All language subtitles for Black.Bird.S01E03.400p.WEB-DLRip.ViruseProject_Eng

How was week one?

Motherfucker!

Disorienting.

You having second thoughts?

Nothing but.

Well, we're in the same boat.

But I know
the place for Larry Hall is here.

Never back out there.

I've had you placed in Hall's unit.
Directly across from his cell.

Everyone in that unit is medicated.

I'm prescribing you an antidepressant.

Otherwise, you'll arouse suspicion.

There's nothing wrong with me.

Hence, prison.

Fine. I'll take the fucking pills.

Otherwise, you keep your visits
to a minimum here.

Too many drop-ins
will also arouse suspicion.

Most prisons grow predictable with time.

They have a rhythm.

Springfield's only rhythm
is unpredictability.

It'll wear on you. Affect your sleep.

Your peace of mind.

Is that what happened to the guy
who was in my cell before me?

Previous inmate had
a predisposition to self-harm.

Hey, hey! Come on, man!

All right. That's all our time for today.

Wait.

If things go completely south someday,
how do I reach you or the warden?

You just demand to speak to me.

Guards don't like demands much.

How's your memory?

Top-notch.

612-5711.

That's my home number.

You could only know that
if I gave it to you.

That should be enough to convince
any guard to reach out to me.

612-5711.

612-5711.

612-5711.

Here you go. Open.

Next.

Keep it moving.

Awesome.

Open.

Next up.

How you doing?

Open.

- Open.
- What pills they give you?

Come on.

Open.

Good chatting.

Let's go, inmate.

Open.

Open.

Who's this guy you got in with Hall?

Jimmy Keene.
Drug dealer, good talker. People like him.

Why not use an undercover?
Someone with experience?

Hall would smell him out.

So, what if something happens
on the inside?

Shit happens
to people in prison all the time.

If Keene didn't know that when
he started dealing coke to half of Cicero,

fuck him, he should have.

I'm going through every phone call
made from the Hall house

for a decade leading up to his arrest.

Then, I'd like to run all unsolved murders
in Indiana, Illinois, Ohio and Missouri

against his days off from janitorial work.

- That all?
- Nope.

Then, I wanna run
all missing persons reports

in that same time period

against Civil War
and Revolutionary War reenactments.

We did that in '94.
Pretty much did all this before.

I guess we're doing it again.

I did look over
the Jessica Roach file last night.

There was nothing, but--
Looked over the Reitler file.

Do you know what the Marion PD did

the night before I took Larry into custody
and drove him back to Illinois?

No.

They drove him out to the country
looking for Reitler's body all over again.

All that shit Marion talked about
Larry wasting their time the first time.

Turns out they just up and let him
do it to 'em again.

- And didn't find shit?
- No. Not a thing.

Next morning,
I drive Larry back to Illinois,

but he's not the same guy as he was
the day before. Then, he was…

I don't know, small and meek. Sad.

But that morning, his eyes were bright.

His dick could have
drilled hole in granite.

He was somebody.

The Marion PD told him
he was a person of interest.

Wabash PD said
that he was a possible serial killer.

It was the last time
Larry ever talked to me

about the night he killed Jessica Roach.

Just sang his ass off.

New England's shore

We leave the plows and workshops

Our wives and children dear
With hearts too full for…

But he never said another word
about the killings. Ever.

Orange chair squeaks.

Course it does.

Does your mother know
how to change the oil?

It's not very hard.

My mother's not gonna
change the oil, Larry. She's almost blind.

Could she get someone to help?

It doesn't--
Why are we talking about this?

Well, it does matter.
It's your car, it matters.

Stop. All right? Okay.
Please, just fucking stop!

Okay, if she can't change the oil,

then can she at least
siphon the gas via the fuel tank?

- She's gotta have a hose--
- Stop!

Well, you don't want the gas
to corrode the tank.

The gas could corrode the tank.

Gas could corrode the tank.

Hey.

He seemed pretty upset.

I'm Jimmy, by the way.

Jimmy.

Fellas. No contact.

Right. Sorry.

You should be in bed.

No. Bed's no good for me.

I need to keep my mind,
you know, active.

How'd you get in? It's not visiting day.

The fellas here, they gave me a pass.
I just showed 'em my badge. You know?

Dad, Jesus Christ.

These boys,
they're gonna watch out for you.

It's no different than--

Whether inside, outside.
Blue is blue. It's a brotherhood.

I'm not supposed to have a family.
You just outed me as a cop's kid.

Go ahead.

Jesus. Fuck.

I--

God.

I forgot.

- It's okay.
- It's just-- No, it's not.

It's not okay. It's like--

It's my… my mind.

The parts. They're not connecting.

I fucked you up. I fucked up.

It'll be fine.

No.

It won't.

It won't.

Dad, look at me.

Dad.

Dad, look at me.

All I ever do…

is fuck you up.

Hey. You were right.

This place is scary.

Fucking terrifying.

And I don't know
if I'm gonna be able to pull off

what they asked me to.

I get scared.

But then I think, "Nut up, pussy.
You're Big Jim Keene's son."

Fuck off.

When I was a kid,

you'd walk through the door
still in your uni half the time.

You were so fucking big. Strong.

You'd been out there all day,
risking your life, not taking any shit.

And I'd think…

"I'm gonna be that guy someday."

It's "someday," Dad.

Sammy and I, we're gonna stick around.

I found a motel that rents by the week.

Dad, no.

I'm sticking around.

I've gotta be around.

Okay.

But Dad, next time,

respect the normal visiting hours.

Okay, Jimmy. Time to go.

You mind keeping this to yourself?

Your old man being a cop?

Ex-cop.

A lot of guys in here are cops' kids.
Both sides of the bars.

Don't sweat it.

Hell, who'd listen to me anyways, right?

Thanks.

No problem.

There's an old-timer who's been
asking about you on the yard.

You ever hear of
Vincent "The Chin" Gigante?

Mob guy?

Used to walk around Little Italy
acting all nutty? That guy?

It was Greenwich Village, but yeah.

Gotta admit, it was an inspired move.

Took the Feds years more to get him.

So, this is the old-timer?

Introduce yourself. Drop my name.

He's about the best guy
you can know in here.

Thanks.

My old man did this job 20 years.

He used to say,

"What makes it hard time is
people giving each other a hard time.

Doesn't have to be like that."

I'm with the old man.

"On March 27, 1993,

16-year-old Rayna Rison disappeared

after leaving her job
at a veterinary hospital

in La Porte, Indiana."

Well, that's three days before
Tricia Reitler was killed in Marion.

"Rayna Rison's body was
fished out of pond two months later."

Cause of death strangulation?

"The local PD focused
on Rison's former brother-in-law."

But the DA eventually dropped
all charges for lack of evidence.

Why'd they like the brother-in-law?

He'd been convicted
of molesting Rayna when she was 12.

And what's this have to do with Hall?

"A bottle of Rayna Rison's
birth control pills were found

in Larry Hall's van."

A bottle?

That's what's written here.
They meant case, obviously.

Keep yours in a case?

Yeah. What do you keep yours in?

I practice the rhythm method.

"Hall was pulled over near Marion
in his dirty van."

Not his clean one.

No shit?

"Found in the van were
birth control pills…

a hunting knife, coils of rope,
a ski mask, gloves,

and a 'Please Pray' missing persons
poster for Tricia Reitler."

Where did all this evidence end up?

Nowhere. Hall was cited
for a misdemeanor and let go.

- Wait. When did he confess?
- That afternoon.

They kept him on a 12-hour hold
and then kicked him loose.

They deemed him a "serial confessor."

What a talent.

You make people believe
you aren't the killer

even after you say you fucking did it.

- Check.
- Check up.

Watch it.

There it is.

You're Italian, right?

Yeah.

How Italian?

Three-quarters.

So, you'll know boccie?

Yeah. I used to play
with one of my grandfathers

when I was a kid.

Which one?

The Irish one.

- You getting fresh with me?
- Yeah.

You know who I am?

I do.

Don't get fresh with me.

Okay.

Well, a lot of guys, they'd run over
their own dog to play boccie with me.

None of those guys know
I got the bursitis in my fucking shoulder.

Now you know I got the bursitis
in my fucking shoulder.

So anyone else uses
the word "bursitis" around me,

I'm gonna know you opened your mouth.

Then, I'm gonna have to
cut your tongue out

and sew your lips shut.

Or some fucking thing.

You follow?

Yes, Mr. Gigante.

Now, you're gonna play with me.
You're gonna make all the long throws.

My shoulder won't prevent me
from making precision shots.

So nobody should notice shit.

Sounds like a plan, Mr. Gigante.

I know it's a plan.

I fucking planned it.

But I like you, kid.

You got manners.

I like that.

So don't fuck up.

Then you're gonna do pleasant time.

Sounds good, Mr. Gigante.

Now, show me
what your grandfather taught you.

Where's your non-Irish grandfather from?

San Giovanni a Teducci.

Get the fuck out of here.
My parents were from the Marianella.

It's right next door.

What's the matter with you?
You don't know Italy?

- Not really.
- How come?

Grew up in Wisconsin.

Jesus.

That's almost as bad as the Irish part.

Hey, can I ask you something?

Do you not like me or something, man?

Is that what you were going to ask me?

No. I was gonna ask you,
what do you do around here for fun?

Is anyone sitting here?

Hey.

What you watching, fellas?

Our show.

Welcome back to Houston.

But three years ago,
a woman living in this house

walked into her garage
to find a murderer waiting.

You're gonna rank in the top 20.

We were watching that.

Yeah, now you're fucking not.

The only way
we're gonna find out about that is

after we play 11 bone-crushing,
bloody, well-executed games.

Until then, I don't give a damn
about the rankings.

And there better not be
anybody on this team

who feels any differently!

Or I'll kick their ass! Kick their--

But in 1987, Houston police say…

You wanna change that back.

No. I don't.

Right fucking now.

Calm down. What-- Come on, now.

Do I look like
a fucking remote control to you?

Cry! Motherfucker,
do I look like a fucking remote con--

Get him out of here!

Let me go! All right!

Medical response team
up here in the TV room.

We got a prisoner altercation.

They let you out?

After a night. Yeah.

Why'd you stick up for us?

I wasn't sticking up for you.

Jimmy.

Larry.

Hey, why'd that guy get so upset
the other day?

The one you were talking to
about his car or something?

Percy. He's excitable.

I was telling him to tell someone
on the outside to take care of his car.

So, why'd he get pissed?

Well, Percy thinks that
he's never gonna see his car again.

Because he's serving life.

What, what do you drive?

On the outside?

'67 Camaro SS.

Matte black with Cragars
and fat-ass 60s on it.

I like vans.

Yeah?

You trick 'em out?

Get captain's chairs in there,
some carpet or…

It's unhealthy to think like Percy.

There's always hope.

You got a second, Jimmy?

Yeah.

Hey, nice meeting you, Larry.

Temper, temper.

Fight one asshole early
or all of 'em later.

Sound philosophy.

Hey,
I heard The Chin took a shining to ya.

Guys like that…

They make time go easy…
as long as you're one of them.

You one of them, Jimmy?

Am I connected? No. No.

No. Yeah, I know that.

What I mean is,
are you someone he can put his trust in?

He'll take care of you if you are.

Cut your throat if you're not.

Just open it wide.

What's your point?

Your old man,
he must have been a hell of a cop.

Took him all of a minute and a half
in here to blow your cover.

You see,

the only reason someone comes into a place
like this under an assumed identity…

is because they're a snitch.

Now, who you're here to snitch on,
that doesn't matter.

That you're here to snitch
is the only concern.

So, you're either Jimmy the gunrunner
from Wisconsin,

or you're Jimmy the drug-dealing cop's kid
from Chicago.

Now, if you're the first Jimmy,
no problem.

But if it gets out that you're the second
Jimmy pretending to be the first Jimmy…

That's going to be a very unfortunate day
for both fucking Jimmys.

What do you want?

Dude, I wanna help you.

I wanna make sure everyone continues
to know you as Jimmy the gunrunner.

- But…
- I need your help for that.

I mean, can't keep doing
all the good in this relationship

without getting a little something back.

Yeah. Yeah, I wouldn't want you
to feel taken advantage of.

Jimmy.

Jimmy.

Let's not go confusing me
with someone you can disrespect.

I read up on you.

You were a big player in Chicago.
Lived large.

So I need a small loan. And I'm good
for it. And it ain't much. Not to you.

But to me, in my present circumstances,
it's a lot. And I need it fast.

- How much?
- 10,000.

How am I supposed to come up
with ten grand in here?

Talk to your daddy.

I never met a drug dealer yet who didn't
have rainy-day cash tucked away somewhere.

You tell your old man to get me my 10,000.
Like, yesterday.

I'll need to reach out to him.

I already did.

He'll be here tomorrow.

Noon sharp.

And be nicer to him this time, Jimmy.

He's your father.

Last time you really took the wind
out of the poor guy.

Carter.

Put a "Mr." before that.

- Mr. Carter.
- Yeah?

What if I can't lay my hands on it?

Then what good are your hands?

Fuck.

Mind if I come in?

Is this you?

Yeah.

Where's this from?

That's a reenactment.

A bunch of us would get together
and reenact famous Civil War battles.

Those mutton chops?

Burnsides.
Generals wore them, back then.

That guy right next to me?
That's my brother, Gary.

- We're identical twins.
- Really?

He looks bigger.

He fed on me
when we were in my mother's belly.

He got all my nutrients and whatnot
and grew big and strong…

and I kind of withered, I guess.

What?

You look fine to me.

Lights out in five, ladies.

Why are you being nice to me?

I don't know how anyone does time
in a place like this

without a friend to talk to.

And we're right across
from each other, so…

Night, Larry.

That bag that you gave me when they
were gonna raid the Gold Coast house?

Yes.

It's gone, Jimmy.

I-- We-- I mean, we gotta eat.

There was 80 grand in that bag.

It was more like 70.

And two keys of blow.
What happened to that?

I gave them to Danny to sell.

He said he got jacked up
by some Nicaraguans or Ecuadorians,

one of those two.

Danny can't be trusted, Dad. Okay?

- Since when?
- Since the fucking crib.

Okay.

- There's a shoebox in the laundry--
- In the laundry room, yeah.

Yeah.

Jimmy, I mean…

I got medical bills, the businesses,
the house. It all adds up.

Dad, if I don't come up with ten grand…

I'm dead.

All right. What do we do?

At the Kankakee house, in the basement,
there's a center-wall speaker for the TV.

They tore that house apart.

I watched them.
They never touched those speakers.

In the center speaker,
there's about a kilo in there.

You can get it to me, I'll…

figure out a way to move it in here.

All right, I'm on it.

You know I wouldn't ask you
to do this if--

I'm not gonna let you down.

We left you a few messages.

Which I planned to return.

You wanna discuss Rayna Rison?

Yes.

The prime suspect walked.

Why?

Truth? We never had much on him.

But most folks who worked the case
were sure he did it.

- You?
- At the time? Yeah.

Now, I've come to thinking it was a--

a boy she was seeing two,
three years back.

He up and did a pointless, horrible thing.

And got away with it for now.

Do you remember the name "Larry Hall"
in connection to the case?

I ruled Hall out.

- But he confessed to it.
- He did.

You found evidence in Hall's van
connecting him to Rison.

Birth control pills with Rison's name?

A bottle of birth control pills.

Keep your birth control pills in a bottle,
Agent McCauley?

I presumed someone meant to write "pack,"
or "case."

No. It was a bottle
with a dubious-looking label on it. Here.

I checked every pharmacy for 75 miles.

Couldn't find a prescription for
birth control medication in Rison's name.

Then, we checked her blood.

Found trace amounts of Accutane,
some acetaminophen, some THC.

But no progestin or anything found
in birth control medication.

But when you questioned Hall?

He confessed. He told a great story.

He was convincing enough that I thought,

"Shit, what if this wack job told
the same story

to a gullible reporter or cop?"

I thought,
"Shit, I better cover my ass here."

You look into the whereabouts
of Hall the night Rison was killed?

Haven't locked them down yet.

I did.

He was at a Civil War reenactment in Ohio.
Few hundred miles away.

Found witnesses, even a picture.

I have a picture of Hall
and the witnesses.

Because I manned 600 miles
in over 100 hours working on Hall.

I had to sit in front of
a budget committee six months later

and explain why I wasted taxpayer money
in a cratered economy

to ascertain the innocence
of a serial confessor.

So, that was fun.

Larry Hall planted fake evidence
on himself

for a crime no one was looking at him for.

Ask yourselves,
what kind of human being does that?

Real arrowheads?

They were all over the woods
behind my parents' house.

So, some Indian,
like, a hundred years ago,

shot at some deer and missed,

and you found his arrowhead
in the pine needles?

Well, it's more like
150 or 160 years earlier.

The Miami were wiped out in 1812
at the Battle of Mississinewa.

How do you know all this shit?

The-- I--
Well, I'm part Miami on my father's side.

Yeah, I'm part Fort Lauderdale
on my mother's.

So, you found some arrowheads?

And small coins.

The base of a lamp.
Had to be about 100 years old.

Unless you're in, like, New York City
or Chicago, the world is fields.

They're everywhere. Behind everything.

Next time you're in a plane,
you ought to look down.

It's just patches and patches
of open land.

And all those fields,
they got things under 'em.

History. Just gotta dig it up.

I miss the smell of fields in winter.

It's kind of metallic.

Yeah, I miss October, November smells.

Trees. Wet piles of leaves.

Can be hard sometimes to pass a field
around Halloween, you know?

Friday nights? Football.

Th--

Because you played

Yeah, that was the only…

I don't know.

Lie I ever loved.

Why was it a lie?

That life would always be that good.

I'd get the girl.

We'd go off
into our happy ending together,

and she'd love me forever.

What was her name, the girl? What girl?

I don't know. I never met her.
I just thought that was the deal.

You did something really well,
that girls really liked to watch you do…

and then the girl showed up.

And you were rewarded with her for life.

What can I say? I peaked in high school.

Well, at least you had high school.

Pretty sure I peaked in the womb.

What happened, Mr. Carter?

Last night's hockey got a little intense.

Which is why
you should stop playing hockey.

Come on, Larry.
You got your two o'clock.

Would you leave a bookmark in there?

- Yeah, sure, man.
- Thank you.

They cracked my cheekbone
so I could still work. Where's my money?

Won't be money. It'll be product,
and I'll need to move it.

How are you gonna do that, Jimmy?

If I can get it in, I can move it fast.
Get you your ten grand in a day.

And the Latin Kings? Black Guerrillas?

The ones who will shank you
before you sell your second gram?

That's who I'll sell to.
I'm not trying to deal grams.

I'm trying to unload a single kilo
to a single buyer at a hell of a discount.

When will it get here?

Hopefully, tomorrow.

No more fuckups.
No more changes to the plan.

His name is Jimmy?

He didn't know what reenactments are,

so I've been tellin' him.

What's he like?

He's big.

He was a football player in high school.

That type, you know?

He's…

What?

He's easy to talk to.

What about him
makes him so easy to talk to?

He looks at me, not through me.

And he's very funny.

That sounds positive.

Like you're making a friend.

What kind of guy
plants false evidence on himself

for a crime
no one's even looking at him for?

Next round is up.

Thanks.

Brian, what kind of guy?

Supremely fucked up human being.

- But could that mean he--
- No.

Okay? Larry lies. No shit, he lies.

He lies. He steals. He hoards.

And he kills girls. Lots of them.

His own brother
calls him a serial confessor.

Marion PD says it.

Drysdale too. And he is, okay? He is.

But he's also a serial killer
and one doesn't cancel out the other.

We've been going back
through all these cases.

We haven't found anything
that pins them on Hall.

Because he's a janitor who drives around
in a van filled with chemical solvents.

And he spent his formative years
digging graves.

- So, when Larry Hall kills someone--
- Does he?

When Larry kills someone,
he leaves no trace of himself behind,

and he buries those bodies
so deep in forests

and farmlands and underneath
factory skeletons where nobody ever goes,

so we can't find them.

Larry's very good at this.

Or he just likes telling stories.

It okay to be down here?

I keep an eye on the boiler.

I was a janitor back home.

Well, what about me?

You're with me.

All right.

Why are you here? In Springfield, I mean.

Selling guns without a license
and displaying antisocial tendencies.

Well, this is my office.

Have a seat.

You're a big dog in this place.

In jails I just clean up spills
and fix things. That's hardly important.

So, what's the worst mess
you ever had to deal with?

The worst mess I've--

There was this factory floor once.

Something died,
maybe a possum or something.

And then the rats got to it,

so there was all these hard, furry bits
all over the floor. Really gross.

Someone, some idiot, decided to
mop over it, and then they gave up.

So, there was, like…

The whole mess was, like…

like, laminated, you know?

So, what'd you do?

I got out the big guns.

Industrial floor strippers.

I'm talking sodium hydroxide,
maybe 5% to 10%.

Monoethanolamine. Ethyl alcohol.
Super toxic.

I tried to work some grit in,
like sand, you know?

You need that
to break up the crunchy stuff.

You know what the secret ingredient is?

Urine.

I just piss in the bucket.
Always seemed to do the trick.

Bodily fluids, they all--

They all serve, like,
a different function, every one of them.

Like, saliva has one purpose
and blood another.

And sweat and semen. Earwax.

Is earwax a fluid?

I don't know. I feel like it should be.

- We'll call it one. What the hell.
- What the hell.

- My brother, he--
- Gary.

Gary, yeah.

Gary says that sometimes they're wet.

What's wet?

You know.

You mean pussy?

Yes!

Yes. Yeah.

You never had a wet one before?

I've-- No.

I think you're making it up.

Gary too?

So, the women you've been with…

They're dry as pine bark.

It's all scratchy, you know?

So, how do you penetrate, then?

Penetrate?

Yeah.

I just kind of…

Just kind of jam it in.

They're okay with that?

I don't care. The girl? I don't care.

Do you?

Do you care
what the girls think of you after?

Only once.

She was…

She didn't like
the way things were going down too much.

Was she wet?

- Uh-huh. Yeah.
- Was she w--

Yeah, I don't believe you, but go on.

Anyway. We were--

I was younger,

and we were at her parents' house.

And she was gonna scream.

So, I covered her mouth real hard.

And finished.

And then I had to tell her
to never say anything…

or, you know, else.

Else-- Or else what?

Well, I don't know.

I do.

Shower, guys.

When?

Did you give it to Carter?

There's nothing there, Jimmy.

Just go back.

Use a flashlight.
It could be pushed back a bit.

I used a flashlight.

I got up on a ladder.

I searched every inch
of all three speakers.

Left, right, center.

There's nothing there, Jimmy.

What are you laughing at?

Am I?

Who else has been at the house?

I go there, check the pipes and whatnot.

Your brother does the same. That's it.

That's it?

Danny stayed there that one weekend.

What weekend?

The weekend that you said he could.

I never said Danny could stay in my house.

You didn't?

I'm gonna kill him.

You let him rip me off for two kilos,

and then you let him take
my last fucking kilo out of my house?

No, Jimmy!

Don't "Jimmy" me!

I'm gonna fucking die in here.

What'd you say?

- Go home.
- No.

- Go.
- Jimmy, I'm gonna--

I'm gonna be at that motel ten miles away!

When you look at these walls at night,
you know that I'm on the other side.

You can bank on it!

- Ji--
- Where's Carter?

Mr. Carter had an emergency.

Now, who the fuck are you?

Walk!

Well, I like Mopar parts, you know.

I like to find these old junkers
people got rusting beneath a tree

or behind their houses.

And then I just maybe know a body shop

that's looking for a tailpipe
or a filter housing.

Buy 'em for 20. I can resell 'em for 35.

Must be a lot of driving around.

Oh, yeah. It's a lot of miles.
But I like driving.

Have you made contact?

Has he said anything about the murders?

No.

We're not at that stage yet.

Do you think he did any of it?

- What?
- Could he just be some sick asshole

who likes taking credit
for things he never did?

No.

- He's a murderer.
- How can you be sure?

You know something I don't?

One of the guards is gonna blow my cover
unless I can get him ten grand.

Might even be too late.

Jimmy, I can't get you ten grand.

Bureau would never approve it.

So, what do I do?

We can get you out.

- Today?
- No.

No. Might take weeks, maybe longer.

But you can go into PC or solitary.

He's a fucking guard. He'll get to me.

Say I could survive in PC or something,
what would happen then?

You'd go back to Milan, do your ten years.

To Hall. What would happen to Hall?

If the appellate court decides
like the other judge did,

that the confession was coerced, I mean…

Your time is up.

Yeah, yeah. I'm wrapping it up.

- What?
- He'll walk.

He'll be out in the world.

Then I'm staying in.

I'm staying in.

- I can't protect you in--
- I know.

I--

So go into PC until we can transfer you.

Can't.

Wish I could, believe me.

Jimmy, listen to me.

Hall confessed to a crime
that we know he didn't do.

- So?
- So that throws all this in doubt.

No, it doesn't.

If something were to happen to you
in here, and he's not our guy--

He's our fucking guy.

I can't think any other way.
I absolutely fucking cannot.

He's our guy.

Accelerate your timetable.

Get Hall to tell you where he buried
those bodies, and we will get you out.

Keep your cell on, Lauren.