All language subtitles for simon_simon_s07e16_may_the_road_rise_up

Everything on this paper is true. I
simply want to know what happened to my

father.

I've forgotten what a handsome man Dad
was.

I see him every time I look at you two.

Hasn't it occurred to you that he might
still be alive?

The information you're seeking is U .S.
government classified top secret.

Please tell us what happened. Tell us
where he is.

He's dead.

You're backing off.

Do you think that if you can find him,
that you can get to some place in his

heart that you've never been before?

Move it. Come on. Where's my bear claw?
Come on. Move it. All right. Follow the

Buick. I'm Buick. Come on. Let's go.

Wow. Down the corner.

Turn here. Turn right. Right.

It's not even 7 o 'clock in the morning.
I got cotton between my ears. My mouth

tastes like the inside of whole boots.

My much -abused nervous system is crying
out for coffee. What the hell are we

doing? Get a little closer, you'll see.
Closer to what? Rick, will you step on

it, please?

AJ, one more ticket on my record, and I
might be qualified to drive in Boston.

That's about it. What are we chasing?

There. Look.

That is what we're chasing.

Oh, my God.

Crazy. I'm calling the cops.

Where'd you get this car?

What the hell business is that of yours?
Answer the question. Very, very

important to us.

I bought it a month ago at an auction.

Where?

Mason and Masters. The pink slips on the
glove box.

What's this all about? What's the big
hassle?

Over 30 years ago, a man drove this car
over a cliff.

He totaled it.

Fireball. Well, that's impossible.

Does it look burned up to you?

What exactly is the big problem with you
guys?

The big problem is that the man behind
the wheel is our father.

Is this your idea of a joke?

Mom, give us a break.

No, you give me a break. I thought I
raised you to have more taste than that.

It's not a joke, Mom.

It happened less than an hour ago.

Well, if you didn't pull some thick
prank someone else did, putting your

father's license plate on a duplicate
car... It isn't a duplicate car, Mom.

Don't be ridiculous, Rick.

Your father lost control of that car on
a rainy night.

It's San Onofre Canyon, February 16th,
1954.

That's right.

So how could you have possibly seen it
today?

Why are you angry with us? We didn't ask
for this to happen.

I have never shown you this before.

Have you ever seen it?

I looked at it a couple of times when I
was a kid.

Always wondered why you kept it.

What is it?

A wedding ring.

Your father's.

He never took it off from the moment we
said, with this ring I thee wed, until

the night he died.

The police arrived and told me he'd been
burned beyond recognition.

Please don't. No, listen to me.

I remember...

That ride, like it was last night.

Three days of tropical storm.

The police car rode through the
intersections like some boat. The

it would take days to identify him.

You know, from dental remains or
whatever.

But they had a few scraps that blew
clear in the explosion.

That was the one that made me sure.

Mom?

We saw something today that made us
sure.

You remember the day that Dad brought
that car home from the showroom, how

he was?

And I was in my mechanics phase.

Do I ever.

You took his hammer and decided you were
going to go out there and fix his new

pride and joy.

When he heard the banging on that
bumper, never before or since have I

seen a man fly.

Mom, the dent in the bumper.

They were there today.

On this car.

if Dad's car is still around.

Beautiful, isn't she? Ah, yeah, yeah.

All show and no go, though.

Au contraire.

Balanced and blueprinted 312.

Must be a pretty penny.

A lot of pretty pennies.

Reserve bid is 25 ,000, but I don't
expect it to go for less than 35 or 40.

She's on the block Friday, 7 sharp.

Well, the car I was interested in you
sold last month, Buick 54 Maroon.

Oh, yeah, yeah.

Incredible vehicle.

Virgin paint. You could smell the
leather.

Yeah, I changed the belts and the tires,
but it was just age, not wear.

Yeah. I need to know who the seller was.

Oh, I'm sorry. That's between me, the
consignment, and Uncle Sam.

Well, you can understand the need for
confidentiality.

Well, frankly, no, I can't, because I
don't care how much the guy made. I just

want to talk to him. I'm a private
investigator.

If you're hinting that there was any
impropriety... No, no, no, not at all.

You've been in business here for years.
Your reputation's just as impeccable as

that suit you're wearing.

This is personal.

I'm sorry.

Ah, look, I'm sure the rarefied air in
here has made you forget what an angry

man in the real world might do.

Are you threatening me?

No. Not yet.

But if you don't give me the name of the
man who brought that Buick in here, I

will be.

Look around, blockhead.

You think we'd carry this kind of
merchandise without some heavy -duty

around? What would you like?

Ex -chargers or Dobermans? I can give
you both. Up close and very personal.

Have a nice day.

Hi, Mrs. Gabriel.

Who is it? My name is A .J. Simon. I was
hoping to talk to Dr. Gabriel. Is he

home today?

Do we know you, son?

No, ma 'am.

This is about an autopsy that he did
when he was with the coroner's office.

He'll be glad.

Oh, please come in. Thank you.

Cliff. Cliff, here's a young man to see
you. He wants to talk about your work.

Hi, Dr. Gabriel, A .J. Simon.

Oh, how are you?

I hope I'm not interrupting you. Oh, no,
no.

It's okay with me, as long as it's okay
with General Grant.

That's quite a display.

Well, you'd think that anyone that has
seen as much death as I have would

something besides war for a hobby, huh?

Um, Dr. Gabriel, I'm going to be very
direct.

I came here to talk to you about an
autopsy.

Oh.

Been a long time since I've done one of
those.

You don't look like the kind of fellow
that's got a stomach for it.

No, sir. I came to talk to you about one
particular autopsy, actually.

Do you remember this case?

25 years since I left that office. Jack
Simon was my father.

I was very young when he was killed, and
I had a closed casket. I never got a

chance to say goodbye to him.

The way he looked, you wouldn't have
wanted to.

No child should have seen that.

Then you do remember.

Will you tell me about the accident,
about the burns?

Everything on this paper is true.

Yes, sir.

I know that. It's a... These are just
empty facts, you know.

A date, time. I want the story.

Fourteen years I was in that morgue work
and never had a hint of scandal, never

had a finding reversed.

So I don't appreciate your tone, young
man.

Dr. Gabriel, I wouldn't dream of
questioning your integrity. I simply

know what happened to my father.

Then look it up in the computer.

Hell, they know everything today, don't
they?

Bound to be a little bit of tape or...

Plastic somewhere that'll give you all
the damn details you want to read. Me?

I don't remember a thing.

Cliff, is anything wrong?

No, nothing.

This gentleman was just leaving.

Oh, what a shame.

I was just going to make us all a nice
cup of tea.

Goodbye, Mr. Simon.

You want me to what? We could order it
ourselves, but we're private citizens.

have to show cause. We would have to
prove suspicion of foul play or some

red tape that would mean we'd have to
live with this thing for days or weeks.

Well, what does Cecilia think?

We don't think she needs to know about
it yet.

I disagree.

In fact, I disagree with this whole
thing. I think you two are buying into a

traumatic experience that will only make
things worse.

That's easy for you to say.

How is your dad, by the way?

Does he still go fishing every Saturday
morning with your brothers?

A .J. Does he still buy a seasoned ski
pass to Gunnison every year?

Tomorrow morning.

Thank you. No, don't thank me.

I'm being selfish.

I don't want you two hanging around
bugging me.

Yeah, Roy, this is Abby Marsh.

I have a special request.

Mom, I thought we agreed. You wouldn't
dare make an agreement to exclude me

this, so don't even discuss it. Mom,
it's just... Just what?

You're going to open my husband's grave
without me present?

First you insist on dredging up this
rotten business against my wishes.

Then you try to make Abigail my friend,
keep it a secret from me.

Well, by God, I'm going to stand here
and watch your faces when they open up

that damn box.

Get on with it, young man.

How

could

this happen?

How in God's name could this be?

We don't know anything, Mom.

We don't know if he arranged it himself
or something happened or... We just, we

don't know anything.

Where is he? And what happened to his
body?

All sorts of possibilities, Mom.

Dad worked for the government.

All manner of reasons for a man to
disappear.

Protected witness or secret missions.
Love affairs, irresponsibility, boredom.

Stop it.

This is Dad we're talking about.

Hasn't it occurred to you that he might
still be alive?

Is that supposed to make me overjoyed?

It does me.

I envy your clarity, A .J.

God knows I loved the man.

But he wasn't easy to live with.

And he had facets I never managed to
penetrate.

But he was your husband.

And he is my father.

I'm sorry. I didn't expect you to
understand.

Hi.

Oh, I can come back. No, Abby, please
come in.

I thought you might want some company
tonight.

Oh, it would be wonderful to have you
here.

Oh, it's the least I can do.

Because if I know these two, they might
be hard to reach in the next few days.

So I brought this.

Nixon found it in the basement of the
Hall of Records.

Please file on your father's death.

Hello? Anybody here?

Get the hell away from my home!

If we try, what says you won't kill us?

Nothing but my word.

In fact, I got a beat on you right now.

Deputy Burns!

Nobody's called me that.

It's been a long time.

Who are you?

Cops?

No, we're P .I .s from town. We just
want to talk to you for a minute.

Your minute's ticking away.

30 -odd years ago, you were the first
one on the scene of an automobile wreck.

You sat on Oak Bay Canyon.

More of those than I care to count, son.

That road just ate drunks and teenagers.

Some kind of dark spirit living up
there.

Indians knew it. They stayed away.

Well, this one was a maroon convertible.

According to the accident report, by the
time you got there, it was engulfed in

flames.

Driver's name was Jack's... Well, John.
John Andrew Simon.

That name doesn't mean anything to me.

Like I said, there's a presence there.

Manitou, maybe.

Wind Walker.

Well, according to the accident report,
you got there just minutes after it

crashed.

That driver, he was our father. I told
you, I don't remember what happened.

With all due respect, sir, I don't care
how many people you've seen dead, you

remember them.

Oh, I get it.

You've been in my shoes, haven't you?

Been so old, it takes all your strength
just to get vertical in the morning.

No, sir, that's not it. Sure.

You got a strain and stretch to remember
the name of the last woman you made

love to.

But the guy you'll always be the
cribbage.

At the end of your shift, every day for
20 years running.

So excuse me for forgetting the details
about some faceless drunk who ran off a

canyon road in a brand new Buick.

You never said it was a Buick.

Sure you did.

You think I just made it up?

No, sir, I think you remembered it.

And I think you're a hell of a lot
sharper than you want anybody to think.

So tell me, how is helping us find out
what happened to our own father 30 -odd

years ago going to hurt an old hermit
like you?

Now, you watch your mouth.

No man comes on my land and calls me a
liar. Now, you get the hell out of here,

both of you. What makes you so damn
bitter?

Do you have a family?

Do you know what it's like?

I got a wife.

She's pushing up daisies in Rose Hills.

I thought being married to a deputy
sheriff somehow would make our world

But some hungry stone -broke derelict
didn't feel that way.

Shot her in the face when she wouldn't
hand over a purse.

Oh, and I got a kid, too.

Joining the army to be all that he could
be.

Except all that he could be was a damned
heroin addict.

I got him back in a body bag that I
wasn't even a war on.

Now ask me why I live up here alone.

And ask me why I don't give a rat's
behind for you, for your brother, for

daddy.

Well, are you going to talk or are you
just going to stare at my windshield

until the glass melts?

You're not feeling any better than I am.

Maybe.

But I do know... So if you don't start
talking, something's going to give.

Okay, let me take a stab at it.

You've gotten your hopes up, and you're
afraid that Dad's going to be dead

anyway.

That wouldn't be the worst.

The worst would be to find him still
alive, like that old man.

Bitter and different.

You know, Rick, I've met two old men in
the last two days, and all I can think

is...

What does he look like?

Does he still like baseball?

Does he still have hair?

Does he still start laughing before he's
finished telling a joke?

And whoever he is, he's not going to be
the same man that I knew when I was a

child, and that scares me.

Yeah, me too.

You sure you're up to this?

Honey, if this is what it takes, watch
me.

Friday night, 7 o 'clock sharp. Bye
-bye.

Excuse me.

Mrs. Gorman is interested in bidding on
the barrister this evening.

Do you have an auction number yet?

No, but that's inconsequential. If the
vehicle is satisfactory, she will enter

an unconditional buy order. Prices of no
object.

I see.

Jackson?

Yes, madam.

Would you join us, please?

I want a test drive.

I'm very sorry, but Mr. Masters just
went to lunch.

Young lady, I'm prepared to make a
deposit in excess of your annual salary

guarantee the purchase of this car.

Are you going to tell me I can't take it
around the block?

Ma 'am, I know when Mr. Masters returns,
he'd be more than happy to demonstrate

the vehicle.

And what good will it be to have him
demonstrate the vehicle? We are the ones

who must drive it.

Ms. Gorman, time is very valuable.

Her schedule is extremely tight.

It's a tea in her honor.

at the Bay Club this afternoon.

Just a minute.

This is Naugahyde. It's what?

No.

I'm sure it's leather.

Are you telling me I don't know the
difference between Naugahyde and

How impertinent.

Ma 'am, I'm sure that when Mr. Masters
returns, he'll have the material

Matthew Haskell. I haven't even thought
of him for years.

Oh, Mr. Haskell.

Practical mythic when I was a kid. You
remember him, A .J.? Dimly.

He was Dad's boss, wasn't he?

Voice like thunder.

Hello, Ricky.

He wasn't only his boss, he was his best
friend.

He and your father worked together in
intelligence during the war.

He hired your father as security chief
at Nemesis.

That old think tank?

That's right.

Here.

I'd forgotten what a handsome man Dad
was.

I haven't.

I see him every time I look at you two.

Yes, Jean.

Two gentlemen to see you, Mr. Haskell.

I told them they needed an appointment,
but they were rather insistent. Who are

they? Brothers. They say their name is
Simon.

I beg your pardon, sir?

Nothing, Jean.

Tell them to wait.

Adams. Matt Haskell.

That problem I told you about.

It's standing outside my office.

How long did he say he was going to be?

He didn't, sir. I already told you. He
just said you should wait.

Yeah.

Who's in there with him?

You're the Simon brothers?

Who wants to know?

You're investigating the death of your
father, John A. Simon.

And how do you know that?

My partner and I are security agents
assigned to a high -level agency

this building.

The information you're seeking is U .S.
government -classified top secret.

Now, look, we are not the creeping Kame
Menace. We just want to find out... I

understand. But if you don't assist in
this investigation, you'll be under

threat of federal penalty.

I have my orders.

And do your orders include keeping sons
from learning the truth about their

father's death?

I have my job to do.

I guess in that case, there's nothing
for us to do.

As you were saying, there's nothing to
do but what these nice gentlemen asked

to.

Excuse me.

Do you... You're not really going to let
them stop us, are you?

Hey, Jay, it's the United States
government. We're talking about just

what you want to do.

I want to keep digging, that's what.

I want to find Dad. He's dead.

Because they say so? No.

Because it's true.

Right.

A former sheriff's deputy agrees with
you, an ex -coroner agrees with you, and

we know that they're lying.

And now all of a sudden you want to roll
over simply because two guys in suits

tell us to go away?

I'm tired of this shit now.

to fight.

That's not my brother talking.

Yes, it is.

A brother who's seen a little bit more
of the dark side of the federal

government than you have.

Because you went to war. Yes, because I
went to war.

Garbage!

You're backing off because you don't
really want to know what happened.

You're full of it.

Am I?

Go look in the mirror, Rick.

You've been running away from Dad's
death for years. Oh, come on. Now, why

you go back and volunteer for a second
tour of duty in Nam?

Huh?

Now, don't tell me it was because you
believed in the cause.

Don't tell me it was because you loved
the smell of napalm in the morning.

You did it because Dad dropped off the
face of the earth and scared the holy

living daylights out of you. My brother,
Sigmund Freud. You had to prove it

couldn't happen to you.

And when two tours wouldn't do it, then
you had to go and get unconscious on the

back of some Harley somewhere at 100
miles an hour.

Because something inside was saying, if
this doesn't get me, nothing ever will.

Well, what about you, huh?

I'm not the only one who chose a career
that puts my neck on the line at least

once a month.

Every planet's got its dark side. Yeah,
maybe so.

You are not immune. While I was out
there on the edge, you turned into the

tightly wrapped package since King Tut's
tomb.

Some scared little voice in you crying
out, wait a minute, wait a minute. Maybe

if I do everything right, if I say all
the right things, if I don't make

mad, maybe the angel of death will just
fly right past and forget I'm even here.

I've dealt with Dad's death. Have you?

Have you?

Then why is it you who keeps insisting
he's alive?

Do you think that if you can find him...

That you can get to some place in his
heart that you've never been before. A

place that was mine.

Not because I was special, but just
because I happened to come out of the

canal a couple of years ago.

Sorry. I'm sorry.

I apologize.

Forget it.

Maybe I'm mad. Maybe I'm just tired.

I just... Maybe you're right.

I don't want to jeopardize national
security.

I just want to find out what happened to
Dad.

Hello, Mr. Haskell.

We don't want to hurt you.

Just want to talk to you.

Do you remember us?

You're damn right I do.

If you cut from the same cloth as your
dad, you're not going to hurt a man 20

years your senior.

Old man, huh?

An old man with a black belt, a silver
star, a Class 3 top -secret clearance.

And an original issue of Ermart Luger.

Well, these kids were all right.

But I'm sorry, it's...

It's not going to work.

Oh, yes, it is.

No, A .J.

No, it's not.

You see, to threaten someone, you've got
to take away something they care about.

And the things I care about were taken
away a long time ago.

My wife.

And as for my life, well, God beat you
to that one.

Liver cancer.

I've got six months.

Maybe a year.

Mr. Haskell, my father considered you a
friend, so did my mother.

She still has pictures of you all she
showed us.

In the name of all that's good and
decent, please tell us what happened to

If he's dead, tell us.

If he's alive, tell us where he is.

And for God's sake, tell us why he had
to run away.

Don't do it.

school, please.

For our father, Jack.

Baingate, this is Mr. Haskell.

Send the car back.

Excuse the delay, gentlemen.

The delay I can live with, the guns I
can do without.

The feet.

Matt.

Thanks.

I'm afraid I treated your boys rather
rudely. But then again, they weren't

exactly Emily Post to me, either.

Well, they get that way when blood is
involved.

I understand.

Well, now that I have you together, I'll
tell you what this is all about.

Thank God for small favors.

Matt, it better be good.

It is, Cecilia. It is.

I'm going to tell you everything.

Everything you never knew about Jack
Simon.

He was made of stuff most men only dream
of.

I first met your dad in Paris shortly
before V .E. Day.

General George Marshall had already
approached me about a project called

Nemesis.

Nemesis was the stepchild of the
Manhattan Project.

Now, Oppenheimer and Fermi knew that
their research was crude.

In fact, when they tested that first A
-bomb in Los Alamos, They were taking

bets as to whether the chain reaction
would go right through the planet.

At least they had the brains to put up
the next step of development ahead of

time. Exactly.

By 1950, Nemesis had developed systems
that would make the Hiroshima bomb look

like a pop gun.

Well, your father was our chief of
security.

It's a hell of a responsibility.

Rick, you're about to learn just how
true that statement is.

On that night...

16 February 1954.

There was a break -in at one of our
labs.

They killed all five armed guards. There
was only one man left to stop them.

Your father.

Were they terrorists?

That's what you'd call them nowadays.
They stole a lead -lined case.

Lithium deuteride and plutonium -239.

That's the fuel for an H -bomb.

It was then, and it still is, the most
deadly, unstable radioactive material

known to man.

And Jack tried to stop them?

Jack not only tried, he succeeded.

Jack pursued them up San Onofre Canyon.

They had a plane waiting.

Jack had a Thompson submachine gun.

He took on all four of them alone.

I could never get him to tell me exactly
what happened. He would just shake his

head.

But I do know.

When we drove up, I saw him running away
from that burning plane with that case

in his hand.

When the fuel tanks went, the explosion
knocked Jack maybe ten yards away and

the case broke open.

And Jack took a massive dose of
radiation.

And all he could do was sit in that bun
and shout at me, Stay back, Matt! Stay

back! Matt, please!

I could still see him sitting in that
mud with the rain pouring down his face.

He just might have saved the whole
damned United States.

And I couldn't even thank him or
congratulate him.

Or even hug him.

I think maybe we've heard enough.

No.

I want to hear the rest, Matt.

I'm all right.

Please, go on.

Well, we knew he was going to die.

And from the cases we'd seen in Nevada,
the troops at the test site, we knew

that it was going to be gruesome and
very, very painful.

That night we went back to Nemesis,
thinking we had to make some pretty

decisions.

Jack made them all for us.

You boys were very young.

You'd only seen your father vibrant and
healthy and rugged.

Well, Jack just couldn't bear the
thought of his kids watching him waste

He didn't want the woman he loved to see
him become impotent and bedridden and

finally incontinent.

To the world and to all of you, Jack
Simon died

that night.

Some drunk had driven off the canyon.

In the storm and burned to death.

So, we had very little trouble making
the deputy of the car and it changed the

facts for national security.

The wedding ring.

I melted that down myself.

Cecilia placed it back in the wreckage.

What about the car?

Where did that come from?

And why didn't you just get rid of it?

I don't know. I guess I just wanted a
piece of Jack with me and I didn't want

let go of it.

But it was on blocks for 30 years in the
old carriage house. And when the doctor

told me about my cancer... Well, a man
does... things when

he... knows he's gonna die.

You could have consigned it in L .A. Or
anywhere, for that matter.

But you didn't.

You wanted us to know about it, didn't
you?

That's where he died.

Took months. I nursed him.

Look at this.

It's my swimming medal from summer camp.

Wondered where that was.

Oh.

It seems to be mine.

Oh.

You wouldn't go to sleep without that
until you were almost five.

Then you wanted to be a doctor and you
performed surgery on his leg with a

knife. That's what I remember.

I had a good nurse.

Gatsby, Thomas Wolfe, John Dunn's
sonnets.

At one time, your dad wanted to be a
writer, and he used to come under my

window and try to woo me with these
things.

I think I threw a shoe at him once.

My journal, 1954.

John Andrew Simon.

Awaken from sleep last night several
times by the pain of the simple act of

rolling over.

To hell with the doctors.

Wish they could help.

When I can't sleep, I lie in bed
thinking of... See.

The bed used to be such a joyous, God
-blessed playground.

How a couple of young cult lovers could
get lost in each other

and produce something as beautiful as a
little boy

and then another.

I miss you, thief.

Miss you.

Damn you, Jack Simon.

Damn you.

How could he have done this?

I could have made him happier. I could
have...

I faced the bullet for the Reich,

and I watched the universe explode on a
Nevada desert.

And yet the thing that worries me most
is my firstborn.

And to look at is like looking into a
perfect mirror.

To see my very own lamppost -swinging,
life -drunk, happy,

oblivious mistakes waiting to be made.

I wish I could be with him.

To turn back the clock for him every
time he falters.

To let him retrace those false steps.

But his...

His cadence, his inner rhythm, is
already his own.

And it drowns out convention and common
sense.

God save you, Rick.

God spare you from a life like mine.

And the little one.

For him, my love is cleanest and
brightest.

Not yet filled with manhood's gulfs too
wide.

Too wide to be bridged.

I remember his hair.

Golden as his mom's.

Corn silk in August.

I remember the eyes.

Bluer than the ocean outside my window.

Everything about him is clear.

Transparent bright you are, Andrew J.
Simon. I call your face before me.

And I look into man -child eyes a mile
deep.

And I see compassion.

And a willingness to hurt if it will...

If it will spare another pain.

I see all that is the best in me.

Or in any man.

I love you, son.

I miss you.

It, uh... It ends there.

Remember that blessing?

The one he always used to say at
bedtime?

May the road rise up, that one.

May the road rise up to greet you.

May the wind be ever at your back.

May the sunshine warm upon your face.

May the...

May the rains fall soft upon your
leaves.

And until we meet again, may the good
Lord hold you in the hollow of his

hand.

Amen.

Amen.