Original subtitles

Can you take care of your brother, huh?

From the day you were born, you were my strength.

I love your brother so much.

I don't know why that you would do that right now.

I need you to stand up for me for once.

Promise me, Dom.

Are you the social worker?

I'll take care of him, Ma. I'll take care of him.

Thomas and I have been to three different states--

Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and New Hampshire.

Four, counting Connecticut.

In less than half an hour, we'll be in a new state, New York.

Because we're on the third grade field trip

to the Statue of Liberty.

Ma told us when we ride on the ferry,

we'll see the exact same view our grandfather saw

when he first came to this country in 1913.

Oh, you don't have one?

Can I have one of those?

Ma was always talkin' about her father.

She says he was a great man, but I never knew him.

He died before we were born.

We're about halfway there

when my brother gets up to use the bathroom.

He's probably gonna stink up the whole bus

and make everyone gag.

Don't get anything on ya!

My brother ruins everything.

Five minutes go by and he's still in there.

It's stuck!

I heard him flush a long time ago.

Dominick, help, help!

He's probably poopin' all over.

I feel bad for him.

And mad. And humiliated.

Kids are looking at me, too, not just Thomas.

"The Birdsey brothers, identical twin retards."

It smells like a pile of shit in there.

-What's going on? -It came through the door.

What's going on? All right, you guys, you guys.

Come on, sit down. What's going on here?

Thomas is locked in the bathroom.

Thomas. Hey, hey, hey, hey.

Calm down, listen to me. Push the lock,

grab the lock, and flick it to the left.

-Click it to the left. -It's not working!

What a weirdo!

-Bus driver! -He's pulling his pud in there!

-Can you pull over?

You just gotta move the bolt and the handle together.

All right, everybody settle down.

-Could you just stop that? -...diarrhea'd on me.

-What's his name? -Thomas.

-Thomas? Thomas. -Can you please sit down?

Try to move the-- the bolt and the handle together to the left.

-Please! Please! -It's stuck.

Can you just pull it open?

No. It opens from the inside.

Can you just use-- No, I understand that.

-I understand that. -That weirdo!

-My 2-year-old brother could open the door. -I think it's stuck.

I have a bus full of kids.

We need to get on the ferry by 10:45 or we're gonna miss--

I will-- I will call the bus company.

They'll have to come down here with the tools and fix it.

It may take two hours. It may take three hours.

-Get him out!

Calm him down. Everybody, sit down.

Bus moves. Please sit down.

-Bus moves. -Okay.

Come on. We're gonna miss the ferry.

Everyone's disappointed.

We're gonna stop at the side of the road...

The day is ruined.

-We're heading to a gas station to call for help... -Sit down, please.

when this know-it-all, Eugene Savitsky,

walks to the back of the bus with an idea.

Eugene, you've gotta sit down.

-Eugene, sit down. -Have him push it to the right.

Yeah, but the lock is to the left.

Yeah, but maybe he doesn't know the difference

between the right and the left.

The right and the left. Okay, all right.

Hey, Thomas, let's try something different, okay?

Try pushing it to the right, the lock.

To the right. The other way that you were.

Finally!

Okay?

Come on, let's go out.

Hey!

Eugene, can you switch seats with Dominick, please?

Thank you. Dominick, come on.

Let's go sit by your brother.

You okay?

Thomas, you okay?

All right. We're almost there, guys.

For the rest of that whole long day,

Thomas acts really out of it.

-Just sit down, please. -We're gonna miss the ferry!

No, we're not gonna miss the ferry.

We are not missing the ferry. We're fine.

Please, sit down. Please, sit down.

Nobody uses the bathroom anymore!

At the harbor, Thomas tells Miss Hanker

he feels too nervous to get on the ferry to the statue.

So she makes me stay behind with him and the bus driver.

That night,

I dream I'm trapped in a small, dark cave

in a woods I don't recognize.

It's pitch dark.

I bang and cry for help and when, at last,

I discover a way out, I realize

I've not been trapped in a cave at all

but inside the Statue of Liberty.

Wake up, sleepyhead.

Hi.

You'll never guess who called yesterday.

Who?

Who called?

Connie Chung.

She wants to interview Thomas.

Jesus Christ.

What? It's a pretty cool thing.

They're doing this special on people's reaction

to Operation Desert Shield.

He definitely had a reaction.

I was really excited to tell you.

Come here, look at this.

-What? -Look at that.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God, what is that?

Fucking guard kneed me in the testicles.

Hatch Forensic Hospital.

I can't believe how big they got. Fuckin' killing me.

-So what do you think? -What?

-What do you think? -About what?

About my balls?

No, about Connie Chung.

-What about her? -Well, I need to let her know

one way or the other, and I had to give her

my work number in case she couldn't get a hold of you.

-You gave her your work number? -Yeah.

Tell her no. No.

-Seriously? -Seriously.

Okay, I mean...

it's your decision. I just think...

-You just what? -I, I just...

I just think that you should talk to her

because she was really nice and I think you should just...

talk to her on the phone before you make your decision.

And Thad thought so, too.

Thad? What does he have to do with this?

He had nothing to do with it.

He was just here when she called

and he answered the phone

and then when I got off we were both just like,

"Oh, my God, we were just talking to Connie Chung from TV."

Whoa, big fat fuckin' whoop.

Connie Chung from TV. Oh!

I don't want that fuck-- I don't want that asshole

picking up our phone, all right?

I have business on that line.

I don't want his voice representing my business.

Well, just talk to her, Dominick.

She's, she's really nice.

Yeah, I'm sure she's really, really nice

because she really, really wants something from you.

Listen, Joy, Connie Chung is not gonna be

your new best friend, all right?

I know she's not my new best friend.

I don't want it here. I'm dealing with a few

fuckin' things here, as you can see.

I don't want the fuckin' media circus

circling our house.

All right, she's manipulating you.

I'm not, I'm not stupid.

Whether you think I am or not.

Oh, give me a fuckin' break.

Do you know what I really, really wish?

I wish, I wish that you could just take care of me

the way that you take care of him.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

That would be a really nice surprise

to be taken care of by my own boyfriend.

That's not gonna happen, is it? Because I'm not crazy.

Well, that's debatable.

-Fuck you. -Come on.

Don't, don't, just don't do this, all right?

Not now. Stop yourself, all right?

Put the brakes on yourself.

So I don't... I'm sorry, all right?

I, I didn't, I don't think you're stupid.

And I don't think you're crazy. I-- this, this is hard for me.

It's hard for you. It's hard for all of us.

But I have to take care of my brother.

That's non-negotiable, all right?

It's just something that I have to do.

I have to do it.

Right.

You, you do it. Just go for it, Dominick.

Joy.

Joy, I am not being unreasonable.

This is Henry Rood, 67 Gillette Street.

This is my fourth call...

-Shit. -...i n three days.

I'd like to know when in the hell

you're gonna get back to work over here.

If at all possible, I would like to be able

to look out my office window

by the time the snow flies and not see your scaffolding.

Hello, this is the Three Rivers Examiner

calling to request an interview with Thomas Birdsey

at his earliest convenience.

Please call 292-1314.

Get to the back of the fuckin' line, asshole.

Behind Connie Chung.

Hey, this is Lisa Sheffer

calling for Dominick Birdsey.

I'm a social worker at the Hatch Forensic Institute.

I'm calling about your brother, Thomas.

I know that there was a bit of a... commotion

when you guys checked in,

but I wanted to let you know I saw him

and he's doing really well.

Under the circumstances he's doing fine.

I'll be here tonight till about 11:00 o'clock

and I'll be here at 8:00 in the morning.

Um, give me a call back. 617-9300

if you have any questions or you wanna know

how your brother's doing at any time.

He's actually very well tonight. I saw him just now.

And they've got him on one-to-one observation, which is good.

Hey.

-You must be his brother. -Yeah, I'm Dominick Birdsey.

Hey, Lisa Sheffer. Left a message on your machine.

Thanks for gettin' here so quickly.

Have a seat.

Yeah, so I didn't get your message till this morning,

um, but there's obviously been

-some kind of misunderstanding...

-...with my brother. -Excuse me.

Hello, Sheffer.

-Yeah, uh, honey, how are you?

No, honey, I have somebody in the office with me now.

Mommy's working. Yeah.

Thank you. I love you, goodbye.

-Sorry about that.

My daughter's quite a handful.

Yeah, so, your real name's Domenico, huh?

Yeah, how do you know that?

It was in your brother's records here.

Um, what is it, a family name?

I was named after my grandfather.

Oh.

My grandfather's name is Domenico as well.

Isn't that funny?

Yeah, Domenico Parlapiano.

How's that for a mouthful?

Just trying to get your brother's file transferred here

but you know what I'm doing, I keep hitting the shift key.

Can, can we just talk about my brother?

How am I gettin' him outta here?

Okay, we can.

Your brother, Thomas, was placed here

on a 15-day paper.

That means he'll be here for 15 days under observation.

When the observation is complete,

his case will go before probate,

and then most likely to the PSRB.

-Okay, listen, I... look. -Yeah.

I don't, I don't wanna be rude, all right?

'Cause you're the first human being I've run into in this place.

But first of all, don't, don't sit here talking initials at me.

And number two, uh, uh, don't tell me about any 15-day paper,

because I'm gettin' him out of here today.

-Hm. Yeah. -Okay?

How about you change that tone?

Okay, just take a deep breath and calm down.

I'll calm down when this whole runaround is over.

What you need to do is get ahold of his doctor,

Dr. Willis Ehlers.

He'll tell you, he doesn't-- this is somebody's mistake.

He doesn't belong here and he should be over at Settle.

Well, um, Dr. Ehlers is no longer your brother's doctor.

-He has been reassigned. -Reassigned by who?

The state commissioner's office in Hartford.

It's not all bad news though.

Dr. Patel is his new psychologist,

who is absolutely fantastic.

All right, no, Dr. Ehlers is my brother's doctor.

He has been my brother's doctor for the--

treating him for the last four years.

Successfully, for the most part.

Successfully? Your brother cut off his hand.

I-- every single time he's ever had an episode,

he ends up at Settle.

So why would he end up here, all right?

He's practically a fixture down there,

and if you made one phone call,

if you took the time to listen to what I'm saying to you...

-...and you made a phone call. -You know what?

-I don't like your tone. -Heh. Sorry!

I really don't, no. You can leave if you want to.

I'm an advocate. I'm here for you and for your brother.

-So knock it off. -Listen to me.

My brother doesn't belong here. He's got no defenses.

-I understand. -He's probably freaking out right about now.

It's like putting a bunny rabbit into a pack of wolves.

He's not gonna survive here. And it's gonna be on you.

-Well, it's not gonna be on me, but thanks for saying that. -Who's it gonna be on?

I'm gonna give it to you straight, Dominick, okay?

Your brother was placed in a forensic hospital

because he's seriously mentally ill

and he committed a serious crime.

What, what crime?

-You know what he did. -What did he do?

-You know what he did. -Oh, so he interrupted some old lady's

afternoon reading, and he gets a little blood on the library carpet?

-A little? -I mean, what he did is totally bizarre, yes.

I'm not, I'm not refuting any of that.

But what serious crime did he commit?

He was brandishing a dangerous weapon.

Yeah, he wasn't-- he did it to himself.

Yes, but you know what? He counts.

He used it on himself and he counts, Dominick.

Listen, I know him better than anybody

and I'm probably more dangerous than he is.

This guy is harmless.

You know what I think your problem is?

If you could calm down for a minute,

I'll just explain something to you, okay?

You're assuming that this is the worst place in the world

for your brother to be, and that may not be the case.

And besides, Dominick, there is nothing you can do about it.

Nothing. It's out of your hands.

Thomas is going to be here for 15 court-ordered days, minimum.

Okay, so what, what about-- what happens after that?

What happens after the 15 days?

Unit Two's evaluation team will make a recommendation

to the probate judge that he either is discharged,

transferred to another facility, or stays here

under the jurisdiction of the review board.

What does the review board do?

They commit him.

-For how long? -For a year.

-A year?! -I know. Okay, okay, with the violence

and the yelling.

You could maybe calm down just a little.

I know it's-- I know it's upsetting.

A year? How am I supposed to look at him

when, when I see him today and look him in the eyes

and I tell him, "Hey, Thomas, here's how it is, okay?"

-Yeah. -"You got 15 days here

and possibly 365 days after that."

How am I supposed to say that to him?

You're not gonna get to see him today.

Oh, you're a fuckin' picnic.

Oh, now, Dominick, really.

-Really. -Why am I not gonna get...

-...to see him today? -Because this is protocol.

He's here under maximum security status.

Thomas and I will have to come up with a visitor list...

-...up to five people. -How long is that gonna take?

It usually takes about two weeks for clearance.

Two weeks. He's gonna be outta here in two weeks.

That is not necessarily the case.

I'm sorry, but you can call me whenever you need.

Day or night.

I'm gonna put you in touch with Dr. Patel.

In fact, you know what? Let me call her now

and see if she can see you.

I'm sure she'll be helpful at answering questions.

But I'm gonna tell you, don't scream in her office.

She won't take it.

Yeah, hi, it's Lisa Sheffer.

I'm well, thank you. How are you?

Do you think you have any time today

to see Thomas Birdsey's brother, Dominick?

He's very eager to see you.

-How's 5:00 p.m.? -Fine.

5:00 p.m. is fine.

All right, thanks very much.

There you go. You know, she's very busy,

so that's great we got in today.

Now, listen, I'm gonna see your brother today.

I'm gonna tell him that you were here trying to see him.

Is there anything else you want me to tell him for you?

-That's fine. -Nothing you want me to tell him?

No, I guess that's it.

How about that you love him?

-He knows it. -Yeah, well, everybody likes to hear it.

Okay, fine. Tell him I love him.

Okay, I will.

-Good morning, Mrs. Rood. -Oh.

-Morning. -Good morning.

Hey, uh, can I speak with your husband?

Uh, he's been leaving me quite a few messages.

No, I can't disturb him. He's writing.

Or passed out in an alcoholic stupor.

Okay, well, you know, can you apologize to him for me?

Uh, for the delay? I mean, obviously,

the rain, it can't be helped.

-No. -And I've been, I've been

personally dealing with a few...

-Yes, so we read. -...circumstances that are beyond my control.

How is he, your brother?

Yeah, he's all right. He's better.

But listen, uh, depending on the weather,

I should be done with this job in six weeks tops.

This front is gonna pass in the next 24 hours

and then I'll be going full-steam ahead.

So he doesn't have to keep callin' me, all right?

All right, that's fine. Really, it's fine.

All right.

So what's he writing up there, anyway?

The great American novel?

Oh, it's, it's non-fiction.

It's some sort of exposé. I don't know.

An exposé? Who's he exposing? House painters?

All right, so I'll try and stop by tomorrow.

Oh, do that, yes.

By the time I'm finished here, you and your husband

are gonna be sick of seein' me.

You think so, really? I don't think so.

Thank you, Mrs. Rood.

Home sweet home.

The only one left at the house

that my grandfather had built for his family

was Ray Birdsey.

A WASP from Youngstown, Ohio.

No Tempesta blood in residence.

No Italian blood, even.

Ray?

Being back at 68 Hollyhock Avenue

always made me feel pissed and small.

Ten years old again and powerless.

Growing up, I had wished my stepfather dead so often.

It was practically a hobby.

I had killed him over and over in my mind.

Driven him off cliffs, electrocuted him in the bathtub.

Shot him dead in hunting accidents.

The summer my grandfather died was the same summer

Ma was pregnant with Thomas and me.

Pregnant by a guy whose name

I was probably never going to know.

Had he known about us?

Why had she kept him from us?

Was the truth really that bad?

I'm so sorry it didn't work out.

Okay, now. Take care, Jeanette.

You liar.

What happened?

Dude.

No sale.

I take one day off to go into the city and what does she do?

Changes her mind, goes and buys a Ford Taurus across town.

So they're only givin' him five visitors.

You gotta get through a security clearance,

then you gotta go get frisked,

and then you get to go through a metal detector.

What they did to you is not frisking, man.

That's like...

police brutality.

-Have you taken pictures of that? -No.

You gotta get pictures taken, man, before it heals.

You need to document that shit.

You need to go to a doctor today

and get pictures taken, like, real pictures.

Tasteful pictures of your balls.

So you have documentary evidence.

You can use it to cut a deal with these bastards, man.

You show them the pictures and you say,

"I'll see you in court unless..."

"Unless what?"

"Unless you transfer my brother back to Settle."

-That's not a bad idea. -Right?

And then when you get him out,

you turn around and you sue their ass off anyway.

You would do that, wouldn't you, man?

-In a heartbeat. -You're so...

In a heartbeat, man. That's a real opportunity.

I'm telling you, I would take that in, oh...

-I would love that money. That's easy money.

-Your phone. -This, this is the hard money.

-Your phone's ringing. -That is easy money.

-All right, get the phone. -I hear the phone.

Constantine Motors, it's Leo.

Did you blow the sale?

Um, no, sir, she, uh, she had a change of heart, so...

-What happened? -Uh, she went with the Ford Taurus over at Three Rivers.

What? She was hot for that car when she left!

I think she just changed her mind at the last minute.

Um, so...

What happened?

I took a day off for an audition...

-...and so, um, she thought-- -You what?

You've gotta get your priorities straight.

You took a day off, and you blew the sale.

It wasn't a commercial.

It was a feature film this time.

-So what? -Uh, it was a horror movie.

To be the lead detective.

Uh, there's some Christian teenagers that are being...

Whatever. -...murdered.

Hang up.

Don't-- just hang up.

-He hung up. -He hung up.

I gotta go.

-A horror, a horror film? -Why do I have to go back there?

Why doesn't he just come out here?

He doesn't want to see me.

Give me a break, you were always the favorite son-in-law.

That's bullshit.

-He hates me. -Stay here.

Where am I going?

Howdy, Gene.

Hey, wake up, man.

Wake up.

-What time is it? -It is 2:15.

In the p.m., in case you were wondering.

Man, you really look like dogshit, dude.

-Thanks, man. -Are you getting any sleep at all?

You look like one of those, uh...

what's that dog with, like, the droopy face?

-And like the fucked-up teeth. -A basset hound.

A basset hound. That's what you look like.

-Fuck off. -I'm just telling you, man.

'Cause no one else is gonna tell you.

You got a lot of rust on that thing.

-Yeah, don't worry about it. -I'm just saying.

I could get you in a nice Isuzu truck.

Find another victim.

-I'm serious, man. -No.

I can get you a good deal.

Hey.

The last time you gave me a deal,

the fuckin' transmission fell out of it.

Oh, that's not how I remember it.

-Listen. -I'm not in the mood, man.

I'm feelin' like shit.

How many people did you say your brother gets on that list?

Five.

All right, well, tell him he can put me on it.

I mean, if he wants.

Yeah, I'd be happy to go down there and just

make sure he's hangin' in there.

I mean, me and him go back a few years too, right?

Yeah, I'll mention it to him, thanks.

All right, brother.

-Yeah?

-Dominick? -Mm-hmm.

Hey, man, I'm Dale.

I'm gonna take a few photos of you, if that's all right.

This is the, uh, testicular contusion, correct?

-Yeah, man. -Okay.

Can you sit up for me?

I'm just gonna take a few photos of your injury.

-Um, I need to see the injury. -Ah, shit. Right.

All right, good morning, sunshine.

There we go.

Two, three.

Cops did this to you?

Yeah, man. A prison guard.

Fuckin' cops, am I right?

Uh, it's smart to do what you're doin', man.

I'm serious, I got hit by the cops once, man.

I should have done somethin'.

Coming back from an Aerosmith concert.

You know Aerosmith? They're the fuckin' best band in the world.

My brother and I were high as hell.

Cops pull us over, they tell us to step out of the car.

My brother tells 'em to walk this way.

They beat the shit out of us.

I mean, the shit out of us, man.

If I had any proof, I would be a richer man.

You know, I wish I had your brains, man...

-Oh.

What time is it?

Babe, seize the day.

Okay, I gotta...

-Just-- -I'll get the baby.

Right, bring her in here.

Baby!

Oh!

Dominick.

-No. -Something's wrong.

-No. -I don't know what to do!

No, no, Dominick. Why is...

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! Is she breathing?

On the worst anniversaries,

Angela's birthday, or her death day...

I still see Dessa doubled over

and wailing as the ambulance pulled out of our driveway.

And then there was my brother.

And they knew that I would sometimes stay there,

and that's how Angela was murdered.

I still clench when I remember Thomas

telling people that there was a strong possibility

Angela's death had been arranged by his enemies

as a warning to him.

-The FBI, the CIA... Dominick. -Hey, hey, knock it off.

-They were after me and I'm sorry... -Knock it off.

It has nothing to do with you.

It was Pablo Escobar...

Come on, come on, come on!

-I swear to God! -Come on, man!

It has nothing to do with you!

It has nothing to do with you!

All right, it's my daughter!

I forget whether it was the Ayatollah

or the Colombian drug cartels

who were pursuing Thomas that month.

But I could have bashed his fuckin' head into the wall

when I heard him say that,

making our daughter's death about him.

What the hell's the matter with you?

For a month more, Dessa was a zombie

and I was management central.

The one who dealt with the coroner and the cops.

And all those casseroles people kept bringing to the door.

The covered dish brigade.

A week or so later, I threw everything out,

washed everyone's dishes,

and went driving around town returning them.

This will pass. It'll pass.

Dessa's father assured me

that we two kids would get over our loss.

These things happen.

He assured me as soon as we had another baby.

You can't be moping around.

We should start as soon as possible.

You have to embrace life.

A lot of people did that.

Prescribed pregnancy as the answer to our grief.

Everything's gonna be all right.

People assumed the feel and sound

and smell of her was disposable.

-Replaceable. -I'm gonna go for a walk.

As if all Dessa and I had to do

was erase over our daughter like videotape.

Sadie, come on, come.

You wanna come?

No, I'm good.

All right, come on. Let's go.

We held on for a little over a year.

Dessa and me.

We never really fought. Fighting took too much energy.

After a while, she started going to these

SIDS parent support group meetings down in New Haven,

pressuring me to go too.

His name was Kyle.

I went twice, then I couldn't go back.

-I just couldn't do it.

Because that group pissed me off,

if you want to know the truth.

All those touchy-feely types connecting with their sorrow,

wallowing in it.

The dead babies club.

The weekly pity party.

Dominick, I need you to open up to me.

I can't do this by myself.

Please.

What good is it gonna do?

We'll talk and we'll cry and we'll talk some more.

She'll still be dead.

Dominick.

Please.

Life didn't have to make sense.

That was the big joke, get it?

You could have a brother that stuck metal clips in his hair

to deflect enemy signals from Cuba.

A biological father who, in 33 years,

had never shown his face,

and a baby dead in her bassinet.

And none of it meant a fucking thing.

Dessa saw ahead of time the wallop

Angela's birthday was going to pack

and started planning accordingly.

She wanted both of us to go on a trip

to Greece and Sicily.

Wanted us to use the life insurance money

we'd gotten to take that trip.

I could've gotten the time off from work, I guess.

But I said no.

Told her I thought it was sick taking a trip

financed with death money.

But the unspoken truth, the thing I couldn't say,

is that I was afraid.

Afraid to confine myself in a ship's cabin with her.

On a ship, you couldn't grab the keys and drive off.

On a ship, we could make another baby.

We made love maybe a dozen times

in the year after the baby's death.

Always with a diaphragm in,

and each time, I pulled out early anyway.

The thought of that trip scared the crap out of me.

"Go without me," I encouraged her.

And so she called my bluff and went.

I had my own plans, my own mission

for my own recovery.

Dominick Birdsey?

Oh, sorry.

-Hey. -So sorry I startled you.

You were sleeping, weren't you?

-Uh, who are you? -I'm Dr. Patel.

Oh, I'm sorry. No, no, I'm just...

I'm sorry, I was vegging out.

Why don't you come on up, Mr. Vegetable?

All right.

-Oh! -Excuse me.

Come on! Let's go!

Take a seat, please.

I was going to put on a pot of tea

before we started. Would you like to join me?

Yeah, sure.

Are you getting enough sleep, Mr. Birdsey?

Uh, it's just been a long day.

-Well, I can offer you chamomile... -You can understand.

-...peppermint, and wildberry spice. -Mmm?

-Whatever. -Ah, whatever.

The favorite word of ambivalent American men.

It's passive-aggressive, don't you think?

I'll have the spice, thanks.

So what's going on with my brother?

Have you seen him?

Yeah, just today, actually.

-There-- there was an incident. -An incident.

Your brother seems to have a preoccupation

with the surveillance cameras.

And this afternoon, at lunch, he began shouting

and throwing food at the camera on the wall in the dining room.

And then, when an aide attempted to contain him,

the table overturned.

Thomas turned the table?

And from what I understand, several of the other

patients' meals landed on the floor

and something of a melee followed.

But the guards were called and the situation

was quickly brought under control,

but your brother had to be restrained.

Are you kidding? Is he, is he still like that?

No, no, he was back in his room by 4:00.

I didn't tell you this to alarm you.

It's not abnormal for patients with paranoia

to act out occasionally.

I'm telling you this because you had mentioned

to Lisa Sheffer that you wanted to be kept informed.

-How is he now? -He's withdrawn, sullen.

I spoke to his psychiatrist, Dr. Chase,

and, well, he's considering as one of his options

to increase your brother's dosage of Haldol.

Jesus Christ, here we go. You know, you take off the restraints

and then you throw him in a straitjacket of his medication.

The last time his doctors upped his medication after an episode,

it was literally like someone

had plugged him into a frickin' light socket.

He was walking around like a fuckin' piece of bacon.

Well, Mr. Birdsey, you know, neuroleptic medications

are very effective in lessening delusions and hallucinations

but unfortunately,

they also enhance the negative symptoms.

I know, I know all about it.

I know all about the Prolixin and the Stelazine,

and all that other stuff, all right?

You don't-- you can't have a brother

who's been in and out of the state hospital for 20 years

and not know all of their chemical voodoo.

He hates the Haldol.

It makes him feel like shit.

And I don't give you guys

permission to turn him into a zombie

just because he freaked out and he turned over a table

just because it happens to be,

um, convenient for the staff, all right?

It's unacceptable to me.

And it's unacceptable to me, too, Mr. Birdsey.

Please give me credit for some professional ethics.

I'm an advocate for your brother. I'm-- I'm not an enemy.

I'm not a mad scientist.

I spoke to Dr. Chase, and I told him that in my opinion,

increasing your brother's dosage of Haldol was probably ill-advised

and most certainly premature.

And I would be more than happy to relay your concerns...

-...to the doctor as well. -Which would count for what?

One of the divine gods of psychiatry doing what?

Just listening politely and then going forward

and doing whatever the hell they wanted to anyway?

I mean, come on.

I've been here.

You're very tired, aren't you, Mr. Birdsey?

Yeah, I am.

I am. It's been a long 40 years, lady.

Would you like to have some tea now?

Sure.

Your brother tells me that you're an avid reader.

That your house is filled with books.

You know, he was very animated when he was telling me about you, you know?

He seems very proud of your mind.

Hm, right.

You think otherwise?

I think that, uh, Thomas...

can't focus on much of anything or anyone but Thomas.

And because of his disease, he's unable to, um,

think about anybody but himself.

Was he like that even as a child?

No.

He worried more.

About what?

About, about people.

About me.

I mean, he was a bigger worrywart than she was.

-And who was that? -My mother.

She used to call him the bunny rabbit

and me the spider monkey.

Hey, what difference does it make, anyway?

I mean, all this history stuff, it's-it's-it's irrelevant.

I mean, this is the same stuff they were doing 20 years ago

when this whole thing, when this-- when this nightmare first started.

All right, it's genetic. It's got nothing to do with his upbringing.

There's no use delving into the secrets of the past.

You know, let's just-- let's focus on the present.

Let's, let's get him the proper medications

so that he can control his behavior

and let's try to teach the guy some self-management.

Are you uncomfortable about remembering the past?

Am I? No, I'm not uncomfortable.

Why, why, hey, listen.

Why do you insist on turning this around on me?

Well, because you're his twin, aren't you?

You're his mirror image, so to speak.

His, his healthy self.

In scientific terms, well, you're the equivalent

of a control group.

All right, all right.

The part of himself that is free

from the burden of his disease.

In a sense, as his identical twin,

well, you are he and he is you.

More than most siblings...

-...you are each other. -I, I, I don't know.

I want to play you a recording of my session

with your brother from today after the incident.

I was very pleased with our progress and I--

I thought it might be helpful to hear your reactions.

Is that fair? I mean, in terms of patient confidentiality?

Hmm! There you go again, Mr. Birdsey.

Worrying about my ethical intent.

Listen.

Session with Thomas Birdsey, 2:30 p.m.

Sixteen, October, 1990.

Mr. Birdsey, are you aware this is being taped?

Yeah, I'm aware. I'm aware of plenty.

And I have your permission

to replay the tape to the people we talked about.

Your brother, Miss Sheffer, Dr. Chase.

No, not Dr. Chase, I changed my mind about him.

-Why is that? -'Cause it's too risky.

How-how do I know he's not working for the Iraqis?

In my line of work, you can't afford to take chances.

Your line of work, Mr. Birdsey?

What line of work is that?

No comment.

I'm just trying to understand, Mr. Birdsey.

Do you mean your coffee and newspaper business or something else?

Curiosity killed the cat, didn't it?

Mr. Birdsey, I'm wondering if I may call you Thomas.

-No, you may not. -Why is that?

I am Simon Peter.

Simon Peter the apostle?

Bingo, Miss Gandhi.

Why do you refer to me as Miss Gandhi?

'Cause you dress the part, Suzie Q.

Suzie Q. Why am I Suzie Q?

How should I know why you're Suzie Q?

I-I don't know if this means anything,

but that's what my stepfather used to call my mother,

Suzie Q, and he sounds just like him there.

Suzie Q was your mother's nickname.

Was her name Susan?

No, Concettina or Connie.

But that's what my stepfather used to call her when...

Yes?

When he was mad at her, when he ridiculed her.

That's what he called her.

-I know very little about your family.

Tell me about them.

Your mother is deceased, correct?

Mmm.

And you have a stepfather?

And a brother?

A twin brother. We're identical.

He likes to read.

Oh, you should see his house. It's filled with books.

He's very, very intelligent.

And what about you, Mr. Birdsey.

I was called. I was chosen by God.

And they almost immediately, they started,

they started pursuing me.

But my brother, he was a good teacher.

Students liked him and respected his brain.

But he quit.

Why?

I don't know.

Something happened. I don't want to talk about it.

What does he do for a living now?

He paints houses.

I tell him, watch out for the radioactive paint, Dominick.

He doesn't listen to me.

-You hear that, Dominick?

In his own way, Thomas is still worrying about your safety.

I see my brother trying to get it off his fingers.

My stepfather has it, too.

But he doesn't come to see me anymore

so I don't, I don't have to worry about him.

Can you tell me about him?

My stepfather, he beat-- he used to beat us.

-He hit you. -When we were kids, yeah.

Frequently or infrequently?

-Frequently. -Infrequently.

He used to take his belt off and hit me with it.

-Where? -My-my arms.

My behind.

One time, he, he hit me across the face with his belt...

-...and its buckle chipped my tooth. -Stop the tape.

-Stop. Right there, that's bullshit.

'Cause that, that didn't happen.

He, he, he chipped that tooth in a sledding accident.

We were over at Cow Barn Hill, we were going down the hill,

he flipped over and he hit his mouth on a metal runner.

-Do you want me to stop? -No, keep going.

No, no. He never hit Dominick the way he hit me.

-No? -No.

He always picked on Thomas Dirt.

Thomas Dirt?

Why do you refer to yourself in that manner, please?

-Is that right, Dominick?

-What? -Were you usually spared?

Yeah, sometimes I was, yeah.

Because I didn't push Ray's buttons

the way this kid did, all right?

I mean, I, I was smart enough to know to shut up,

to play defense, he didn't.

Just play the tape. Come on.

-Mr. Birdsey,

why do you think your stepfather was more harsh with you

than he was with your brother?

I don't think why. I know why.

Because he was jealous of me.

What made him jealous?

Because he realized that God has special plans for me.

He used to open up my closet and urinate.

Urinate all over my clothes.

My shoes, too. He was always doing that.

Pissing in my shoes.

Why do you think he urinated on your clothes?

That, that was nothing.

That was the least of it.

He did worse things?

Much worse.

What did he do that was worse?

He would rape my mother and make us watch.

-And he would, he would-- -Come on.

He would tie me up and stick things up my rear.

What kind of things?

-If Ray knew he was saying this stuff, man, Jesus. -Sharp things.

Pencils and screwdrivers.

You know, one time he took the handle of a carving knife.

Oh, I can't, I can't. Just stop it, stop it.

-...right inside--

Fuck.

What your brother said has upset you very much, hasn't it?

What, no. Hell no, doc.

Why would that upset me? My mother got raped

and we sat around and watched.

My stepfather used to stick screwdrivers up his ass.

I mean, come on, that's easy.

That's, that was-- that's awesome to listen to.

Jesus Christ, I thought you were making progress with him. Fuck!

Tell me what you're feeling right now, Dominick.

What the fuck does it matter what I'm feeling?

I'm not the one who's having this sick, perverted...

You seem very angry, Dominick. Tell me why.

You wanna know why I'm angry? I'll tell you why I'm angry.

I'm supposed to be down on Gillette Street right now

finishing a painting job that I was supposed to finish

three fucking weeks ago,

and here I am in a fuckin' mini mall,

listening to my brother talk about shit

that never, ever happened.

Okay, yeah, it got bad in our house.

Ray had a temper like he was fucking on fire.

But he never raped him with a screwdriver.

Dominick, please keep your voice down.

-Why don't you sit down? -I don't wanna sit down.

Take a few deep breaths.

You wanna know, do you wanna know what it's like for me?

Do you?

It's like...

it's like my brother has been an anchor

around my entire life.

Even before he got sick.

Even before he goes and lops his frickin' hand off.

An anchor pulling me down. You know what I get?

I get just enough rope to break the surface.

To breathe.

I used to think one day, that I'd actually

get away from him, you know?

That I'd cut the cord.

But here I am, I'm 40 years old,

and I am still down at the fuckin' nuthouse

running interference, and I get it now.

I really do. I get it, man.

I really fucking get it.

-What do you get, Dominick? -That I will...

that-- that he is my curse.

I'm just...

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

I don't know what to do.

Your reactions, Dominick, they've, uh...

they've been very illuminating to me.

But I think we should discontinue the practice

of having you listen to your brother's taped sessions.

You're the one who said it would help.

Well, perhaps it was a bad idea.

-It can help, but, uh...

one brother's treatment shouldn't put another brother at risk.

I learned something today.

I learned that there are two young men lost in the woods.

Not one, two.

And I may never be able to find one of those young men.

He's been gone so long, the odds, I'm afraid,

may be against me, but...

as for the other, I may have better luck.

The other young man may be calling me.

-Uh-oh. -Oh, shit.

-Guess who's home! -Hello, Dominick.

You want to come in here and have a pumpkin...

-Come have a sucker.

Oh, no, better than a sucker.

I have toasted pumpkin seeds.

-You want some pumpkin seeds? -Nope.

I don't want any... pumpkin seeds.

Try them!

Dominick, we toasted pumpkin seeds.

-Dominick, come and have--

What'd he say?

-Is he always this angry?

I know that you have a lot on your mind right now,

but that gives you absolutely no excuse

to be that rude to my friend.

-Jesus. -This is my house too, and if I want to come home

after work and I wanna relax, and I wanna have Thad over,

that's my business.

Don't shut the door on me!

Don't shut... the door on me.

You just steal the light, don't you?

You come in and you shit over everything.

Listen, I've had a long day,

and when I come home, I wanna have something to eat.

Something real.

Not frickin' roasted pumpkin seeds.

And then I want to lay down in my bed,

because I need some sleep.

Is that asking too much?

-Yeah, yeah! -Is it?

'Cause you never think about what I need, do you?

-Oh, fuckin' Jesus Christ. -Not once!

Why don't you get your little boyfriend or girlfriend

or whatever the fuck he is outta here.

Oh, fuck you!

Thad, come on, let's go.

-Fuck you!

You gotta be calm, cool and collected

inside the hearing. We're gonna write a script.

What do I say?

Start with your feelings

about your brother.

Why would I type your paper for you?

Because of my hands.

How you know him to be.

I'm gonna get you out of here.

Write what's in your heart.

The last thing I wanted was for us

to get into a fight tonight.

Write it down.

-I'm Dessa. -Dominick.