All language subtitles for Elementary - 5x01 - Folie +á Deux.HDTV.LOL.en

Yes, honey, I got
the strawberry cream cheese.

Two containers.

When a pregnant lady talks,
I listen.

Catch you soon.

Emily, come on!

Heads up!

It's yours.

Hey, guys.

Missing something?

That's not ours.

Ours is back there.

Mr. Gardner,
you wound me.

I asked your secretary
to tell you I'm here.

Next thing I know,
you're on the roof.

It's hard not to
take that personally.

What are you doing?

Hey, what are
you doing?

Didn't want to keep this view
all to yourself, did you?

You come any closer,
I'm gonna jump.

Were it not for the fact
that you might hurt someone

down there, I would let you.

I mean, you are a murderer
after all.

When did you
figure out it was me?

Days ago.

You kept coming to see me.

Insinuating things.

Look, I just wanted you
to confess, not this.

I didn't want to kill Yanis.

I loved him.

He introduced me to my wife,

for crying out loud.

What are you...?

Shush.

He's struck again.

Who?

The Bensonhurst Bomber.

Do you remember him?

A serial bomber.

An affinity for putting
improvised explosives

in-in random places.

His original reign of terror
was the bulk of 2010,

and then he just disappeared.

No one heard from him
for six years.

And then, several weeks ago, he
set off a device in a food court

and maimed
a group of teenagers.

He just...
just killed a man.

We have to go.

I'm not going anywhere.

Not talking to you.

Huh?

Took you long enough.

You couldn't get him
further away from the ledge?

Looks like the bomb
was a homemade device.

Composed mostly of bleach
and potassium chloride.

Bensonhurst Bomber's
signature recipe.

Still smell
the chlorine.

It was hidden inside
a soccer ball.

The victim, Tom O'Leary,
picked it up

and it exploded in his hands.

Bomb squad estimates

the force was about twice
the size of a hand grenade.

O'Leary was killed, five others
were injured by flying debris.

The detonator was
a walkie-talkie,

which means the bomber was
probably watching from nearby.

Not uncommon for people
with pathological urges

for destruction to want to see
their work unfold.

It's odd that the Bensonhurst
Bomber's comeback tour

is two explosions
in Flushing.

Yeah, the press is gonna have
to give him a new name.

Oh. Those are
the mayor's people.

We'll be back.

What is it?

Maybe nothing.

Hey!

Hey!
Watch it.

Hey! Hey! Hey!

What are you, nuts?!

♪ Elementary 5x01 ♪
Folie A Deux
Original Air Date on October 2, 2014

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

Because it's a police matter,
and you have to stay. Here.

What the hell's going on?

There was a man.
He was acting suspiciously.

I followed, and he ran.

- Did he hit you?
- No, no, no, no.

A car hit me.
That's how he got away.

- This the car?
- No.

This was already here.

You seriously think the man
you were chasing was the bomber?

I think the fact that there was
a chase is very suspicious.

This man will not let me
leave, eh? You are police.

Fix it.

All right.

If this isn't the
guy you chased

and he's not the guy who
hit you with his car,

then why the hell are
you keeping him here?

Because the man I chased
put his hand on there,

and if he's
the Bensonhurst Bomber,

we're gonna have his prints.

So you're a
sketch artist now?

Sketch artists must rely
on the memories of others.

I have the luxury of my own.

Unfortunately, this drawing
only serves to advertise

the identity-concealing
benefits

of hoodies, hats,
and sunglasses.

Well, whoever he is,

we have his prints. If he's
in the system, we'll get him.

If he's in the system.
Who's the breeder?

The "breeder" is Gia Caruso.

She was one
of my first sober clients.

She e-mailed me. She's getting
her ten-year chip next week.

And she wanted me to see
her beautiful daughters.

It occurs to me
you're approaching

an anniversary of your own.

Been almost five years
since you committed

to becoming
a detective.

Do I get a cake for that?

Does it still
fulfill you?

Cake?

Our chosen profession.

Why are you asking me this?

You've been a detective
for exactly four years,

nine months, 16 days.

So?

You were a sober companion
for four years,

11 months, 23 days.

I'm gonna ask you again, so?

This is your third career.

You stopped being a surgeon
for personal reasons.

You stopped being
a sober companion

because something better
came along.

It just seemed a prudent time
to ask

whether your wanderlust
had subsided.

As a matter of fact,
you're right.

Life is short.
I haven't been

a construction worker yet,
or a biker,

Indian chief.

You think I don't get
the Village People reference,

but I do.

That guy you chased,
his prints are in the system.

We got a positive I.D.

His name's
Nathan Resor.

I don't know what to tell you.

I take taxis all over the city.

I could've left
these fingerprints days ago.

We're not interested
in days ago.

We're interested
in this morning.

The bomb in Flushing
exploded just after 8:15 a.m.

I was at home, working.

Didn't leave till after lunch.

That's not
a very good alibi.

I don't need a very good alibi.
I haven't done anything wrong.

This map charts
the dates and locations

of the Bensonhurst Bomber's
attacks,

both the cluster from 2010--
here in red--

and the two attacks from 2016--

here in green. You've
provided an alibi,

however anemic, for
the bombing today.

We'd like to know
where you were

at these
other times.

M-Most of these are
from six years ago.

I have...
I have no idea where I was.

Well, you understand
that might seem suspicious.

I understand I can't
instantly recall memories

from half a decade ago.

Where were you on, uh,
Tuesday, April 2, 2010,

uh, 10:40 in the morning?

I was at the Whitechapel Gallery
in London

at an exhibition
of neoimpressionist painting.

Four minutes later,
I used the facilities.

Look, I'm a developer.

90% of my job is running around
the city, going to build sites.

Most of my days,
my schedule's shot to hell

before I finish my coffee.

Even if I found my calendar
from 2010,

it wouldn't be accurate.

In that case,
why don't we talk about a time

when we do know where you were.

September the 20th,

2010. You were not yet in
the habit of using taxis.

You were
driving home

from a bar when you struck
and killed a pedestrian.

Your blood alcohol content
was measured at .13.

You were arrested for vehicular
homicide in the second degree

and sentenced
to four years

at the Great Meadow
Correctional Facility.

On the plus side,
your prints landed in AFIS.

When you were in prison,
there was not one single bombing

in New York.
You got out July

2015.
13 months later,

the Bensonhurst Bomber
starts blowing things up again.

You have to admit,
that's a little strange.

No, I don't.

Because I didn't do anything.

I didn't blow
anything up.

I didn't run
from any crime scene.

So, please, either charge me
with something

or let me go home.

This way.

You're sure this is the same
guy from this morning?

You doubt my identification?

Well, you did get
run over by a car.

I went over the bonnet.

So I take it you're
gonna go back

to his place
with Marcus?

You're not?

There's someone
I need to talk to.

Someone more interesting
than a mad bomber?

Someone who
might be able to give us

a little more
information about him.

Before he came in,
I dug into his files.

Turns out, he and I may
know someone in common.

Stick and move.
Stick and move!

Felon.

Hey, felon, don't act
like you don't hear me.

Got a spit bucket here
with your name on it.

You got some job, man.

Cleaning up blood,

other people's spit.
Unclogging the toilet.

Hey, I bet there's
some days you wish

you never got out of
prison.

Hold up.

- Gross.
- That one for you.

Oh, come on, felon.

What, you want to throw?

Or is that a violation
of your parole?

Oh!

I thought so.

Got under his skin.

You see that?

Oh, you telling him

not to drop the soap?

'Cause the showers here,
they're not like that.

Shinwell?

Do you remember me?

How could I forget?

It's good to see you, Doc.

Actually, it's just Joan now.

I gave up being a doctor
awhile ago.

Yeah.

I work with
the police now.

I consult for them,
me and a partner.

On medical stuff?

On everything.

It's sort of a long story.

I bet.

Listen, I wanted
to ask you about someone

who was at Great Meadow
the same time you were.

Nathan Resor.

I saw in his file that
the two of you worked together

in the prison
cafeteria.

I remember him.

Were you close?

Why?

A bomb went off in a park

in Flushing this morning.

He's a person of interest.

Wait, so you think
he the bomber?

The one who been on the news?

How well did you know
each other?

Not well.

So, you aren't friends,

he never said anything

about the Bensonhurst Bomber?

Not to me.

Okay.

So, you've been out
for the past few weeks, right?

How's it going?

Well, I live in a halfway house.

I empty buckets of spit
for a living...

...but I could be dead.

You know that better
than anybody.

You think of anything.

It's good to see you.

Yeah, it's me.

I know you said never
to call you,

but the police came by
to see me.

They want to know
about the Bensonhurst Bomber.

We need to talk.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, what
do you think you're doing?

Mr. Resor.

The Bensonhurst Bomber

uses a homemade explosive
compound derived from bleach.

I used that

to clean my kitchen last night.

You and your cop buddies left
footprints all over my floors

when you searched my house.

These were empty yesterday.

Now they're not.

I can't throw out garbage now?

No, on the contrary,
I-I encourage it.

You'd be amazed what
turns up in the rubbish.

I once found the testicles
of an illegally poached,

Asian, black bear in the bins of
an English member of parliament.

He believed them to possess
certain curative powers.

Oh, if that's why you're back,
let me save you the trouble.

There aren't any testicles
in my garbage,

black bear or otherwise.

I'm back 'cause I still believe
you're our bomber.

I let you search my house.

Gave you access to
my phone, my e-mail.

You didn't find anything.
What more do you need?

You want, you want to look
through my baby pictures?

Last night I examined
your various dealings

as a land developer.

Most of your transactions
are above board,

but I found an old insurance
claim which gave me pause.

In 2008,

a half-constructed condominium
complex which you owned

burned to the ground.

I lost ten months worth of work
because of that.

And you earned $2.2 million
in insurance payouts.

The fire was an accident.

It was a very lucrative,
very convenient accident.

All right, say you're right.

I burned a building down.

What the hell would that have
to do with setting off bombs?

Perhaps you liked the way
it felt.

Perhaps it wet your appetite
for destruction.

You're nuts.

I didn't start that fire
and I didn't build any bombs.

I don't know how to do
either one of those things.

A problem overcome with
tragic ease via the Internet.

Fine. You want to keep wasting
your time with me,

go right head.
We will.

My partner's currently
with your ex-wife.

I understand the separation
was quite recent.

I wonder if she'll
be as confident

of your innocence as you are.

Nathan and I

were married for nine years

before we separated.

When was that?

Uh, January.
Just a few months

after he got
out of prison.

Before Nathan
was arrested

he was this
funny, sweet guy,

but after he went to
Great Meadow he was different.

Different how?

Oh, I don't know.

He just wasn't...
himself anymore.

We tried to talk about it.
We tried to make things work.

We even went to a marriage
counselor a couple of times,

but that's life, I guess.

Can we assume that
you're familiar

with the Bensonhurst Bomber?

Of course. Why?

Well, there have been some
new developments in the case.

Right now,
Nathan is our best suspect.

You're joking.

You said he's different now.

He's different,
but not blow-stuff-up different.

Do you have any idea where he
was yesterday morning at 8:15?

Of course not.
We're separated.

I know this is
a lot to take in,

but we would not be asking
if we didn't have good reason.

Well, the only thing I know

about his schedule lately

is that he is crazy busy

with some big development deal.

There's a company
that wants to build

one of those
entertainment pavilions

in Canarsie.

Mall, movie theater,

indoor amusement park,
that kind of thing.

It's supposed
to be huge.

Nathan thinks
that he's got

the right land for it,
so he's been working

around the clock trying
to win the contract.

Wouldn't be the first bad guy
with a day job.

No, you don't
understand.

This project is all
that he thinks about.

He's impossible
to get on the phone.

He doesn't respond to e-mails.

Twice in the past month,
he's missed meetings

with our divorce attorney
because of it.

Even if he wanted

to be the Bensonhurst Bomber,
he doesn't have the time.

He's not your guy.

I'm looking for Joan.

She, uh... she gave me this.

Mr. Johnson I presume?

Call me Shinwell.

She's out at the moment, but
I'm expecting her back shortly.

Please come in.

So you're a former drug dealer,
correct?

Former drug user.

So you met Watson after
you were shot by rivals

in 2006?

She pulled five
bullets out of you?

That's right.

I've been shot five times.

Although on separate occasions.

That's... great.

What kind of name
is Shinwell?

What kind of name is Sherlock?

Shinwell.

Hey. I, uh, wanted to talk

to you about Nate Resor.

Last night, after you left,
I reached out to a guy I know.

Another graduate
of Great Meadow.

He's out now,
just like me, but

when we were still inside,

he was assigned
to Nate's cell block.

He wasn't too happy I called.

Us talking is a violation
of our parole,

but... I figured
it was important.

And?

And... he said talk
to Cray Fielder.

He served served five and half
years at the Meadow

for hurting a guy
in a bar fight.

Cray and Nate
were tight.

You hardly ever saw
one without the other.

According to your friend?

According to my friend.

Now, those kind of guys--
they tell each other stuff.

You want to know more about
Nate, you talk to Cray.

I'll call Marcus.

Thanks for this.

Uh, as far as me reaching out
to my friend...

Yeah. We don't need
to tell our captain.

Um, I know you're
busy right now,

but one of these days
when you get the time,

I'd like to
pick your brain.

Sure.

About anything in particular?

How you did it.

How you changed,

going from being
a doctor to this.

I mean, it-it must
have been hard, right?

Yeah, actually, it was.

Look at you now.

You seem good,

happy.

I'm trying to change, too.

You want to know about Nate?

Did he, uh, do something wrong?

Well, you two overlapped

at the Great Meadow
Correctional Facility.

You were convicted
of assault one

around the same time he went
away for negligent homicide.

Uh-huh. So?

The two of you put the "mates"
in "inmates," did you not?

We were buddies, if that's what
you're asking, yeah.

You're still buddies, right?

He gave you a job

at his development firm
when you got out.

Mm-hmm.

Are you gonna tell me
what you think he did or what?

We believe
he's in the habit of hiding

and then detonating explosive
devices in public places.

He's been stalking
Flushing of late.

About six years ago,

he was exclusive
to Bensonhurst.

Wait a second.

You think Nate is the
Bensonhurst Bomber?

Given the fact that he fled the
scene of an explosion yesterday,

he's at the top of our list.

Guys talk in prison,
Cray, you know this.

They share stories, secrets.

Sometimes it's 'cause
they want a tougher rep,

sometimes they're
just bored.

That's right, they do.

What about Nathan?

No. Uh...

I've got nothing to say.

That's not the same
as not knowing anything.

Okay...

say you're right
about Nate.

Say that when
we were locked up,

he told me that he loved
blowing people up,

couldn't get enough of it.

You think that I wouldn't
have flipped on him in a second

to get a deal
with the D.A.?

You think I didn't want
to see my wife and kids

as soon as
I possibly could?

Maybe he promised you
a job

to pay for your silence.

Nate gave me a job
because he is a good guy.

You three, you are
pieces of garbage.

You bully guys like me
because I'm an ex-con.

You know it's easy to
violate me back to prison,

so you try to get us to
tell lies about each other.

It's easier than finding
the real bomber, right?

Forget it. I'm done.

What the hell
was that?

I thought Mr. Resor might like
a taste of his own medicine.

I was gone for five minutes.
You built a bomb?

I was puzzling
as to why a killer

so utterly fixated
on Bensonhurst

he's detonated two
consecutive devices in Flushing.

Couldn't come up
with an answer.

I needed to let off
some steam.

It's not steam,
it's smoke.

You could have set off
one of the detectors.

Helpful fellow,
Shinwell.

Nice of him
to pop 'round.

Yeah, it was.

Yeah. I couldn't help
but notice

a certain warmth between you.

Warmth?

Yeah, how you care
about him.

If you ask me if I am sleeping
with him, I swear to God...

No, I'm not. I mean, the man
used to make his living

selling drugs.

The night he was
attacked by gunmen,

he fired back
into a crowd,

hitting an innocent
bystander.

He's not really your type.

And, yet, uh, warmth.

I'm proud of him, okay?

You're proud of a man that
fired into a group of people?

I mean, not him exactly.
The work I did.

The surgery
you performed?

The night he was shot, I dug
two .38s out of his arm,

another two out
of his thigh.

The fifth was in his chest,

and his lungs were filling
with blood.

I got a tube in,

but the place was a circus,
so I almost missed

the muffled heart tones, the
distended vein in his neck.

His pericardium was
filling with blood, too.

I mean, it happens
to maybe 2% of patients,

but even a hole the size
of a pin prick can flood it.

I remember inserting
the needle into his chest.

You go too deep,
you risk puncturing

the heart itself.

But then I heard this pop
when I got to the membrane,

and then I started
to draw the blood away.

A few minutes later he was
stable enough for surgery.

I found the .38 lodged
inside the wall of his bronchus.

And that was that.

I stitched him up,
and ten days later

he was transferred
to a prison ward for recovery.

Usually when I think
back to those days,

I don't feel great.

But seeing Shinwell yesterday,
it made me feel good.

You miss it.

Being a surgeon,
you've been missing it.

Why do you keep doing that?

Doing what?

Worrying that I'm thinking
about some other job.

This is my job.
This is what I do.

And yet, on more than
one occasion this summer,

you've been distracted,
melancholy.

No, I haven't.

I haven't.

Captain.

There's been another explosion.

Pipe bomb in a book deposit box

outside a library
here in Flushing.

Two people killed in the blast,

half dozen more injured.

It's another
bleach-based compound

and it's another
public detonation.

Obviously, it's our guy.

I thought we had Nathan Resor
under surveillance.

We did.

The book deposit
was emptied at 5:00 p.m.,

which means that the bomb
was planted sometime

in the last three hours.

We've had eyes on Resor
the whole time--

he didn't come
anywhere near this place.

I don't who
the Bensonhurst Bomber is,

but it isn't him.

I heard your phone ring.

I don't know how, but yeah.

It was Marcus.

His team finished
canvassing the area

around the latest explosion.

And?

Not one
good lead.

Even worse, the library's
exterior security cameras

only cover the front
and rear entrances.

There's no footage of
the sidewalk, which means

there's no footage
of the book deposit box,

which means there's no way
to identify the person

who's been setting off
all the bombs.

People. You said "person."
It's people.

What do you mean?

There isn't
one bomber, but two.

A pair of literal incendiaries
working in tandem

under the banner
of the Bensonhurst Bomber.

How else could the device
in the library

have been planted and detonated
while Nathan Resor

was under surveillance?
He has a partner.

Well, that's one possibility.
The other

is that we're just
wrong about him.

Someone needs a pick-me-up.

Mm.

Bananas?

Sure.
I'm just saying

there's not one shred
of usable evidence

that connects him
to the bombings.

Yes, he ran from the scene
of the second attack,

but I can think of a dozen
reasons why an ex-con

would run from someone
who works with the police.

"Trust your instincts, though
you can render no reason."

Nathan Resor isn't the bomber.

He's a bomber.
The good news is

I think
I've identified the other.

Two and a half minutes
to pick a single lock?

You're rusty.

Actually, Mr. Fielder
employs a commercial grade

double-cylinder
titanium deadbolt on his door.

Two and a half minutes
is a personal record.

Some lock
for such a modest place.

It would seem
to support

my theory he's a man of secrets.

Yesterday I thought
he was aware of evidence

that might incriminate
Nathan Resor.

Now I think
he's aware of evidence

that might incriminate
the both of them.

Because his prison sentence
fits the bomber's dormant period

more perfectly
than Nathan's sentence.

Give you one guess

which neighborhood he lived in

during the bomber's
original run.

Bensonhurst.

I found some
tax documents from 2010.

His apartment
was a stone's throw

from the site
of the original attack.

Could have watched the explosion
from his bedroom window.

Mm. Nice playroom.

Yeah.

That train set is too
complex to have been built

by Mr. Fielder's
children.

So, yesterday you said
I seemed down in the dumps.

Why?

Well, nothing you said,
certainly.

You and I have lived together

over a span
of almost five years.

I have a certain grasp
of your... rhythms.

Plus,
on three occasions

this summer, you wore a rather
chic ensemble into the field

and then, several weeks later,
you wore it again.

Now, that's not
like you, Watson.

No, that's not like you at all.

So, I'm not just

depressed, I am superficial.

I mention it only to be helpful.

Well, I'm not thinking about
another career.

But?

I miss helping people.

We help people all the time.

I mean...

helping people get better.

I went to school for 11 years
to become a surgeon.

I wanted to fix people,
take their pain away.

And I was good at it.

And then I killed someone.

So, becoming a
sober companion

I could still be involved,
you know?

But now, you and me-- we're in
the punishment business.

We find people who
do terrible things.

And we stop them from doing
more terrible things.

A few months ago
you went to

a support group meeting,
and I don't know why.

I just thought to myself,

"I used to go to those with him.
That was my job."

And then

I started to think about
how far you've come.

It occurred to you
I no longer need your help,

and you were disappointed.

Isn't that sick?

You see something?

It's not what I see...

What is it?

Bleach.

Bensonhurst Bomber's
favorite ingredient.

His devices also require
more standard components.

Packing paper, for example.

Fuses, trigger switches.

This is no
mere train set.

This is cover

for Cray Fielder's
bomb-making equipment.

We found your little train set,

Mr. Fielder.
The lab tested

your materials and they're
a perfect match

for samples found
at the sites of the attacks

by the Bensonhurst Bomber
in 2010 and today.

You're going back to prison.

And this time
you won't be coming out.

Your family's downstairs.

They're upset. They don't
understand what's going on.

They want to talk to you.
We can make that happen.

All you have to do is tell us

about the person
who's been helping you.

What do you mean, helping me?

We know that the most recent
trio of attacks

was engineered
by not one man but two.

The bomb-making equipment
found at your house confirms

that you are one half
of the team.

All signs point to Nathan Resor
as the other.

Which isn't to say
that the Bensonhurst Bomber's

exploits were always
a joint effort.

When you first appeared
on the scene six years ago,

the evidence suggests
it was the work of a single man.

It was
a uniquely destructive force.

Other serial bombers-- like
Ted Kaczynski, George Metesky--

they were motivated
by a misguided grudge

against society,
but the Bensonhurst Bomber

was driven by something darker.
He's not seeking revenge,

he just has a passion
for making things go bang.

But the thing about passion
is it can be taught,

it can be learned.

But the first round
of the bomber's attacks

stopped after the two of you
went to prison.

The second round began
just a few months

after the two of you
were released.

Which means

either one of you could have
been the original bomber.

We know you and Nathan
were close in prison.

You shared food, contraband.

Wouldn't be hard to imagine
you sharing other things, too.

Secrets about building
bombs, for example.

Now, one of you was the bomber

before you went to prison.
That man recruited the other,

so the real question is did you

enlist Nathan
or was it the other way around?

Are you the teacher
or the student?

The teacher.

But you are wrong...

about the student.

You admit you have a partner?

I do.

But it's not Nathan Resor.

I'll bite. Who is it?

I found someone...

who can carry on my legacy
long after I'm gone.

Someone who's just as committed
as I am.

Someone who shares my passion
for, um--

how did you put it--
making things go bang?

Mr. Fielder, the D.A.'s
prepared to offer you

special considerations if you
help us capture your partner.

Why don't you
do yourself a favor?

I am looking at life in prison
for what I've done,

with or without
special considerations.

If I stay silent,
I can watch

my partner rain hell
down on Flushing.

You mentioned Flushing.

We were wondering what drew your
attention away from Bensonhurst.

You're wrong about Nate.

You have been
from the beginning.

You're lying.
Rather clumsily, in fact.

We know that he's your partner,
and we will prove it,

with or without your help.

You won't.

Just like you won't find

the 20 bombs
my real partner and I

have already hidden in Flushing.

Motion activated.
You jostle them, they go off.

And some of them are very
colorful, the kind of thing

a... a kid might like
to play with.

You think this is over?

Well, it's not.

Flushing is never gonna be safe.

Never.

Any word from the captain?

In the wake of Cray Fielder's
threats

this afternoon, the department's
Critical Response Command

has been mobilized.

They're currently
searching Flushing

for IEDs, accompanied
by a squadron

of bomb-sniffing dogs.
Beagles, apparently.

They haven't found anything?

No, not yet.
That is disgusting.

A 2011 study concluded that
chewing gum for five minutes

and then discharging it
produced a 15 minute window

of improved cognitive function.

I need all the focus I can get.

You brought all this
from upstairs?

Been combing through it
to see if we missed anything.

Have we?

Nope.
That's the problem.

What do you mean?

Mm.

By all accounts,
and there are many,

the actions of the
Bensonhurst Bomber have always

followed a very
particular script.

No warnings. Devices planted the
same day that they explode.

Controlled detonations
from close proximity.

Fielder's threat this afternoon
completely ignores that script.

Bombs planted days or weeks
before they explode.

Uncontrolled detonations.
Even the threat itself

veers from canon.

So he's either suddenly decided

to radically alter
his entire M.O....

Or he's lying.

He's lying.

What if he just wants
more headlines?

Imagine you're him.

You're going to prison
for the rest of your life.

You've been working
with a partner,

but the police are onto him,
so he won't be

planting any more bombs.
It's the end of the line.

Fun's over.
So you make threats,

in the hope that your shadow
would loom over the city,

even though you're behind bars.

Well, he and Nathan
Resor didn't really

hide more bombs
around Flushing,

he was just trying
to pad their legacy.

Marcus.

Just got the latest surveillance
report on Nathan Resor.

Look, if this guy's building
bombs, he's doing it

in the back seats of taxis.

He's been driving around
all day, locking down

some big construction project
in Canarsie.

Yeah, his ex-wife mentioned it.
It's supposed to be some sort of

entertainment complex, right?

Not "supposed to."

Will be. He beat out
the competition today.

How do I know? 'Cause
he bought a round of drinks

for an entire bar in Chelsea.

Things may be looking down
for the Bensonhurst Bomber,

but they're looking up
for Nathan Resor.

What do you mean,
he "beat out the competition"?

Well, apparently,
he was bidding

against some competing property
in Queens.

The people pushing that site
bowed out a few hours ago.

Nathan's been in overdrive
ever since.

Thanks for the update.

Want to share it
with the class?

When Nathan's ex told me
about the project,

she did not mention

he was in direct competition
with anybody.

Now, his site is

in Canarsie, Brooklyn,
on a piece of land that he owns.

According to this article,
the other proposal

isn't just in Queens.

It's in Flushing.
Cray Fielder's threats

weren't about padding
his legacy,

they were about padding
his wallet.

Apologies for
keeping you waiting.

Our meeting ran late.

I've been here, like, two hours.

W-why am I here?

Did you know that during the
Great New England Vampire Panic

of the early 19th century,

citizens of Vermont
and Rhode Island

altered their routes
to and from their homes

to avoid going near cemeteries?

They were worried their
deceased loved ones

would emerge from the graves
and attack them.

What?

Not unlike the
yellow fever scare,

which took hold
of the American South

during the 1870s.

Citizens of Jackson,
Mississippi, for example,

were so terrified of the virus
that they ripped up

railroad tracks
and burned bridges

to stop
potentially infected outsiders

from entering their city.

My point is that fear
affects human geography.

It affects the way people
move through cities and...

the way they evaluate
which places

they'll visit
and which they'll avoid.

But you already know
that-- it's the reason

you and Nathan Resor started setting
off bombs in Flushing a few weeks ago.

I told you,
I'm not working with Nathan.

We know.
You were working for him.

When you were in
prison together,

you told him you were
the Bensonhurst Bomber.

Not sure why, but it
doesn't really matter now.

The important thing is
he was the only one

who knew your secret.

Now, when a piece of land
he owned in Canarsie became

one of two finalists for the site
of an entertainment complex

worth hundreds
of millions of dollars,

he decided
he needed an edge.

He told you to
resume your activities

as the Bensonhurst Bomber
in the neighborhood

that surrounded the competing
property in Flushing.

The ensuing explosions
would create

bad press and fear
amongst the potential visitors

to that location,

making building there
a marketing nightmare.

"Come for the shopping.
Stay for the fiery death."

The company

looking to build
the pavilion

would be forced to choose
Nathan's land in Canarsie.

When they did, he
would make a fortune

and you would get a cut.

I hope it was
at least for half.

I mean, you did
all the work.

You are wrong.

I blow stuff up
because I have to,

because I am sick.

You're attempting to lie to us
because you still think

that your family's in
line for your share. They're not.

The meeting that
we were just at,

it was with a company called
Lighthouse Amusements.

They're the ones building
the entertainment complex

on Nathan's land.

Or they were.

When we sat down with
them this morning

and explained your plot, they
voided the contract with him.

The project's been put
on indefinite hold.

You're lying.
The people at Lighthouse

were kind enough to provide
copies of the voided contract.

So there you are.
Help yourself.

There's no payday
coming, Mr. Fielder.

There's no money
for you or your family.

It's over.

Do yourself
a favor--

give us Nathan.

There's really no reason you
can't be reunited behind bars.

Good day to be

in the punishment business,
wouldn't you agree?

Great day, actually.

Nothing you said
the other day

upset me, by the way--
quite the opposite.

Good to know
what's been on your mind.

I appreciate that.

There are studies that say

those two never had a chance.

The Bureau of Justice Statistics
estimates that nearly two-thirds

of the 405,000 prisoners
released in 2005

were arrested for a new crime
within three years.

Approximately three-quarters
of them were arrested

within five years.

Staggering recidivism rates,

even for a country
as jail-happy as this one.

Why are you telling me this?

I'm merely observing
that reentry into society

is no mean feat.

For the truly evil,
the path back to prison

is as inevitable as the sun
rising in the east.

But for the others...

uh... some of them
just need a little help.

Right?

♪ Still sweatin'
from the rush ♪

♪ His body tense ♪

♪ His hands, they... ♪

Who's there?

It's Joan.

♪ Oh, this... ♪

Hey.

Hey, Doc.

Uh... what are
you doing here?

I was just thinking
about what you asked me

the other day
about how to change.

Uh-huh?

I think the answer is
to let people help you.

If you're free,
I thought we could go

for a walk, maybe talk
about how you're set up here.

Yeah.

Just let me get my coat.

♪ Don't you ♪

♪ Ever ♪

♪ Leave me alone ♪

♪ My worries... ♪

♪ I am a sad boy... ♪

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man