All language subtitles for Medium S01E01 1080p Amazon WEB-DL DD+ 5.1 H.264-TrollHD_track3_[eng]

( door slams )

( footsteps )

( chair scrapes on floor )

So, according to the statement

you gave the police,

you came home from work
and she was just...

Your wife, I mean.

She was just there like that?

MAN:
Yeah.

I got off at 5:20, drove home.

Stopped for gas.

It was winter, you know?

So by the time
I pulled into the driveway,

it was dark.

That was the thing.

I walked into the house
and the house was dark.

I mean, our house, never dark.

She was always turning
lights on.

I was always shutting 'em off.

Took my eyes a minute to adjust.

Even then...

I was just, like...

I saw a shape...

on the floor.

This, like, mound.

I thought maybe she had rolled
arug up.

And I got closer
and I realized it was her.

It was my wife.

And I couldn't figure out
what she was doing there...

on the floor on her side.

I said something to her,

but she didn't say nothing back.

Didn't move.

Nothing.

Then I turned the light on,
and I saw all the blood.

I was standing in it, actually.

I was standing in her blood
and I didn't even know it.

I'm sorry
to make you...

to remind you.

I'm sorry.

It's okay.

You're nice to say that.

Your skin is so white.

If I took my blade
and ran it

from the bottom of your neck
to the top of your crotch,

the way the blood
would slowly seep out

and cover your white skin...

Be quite a sight.

( gasps )

What's going on?

You okay?

Yeah.

No. it was...

just a dream, I guess.

Was I in it?

Were we naked?

Answer the second
question first.

MAN:
You sure you're okay?

I said, "I'm okay".

Okay.

Okay.

REPORTER: It was shortly
after 6:00 yesterday evening

when her parents reported
three-year-old Davina missing,

apparently abducted
while on a shopping trip

with her family at the Greysmark
Shopping Center.

Will you change the channel?

Investigators are anxious
to speak to Lloyd Isaacson,

a security guard
on duty yesterday, who

-apparently left his post
-Joe! Change the channel.

-and did not clock out.
-The kids are watching.

My hands are full.

Calls to
the Issacson residence...

Joe, are you deaf?
Change the channel.

...Mr. Isaacson has any prior
history as a sex offender.

Bob, back to you.

...ingredients chosen to create
the perfect little girls...

BOTH:
Powerpuff Girls!

...accidentally added an extra
ingredient to the concoction--

Chemical...

So last night's feature
attraction:

My Dinner with Mr. Ginsu?

Do you have any idea where this
strange encounter took place?

...using their
ultra super powers,

Blossom, Bubbles
and Buttercup have...

There was a sign
on the wall behind him.

It happened near here, Phoenix.

Somewhere in Phoenix.

( up-tempo music playing )

( slide projector cycling )

( gunshot )

( baby crying )

Lights, please.

ALLISON: This is the front door
to Pablo's house.

Here's the detail
of where Martinez shot the lock

on the front door to gain entry
and commit the homicides.

Here's the bedroom
where Martinez found Pablo

and began the interrogation

in an effort to
recover the $30,000

from a drug deal
that Pablo never gave him.

Here's a slug of the mattress

from the first time
he shot Pablo;

the leg wound.

Whoa. Back up a second.

The accused fired seven shots
into Pablo. How do you know

which was first or second
or seventh for that matter?

Even the crime lab can't tell us
which shot came first.

No. You're right.

It's just... a theory, I guess.

A theory?

Guy gets shot
seven times.

The leg wound's
the least consequential.

I guess I'm figuring he started
with that 'cause he knew

it would cause a lot of pain,
but wouldn't kill him.

It's a good way to find out
where your money is.

And then what?

Pablo tells him
where to find the cash,

and to show his
appreciation,

Martinez shoots him
six more times

through the heart?

No. He shot him
once in the leg.

Then he went and
shot the mother

who was hiding in the
bathroom with her baby.

Really?

He shoots the guy
once in the leg

then decides to
look around and see

if there's anyone
else in the house?

That's your theory?

No. My theory is...

Martinez shoots Pablo
once in the leg.

The sound of the gunshot
startles the baby

and makes it cry.

( gunshot )

( baby cries )

Until that happens,

it doesn't even occur
to Martinez

that somebody else
might be in the house.

( crying continues )

Meanwhile, the mother is trying
so hard to silence her baby,

she inadvertently smothers it.

By the time Martinez finds her
in the bathroom,

she's so consumed with remorse

that she's begging him
to end her life.

And that's my theory.

What the hell
are you doing?

You're an intern.

Your job is to sort
the crime scene photos

and talk us through them,
not come up with theories.

This is a district attorney's
office, not a detective agency.

So you don't care
what's in my head?

Not if it wasn't in
a law book first, no.

"Which of the following might
be a prospective juror's reason

"for suppressing information
that might prejudice him or her

"from participating in a trial?

A: The prospective juror's
actual bias with regard to..."

"B: The desire
to avoid maligning

"one's own reputation
as an objective,

bias-free citizen."

Wow. "B" is right.

I don't think
I can be a lawyer, Joe.

Is this about the dreams,
the voices?

They give me
pictures to sort,

and I know what happened
between the pictures.

I just know.

I sit with Legal Aid cases
and they tell me their stories

and I'm absolutely sure
when they're lying

or telling the truth.

I mean, I see it.

I see the truth.

I see it.

It's like a freakin'
television show,

and the dreams...

Dreams are dreams.
Everybody dreams.

Does everybody see dead people
standing around their bed?

I'm supposed
to be an advocate.

I'm supposed to be objective.

I'm supposed to be normal.

You are normal.

I don't feel normal.

Law school-- it's a lot
of money, a lot of work,

a lot of time.

I'm past 30.

Maybe it's just
not meant to be.

Or maybe, just maybe
it's nerves.

You know,
stress can make the mind...

It's not stress.

I don't know what it is,
but it's not stress.

How do you know that?
You don't know that.

I do.

-No, you don't.
-Yeah.

Who's the scientist
in the house?

Am I not the aerospace engineer
around here?

Am I not the rocket scientist
in the house? I believe I am.

And what I would like to do
is I'd like to apply

the scientific method
to this particular conundrum.

What I'm proposing is simple.

Let's take all these scenarios
you've told me about

and let's send them to the
relevant law enforcement agency.

The one you had
the other night

where the guy confesses

to slitting his wife
up the middle?

Let's just fax that
to the Phoenix PD.

Let's see if it
rings any bells.

I don't follow you.
What's the point of that?

The point is simple.

I've got almost 25
of these things

in just the past two years.

If you're really getting
messages

from the great beyond,

well, somebody's going
to get back to you.

But if, as I suspect,
these dreams, these voices,

even the dead people
in our bedroom

have more to do
with the stress

associated with being
a mother of three

while trying to get
into law school

and work an internship
at the DA's,

well, then let's stick
to our plan.

You should go to law school.

You should study hard.
You should become

a heartless,
scum-sucking attorney

and buy your husband

expensive foreign cars.

Just seems like the
right thing to do.

I love the way you put me first.

( chuckles )

( sighs )

WOMAN:
Excuse me.

Excuse me.

You're the intern, right?

I'm sorry,
I've forgotten your name.

I know it begins with an "A."

-Allison. Allison DuBois.
-Right. Listen,

-the starter just went
on my car, -( cell phone rings )

and the Chief asked me
to run out to Brayenton

to interview a witness.
It's Balinda.

They just took the car.

But Andrea is here

and she's offered
to give me a ride.

Andrea, the intern.

I really appreciate this.

So who are you
interviewing?

Some hausfrau who thinks
she can see the future

or the past or whatever it is
those people think they see.

Remember the little girl

who wandered off from
the shopping center

about seven weeks ago?

Well, between you and me,

the boys in law enforcement
don't have a clue

and the local news shows
won't talk about anything else.

So now we have to listen

to every Tom, Dick
or harried housewife

with too much time on her hands

who thinks she can read
tea leaves or tarot cards

or whatever.

It's the guard.

The security guard.

The one we've been
looking for for two months?

Yeah. We think so, too.

Well, don't you want
to know where he is?

You know?

I saw him cross the border
into Mexico with the girl.

"Mexico."

Terrific.

He sold her.

Mexico?

Any particular part
of Mexico or just...

"Mexico."

I don't know.
I see it, but...

I know the name of the town
starts with an "F."

A town in Mexico
that starts with "F"?

Eureka.
You've cracked the case.

Oh, great.

No signal.

All right.

I am going to step outside.

Try and call my office,

get a list of Mexican cities
that begin with "F."

See if we can't narrow down
this haystack

to something more manageable.

Are you with the girl
or the guard?

I mean, when you see these
things, whose eyes...?

The girl is dead.

She can't read.
She's only three.

But she knows
the letter "F."

I see.

You're talking to the dead girl.

No wonder I can't get
a signal in here.

I'll be out front.

She's really a very good lawyer.

You want a beer, don't you?

Pardon me?

You don't like hearing
the voices, do you?

The alcohol quiets 'em down
for you, I bet.

How 'bout the dead?

You see the dead?
They come visit you?

Want you to pass on

messages to the living?

I have to go.
I'm Ms. Alexander's ride.

Why are you at war
with who you are?

Ma'am, respectfully,
I'm not at war with anybody.

I'm just a girl who wants to be
a lawyer, wants to do her job,

be a good wife, a good mother,
be like everybody else.

But you're not like everybody
else and you know that.

Even among the special,
you're special.

They're telling me
you're the best.

They're telling me they've
been speaking to you

since you were a little girl.

Showing you things.

You know what I'm talking about.

I know I have to go.

I'm here.

If you ever need
to make sense out of it.

I'm here.

( door closes )

( crying )

ALLISON:
Sorry, sorry, sorry.

Sorry.
I got pizza.

It's okay.

We already did chicken.

It's on the table
if you want some.

Hey, girls.

You went easy on Daddy, right?

Hey.

Look who's here.

You mad?

Mm-mm.

Okay, so what gives?

Texas Rangers called.

They read your fax.

They want to see you.

Sorry 'bout the bumpy ride.

There's a big storm

over the Gulf
of Mexico.

Ever been in a twin-engine
prop before?

Ever been to Texas?

So, I'm guessing then that
you've never worked with

the Texas Rangers before.

Well, trust me,

the fun is just beginning.

Holy crap.

MAN:
Miss DuBois?

Miss Allison DuBois?

Mrs.

My name's Captain

Kenneth Push
of the Texas Rangers.

I appreciate you
coming over here today.

Did you write this?

My husband wrote it.

I told him what to say,

but he wrote it,
faxed it to you.

What you describe,

or what your husband describes
on your behalf,

bares an uncanny resemblance
to an event

that occurred here recently
in Texas

in which a 17-year-old male
abducted a six-year-old male

for what we believe to be his
personal sexual gratification.

We presently have the
17-year-old in custody,

although we have
not yet recovered

the six-year-old
or his remains.

Because the perpetrator
of this act

is still technically a minor,

his name was never released to
the media or the general public.

You follow me so far?

I speak English,

and you do a passable job
yourself, so yeah.

All right then.

Do you mind telling me,

if nobody knew
this fella's name, how it is

that you mention it, three
times, spelled perfectly

in that fax of yours?

I don't know. I just saw it.

It was on his mail.

You saw his mail?

Sure.

He was looking at it
when he first saw the boy.

He went out to get the mail
from his mailbox,

that's when he first
spotted him.

At least that's the way
it was in my dream.

In your dream?

A dream, huh?

I know what's going on here,
young lady. I do.

You work for the defense.

I don't know what
you're talking about.

Oh, don't you?

I throw in with you,
I take you into my confidence,

year later we're sitting
in a courtroom...

the defense puts me up on
the stand.

"Isn't it true, Captain Push,

-"that a soothsayer...
-Hey!

"a fortune teller...

"a mystical prognosticator
of some kind

helped you assemble this case?"

I don't know what to tell you.

I don't work for anybody.

If you don't want me here,

I will happily go home.

Well, I'll tell you

what we're going to do.

I'm going to show you
eight crime scenes.

Seven of them are bogus.

You tell me
which one's real

and then maybe we'll have
something to talk about.

Maybe.

Something happened
here, all right.

But I don't think
it was any crime.

Least not where
I come from.

What do you say we go up
and take a look around?

What do you say we don't?

This is not the place.

( indistinct voices )

Nope.

Yeah.

11th floor.

You are wasting my time.

We're getting close.

Get off at the next exit.

( indistinct radio
transmission )

You sure this is
where you meant?

Looks to me like
the Partridge family lives here.

Oh, I'm sure,

and I'm sure you're sure.

And besides, I always thought

those Partridges
were a little strange.

Didn't you sense
a little something

between David Cassidy
and Susan Dey,

even if they were
brother and sister?

Hm?

Excuse me.

Hi.

Hi.

Hey, what're you
listening to?

It's this new band, Hanson.

My older brother just got me
the CD last week.

It's him you're here
about, right?

It's about what he did
to that little boy, isn't it?

Yeah.

This place belongs
to the suspect's grandparents.

The suspect and his sister

were put here
by Social Services in 1995

after their parents
were found guilty of neglect,

largely due to uncontrolled
heroin addiction.

In 1999 the sister died.

Sounds to me
like she had the flu,

which brought on
dysentery.

She kept telling everybody
she was thirsty,

but obviously, nobody
was paying attention.

It's a sad and...
stupid reason to die.

Anyway, this is definitely
where it happened.

I'm sure of it.

The sister saw everything.

The dead sister?

Yeah.

Okay, game over.

That's it.
Everybody get in the vehicles.

I don't understand.

Lady, I don't know who you are,

I don't know where you're
getting your information,

but obviously, somebody is
feeding you a whole lot

of classified,
sensitive data...

-Hey, nobody's feeding me
anything. -I am a career

investigator,
I am a career criminologist,

and I will not have
some lawyer's stooge

pulling some cheap
carney trick

make an ass out of me
or the Rangers.

Now, I said we are out of here.

We are out of here!

ALLISON:
Hey!

Don't you want to know
where the body is?

Right here!

It's about three feet down!

Hold on!

Let's not get in
the dirt just yet.

Did we not sweep this
area with the dogs?

Yes, sir--
about a month ago.

PUSH:
We had a whole truckful

of first-class
bloodhounds in here.

They didn't
smell anything.

I don't know
what to tell you.

Maybe the body
wasn't here then.

Maybe he moved
the body.

Maybe your dogs
had a cold.

All I know is,

the body is here now.

You know that, huh?

Yeah.

And how do you know?

You just get,
what, a feeling?

Like an itch
or something?

Or maybe you've
seen a secret,

unrecovered body map
somewhere that we missed.

Or, hell, maybe you're online

with the folks
at www. i'm buried .com!

I'm talking to you!

No, you're yelling at me

and trying to intimidate me

and attempting
to ridicule me.

And you really ought
to calm down.

We both know
that your heart

can't take this kind
of agitation.

Let me give you something
to think about.

If I embrace this
nonsensical hunch of yours

and waste valuable
public resources

by having my 30-odd men here use
the better part of an afternoon

digging up this yard and
we don't find a body,

then I figure that makes you
an accessory after the fact--

aiding and abetting
a child molester

by providing us
with false leads.

And I figure that's good
for three years hard time.

Now... you ponder
that for a second,

and then you tell
me one more time

where you think
this body is.

You're standing on it.

Anyway, I'm done.

I want to go home now.

Sir... we've got the men here,
we've got the shovels--

what's the harm in doing
a little digging?

What's the harm?

You want to know
what the harm is?

You wouldn't happen
to have a search warrant

on you, Sergeant,
would you?

No, sir.

Go find our friend
a comfortable hotel room.

Make sure

she's got everything she needs.

Hey, you.

Tell me no other law enforcement
agencies have called.

Um, just
the District Attorney's Office

wondering when they might get
their intern back.

Oh, and, uh, your husband,

-Ow!
-who was wondering

when he might get his wife back.

-( knocking )
-Do you hear that?

No, go ahead, I'll hold on.

Mrs. DuBois.

I know it's late,
but I wonder

if I might show
you something.

Give me a minute.

I got to go.
It's Captain Happy at the door.

At this hour?

At your hotel room?

Is there something
you want to tell me?

Something I need to know?

Yes. I'm leaving you

for the angriest,
ugliest man on the planet.

Now, go to bed. I love you.

Something you want
to show me?

Captain Push...

( thunder rumbling in distance )

Went in 23 days ago.

I've never been so scared.

That doctor cracked me open
like a walnut.

Told me if I didn't calm
my life down, the next time

I complained
of chest pains,

he wouldn't bother
with a needle, thread

or latex gloves,
he'd just walk me over

to the autopsy room
and have me pick out

which drawer
I want to be kept in.

Everybody I knew
thought I was fishing

up in Alberta.

I don't know how you found out.

I didn't find out; I felt it.

And for what it's worth,

I feel you'll be living
a long time.

Oh.

Thanks. ( chuckles )

-( pounding on door )
-Mrs. DuBois, open up!

( pounding on door )

Mrs. DuBois, Texas Rangers.
Are you awake?

( wind howling )

( shouting ):
Mrs. DuBois,

I need you to
pack your bags

and come with me
to the airport.

The eye of this storm

is moving this way,
and if we don't get you out now,

there may not be
a runway left.

But I don't understand.

It's 5:30 in the morning.

We're supposed to excavate
a crime scene in five hours,

look for a body.

You don't understand,
Mrs. DuBois.

As of now there
is no body.

There is no crime scene.

It's all just gone.

Haven't you watched

the television?

This storm here,

it's the biggest
in Texas history.

This storm is Hurricane Allison.

( distant airplane engine
whooshing)

( panting )

You know...

there's nothing to say
that when the rain stops,

it all still won't
be there-- the body,

-the evidence...
-When the rain finally stops

there'll be nothing left
for the dogs to smell.

All the top soil
will have washed away.

When the rain finally stops,

who knows where that little
boy's body will be?

Carried off by animals?
Picked at? Maybe eaten.

If there's anything
left at all.

If anyone
can find it.

When the rain finally stops,
the beast that did this

will be released from jail.

He'll be off to wherever it is

that people like that
go and hide

and wait for the next helpless
child to suck the life out of.

You know, you are not
responsible for the fact that...

Well, what in God's name
am I responsible for?! Huh?

I am too sensitive
to practice law.

But I can't do any good with all
my effin' sensitivities,

'cause I'm not
sensitive enough to know

that it's gonna freakin' rain!

( distant airplane
engine whooshing )

Allison...

Shut up and drive.

( engine turning )

Look, I know you're trying
to make me feel better.

But I gotta tell you,
yesterday when I thought,

"I know where this body is,
I can help them hold this guy,

I can help them get this guy,"

I felt so like I was where
I belong. I don't mean in Texas.

But, in the field,
on the line, like...

this is what I'm supposed
to be doing.

This is why I'm here. Finally!

This is why I am the way I am.

And when I woke up and found
that none of it mattered...

that it had all
just been washed away...

that God had played

some cruel joke
on me...

What?!

You're thinking
I'm the most

conceited, self-involved person
you've ever met.

Whoa, what?
Hey, did I say...?

You're thinking,
"What kind of person

"thinks God Himself
would unleash a rain storm

just to screw with their head?"

-Oh, that's just nuts.
-Oh, no.

I'm nuts. That's what
you think, isn't it?

God, I never said that.

-I didn't say you said it.
-It's not what I

was thinking, either.
What I was thinking was,

"Go read his mind--
your 17-year-old pedophile..."

"...and leave me alone!"

That may have been in there.

Mm-hmm.

Actually,
that's a brilliant idea.

What is?

( dialing )

Captain Push
of the Texas Rangers, please.

Excuse me, Captain,
my client is due

to be released
in just nine hours.

If you've uncovered
any new evidence

that potentially
jeopardizes that,

I have a right
to know about it.

Why don't you just
relax, Counselor?

Don't make me call
The New York Times!

( door buzzing )

( booming thud )

Hi.

Thank you for
speaking with me.

My name is
Allison DuBois.

Okay.

You're with the prison?

Not really.

Oh.

You're a reporter?

'Cause I can't talk
to reporters.

No. I'm actually kind of
a friend of your sister's.

Ma'am, my-my sister's dead.

I know that.

She seems happy, by the way.

I mean... she's
worried about you,

'cause of what
you did and all.

But aside from that...

She's still at the house,
you know.

She saw what you did.

Told me where the body was.

I came here hoping I would
feel something from you...

hear something from
inside your head...

but...

What?

You're so pretty.

You look like an ad
for milk or toothpaste.

But when I listen
to your soul,

all I hear
are the sounds

of small animals
being tortured

and children crying.

You know, you
didn't walk

into this room alone.

I don't mean them.

It's nothing
you can see.

But over there,
standing in the corner...

is the ghost of the man
who molested you

after the Easter
barbecue your aunt

and uncle took you
to when you were eight.

And standing
next to him

is the man who molested him at
summer camp in Michigan in 1967.

And that man's soul
is forever haunted by the souls

of the three men who took
advantage of that man

when he was a ten-year-old boy
back in 1955 on a school trip

to Washington D.C.

I-I would like
to go now!

( pounding table ):
Wait!

I'm just
getting started.

The room is filled with them.

It's you men I'm talking to.

You men know
what I'm looking for.

If any of you have
anything to say--

-( door slams ) -anything to
help break this chain of evil--

I can hear you.

You just have to speak to me.

( half-whispers ):
Just speak to me.

( sighs )

He told everything to
the boy in the next cell?

Yep.

Who told you this?

Never mind.

I don't want to know.

( indistinct voices )

All right, quiet on this block.

Quiet down, back up.

( indistinct voices )

Quiet on this block.

Raymond Vargas, stand

and approach the
cell door, please.

( clearing throat )

Son, I have it on
pretty good authority

that the boy in the next cell
and you talk some late at night.

Who are you?

And who's she?

PUSH:
Your friend next door...

he ever mention

a six-year-old boy?

Where he might have taken him?

What he might have
done with him?

What, you mean the kid
who sleeps over here?

He's a prevert.

I don't talk to preverts.

And preverts don't talk to me.

He don't talk
to "preverts."

( sighs )

Tell him... you know
about the kiss.

Kiss? What kiss?

Just tell him.

But whisper.

Uh...

( clearing throat )

So...

you two don't speak?

Man, I already
told you, no.

What's the deal
with the hat?

Today Cowboy Day?

( laughs )

( wry chuckle )

( clears throat )

( whispers ):
I know about the kiss.

Wait a second.

He told you that?

The prevert told
you about that?

Right now, son,

I'm much more
interested in what he told you.

( sighs )

Thank you, sir.

You will see me in court.
Bye-bye.

( phone clicks shut )

That was the State
Attorney's office.

They just delivered

Raymond Vargas' sworn statement
to the Judge,

and he's agreed to allow us
to hold

and formally charge
the 17-year-old.

Whoo!

With three hours to spare.

So, I'm curious.

The kiss...

you didn't mention that

before we went
into Raymond's cell.

Who told you
about that?

Was there some... ghost...

some spirit there

on the cell block with us
that was talking to you?

Well... no.

Well, how'd you find out
about that kiss?

I made it up.

( clears throat )

Excuse me, lady?

Oh, put your bug eyes
back in your head.

I said I made it up.
I took a shot.

I figured he'd either be
so offended he'd talk,

or he'd be so embarrassed
he'd talk.

So, either way...

This... is not good
for my heart.

( chuckles )

Thank you.

Really.

Thank you.

No. Thank you.

ALLISON: So, anyway, I've come
to the conclusion that I am...

constitutionally incapable
of being an attorney.

Okay.

But I'm confused.
What led to

this change of heart?

I can't really
talk about it.

Suffice it to say,
I'm apparently

either a little psychic
or a little psycho.

Oh.

So, anyway, I
wanted to come in

and officially resign
my internship.

I see.

And thank you again
for the opportunity.

Allison.

( sighs )

While you were gone,
Martinez confessed.

Seems he did shoot Pablo
once in the leg.

Then he said he heard

a baby crying...
shot the mother

who had accidentally
suffocated the baby.

Then he came back
and shot Pablo

six more times.

So what does this mean?

What are you going to do now?

So, he just hired you?

Well it's not full time.
I'm more like a consultant.

A secret consultant,
and we can't

-really tell anybody
that I work there. -Cool!

Yeah!

He wants me
to help him pick juries,

interview potential
witnesses and suspects,

go on lineups, things like that.

They're only going to call me
when they need me.

We're sort of going
to play it by ear.

-That's awesome.
-Thanks.

Holy cow!

Holy cow!

Yeah. I really
want you to go in

and just get him
to tell you his story.

( door creaks open )

They wanted you to have this.
It's his statement.

They thought you might want
to take a look at it.

Thanks.

So, according to the statement
you gave the police,

you came home from...

work, and she was just...

your wife, I mean...

she was just there like that.

Yeah.

I got off at 5:20.

Drove home.

Stopped for gas.

It was winter, you know, so...
by the time

I pulled in the driveway,
it was dark.