow up or something.

And then what happened?

Ralph promised that
he was gonna come and get us.

That he was leaving right away.

Now, uh, during that phone call,

do you recall your husband
ever mentioning

needing to leave the prison
because it was flooded?

'Cause it was unsafe?

Did he ever share any concerns
with you about his own safety?

No. His safety never came up.

Trust me, I was hysterical.

The only thing we ever discussed

was him coming home
to get me and the kids.

Thank you. No further questions,

Your Honor.

Hey, sis. No big deal,
I'm just... surprise, surprise...

going over your bank statements, and, uh,

there are some deposits here,

I just can't figure out
where they came from.

Anyway, if you're, uh, asleep
by the time I get home tonight,

you can just fill me in in the morning.

Hey, I just got off the phone
with your sister.

So you're the reason
I can't get ahold of her.

Well, she wasn't able to fill
in any of the blanks for me

in my hunt for this van driver
who rescued her and her kids.

I mean, I get it.

There were children,
everyone was in a panic,

everyone was wearing rain slickers.

Who remembers details, let alone faces?

- Sorry.
- All's not lost.

I got an idea. I called the motel

where our Good Samaritan dropped
off your sister and her kids

to see if there was any security footage,

or to see if somehow,
they got the guy's name.

And?

No security cameras.

And the hotel lost power that night,

and the desk clerk didn't have
any information on our guy.

But she did remember Kristen coming in

with a group of evacuees.

And she was nice enough
to e-mail me a copy

of the paper check-in log
that they used that night.

I'm thinking maybe one of the
people that Kristen came in with

remembers who drove them?

Do you want to split up
the names? Start making calls?

You think these check-in times
are accurate?

I assume so. Why?

Kris.

We need to talk.

You lied to me, didn't you?

And not just me. You lied on the stand.

When you got through to Ralph
on the day of the storm,

you couldn't have asked him
to come rescue you

at the house because you
and the kids were at the motel.

And don't give me any BS,
because I know, Kristen.

I have the motel records.

What did you say to Ralph on that call?

Why did Ralph actually leave the prison?

Because it sure as hell wasn't
to save you and the kids.

Ralph left because there was
something in our garage.

Something really important.

Something that we couldn't
afford to leave behind.

And when the tree fell on it,
I knew I couldn't

get into the garage, so if Ralph
didn't come for it...

Okay.

And so I'm just supposed
to guess what it was?

What was so damn important
it cost two men their lives,

your husband his job, and in
all probability, me, my job?

$50,000, in cash,

in a duffle bag,
getting wetter by the minute.

That's what Ralph had to get.

And, look, obviously, nobody thought

anyone was gonna get hurt.

Okay. So wherever that money came from,

am I supposed to assume
that's where all those deposits

in your bank account came from, too?

What deposits?

Have you not checked your voice mail?

Did you go ahead
and look at our bank statements

without my permission?

Did you hack into my bank accounts?

Of course I did.

I worked in Homeland.
I do what I have to do.

And by the way, I was trying
to save your husband's ass.

Now, where's all this cash
coming from, Kristen?

I don't know.

Apparently, there are ways
to make money in a prison.

Okay... but I'm telling you the truth.

I-I don't know.

I never wanted to know, so Ralph

- never told me.
- Kris...

Look, but with this money,
and your loans,

we were actually able to get
caught up on our house payments.

And we can actually afford this baby,

and assuming that my husband
doesn't go to prison

and the insurance is willing
to cover the cost of the roof,

we might actually be able
to pay you back.

Yeah. With dirty money!

You may not be able
to tell me how he got it,

but you know it's dirty money.
It has to be.

Whatever he did

to get that money is almost
certainly a crime, Kristen.

And so is perjury.

All right, well, then
tell me the other choice.

We tell the truth.

And it's not the other choice.

It's the only choice.

Look, it's simple.

Your husband can't
take the stand tomorrow.

Not if he's gonna perjure himself.

Wait, what do you mean? He has to.

Your boss said that's
the only way we win this,

with Ralph's testimony.

Well, I don't know what to tell you.

He can't testify.
He can't lie under oath.

I have to tell Dr. Bull about this.

I have to tell him the truth.

Taylor, you can't do that.

Think about Ralph.

Think about me. Think about our kids.

Where are you going?
It's the middle of the night.

Hotel.

I got to beat Dr. Bull
to work in the morning.

Got to get to him
before he gets to court.

Dr. Bull?

I'm so sorry.

Your wife lied on the
stand yesterday, didn't she?

Eh, she didn't call
you asking you to rescue her.

She called you asking to rescue

a duffle bag full of money, didn't she?

And that inmate who testified, Carter,

he was telling the truth, wasn't he?

I suppose.

You suppose?

You know you told your wife
you had to get out of there

before "it" was underwater.

And now we know the "it"
you were referring to

wasn't the prison,
it was the $50,000 you had

in your garage.

Fortunately, Mr. Colón was able to ask

the judge for a 24-hour
continuance. But...

...before I decide if my team
will continue with your case,

you need to tell me everything.

- The whole truth.
- Let's start with the money.

Where'd you get it from?

You smuggling drugs?

Shaking down some inmates?
On some gang's payroll?

No. Nothing like that. It...

I was running phones.

Selling them.

What do you mean? To prisoners?

All the guards do it.

I held out for a really long time.

But then, Kris got pregnant again.

We were already up
to our eyeballs in debt.

I was just gonna sell a few,
get caught up

- until the baby came.
- Well.

Well, $50,000 sounds like
you did more than just catch up.

Yeah. 'Cause then,
I realized how easy it was.

Do you know what the going rate
is for a cell phone in prison?

Like, a thousand dollars.

I can make more selling
a few dozen phones

than I got paid
for an entire year as a guard.

All of a sudden, I didn't have
to worry about losing the house

or getting the power turned off.

And it was only phones.
I wasn't hurting anyone.

Well, I haven't spent a lot
of quality time in prison,

but it doesn't take a lot
of imagination to figure out

what a criminal behind bars

might be able to do with a cell phone.

I'm sorry I lied.

But no one was supposed to die.

Dr. Bull? Benny.

I'm sorry.

You have no idea how sorry.

Neither one of us thinks
you have much to be sorry for,

but, obviously,

this... does put us in a tricky position.

So what do we do?

What do you do? What happens now?

We go to court.

What does that mean?

We are calling Ralph to the stand,

and we've strongly advised him
to tell the truth.

The rest is up to him.

He doesn't have to talk about the money,

and I'm not gonna ask him
about it, but everything else,

he's got to fess up.

It's his only chance
to win over that jury.

And if the other side finds out

he left the prison knowing
his wife and kids were safe?

And we have to assume they will.

And they ask him about it
before we do? We are cooked.

He's going to prison for 20 years.

And as an ex-prison guard,
he won't last 20 minutes.

And what about my sister?

If Ralph tells the truth,
won't everyone realize she lied

on the stand? What about her?

Like I said, this has put us
in a tricky position,

but at the end of the day,

your brother-in-law
did not kill those men.

Now, the warden's testimony

strongly suggests

that even if he had been there
all by himself,

it's unlikely that
he would have been able to move

those people quickly enough
to make a difference.

We just have to hope,
between Ralph's truthfulness

and what I know will be a

very stirring closing argument,

the jury will be able to see that.

Your Honor, the defense
would like to call Ralph Kelly

to the stand.

Mr. Kelly, how long have you been

a guard at Blackwood Correctional?

- Uh, just under four years.
- Okay.

And forgive me for getting
personal, but how much

are you paid for being
a correctional officer

at Blackwood?

Objection. Relevance?

Mr. Colón?

Your Honor, Mr. Kelly is being
charged with manslaughter

in the deaths of two men.

I think it's important
for the jury to understand

just where he sits in the pecking order

of the people who work
at this private prison.

And I think his salary
might offer the jury

a real-world indicator of that.

Objection overruled.

The witness may answer the question.

$18.50 an hour.

Started at $11.40 an hour

- when I was first hired.
- Wow.

And-and are you,

as a matter of course, ever left
in sole charge of the prison?

Actually, the-the day of the
hurricane was the first time.

I feel the wind starting to shift.

How's the weather where you are?

Well... nobody is switching sides yet,

but their engagement is high.

- They want to hear what he has to say.
- So, normally,

making life-and-death decisions
isn't a part of your job?

Life or death? No.

Uh, making sure everyone
behaves, people take their meds,

eat their meals, stay in
the areas they're assigned to,

that's pretty much what we do...
what-what I do.

So, if you're not normally
in a position of oversight

at Blackwood, who is?

Who's normally giving the orders?

Well, uh, normally, there's the warden.

And at other times there's
one of the deputy wardens.

And there's always the home office.

I mean, if-if you can't locate
someone above you,

you can always call them.

Except during the hurricane.

Uh, their... the phones were down.

Okay.

So, u-uh, the wardens,
the deputy wardens,

uh, where were they?

I don't know.

I, uh, I came in to work
and they weren't there.

And why do you think that is?

You think they were concerned
about the weather?

You think they were concerned
about their families?

Objection. He's asking
the witness to speculate.

I'll withdraw the question, Your Honor.

So the hurricane changes direction,

and one by one,
your guards start to leave.

Rushing home to their families,
but not you?

Well, uh, I was the guy that was
there for the longest.

So... uh, in-in a way,
I was the most senior.

Not senior enough to stop
anybody from going, but...

But you had a very pregnant wife at home.

And two small children.

I know, but still, it was my job.

And-and I liked my job.

Mm-hmm. So what changed your mind?

When you got that phone
call from your wife?

Here we go. Our "make it
or break it" moment.

Mr. Kelly?

Wasn't it the moment your wife
called you and pleaded with you

to come home and rescue her
and the children?

Kristen called, but it wasn't about that.

I'm sorry, I'm-I'm confused.

Your wife testified two days ago

that she called you and pleaded
with you to come home.

I know. And that's partly true.

She wanted me to go to the house,

but not to get her and the kids.

They'd already been rescued.
They were at a hotel.

Order.

Please keep your hands and arms
inside the vehicle

at all times and remain seated.

Hang on to your personal belongings,

especially your hat.

The ride could get turbulent.

Are you saying your wife lied
to the court?

I'm saying that m-my wife

said what she felt she needed
to say to keep me out of prison.

It's not her fault.

She just wanted me to be around
to see my newborn.

I know it sounds crazy, but we had

some things in the garage.

Things that meant everything to us.

And, normally,

I-it would have only been
25 minutes each way

to the house and back.

I figured it would be fine. Uh...

They had pumps, backup generators.

The prison was dry as a bone when I left.

I made it to the house fine.

And I got...

what I needed to out of the garage.

And then when I headed back
to the prison, trees were down.

And power lines.

The road was blocked.

- Hmm.
- I couldn't get through.

No one could.

Those men...

...I see their faces all the time.

Moose worked as the chapel orderly.

He said it gave him peace.

And Thomas?

He just got his GED.

I knew them.

I swear to you,
I-I would never have left if...

Thank you.

No further questions, Your Honor.

Let's take a 20-minute recess.

All right.

So I thought we should
just step out and grab

a breath of fresh air before
we have to go back in there

and hear that the last week of our lives

has been a total waste of time.

- You're awfully sure of yourself.
- Eh, I've been doing this

a long time.

Faces change, not the rules.

You need all 12 jurors
for a guilty verdict.

You don't have them.

I'd be surprised if you got half.

- Half?
- Come on.

These jurors get it.

Kid's been hung out to dry
because the real bosses,

the people who should have been
there calling the shots,

were too busy hiding in their McMansions

and hoping the hurricane
didn't take out their yachts.

Best you're gonna do here is a mistrial,

which means we get to do this
all over again

in six months or so.

Waste more of the taxpayers'
money, more of my time,

more of your time.

Meanwhile, the kid can't get
a job to support his family,

and the taxpayers
get to take care of that, too.

- That's not what this trial is about.
- Well,

I'm sorry to be the one
to break it to you,

but he didn't kill those men.

And that will still be true
the next time we try this,

and the time after that
and the time after that.

The only thing this kid's
guilty of is poor judgment.

And getting his wife to lie for him.

And working for people
who are only too happy

to throw him under the bus,
and then drive over him

if it will keep them from having to bear

any personal responsibility.

So what is it that you want me to do?

I want you to call the game off,
on account of rain.

Drop the charges.

Let everybody go home,
put their lives back together.

Put their houses back together,
have their babies.

Before the prosecution
cross-examines the witness,

counsel has asked for a brief meeting

in the judge's chambers.

I'm going to call another short

adjournment and ask
that the jury be returned

to the jury room
until such time as I can signal

that we're ready to resume.

Of course.

Assuming all of us can come
to a meeting of the minds

on a few minor details,

we are going to walk back
into that courtroom

and the judge is going to announce

that the district attorney's
office has decided to withdraw

the manslaughter charge against you.

What? Oh, my God. U-Uh...

Dr. Bull, h-how do we ever thank you?

You don't.

I didn't do this for you.
I did it for Taylor.

And for those babies you have

and the baby you're having.

And I did it because
while I think you behaved

like a selfish jackass... both of you...

I don't believe
you are actually responsible

for those men losing their lives. Now...

...let me ask you something.

How much do you think

a big-ass second chance
like that is worth?

I think $50,000.

$25,000 each to the families
of the men who perished.

How's that sound to you?

Uh...

That sounds like
the bargain of a lifetime.

Hmm. Well said.

Now, how about we go
back into that court,

hear the good news for ourselves?

Can I at least thank you?

It's a free country.

Thank you.

I think you just saved someone's life.

And when I think about

my sister and my niece and nephew,

my future niece or nephew...
maybe a lot of people's lives.

I'm incredibly grateful.

Good. I like that.

Anything that makes it easier to exploit

and take unfair advantage
of the people who work for me,

I'm all for it.

Wow. You can't just say
"you're welcome," can you?

Okay. Wait a second. Let me try.

Nah. What for?

You coming?