All language subtitles for Episode 04 New York, New York

- Syd. Syd, hold on.

I know what you're trying to do,

and I've already made up my mind.

I'm not signing anything.

- No. No, what? Um...

Whoa. What would I want you to--
- A hush clause. Fucking NDA bullshit.

I told him controlling my narrative
is the only power I have left,

and no one is going to take that from me.

- Hey. Here's 300 bucks.

Could you give us five minutes?

Thank you.

- He told me he quit.

And then I get home and find him like...

that.

I can't be gas-lit anymore,
so I'm not signing.

- I wouldn't sign, either.

- Oh. Oh, I thought you were
trying to get me--

- No. I just wanted to...

say bye.

- Oh, God. Ugh.

Sorry. Oh, God,
I'm such a fucking asshole. I--

See, this is what he's turned me into.
- It's cool.

Listen, it's fine. I--

- God.

Why couldn't I end up with a guy like you

instead of a narcissist
with a binge problem?

Can't help it.

I want to fix things.

I know what you need.

She's an activist-slash-spiritual healer,

which I know, woo-woo, but... for real.

She'll drive your demons out
with her words alone.

This really helped me get out,
and I, I think you can, too.

Here.

Meet you in another life?

- Yeah.

Another life.

New York is not for profit!

New York is not for profit!
New York is not for profit!

It is incumbent upon us today

to shine a light on Titan International's

systematic failures in decision-making,

and other disregard for safety that led to
this tragic environmental disaster.

Appearing before us is Mr. Stanley Price,

chief executive officer of Titan.

Congressional hearings
are just as much about them,

so sit still,

and look alert.

Your opening statement is bullet proof.

Let's start with Bachner's
cross-examination.

In your own words, Mr. Price,
would you please describe

the mechanical failure
that caused the spill?

So, one of the centralizers collapsed,

which increased drag on the pipe,
from what I understand.

- What you understand?
- Yes. That's right.

And were you,
or were you not, aware of the dangers

of continuing without running
a full compulsory risk assessment?

- I was aware.

But you chose to proceed,

regardless of the increased probability

that the faulty centralizer could crack,

causing a full-blown
environmental catastrophe,

which is, in fact, what happened.

As CEO,

my main focus was on personal safety,
not process safety.

But as chief executive,

wouldn't you say that all safety concerns
fall within your purview?

- Yes.

However,

I was not informed of the issue
at the time.

Is it true, Mr. Price,

that the spill caused by
the faulty centralizer was actually,

and currently continues to be,

10,000 times worse

- than the figure you gave the EPA?
- No.

That is not true.

So, you deny that
when the Titan leak was gushing

400,000 gallons of oil a day
into a devastated Gulf Coast,

you brazenly claimed
a total of 40 gallons,

instructing your staff to, quote,
"lose a couple zeros."

- It was...

uh...

- Is he having a stroke?

You know, Mr. Price,
lying to Congress is a federal offense.

- And that's lunch.

Hey, hi. Excuse me. Hi.

- Hi.
- So, just want to run by you real quick,

we test-marketed a variety
of "apology" blue suits,

and these five made the final cut.

What do you think?

- How about a T-shirt that says,
"I fucking did it"?

- He realizes it's an election year,
right?

They are all sharks with hard-ons.

He is gonna get eaten and fucked.

- I think he's scared.
- Yeah? The stench coming off him is fear?

- He's just a little distracted.

Syd's out.

- What? "Out," out?

- She left this morning
before the run-through.

Are you serious?

Shit!

Fuck! Oh, we are dead.

Don't tell me I never gave you anything.

- Is this a fucking NDA?

How did you pull this off?

I couldn't even get her to sign
the company Christmas card.

- Magic.

Stan.

Hey, you, uh,
think maybe we should go back?

- You want to know why I'm sorry?

I'm sorry America's pussy-wet for oil.

Sorry for making the world spin,
but somebody had to do it.

What about what's-his-name?

Huh? The regional manager?

The walrus.
- Randall Pierce.

- It was his oversight. Where's he?

Walking around going to Taco Bell.

You know, I single-handedly
transformed Titan

from a two-pipeline outfit

into the world's biggest
energy corporation,

keeping thousands of their
fucking constituents employed,

and you can add a couple of zeros
to that figure!

I can't lose.

- How about another public donation?

Bronx Science, green energy labs,

"every child has a God-given
right to learn--"
- I need a real plan.

Call Dorsey.

- Huh. That is certainly interesting.

- Tell him I want a moment.
Pre-hearing love fest.

He's one foot in the Oval.

I'll get ten likes just for
standing next to him.

- Of course, but is a public show
really what we want right now?

- What's your plan? Lie low, eat shit?

- I just don't think the Senator
would be up for it--
Dorsey?

I was his one-man super PAC.
Held his fuckin' hair back on prom night.

He owes me. Call him.

I'll answer all his little
fuckin' questions off-line.

And kill the fuckin' walrus!

Twitter-fuck. Stab him.

Let him bleed out virally.

- Yeah, we'll get right on it.

- Hey. Wait a minute. Hey.
Slow up a minute. Hey.

- Can I help you?
- Yes. Peter Simms.

New York Daily News?

- I told you on the phone--
- I know, I know.

But I had to come down in person.

Meet the man who serves the man
who broke the world.

- I'm sorry.
I don't have anything for you.

- One memo. A Post-it.

Anything that dirties his hands.
Just a tiny leak.

Not 400,000 gallons.

Oh, come on.

We both know how this looks.
That bit on the yacht?

He was white-collars-up
48 hours after the news broke.

And the Harvard sweatshirt?

You know that he went to B. U.
And got the boot for plagiarism.

He's not Ivy. He's weed.

- I don't have anything,
because there isn't anything.

- Oh. Did he, uh,
help you bury a body one time?

- Okay.
No, look, I don't get it.
Oh, come on. Hey, hey.

Come back, come back. I just don't get it.
I don't get it, that's all.

How does a guy,
third in his class at Yale,

did his thesis on solar energy equity,

go from that to protecting
a man like him?

Yeah. Well...

When you decide to get on
the right side of history...

- As soon as Dorsey lands,
it's handshake, and go.

In and out, like a surgical strike.

Good. Feels like I got
a red dot on my head.

Uh-oh.

- Uh-oh?
- Dorsey's out.

What? What do you mean, "out"?

- His team just emailed,
"Family health emergency."

- Uh-huh. Let's go.
- So, minor issue,

but there seems to be a crowd
gathering out front.

With pitchforks.
- Shit.

Fucking Judas.

- It's a setup.
- We can stay for the service.

Play the pious sinner card.

They'll double
and eat us alive. Out the back?

- I'll scale the roof. Just get me out

before the Holy Spirit
comes down to fuck us, too.

- Be back when it's secure.

You're not a spy, are you?

Sunday's no screen time.

But there's a raid
that only happens today,

so I'm hiding out.

You're not, like, a spy for my mom?

- I'm waiting out the paparazzi.

Scout's honor.

Cool. You could sit, if you want.

Thank you very much.

You're the altar boy?

- Only on evens.
My brother Mikey does the odds.

- Yeah?

Humph.

So, you really bought stock
in the whole brainwashing

religious propaganda thing, huh?

- Nah. I just really like to
suck old priest dick.

Fuck.

We would have been best friends.

How about this? Hmm?

You really think this is Jesus?

- They said it was in CCD.

- Let me ask you something.

What's your take on the whole Hell part?

You really believe in
all the gnashing of teeth,

eternal fire rigmarole?

- Why? What'd you do?

- Nothing.

Why do you ask?

- You're hiding in a sacristy.

So you seem... kinda guilty.

- I cheated on a math test.

Did some bad addition.

That's fine. 'Cause it's venial.

- Uh-huh.

Is that good or bad?

It's not, like, great,
but it's not so bad.

Venial's like, cheating,
or telling your mom a lie.

Mortal's murder, and stuff.

- What about playing violent video games?

- Venial.

- Uh-huh.

But you go to Hell for the other one, huh?

The, um... mortal?

- Yep.
- Um-hmm.

So, what, is there a...

get-out-of-Hell-free prayer, or...

- Gotta go.

- I finally reached Dorsey's people.

Headline is, they're reassessing.

- Thirty-four years
of loyal fucking friendship.

How about Fletcher?

Where does his chess piece
land on the board?

- I could reach out.
- See if he'll come to the thing tomorrow.

Promise whatever you need.
I'll give him the fucking world.

Just get him in front of me.

- What's wrong?
- Nothing.

My stomach.

I gotta do a thing.

Appearing before us is Mr. Stanley Price,

chief executive officer of Titan.

In your own words, Mr. Price,

would you please describe the
mechanical failure that caused the spill?

- So...

one of the centralizers collapsed.

Sharon!

Hey, Sharon.

What?

- Watch this.

Or were you not aware
of the danger of continuing...

How do I look?

- Fine.
- No.

Do I look innocent? Guilty? What?

But you chose to proceed...

- Uh, I think you look...

- ...probability that
the faulty centralizer...
- ...handsome.

- I don't pay you to lie to me.
- Yes, you do.

Environmental catastrophe,
which is, in fact, what happened.

As CEO,

my main focus was on personal safety,

not process safety.

But as chief executive,

wouldn't you say that all safety concerns
fall within your purview?

Stan.

Stan, wake up.

Stan...

Wake up.

- What are you doing here?

- We're here for your hearing.

Tell us, Mr. Price,

when the Titan leak began gushing

400,000 gallons
of oil a day into the Gulf Coast,

was it true that you
hid away on your yacht,

refusing to face the consequences
of your actions?

Was it true that you ignored the
anguished cries of the Earth's suffering

in order to protect you own status,
wealth, and social positioning?

Uh-oh.

That one's definitely mortal.

- But I didn't know how bad it was.

No one told me.

Liar! He's a liar.

Low-down, no-good drunk.

Everything rots inside of you.

Crucify him.

Crucify him.

Crucify him!
- No!

Crucify him. Crucify him!

Crucify him.
- No!

Crucify him. Crucify him...

Please.

Save me.

You've got to help me. I'll do anything.

Anything!

Laudate Omnes Gentes.

Laudate Dominum.

Laudate Omnes Gentes.

Laudate Dominum.

Laudate Omnes Gentes.

Laudate Dominum.

Laudate Omnes Gentes.

- Laudate Dominum.
- What are they doing here?

Laudate Omnes Gentes.

They came to see the miracle.

Laudate Dominum.

- What miracle?
- The birth of the second coming.

Laudate Dominum.

- Why are they staring at me?

Because you're the vessel.

- I don't feel at all well.

Please tell them to go.

- They'll go soon, Pricey. Just relax.

Don't be afraid.

For behold...

Unto you this day in the
City of David is born a savior...

who is Christ, our Lord.

And this shall be a sign unto you.

You will hear of wars,

and rumors of wars.

Nation will rise against nation,
and kingdom against kingdom.

There will be famines and earthquakes.

All these are the beginning
of birth pains.

Laudate Omnes Gentes.

Laudate Dominum.

Laudate Omnes Gentes.

Laudate Dominum.

Laudate Omnes Gentes.

Laudate Dominum.

- Laudate Omnes Gentes.
- Oh...

I see.

Good morning, sir.

- Good morning.
- You have a conference call in 20.

Also, FYI, the guests
are arriving at six o'clock,

and the Senator responded to the invite.

- Dorsey?
- The other Senator.

- Fletcher. Good. Good. Thank you.

- Oh, and Stan. Stan, happy birthday.

Sir.

I don't know what happened.

I sent the same invites as last year.

- What do you mean, what happened?

He's a leper, and no one will touch him.

- Shit. Dorsey's tweeting again.

"I'll be watching the hearings,
just like every other concerned citizen."

Oh, my God.

Oh, please, tell me it gets worse.

- "Randall Pierce rushed to ER."

The walrus?

- What happened? Is he dead?

Some justice warrior
saw him at a car wash.

Threw a rock...

Hit him in the head. He's on a...

He's on a ventilator.

- You leaked that stuff
to the Enquirer, right?

About his culpability?

- What?

I didn't put the rock in the guy's hand.

- Look out. Dead Stan Walking.

- Fletch. So glad you could join us.

Happy birthday, Stan. Here.

It's a pair of golden handcuffs.

Oh, good.

Now I can stop borrowing yours.

Excuse us.

Shall we?

- Don't sweat the hearing, by the way.

It's just Shakespeare.

They just wanna stab Caesar
on national TV,

make it look like
they're doing their jobs.

- Easy to say from
that side of the screen.

- Hey, you haven't made it in America

till you've been hauled before
a Congressional committee.

- It's not just that. It...

It's the public flogging.
Hurts like a mother.

So you broke the world.

You built it.

Besides, they love their BMWs

and plastic straws so fucking much

they're never gonna kill you for real.

They just wanna sharpen their ax
so they can sleep at night.

- So, listen, about that--
- Hey. You don't have to pitch me.

I'll stroke your dick.
Just grease my way to the Oval.

I'll help you keep your head.

- Fuck. I was gonna do a little tap dance.
- Eh... what can I say?

I'm a corrupt piece of shit.

I'm 55 today.

Which is the same age
my father was when he died.

So, I guess I found myself
waxing nostalgic

during the week,

thinking of Pops.

He wasn't easy.

Nose to the grindstone. Working class.

But with that toughness,
he was teaching me to be a man.

And for that...

I am tru-- I'm sorry.

What the fuck are you staring at?

Yes. You.

Come on. Come out here.
Out of the shadows.

What's your name?
- Uh, Zeke.

Is there a problem, Zeke?

No, I was just listening.

Bullshit.

I've got eyes in the walls.
You've been staring at me all night.

The fuck are you looking for?

No. no. Come, come on. Come on.

Just-- I'm not gonna fire you.
Just tell me...

What were you thinking?

As a birthday present for me.

You know who I am.

- Yes, sir. I've seen you on the news
with the hearing and all.

Oh. And you thought,

"Ooh, they're gonna tar and feather him
in the town square."

No. Actually, the opposite.

- What?

- I was thinking you're gonna
get away with it.

I think you'll show up
in a Brooks Brothers tie,

tell a couple lies, look sorry,

and then you'll hide from the press
on some island after you make a donation

to, like, Greenpeace, or whatever.

And then you'll just go on
living your life

with your caviar canapes
and your private jet.

That kind of optimism, hmm?

I feel like I should give you a job.
Kristine, you're out.

- I'm not done.

Then, one day, you'll die.

Rich. Guilty. Alone.

And then you'll go to Hell,
where you'll burn

for the rest of eternity
with the rest of the one-percent

who chose to profit off the people
in this country who have the least.

That's what I was thinking.

Sir.

- It would be nice, wouldn't it,
if the world were so fair.

But it's not.

So, you're fired.

Go and pack up your JanSport,
and get the fuck out of my house.

Stan, it's Sharon.

Is everything okay?

- Just give me a minute!

It's time to cut the cake!

You okay, buddy?

Did you have a little
too much pixie dust, huh?

Listen, don't sweat it. You're stressed.

It happens to the best of us.

Stan.

Everything okay?

You will hear of wars!

And of rumors of wars!

But do not be alarmed,

for such things must happen.

The end is still to come.

Nation will rise against nation.

Kingdom against kingdom.

There will be famines and earthquakes.

All these...

are the beginning of birth pains.

- Jesus, he goes to church once.

Uh...

What your MRI shows is an abdominal mass.

Unfortunately, the image is blurry.

Either the mass was moving,
which is unlikely,

or there was a technical malfunction.

Either way, it's large
and sits amid some vital organs.

The problem is, we're not exactly sure
what we're looking at yet.

It could be benign.
It could be something else.

Point is, we don't like it.

I'd like to refer you to my friend,
Dr. Vakil.

She is an oncologist
over at Sloan Kettering.

Oncologist?

- Yeah, I know it sounds scary,

but to confirm or rule out anything,

we'll need more imaging, biopsies,
maybe an exploratory surgery, but...

we can cross that bridge
when we come to it.

Uh-huh.

- In terms of your other symptoms,

lifestyle can be a big factor.
- Just say it.

- Well, I'd be remiss if I didn't say
there's a dementia-presenting syndrome

linked to chronic alcoholism.

Often people have heard
the layman's term "wet brain."

I'm not suggesting this is the diagnosis,

but I do advise that you get sober.

Talk to your family. Make a plan.

Action item 16 on the creation
of a new safety division,

the board votes unanimously to proceed.

Action item 17
on the issue of gas migration

caused by over-pressured wells,

the board votes unanimously
to ease pressure to exceeding limits,

pending further investigative studies.

Uh, action item 18 on the review
of proposed amendments to...

25 PA code, chapter...

78.

Should I continue?

- I think, uh, my head.

Let's leave it for now.

- Of course.

Are you okay, sir?

- Me? Fine. Fine. Yeah.

- I could stay awhile.

If you wanted.

- Cold out.

Could strategize a bit.

What else don't I know about you?

I don't even know how you came to me.

I looked up one day, and you were there.

- I was headhunted, after college.

- And you thought a deal with the devil
can't be so bad?

- Seriously?

I told myself, "I'll be here a year."

But then, the more I saw,

I don't know.

I thought maybe I could incite change
from the inside.

- Tell me.
- Really?

Wow. Okay.

Okay, so you know how we have,
like, a huge carbon footprint?

We do a total technology overhaul.

We, we can reduce waste
with only a marginal hit on profits,

we place a focus on green hydrogen,

tie a percentage of executive compensation
to emissions reductions, and boom.

Net-zero emissions by 2055.

Would you like to take a look?

Of course. Absolutely.

Then we'll sit down and you can
walk me through the pitch deck someday,

cover to cover.

Yeah?

- Yeah. Great.

- You know,

you remind me of me, 30 years ago.

After Harvard,
I was gonna take over the world.

No one was gonna stop me.

And I did.

You will, too.

- When did you graduate, by the way?

- What?
- Harvard.

- Oh.

Uh... '86. '87.

No. '85. Something like that.

I can't think. My head.
- Mm.

- Specter of death. It lingers.

Mm.

Aah. Come on, boys. Chin up.

One more for the road.

What?
- Nothing, I just...

Think I'm at my limit.

I am a drinker.

Not a drunk.

- What? No. That's not--
- I know what you're thinking.

I don't tie one on every day.

I don't rely on it.

Have I used it to
fill the well at times? Sure.

Probably. In a drought.

But... what is the measure...

of too much?

We all have a crutch.

The thing we think we need.

My father...

was a drunk.

- Oh. But, I thought--

- I know, I know.

I paint it like he was a hero,

rewrite history to take the sting out.

But he was.

Nearly ruined us.

Couldn't keep a job.

Then one day,

a happy ending.

One-man crash...

Side of some back dirt road.

They didn't find him for... God...

days.

Said the coyotes found the truck.

Got what they could of him
through the window.

Food for dogs.

What a waste.

Embarrassing.

- No. No.

- Yes, it is.

Changed my life.

Changed my name.

"Ransom" become "Price,"
and I became insatiable.

The harder I work,
the farther I run,

the further I am from that.

- I, I, I didn't know that.

Okay, okay. There we go.

Almost there.

Come on.

I know, I know what I said.

But I'm worried. And--

Yes, but it's my job.

No, it's not exactly my responsibility,

but he doesn't have anyone else.

I'm not always running out of dinner.

What? No. Um, I'm still here.

I just don't think
he should be alone right now.

I'll be home in the morning.

'Night.

Stan.

Stan.

Let me out!

Ms. Westhart.

Thank you for coming
on such short notice.

Yes, of course.
And, uh, you must be Mr. Hammond.

I'm so happy you thought to call me.

He's, uh, in the living room.

- Restrained?
- Yes.

He's speaking, like, Bible stuff.

Plus, the temperature.

And he's been awake for three days.

I tried sleeping pills,
but they didn't work,

so I thought I'd better
reach out to you ASAP.

Oh, and I assume
you received your payment.

- Oh, yes. I did.

Though I'm afraid the figure
may have lost a couple zeros.

I understand the situation seems dire,
but we can still have a sense of humor.

Look, everything's going to be fine.
Trust me.

From what you've told me on the phone,

this sounds like it's
a standard dislodgement.

- How do you, um...

- By communing with the corruption,

and unveiling the psychic deformity.

- Deformity like the devil?

- Devil. Demon.
Any kind of unwelcome parasite

that becomes affixed to
the corporeal being.

And after that,
he'll go back to being Stan again?

Sorry, I'm... I'm thinking ahead,
with the hearing and all.

I've postponed the...
the prep as long as I can, so...

- Oh, look at you.

You care so much and so deeply.

It's good.

There's so little genuine
compassion in this world.

You're a beacon.

Shall we begin?

Mr. Price?

My name is Marianne Westhart,

and I'm a spiritual healer
and transition specialist.

Nice to meet you.

- He won't answer to his name.
- Shh.

Mr. Price?

Can you hear me?

Your silence has no power over me.

I can sit here forever.

All right, I'll talk.

What shall we discuss, hmm?

Politics? Religion?

Maybe that spill?

Ah. There you are.

Hello, Mr. Price.

I've heard so much about you.

It's so nice to finally have
a proper introduction.

Mr. Price is gone.

I know that's not true.

I'm looking right at him, aren't I?

If you're not Stan Price, I'm confused.

Whom do I have the pleasure
of addressing?

Are you... the devil?

No? All right, then. A, a demon?

Are you the dark spirit of Paimon?

- I am the alpha,

and the omega.

The beginning and the end.

The first and the last.

I am the root and the offspring of David.

I am the bright and morning star.

- Ah.

So, I am speaking to God...

who has taken up residence
inside the body of Mr. Price.

- Is that right?
- Not the one you prayed for,

but the one you paid for.

- Is that so?

Well, I want to talk to Stan Price.

Stan, if you are in there,
follow the sound of my voice,

which will lead you back to the light.

Connect with me.

Meet me on the field of hate,

with love.
I told you...

Stan is gone.

He was my tool.

A beautifully corrupt vessel.

The perfect host

to bring me forward unto the world.

- But why have you come?

To unleash a reign of fire

and darkness and misery
upon the ruined world.

Why else?

Don't tell me you're surprised.

You humans.

Ignoring all the signs
of my impending emergence.

Earthquakes. Tornadoes. Floods.

Disease spreading like wildfire.

Wildfires spreading like disease.

Offshore drills raping the ocean floor.

Your very Earth's core.
Water's not safe to drink,

but the smog is so thick
you can cut it with a knife.

War, displaced populations,

drought, fear, coastal land loss,
corrupt politicians,

Blight agriculture...
fish-less oceans...

Must I go on?

So many signs!

And do you know who cared?

Nobody!

Nobody.

Nobody.

- I care, Stan. I've always cared.

- How much did they pay you

to come today?

You and Stan aren't so different.

Profiting on people's pain.

- I want to talk to Stan Price.

Stan, if you're in there,

follow the sound of my voice.

- Stan is gone.

But...

His body is still here.

Watch this.

Aah. Aah! Aah!

- Do you think you can help him?

- I don't know.

I know he's in there.

Why can't I reach him?

- What if you use his real name?

- His real name?
- Yeah, yeah. He, uh...

Years ago, he dropped his dad's last name.

He's really Stanley Ransom.

- Ransom, huh?

Mr. Hammond.

What else you got?

I didn't mean to ignore you before...

Stanley Ransom.

I know what your father did to you.

The emotional turmoil he caused.

An angry and destructive drunk
who thrived on negativity,

and abuse.

But I am here to tell you
that you are not him.

You are Stan--
- Stop it! Stop it!

- Stanley Ransom, I challenge you
to believe that you deserve love.

All this running from your father,
your wives, yourself.

Do you understand the risk you're taking?

But now...

Now we three join hands

on the field of love.

Not fear.

Can you feel it?

I did it.

I did it... I did it...

I did it... I did it...

- What's he saying?

- He's saying, "I did it."

I did it.

I did it.

It was my mistake. I...

I'm sorry.

Please...

I'll do anything to fix it.

Living an untruth made you a monster.

Living in truth makes you a man.

Josh and I love you.

We form a circle of love with you,
Stanley Ransom.

For only love is real.

Cut him loose, Mr. Hammond.

- But...

Is it done? I mean, did...

Did we do it?

- Oh, I believe we did.

It's too late.

For what?

- For me.

- No--

- Aah!

No!

- Aah!

So that was a couple hours, huh?

'Cause I was seriously about to make
a missing person's report.

Hey, whoa.

You good?

What's going on? Did you go swimming?

- I carried it around for weeks.

Like a fucking rock in my pocket.

- What, the reporter?

I thought you said
you didn't have anything.

- I had everything.

Emails, and memos, and meeting notes.

Structural tests practically
predicting the spill.

I mean, I could have put him away.

I could have stopped the whole thing
from happening if I wanted to--

- Sweetie, that is a very nice thought,

but you were an assistant.

You didn't have that kind of power.

- Didn't I?

Every...

tiny "yes."

One tiny step in the wrong direction.

"Yes" to the job.

"Yes" to the white lies.

"Yes" to turning a blind eye.

"Yes." "Yes."
And then you look up...

and you're a thousand miles
from where you started.

That's how it happens.

That's how good men turn bad.

It's how bad men win.

- Okay.

So do something now.

- Do what?

It's out there.

In the world.

It's too late now.
- It is never too late.

- Isn't it?