Original subtitles

This is Souza-Baranowki Correctional Center,

permanent home to Max Morris,

the infamous escape artist serving four consecutive life sentences.

It was 20 years ago this week,

during a performance of the Porter Brothers Circus

in Pittsfield, Massachusetts,

that Max Morris earned his hard time.

Open D82.

Moments after his big finale,

Max inexplicably set fire to the circus tent,

killing four spectators and leaving a dozen more

burned or trampled in the ensuing stampede.

Since then, Max has proved to be one of the most violent

and uncontainable prisoners in the state's history,

escaping from two other facilities

before final landing here in supermax.

Now, after two decades of silence,

Max Morris has agreed to his first interview ever.

Take a seat.

Take a seat. Take a seat!

I got this one.

All right, lock it up.

Stay still.

Take it off.

- You rolling? - Good to go.

Max, you've never spoke about what happened that day in Pittsfield,

not even to defend yourself against the charges.

Passing years and years.

Perhaps you're finally ready to tell us what drove you

to carry out your ghastly crime?

Perhaps not.

What the hell is this?!

Lock down B-wing! Lock it down!

This is not happening!

I need backup in B-wing!

- Where is he?! - You're asking me?

Thanks.

I'm telling you, Lloyd, this guy's fascinating.

He made a smoke bomb from the stuff he has in prison:

aluminum foil, sugar, stump remover from the maintenance shed.

Potassium nitrate-- that is fascinating.

I wasn't kidding-- I am off the team.

I'm telling you, it was like a magic act.

Poof, this guy disappeared.

They searched the yard; all they found was a hole in the fence.

I mean, he must've coated it a day or two before

with homemade corrosive.

How many ways can I say it?

I'm done. I'm out.

And if the other inmates see me fraternizing with the enemy,

I am screwed, so please...

Look, we need you back.

And this fugitive is right up your alley.

Yeah, Damien was right up alley; look where that got us.

Charlie's gone.

A young woman died while I watched, helpless.

And Max Morris watched his family die when he was just a kid.

They were trapeze artists.

They fell to their death right in front of him.

And then years later,

he burns down the same circus he grew up in.

Now, tell me you're not dying

to get inside this guy's head and find out why.

So, he grew up in the circus--

who was his state-appointed guardian?

Which state? The circus moves from one town to the next.

He grew up off the grid.

He doesn't even have a social security number.

Well...

- No. I'm out. - Yeah?

- Sorry. - You're out?

Sorry to have to do this to you.

Threaten me with maximum security, Ray?

It's nothing compared to the hell that I've been living in.

Hello, Lloyd. Are you there?

Mother.

Why are you calling her?

You hear that, Lloyd?

Is that nice? You drinking already?

- What time is it? - Oh, I'm drinking, Lloyd.

I'm gonna get shit-faced and forget the shame you caused me.

Shame? Mother, I...

This job was the one good thing you had going,

and you just had to quit it,

like everything else from violin to Boy Scouts.

- All right, I'm in. I'm in. - And ballet lessons...

Get these things off me.

His parents are dead,

and he has no other family, so where is this dude going?

I mean, did he keep in touch with anybody after all these years?

No. No letters, no visitors.

Max barely has a paper trail.

He never enrolled in school.

He never reported any income.

He spent his childhood working as a roustabout in the circus.

If he spent his whole life in the circus,

he must've made a friend or two-- let's talk to them.

None of the other performers came to his defense after the fire.

Don't sound like friends to me.

Okay, but the guy was voted "Best Escape Artist in America"

at the age of 16.

Must have had a mentor.

According to the PR spin, Max is self-taught.

Where was he headed the other times he escaped?

We don't know.

Both times he was apprehended before he got very far.

But what we do know is Max is highly dangerous.

An unstable childhood, grew to adulthood in prison,

where he has amassed a long record of violence

and uncontrollable anger.

Yeah, shame Lloyd ain't here.

He'd have a field day with this freakazoid.

So, um... what happened with that?

He just refused to get on the van, or...?

Yeah, pretty much.

Morning. Detective Estes, NYPD, Major Crimes.

This is Detective Gay.

We're looking for Ray Zancanelli.

He's not here. Um, I'm Julianne Simms.

I'm with the Marshals. Can I help you?

Yeah, we're investigating an assault on Tommy Fitzgerald.

We understand he was the subject

of a search on your computers.

We were told the same thing-- that's about all we know.

Turns out Mr. Fitzgerald had business ties to a Pete Gillies.

- Rents commercial space one floor down from you guys. - Yeah.

He must have gained access to your computers

in order to track down Mr. Fitzgerald.

Yeah, we were just down there,

but it looks like the office got cleaned out--

thought maybe you guys might know something about it,

where he might have gone?

No. Uh, no idea.

No, we, uh, we barely talk to the guy.

You guys holding up my elevator?

- NYPD. - Detective Estes.

- Ray Zancanelli. - Detective Gay.

What's this about?

NYPD just found a link between Tommy Fitzgerald

and, um, that guy Pete from downstairs.

You're kidding?

My office.

Have a seat.

I assume you have a case folder for me.

Uh, yeah. Right here.

So why are you...

What are you doing here?

Bitch, what are you doing down here?

Your boy's gone.

If you left any clues to where he was at,

cops would've found him already.

Came here to tell me that?

I came down here to tell you,

if the Marshals found out that one of us

gave her boy-toy access to the computers for criminal purposes,

it's over, for all of us.

Are you accusing me of something?

You're damned straight!

You better fix your mess.

'Cause I will turn into the lowest kind of snitch

before I let your hormones get my ass sent back to Sing Sing.

That's my word.

You always

Hurt

You hurt the one

You love

The one...

Clocked you the second you walked in here, circus freak.

On the ground.

Hands where I can see 'em.

All the way down. Down, down, down, down.

All right, hands behind your back.

Other one.

Now, don't move.

You're not the first shoplifter I've caught,

but you're the first one that's gonna get me on TV.

Now, don't you move, Magnificent Max.

You

Always hurt...

All right, thanks for your time, Zancanelli.

Sure thing. I'll talk to my people.

If we find out anything, we'll be in touch.

Yeah, yeah. Good.

Your phone's ringing.

I see it.

It's a blocked number.

- Must be Damien. - Most likely.

Hello? Hello?

Talk to him, Lloyd.

I'm a little busy, Ray. Sorry.

Hey, Damien.

This is Ray Zancanelli. Talk to me.

Come on, Damien.

Track and trace that call.

Okay, but it's gonna be the same scrambled signal.

Do it anyway.

What's the matter with you?

- What? - I know you went through something awful,

but Charlie's killer's trying to reach out to you.

At least answer the call.

I have a plan, Ray.

- What, you have a plan? - Yeah.

You have a plan.

Max Morris, he's all over the news, Right?

So Damien would've heard about the breakout,

and he'll assume, correctly as it turns out,

that I have been furloughed to work the case.

And naturally, he's gonna try and call me

and to taunt me some more, but...

if he can't get me on the phone,

that lack of attention is gonna drive him nuts,

and it's gonna unsettle him,

and that might be when he slips up.

- That's it? - Yeah.

Your plan to catch Damien is ignore him?

Look, if you're too traumatized

to talks to Damien, just say so.

Okay? Don't dress it up as some clever strategy...

Oh, my goodness! I'm not dressing anything up.

Ray, there are seven phases to a serial killer's process.

Okay, right now Damien is in the totem phase.

The next is depression.

Now, in order for him to maintain the rush

from his most recent murder and avoid a scathing

case of the gloomies,

he needs to hold on to a trophy.

I'm his audience, Ray.

I am the proverbial trophy. If I talk to him,

I'm just giving him what he wants.

But if I ignore him...

that's gonna knock him off balance.

Yo... "Fire and Ice."

"Fire and Ice," Sheamond.

Well, if you want Damien to think that

your putting all your focus into Max Morris...

you better put all your energy into Max Morris!

I'm way ahead of you.

When Max lit that big top fire,

traveling circuses were already a dying form of entertainment.

But they've been around for a long time.

So their social composition is well established.

They are nomadic, insular group of people

whose members consist of generations of families

raised in the same lifestyle.

It's a world where you can escape society,

uh, untethered to any one place.

It's a world where you can be free to create your own history.

Where you can, uh, conceal your past

through a fictional origin story.

No one questions it because they're all there for the same reason.

Precisely.

So you want to find Max Morris?

First you have to pierce the veil of lies

surrounding his childhood.

You have to find out where he came from,

and then maybe you could learn where he's really going.

Can't ask his coworkers.

The file says the circus shut down

after Houdini went all firebug on it.

That's true, but another company

bought up the Porter Brothers' operation

and, um, they still have a sort of travelling carnival,

with a juggling show, magic act, clowns.

Where's this carnival?

Well, it moves around, but it's based out of the northeast.

I'll check the calendar.

We got a homicidal maniac on the loose,

and you want to ride the tilt-a-whirl?

Looks like they're set up in Far Hills, New Jersey.

All right, come on. I'll buy you a cotton candy.

Hey, you part of this team?

Come on, let's go.

You don't look much like a horse.

What are you doing back there?

Sorry. Saw Texas plates,

figured you're headed down south.

Thought maybe I'd catch a ride.

Well, you probably be a lot more comfortable

up in the cab.

So you've got nothing on Max Morris?

No.

Okay, none of the game booth operators

worked for the Porter Brothers.

The acrobats were too young.

But I did find a truck driver who worked the circus,

but he said the drivers and the performers never mingled much.

All right, so we'll see what Shea and Lloyd come up with.

This guy Pete from downstairs...

Yeah?

You see, uh, Shea and Lloyd get friendly with him?

No. No, I don't think so.

I had to ask.

I've been giving you guys a lot of slack since Charlie.

This thing with the computers

is making me wonder.

What did you find out?

I just had a nice conversation

with a contortionist.

I don't remember anything that she said to me.

How about you?

Yeah, yeah, you know...

Nothing? Talk to anybody

except the guy who sold you that cotton candy?

Listen, you're supposed to be able to relate

to transient types, speak their language.

You telling me you couldn't get anybody

to talk about Max Morris?

- Shut up. - What?

Shea's afraid of clowns.

You're afraid of clowns?

Listen, you better start looking under rocks.

Come on, Ray, fear of clowns is a real neurosis

recognized by the DSM-- coulrophobia.

See, man, it's a legitimate condition...

Then it's the only thing about you that is legit.

Ray...

I think we got a bogey.

Split up!

Hey! Hey! Whoa!

Shea!

That is the way to work out your issues, Shea!

Yeah, that was good.

Whoo!

Good for you. Good for you.

Let's get him up.

You don't look like a fella

who's headed for a hot meal and a warm bed.

You look more like a fella who's headed for trouble.

And I don't mean nothing by it.

It's only that, uh...

you know, I got a familiarity with anger.

And I know you got your fair share of it, son.

Huh? Look, it don't make you a bad person.

Even if it's made me do bad things?

Don't let anger define you, okay?

There's good in you.

I can see it.

I can see it.

That's a black dude?

Oh, man, this ain't right.

Black man in white face.

Racist.

All right, Bubbles ran here because he had an outstanding warrant.

Let's go, Lloyd.

Mike Dodd...

you're wanted in Ohio for non-payment of child support.

Ooh. Another deadbeat clown.

Just Ohio?

I could look for other warrants if you want.

No. What I really want is a lawyer

so I can sue you for that beat down your homie gave me.

I got plenty of witnesses.

Okay, well, let's keep it simple.

You worked for Porter Brothers

back in the day along with Max Morris.

Yeah. Damn near got killed in that fire he started.

- True he got out? - Sure is.

So tell us everything you know about Max Morris

and maybe I won't send you back on a bus to Columbus.

What would I know about Morris?

Any background information, like, who raised him

after his parents died in that trapeze mishap.

You got to go back way farther than that.

That trapeze artist-- Tanya and Vincent Morris--

they weren't Max's parents.

That was just some sort of romantic fiction

that management cooked up to promote Max's act.

So who were his parents?

Tiny Tony and Eleanore Tubbs.

Couple of sideshow acts.

He was three foot six.

She was 950 pounds of cushion for the pushing.

Oh, Lordy. Tony got sauced one night

and stumbled into Ellie's trailer on a dare.

What happened in there no man can say.

But nine months later Max was born.

So where are they?

Eleanor's long dead.

Diabetes got her before Max was maybe seven.

I got no idea where Tony is.

He got out of the game.

Midget acts don't play anymore.

But Tony raised Max?

Oh, please. If Max got within five feet of Tony,

he'd whack the kid aside with his little cane.

Tony had a family working in the show.

He never coped to banging Eleanor.

Okay, so who did raise Max?

Well...No one really. I mean,

the kid just kind of hung around.

He was always there. So we just...

let the little lunatic stay on.

So let me get this straight.

No one took care of Max?

And all of you stood by while this kid

was exploited for cheap labor? Is that right?

No. Well, you're making it sound worse than it was.

I mean, we let the kid perform, didn't we?

You called him Mad Max, didn't you?

Well, if he didn't like it,

how come he stuck around all those years?

Well, as you pointed out, Max was mentally unstable.

I mean, it sounds like the circus community

unwittingly applied some destabilization

which is a brainwashing technique

where you bully someone and you lower their self-worth.

You took a malfunctioning mind

and you just broke it completely.

He didn't leave because

he blamed himself for the situation.

He tried to fit in by putting together a world-class act,

but that didn't even earn your respect.

Is it any wonder he tried to burn the circus down?

What's going on?

Max had a very specific reason for setting that fire.

I read something in his deposition. I'm just...

Okay, here, here.

The prosecutor was asking him if he had any remorse

for killing those four people.

"What did you have against Arnold Weir?" Max says,

"I just wanted to kill him."

"What about that young boy from Hinsdale, Paul Doonan?"

Max says, "I just wanted to kill him."

Then they ask about a victim named Sammy Hearns.

He just wanted to kill him? Exactly.

But here's the thing.

Sammy's a woman.

Max wasn't talking about his victims.

When he says, "I just wanted to kill him,"

he wasn't explaining his actions,

he was explaining his intentions.

The fire was meant to kill one man.

Most likely the person he blamed for his low status

in the circus community.

Tiny Tony. The father who denied him,

and even refused to acknowledge his existence.

Tiny Tony-- his real name is Wesley Peebles.

And it looks like his Social Security checks

are being sent to an address in Sugar Loaf, New York.

Let's gear up.

Yeah, Jules?

Oh, okay.

Forgot to release the clown.

I wasn't gonna say anything.

Get in the truck. I'll be right down.

Okay, Shea, take me back-- when did the clown thing start?

I don't know when it started and I don't want to talk about it.

I'm here to help. Please.

I don't want to talk about it.

I got to go call my kid.

Dickhead, you used me to find a guy,

and then you put him in a coma.

It's not like that, Erica.

That wasn't the plan.

I went to Fitzgerald to get the 50 grand

that he stole from me.

He's the one that got violent.

If he doesn't wake up, that's murder.

And if I'm implicated in that,

my daughter will be grown and married by the time I see her.

How are you gonna fix this?

I don't know.

Okay look, Pete, I need to know.

Was I just part of some long-term con?

Hey, no, Erica...

Absolutely not.

Yeah, I saw an opportunity, and I took it.

My feelings were real and they will remain real.

What? You want proof? Okay.

Let's run away. I got 50 grand.

We'll get out of the country, we'll get up on our feet.

We're gonna run away together?

Play house, be a big happy family?

Erica, I...

No, Pete. If you're about to say "I love you,"

I am gonna punch you in the face.

Run away with you? You run away, Pete.

You disappear,

because if they can't find you,

they can't connect me to you.

I was gonna say you can call me on this.

It's prepaid.

Think about it.

Okay, I've thought about it.

You're the one who got us into this,

and you are the one that needs to vanish.

Erica!

Let's go!

Um, okay.

I guess we're looking for a hobbit-sized trailer.

You know what I don't get?

How can a midget and a fat lady

have a tall, skinny kid?

Oh, come on, I'm the only one who remembers Punnett squares

from biology class?

Erica, Punnett squares?

The odds are entirely dependant

on whether they're dominant or recessive genes

controlling the obesity and the dwarfism,

which, by the way, is way less offensive than the M word, so...

M word?

There it is.

Hey, Ray, we found it.

I'm coming up the back way.

I thought there was a difference between midgets and dwarves?

No, actually that's only according to P.T. Barnum,

who coined midget to describe the evenly-proportioned

little people he found most entertaining.

Word sticks around for over 100 years.

It was inevitably replaced with little people,

and currently dwarfism is also acceptable.

I wish they'd make up their mind.

Say that to the National Association

for the Advancement of Colored People, huh?

Huh, huh?

The bigger question is how does a dude

that small get it on with a woman weighing in at 900 lbs?

It's all mechanics, Shea, okay?

So you take the fulcrum... the fulcrum, right?

Can I help you?

Uh, sorry, we're, um...

We're looking for Tiny Tony.

Uh... Wesley Peebles.

Yeah, he's like, uh, yay-big.

Yeah, I know Tony, and I'm quite aware of how bid he is.

Uh, is he here? We need to see him.

Not at the moment. Do you know when he'll be back?

It's kind of important.

We think he might be in danger. I'm sorry,

are you cops? That's kind of a gray-ish area.

Are you his lovely daughter?

Ew, that would be incest.

Could you just tell us where he is or call him, because again,

his life is in jeopardy. I don't know where he is.

Tony doesn't live here, does he?

Or did he have a growth spurt

and change his name to Jesus?

Where'd you get that?

Found it on the clothesline out back.

You stepping out on Tony, huh?

Okay, look,

hon, we're not interested in your personal life,

but we just told you that Tony is in real danger,

and you don't seem too worried.

Because his life can't be in any danger.

He died over a year ago.

Yet his social security checks are still being cashed?

So, where is he? You and Jesus make

the little man disappear? What? No.

Look, Tony drank himself to death under a highway overpass.

All I did was leave his body unclaimed at the morgue

so the checks would keep coming.

I know it was wrong, but...

You know, great theory, Lloyd.

How can Max kill a dead man?

Who else knows Tony's dead? No one, probably.

His wife died, and the only family

he's got left is his son, Kurt.

They stopped speaking years ago. He's not the only one.

If Max doesn't know Tony's dead,

he might still be coming after him.

Anybody else come looking for Tony?

Not that I know of.

You have a safe place to go for a little while?

Maybe down to the social security office?

Cancel Tony's benefits?

Sound like a good idea?

So, what do you got in mind?

Don't recognize me, huh?

Used to be famous.

On the TV?

Trained myself to be an escape artist.

How I did it was I put myself intentionally in a bad situation

to see if I could get out.

Lock myself in the trunk of a car,

tie my hands and jump into a lake,

that sort of thing.

I loved the challenge.

I got it.

Use a lark's head.

Cross-wrap it nice and tight.

That's it, cowboy.

Finish it up with a square knot.

All right?

Hey, now, whoa.

Man, easy, man.

Take it easy.

You get to it before I do,

you live.

If not...

You're crazy.

One,

two...

No. No, listen,

I'm not playing your sick game, man.

You better.

Because I am.

Stop it.

Three. Lost your mind!

No, please.

Thanks for the ride.

You know Julianne can run a trap-and-trace on our phones.

There's not even a single picture of Max

in this whole thing.

It's like he doesn't even exist.

Do not get that.

I know it seems like a counterintuitive approach,

but trust me, it's gonna drive him crazy.

Then if you don't answer this phone, I will.

Fine.

Just-just let it go.

Jerk.

Come here. Don't want to talk to him?

I'm gonna make you listen.

He doesn't want to talk to you, Damien,

and I can't blame him.

So you're stuck with me.

Come on, I know you're there.

Pathetic mental case.

Why don't you drop some of your wisdom on us.

What's happened to you, Deputy Zancanelli?

Did they demote you?

How do you mean?

There are some big fugitives out there.

I know because I'm one of them.

but your bosses aren't letting you chase me, are they?

Oh, I haven't forgot about you.

Of course not.

But you can't do anything about it, can you?

Too busy hunting down circus freaks.

Oh, don't worry about that, I can multitask.

Give it up, Zancanelli; you lost me.

I'm the one that got away.

First you lost your partner, then you lost me.

No wonder they don't trust you to track me down.

Not even with the help from the eminent

Lloyd Lowery.

How about we get together, Damien?

Just you and me.

I have nothing more to say to you.

I want to speak to Lowery.

But I understand if he's in too delicate a state.

I told you. I'm driving him nuts.

No, you're driving me nuts.

Go ahead, Jules.

Ray, I got a hit.

A big one. Okay.

A man was found dead on the side of the road in Wurtsboro.

Now, his credit card records indicate

that he was in Deerfield, Massachusetts earlier today

at a truck stop where a cashier was found murdered.

Now, Deerfield is not too far from the prison

where Max Morris broke out of this morning.

Mad Max must have caught a ride.

Where the hell is Wurtsboro?

That's the thing, Max is already west of you guys.

Max isn't coming after Tony.

Check this out, Wurtsboro is only 20 minutes

from Monticello, where Tony's legitimate son lives.

Max's half-brother.

Maybe he's going there for help.

No, not help.

Maybe the "Him" Max was talking about wasn't Tony.

I mean, look, children instinctively want

to form attachments with their fathers,

but Max's dad only bonded with his other son,

his dwarf son, Kurt.

So, we could be talking about,

uh, just some sibling rivalry here.

Max doesn't know that Tony's dead.

He's still trying to win his love,

and he's trying to do it by eliminating the competition.

All right, Jules, tell Monticello PD

I want eyes on Kurt Peebles.

We'll be there as soon as we can.

You got it; oh, and Detective Estes called.

He wanted to tell you that Tommy Fitzgerald

was taken off life support this afternoon.

He's dead.

All right, just get a hold of Monticello PD.

Way to keep a low profile.

Idea is to catch Max, not scare him off.

You Kurt Peebles?

No, I'm Yao Ming in disguise.

Ray Zancanelli, US Marshals.

Oh, great. More government employees.

So, you want to tell me why you think Max Morris

is coming to see me?

Some people think Max Morris is your brother.

Yeah, it's half-brother, and they're wrong.

No way I share blood with that twitchy psychotic arsonist.

Me and the other kids, we used to bounce juggling pins

off his head when we were little.

That loon used to just sit there and let it happen.

Don't tell me I'm related to that.

But you know what, more to the point,

anybody who suggests that my father got busy

with some morbidly obese chick who smelled like a yak,

I got this to say, they don't know my father.

He is far too lazy to get on top and do all that work.

Wow.

Uh, sir, when's the last time you saw your father?

A lifetime ago, why?

Well, I'm sorry to inform you that your dad

passed away a while back.

Wait, don't tell me.

Electrocuted himself trying

to steal copper wire off a light pole.

No, he drank himself to death.

Now, that was my next guess.

Can we get back to Max for a second?

What's his beef with me?

Gee, I wonder. For whatever reason,

Max is on his way here.

So, we'd like to move you to a safe location

stake out your house in order to catch him.

Screw that! I got a Storage Wars marathon sitting on my DVR.

I ain't going anywhere.

Okay, sir,

we are dealing with a very dangerous and determined

psychotic here... Oh, please.

I spent ten years working in biker bars,

getting tossed around by 200-pound meth heads.

Think I'm scared of some imbecile who plays with matches?

Besides, how the hell is he gonna get in here

when you got an army of cops out there trampling my lawn?

Let you doughnut-eaters earn my tax money.

I am sitting and watching TV.

Yeah, Max is definitely coming to kill that guy.

What the hell is this?

I said get rid of the three-ring circus,

not add more tour dates.

That is what I'm telling them, Ray.

Who ordered this?

Monticello chief of police.

Said the little douchebag inside

won't let the cops use the bathroom.

They're gonna be here a while, so...

Where's your chief?

Cover for me, okay?

Last time I covered for you, a dude ended up in a coma.

Erica?

Tommy Fitzgerald is dead.

Pete, I am sorry about the way I said it before,

but you need to disappear.

Okay, things just got real bad.

First thing you need to do is cut up your credit cards,

IDs, everything.

Don't tell anybody where you're going, not a soul.

Erica, listen to me.

I already spoke to my lawyer.

Why?

He says I can plead down to a manslaughter charge.

That's great for you, Pete, but what about me?

I'll gonna lose my privileges here. I'm...

I'm going to go back to hard time.

I'm not gonna say anything about you.

What are you going to tell them, Pete?

That you broke into a US Marshals' office?

That's a federal offense! You can't... you can't

plead your way out of that one.

But you already knew that, didn't you?

You mother...

Listen. I don't know what to do, Erica!

What difference does it make? You're already in jail!

That came out wrong.

Max.

How the hell did you get in...?

Hey.

Hey, you look good, Max.

How you... how you been?

Hey. Hey, hey, good news.

You-you and me-- we're-we're brothers, man.

I mean, of course, I had heard the rumors

back in the day, but apparently, it's true.

Look, I'm...

I'm really sorry that Dad never had the balls to admit it

before the old bastard kicked it, you know?

You didn't know, either.

I just found out myself.

Hey, come on, man.

You know, don't treat me like that, right?

I mean, come on. Enough with the silent treatment.

Oh, you won't...

Move all these vehicles out of here.

Okay, maybe keep one, two unmarked cars in the distance.

If you're gonna truck in toilets,

you might as well hang a welcome banner.

And how long's it take to deliver a Porta Potti anyway?

This is a cash-only sale.

All sales are final.

We're gonna cut the lock. We're gonna open the door.

You guys. 21...

- Around the rear. - ...not open any boxes.

We are gonna sell this to the highest cash bid.

Are you ready to go? Let's go.

Force is here, and Max still gets in?

Lock down this neighborhood.

Max is still here.

Have your men check every square inch of this house.

Got it. Where's Erica?

Where are you?

Hey. Ray, sorry. I-I just had to pee really bad.

I'm at the corner store. All right, Max is here.

He killed Kurt. He's on the move.

Max is here?

Why aren't the cops doing anything about it?

They are. Why aren't you?

Ray, I got him.

Come on, let's go.

Not another step. Get down.

Get down!

Are you okay?

You okay? Yeah.

You got everything? Yeah, everything I could find.

That ain't nearly enough.

Jules, do you, um... do you have an aspirin?

Uh, yeah, on my desk.

You okay? I heard things got pretty hairy out there.

Yeah, I'm good.

So, you missed some excitement here, too.

NYPD got a hold of Pete Gillies.

What happened?

One or two?

Two.

Nothing... yet.

His lawyer's bringing him in tomorrow for questioning.

Good. Well, guess we'll get some answers.

Your... aspirin?

Yeah.

What you want to do is duct tape or the keyhole.

Yeah? I want any shit out of you, I'll squeeze your head.

How about that?

Oh, come on! Ooh! Jerk!

Jules, get me the spit mask.

We don't have any.

What? Why?

Because we've never needed one before.

But I've got an idea.

Still warm.

Oh, that's got to be killing you, man.

Homeboy's been here for three minutes,

and he's already in Julianne's drawers.

That cuts deep, Shea, like a knife.

Thanks for the support.

You lost to a guy whose daddy was so short,

he could have posed for trophies.

Oh! Wow. That got a rise out of him. Do his mother.

Oh, his mama? Yeah.

Oh, yeah, his mama was so fat...

How fat was she?

Her cereal bowl came with a warning sign.

Mm-hmm. "No lifeguard on duty."

I don't...

US Marshals.

Hello? Hello?

Put it on speaker, Julianne.

Damien?

Well, well, well.

Why are you ducking me, Doc?

Was it something I said?

It wasn't you... Damien. It's, uh... it's me.

I know that really sucks to hear,

but I needed a challenge.

You know? Needed something shiny and new,

something to hold my interest.

Think I found it. Might have heard of him.

Max Morris, the, uh, esc.

The circus tool?

Now, now, with the names. Come on.

Speaking of names, remember Nina Paulson?

Little dame we two-wayed.

Well, I did all the heavy lifting,

but you were a commendable sous killer.

Man, is she hot.

Cute smile, taut little body.

And her feet-- the way they wiggled in her last throes.

This investigation is ongoing,

and it's only a matter of time before we find you.

"We?" You're not even on the case.

I meant the royal we, okay?

We are through.

You are officially in my rearview mirror, Damien.

I'm all about Max Morris now, so...

Nina's death is on you.

Had you pressed harder when you had the chance,

I wouldn't be out.

You know that, and you want to right that.

So, put your coat back on and come after me like a man,

because there's another girl missing,

and she needs your help.

How did you know I took my coat off?

Son of a bitch is watching us.

And he calls when he knows we're in the office.

He's got to be on that rooftop.

All right, Jules, grab a firearm, keep an eye on Max.

Got it.

Warm.

Son of a bitch was right here watching us

right in our backyard.

Jules, put an alert out. Call everyone.

The son of a bitch is here.

I'm on it, Ray.

Oh, my God! It's Ray's daughter's ID.

Yeah, Christina, it's Ray.

Let me talk to Theresa.

What do you mean, she's late?

How late? Five minutes? Five hours?

Because I want to talk to her!

She's my daughter! Where is she?!

Resynch by Sam