All language subtitles for Prodigal Son 2x10 - Exit Strategy.CAKES_PHOENiX_MeGusta.en-en

I'm 1.5 centimeters from the LAD.

Entering aneurysm now.

Extracting intracavitary thrombus.

- Got it.
- Well done.

Beautiful work, Doctor.

And now a purse-string suture?

And endocardial patch.

And then, a celebratory drink.

I think... Scotch.

You know, there are only one
or two doctors in the world

capable of what you're doing right now.

Stop buttering me up.

I'm lucky to have a partner like you.

No, I deserve no credit.

This is all you, Vivian.

You are brilliant.

And anyone who can't see that is a fool.

Really?

- Brilliant.
- I'm brilliant?

- Brilliant?
- And you know it, too.

This is your destiny, Doctor.

You... finding me here.

This was supposed to happen.

This was supposed to happen.

This was supposed to happen.

What the hell is the matter with me?

Synced & corrected by -robtor-
www.addic7ed.com

- Morning, Mother.
- Malcolm!

What are you doing here?

In my loft? Where I live?

I thought you were sleeping.

I didn't hear you scream.

I don't always wake up screaming.

Don't you?

What are you doing here
and what is all this?

Oh, I was just...

fetching some things from the
Never Ever Room. Help me.

I thought the whole point

of the Never Ever Room was

to shut away Dad's belongings so
you never had to see them again.

Well, it was.

But once I committed to do that book,

I'm gonna do it right.

Even if that means
some PTSD memory orgy.

Well, it's funny.

You are dredging up the past

while I'm ignoring
The Surgeon altogether.

Hallelujah.

No wonder you look so rested.

Well, I can't say going cold turkey
has been a pleasant experience.

He's been calling... nonstop.

Darling, you need a reframe.

Your father is not an addiction.

You are not cutting out
nicotine or, God forbid, benzos.

You are cutting out

a malignant tumor.

- Got it.
- Aw!

This is a good thing.

You are freeing yourself
to move on with your life,

finally give up all
this murder nonsense.

Ah, okay. A mother can dream.

But maybe you will have time

for some lucky girl out there.

I know you and...

Detective Powell have been...

close?

Less so these days.

That whole "covering up a murder" thing

has been a bit of a roadblock.

Oh.

Mother? You have that look on your face.

What is it?

It's a bank key.

But your father never handled
any of our accounts.

Well, why did he have it then?

I intend to find out.

Oh, great. Detective Mom.

_

Oh, I'm gonna be free.

I have a Bible study

for the faithful who are interested

in Exodus.

Exodus.

Oh God, not again.

Mr. David, I am guaranteed time

with a working phone...
Now this one is clearly broken.

I've called my son countless times.

None of them have gone through.

Phone's working just fine, Martin.
He's not picking up on you.

Well, then let's, uh, send him a text.

That might be more amenable
to his generation anyhow.

I'll-I'll dictate and you type and...

Come now, Mr. David.

I need, I need to reach my son today.
It's urgent.

No, it's urgent you get to the rec room.

Phone time is over
and you have a busy day.

You don't even know the half.

Better get a move on.

And in the meantime, you'll,
uh, you'll text my son?

I guess not.

Darryl getting out complicates Exodus.

We need to go today.

I told Martin.

He said no.

Has to be tomorrow.

Why?

Malcolm.

He's got to talk to him.

Give him some...

message before we escape.

Guy's passionate about family.

Brother Martin has many passions.

Fine.

We go tomorrow.

With or without him.

You just gonna ignore Willie?

Huh? Oh, nice to see you, too, Willie.

Must've been good to have
company in solitary, right?

Yeah.

But I'm out now?

Soon as I clear you to return.

Hey, relax.

You'll be back
with your friends in no time.

They're not my friends.

No?

Why not?

They cut me out.

Put me in the hole.

Why would they do that?

You can trust me, Darryl.

They don't matter.

It's all about the good doctor.

I want the key cards, Darryl.
Friar Pete!

This heathen has brought
a weapon into the room!

Yo, he's a Judas! Don't trust him!

He's the true head of the snake.

Wow.

The Coronet's looking good.

Oh, no, you stay away.

I've had to rebuild her twice...
First because of you,

then because of your mother.
No more Whitlys around my car.

How about Tarmels?

Come on.

Boys and toys, I swear.

Thought we were here to solve a murder?

We are. The victim is Rosalie Howard.

- Edrisa, what do you got?
- Well, I'll tell you what I got.

Some major Japandi vibes, that's what.

I mean, look at this place.

Clean lines, soft minimalism, just a...

hint of rustic texture.

I wonder where she got that crystal...

This one isn't for sale.

It's our murder weapon.

Yes, yes. Right, murder.

Uh, cause of death... blunt force
trauma to the back of the skull.

Rosalie likely died after one blow.

But the killer kept bashing her head in,

over and over and over and over.

Overkill speaks
to an impulse control disorder.

Inability to integrate emotional
reactions with consequences.

Our killer snapped.

Yeah, but the struggle didn't start

till they were in here.

I'm guessing Rosalie knew her killer?

She wasn't yet fully dressed,
but she still let him in.

They didn't just know each other.

- They were intimate.
- A crime of passion.

Exactly.

And the killer didn't have
time to clean up.

- Why?
- Maybe he heard sirens?

Or someone else came in,
interrupted him.

Report mentions an anonymous witness

called the station from a landline.

Who still has a landline?

- I have a... Oh!
- Old people.

Nobody shoot.

I'll run a trace, find the witness.

You don't have to.

There he is.

Let's go.

NYPD. Open up!

Sir, what's going on in there?

Go away, please!

He's under duress.

On three, two...

Hello?

Sir?

Landline's not the
only thing old in this place.

Who lives here?

Gerald Morris, you remember him?

Chess grand master, Gerald Morris.

Yeah, he was a famous world
champion in the '70s and '80s.

Until he disappeared.

Yeah, looks like he's good at that.

Maybe he ran away.

These appliances are 30 years old,
at least.

He may be agoraphobic.

He's afraid to leave the house.

It's more than that.

Agoraphobia is a
crippling anxiety disorder.

So Gerald isn't under duress.

And we need a warrant to be in here.

Exactly.

Okay.

Let's move out, folks.

Nice digs.

You should not have come in here.

Who are you?

Why are you in my house?

Malcolm Bright, NYPD.

Adjacent.

I'm not a threat.

We only want to find out
who killed Rosalie Howard.

You're gonna make me leave.

But I won't.

I won't do it. I won't!

You won't shoot me, either.

You don't know that.

Actually, I do.

Antique weapons are kind of my thing.

And this one won't fire.

The latch is broken,

which means the cylinder isn't locked.

How long have you been in here?

I haven't been outside since March...

of '97.

24 years.

Which means you were here
when Rosalie was murdered.

You saw it and called
the police, didn't you?

- Yeah.
- If I promise you won't have to leave,

will you tell the detectives
what you saw?

I'm...

Not too good around people.

Okay. Uh...

How about just one detective, then?

Mr. Morris, did you know Rosalie?

No, we never met.

But you watched her.

What else do I have to do?

My entire life is that window.

What happens out there,
it's better than the crap on TV.

Well, n-not that it works.

So, you watch everyone.

I'm no Peeping Tom, okay?

I have a right to look
out m-my damn window.

- _
- Can you turn that off?

Uh... The noise, it's so sharp.

And you, uh, coaster, please.

- Sorry.
- Don't worry.

I watch people.

Rosalie fell in love
about six months ago.

Tall fellow, brown hair.

Uh, a sharp dresser.

He always came around late.

Uh, too late, if you ask me.

Did Rosalie's boyfriend
come over last night?

I heard a commotion around 11:00.

It was all happening so fast,

I didn't get a clear look
at the man's face,

but he was the same height, same hair.

He, uh, grabbed her,

and the...

Well,

you know the rest.

Do you still play chess, Gerald?

I-I don't see how that's relevant.

He'll bring it around.

You may not compete anymore,

but you still think like a grand master.

You were famous for learning
your opponents' moves.

Their quirks and patterns.

I bet you do that
with your neighbors, too.

See?

I do.

Uh, memory was always my gift.

I know more about this
neighborhood than anyone.

Relationships, routines,

new jobs, cars.

Decades of it, locked inside my head.

So if we asked you what kind of
car Rosalie's boyfriend drove...

Um, Porsche. Red.

Would you like
the, uh, plate number, too?

Boyfriend's name is Clayton Fielder.

License plate on his Porsche
actually says "cum laude."

Called a vanity plate for a reason.

He graduated Yale with a 3.49 GPA.

He's rounding up.

So he's guilty of exaggerating,
but is he our guy?

The profile fits.
Clayton's an investment banker.

Working hundred-hour weeks
in a high-pressure environment

could cause anyone to snap.

That is the fifth Martin call
you've declined.

What's up?

I'm doing a serial killer cleanse.

He doesn't know that.

I think it agrees with you.

Looks like you got some sleep.

I think we've got a problem.

Let's say Clayton did murder Rosalie.

Could we even get Gerald to court?

And if he did testify, what
kind of witness would he be?

A brilliant one.

Gerald's a genius.

Yeah, but he's messed up, too.

Come on, the guy is trapped in his house

watching people day in and day out.

It's kind of strange.

Agoraphobia often comes from trauma.

He can't erase whatever messed him up.

I know, but we're trying
to build a bulletproof case.

That means reliable witnesses,

not some guy cursed
to never leave his house.

He's not cursed.

Agoraphobia does not make Gerald
an unreliable witness.

With his mind, he could be
the best witness we ever had.

Uh...

Here we go.

My buddy in Midtown says

Fielder has a standing poker game

at the Sutton Social Club tonight.

Deal me in.

I'll be right behind you.

What?

My boy! Oh, finally.

I've been calling and calling.
Are you all right?

Well, uh... Don't answer that. Look, uh,

there is something I-I desperately
need to say to you today.

No. Me first.

I can't have your voice
in my head anymore.

The calls,

the talks.

They are sabotaging my personal life.

I need to take a break from you.

Kind of sounds like a cleanse.

Well, uh, look, i-it's never
easy to, uh,

hear that your children
are flying the coop,

but, uh, in a way,

it does dovetail
quite nicely with my news.

I'm not listening to you. I'm done.

No!

That felt good.

No, no, no, no, no, no.
I-I need to get him back.

Uh, Mr. David, please,
I-I'm running out of time here.

Yes, you are.

You can try again
when you're back from the yard.

Where are you, my lovelies?

Oh, there you are, my darlings.

What is he doing?

Ooh...

You tasted the fruit of the
tree of knowledge, didn't you?

Only now do you realize it's poison.

Hang up the phone.

Stay down, or I really
start kicking you.

I'm calling security!

- To tell them what?
- Everything.

The-the traps, the stolen key card.

What the hell are you doing down here?

Hang up the phone,
or I'll tell them about Martin.

What do you mean?

You and Dr. Whitly,
sowing the seeds of sin

in your unlawful carnal knowledge.

What?

"The eyes of the Lord
are in every place."

Your penance will be grave.

Martin goes in the hole,

you get fired.

It's your choice, of course.

You can't honestly think Mr.
Fielder killed his girlfriend.

Rosalie was everything to me.
We were in love.

That doesn't mean you didn't snap.

What are those scars from, Clayton?

A car wreck. Why?

He's wondering if you've been

in previous domestic disputes.

I am, too.

An eyewitness saw a man fitting
your description kill Rosalie.

My client was at work all night.

Your eyewitness,

was it that creep across the street?

The lurker?

He watched her all the time.
She hated it.

Gerald never leaves his house.
He's never even met Rosalie.

That's a lie.
She confronted him a month ago.

- What?
- I wanted to call the cops,

but Rosalie ran over there

and told him to stop watching.

- Kid.
- Yeah, I'll go.

Why did you lie to me, Gerald?

And here I thought you just wanted

to play a friendly game.

I do.

But you're keeping secrets.

About your past.

- About Rosalie.
- As are you.

Unless you've told
Detective Powell how you feel?

My life isn't your soap opera, Gerald.

Besides, there's nothing to tell.

We're friends.

Partners.

Your poker face is about
as good as your chess game.

Fess up,

and... I'll do the same.

Dani doesn't know how I feel,

and she never will.

For her own safety.

Mm. Sounds lonely.

Tactical empathy.

Classic.

Not your best move.

You've spent your life
mastering a game, Gerald.

I've spent mine
mastering how people think.

You lied to me about knowing Rosalie.

Who's to say you haven't been
lying about your agoraphobia?

Maybe it's just a cover for voyeurism.

You watched Rosalie.

You frightened her.

Check. Did you kill her?

I told you, it's-it's not like that.

This is the real world, Gerald!

BTK, Bundy.

The most notorious
serial killers all started

as Peeping Toms.

You watched her day and night.
You were obsessed.

Of course I was ob-obsessed,

but not with her.

W-With everyone.

What I see out that window,

it's the only connection I've got.

So you did know her.

She caught me watching.

She ran over, furious,

shouting into the intercom.

But... then she saw the bodega bags,

canned corn, soup.

And she started bringing me
fresh groceries.

Rosalie helped...

an old grouch,

but I couldn't help her.

Not over there.

Something's wrong.

Someone's inside Rosalie's
apartment, look.

You're right.

I have to go.

Bright, what's up?

You're not gonna believe this.

Clayton Fielder isn't
our killer, it's his twin.

What?

And... he's gone.

60 beats per minute.

How are you so calm? Huh?

Pete's onto us.

- It's a disaster.
- No, it's Tuesday.

Pete is a violent psychopath.

Which means he's not the first
person anyone's gonna believe.

And his rodent fetish is probably,

- well...
- Sexual?

- Oh, yeah, you bet.
- Oh, God. Oh...

There's no need to worry.

I promise you.

I'll get it all handled.

Even Pete.

What do you mean by that?

Vivian, you've changed my life.

Being a doctor again...

I feel like Picasso rediscovering rose.

You're my muse.

You've done so much for me.

Please...

let me do this... for you.

Okay.

I think you'll like the results.

If last time was any indication,

just imagine what I
can do without these.

Tempting.

But I'm not going to unlock you.

Oh. And here I thought
I was the only woman

to grace The Surgeon's cell.

Uh, Dr. Capshaw.

This is my wife...

Ex-wife, Jessica.

Delighted!

I do hope there's
something wrong with him.

No.

No, he's as healthy as a horse.

Not for long.

Leave him in one piece for me,
would you?

Good help is so hard to find these days.

Jessie, thrilled as I am by this...

unexpected visit,
I have a very busy day,

- so I have so many calls...
- I don't care, Martin.

You've got a secret.

Go on, cough it up,

or I will choke that secret out of you.

Well, that sounds like fun.

Do you remember this?

Your little key?

Well, perhaps if you hand it over,

- I could be of more assistance.
- You'd like that, wouldn't you?

What does this key unlock, Martin?

Is it money?

Murder trophies?

Isn't it obvious?

It's the key to my heart.

You've had it all along.

Tell me about...

The key, the key!
Who knows what it's to?

I... that was so, so many years ago.

I mean, perhaps it,
uh, opens a toy chest, or...

maybe a wardrobe to Narnia.

I can tell when you're lying.

Not historically.

You would not need to be so vague

if you did not have something to hide.

Why fish for trouble, Jess?

Life is good!

Look at us. You're...

thriving.

My Filofax hasn't been
this full in years.

And so is my day... So I'm afraid

our little t�te-�-t�te
will have to wait.

You're cheery.

What are you up to?

Me?

Absolutely nothing.

Oh, I'm just a rat in a cage.

What could I possibly be plotting?

Oh, I don't know.

Something with that beautiful
doctor you've been working with?

Oh, don't let jealousy cloud
your judgment, Jess.

Now you're just trying to wind me up.

Tell me what you're up to.

Well, what would be the fun in that?

You can crack this case yourself.

Follow the clues, Nancy Drew.

There's an emergency
in the infirmary, Martin.

They need you.

Well, what could that be about?

Jessica,

I trust you'll be able
to see yourself out.

Duty calls.

A twin? Really?

It's the only explanation
for what I saw.

Says the man who suffers from
chronic sleeplessness, delusions...

How do you know about my delu...

Forget it.

Thought you said something else.

That's funny.

Looks like Bright
really did see a double.

DEA confirms it.

Clayton Fielder has got
a twin brother named Felix,

a known associate
of the Morelia drug cartel.

- Well, look at that.
- Turns out Clayton fled

the cartel ten years ago,

changed his name, removed
his tattoos, the whole nine.

His brother Felix
has been after him ever since.

So Felix came looking for Clayton,

found Rosalie instead.

Of course she let him right in.

When she didn't give up Clayton,
he killed her.

Brave girl.

Looks like Clayton is next.

JT, you and Dani find Clayton.

Bright, I need you back at Gerald's.

- We've got to convince him to...
- Testify against Felix.

Which means
he'll have to leave his house.

If anyone can get through
to this guy, it's you.

Need more help.

Turn him over.

I've never seen
anything like this before.

What the hell happened?

Dysentery, I suspect.

You've seen the conditions
in the cafeteria.

Look around. This is no accident.

Oh, my God. The boiler room.

What if Friar Pete
was stealing the rat poison?

- He could have put it in the food.
- Anticoagulants?

The symptoms fit.

These people are internally bleeding.

I need more hands.

Nobody's dying today.

They've got us.

We can work together.

Turn around.

You start triage over there.

I'll do this group.

Let's get to work.

Hello?

Is anybody here?

Check.

You helped solve a murder, Gerald.

You can handle...

a little deposition.

Impossible. You know I can't leave.

Yes, you can.

You don't have to be trapped in here.

This is your next move.

No, it's not.

Checkmate.

This guy needs fluids.

- Uh, that was the last bag.
- Here.

Go to the stockroom and get some more.

I'm calling them back.

God!

Vivian Capshaw.

Claremont Psychiatric.
The-the storeroom's this way.

Martin, what are you doing?

Martin. Where are you going?

Martin! Stop!

Martin, stop!

What are you doing?!

Sorry.

I am.

It's not easy for me

- to leave all this behind.
- No. Please.

Oh...

I believed you. No, don't go.

Family comes first.

No! Martin, stop!

Please, stop! Stop!

Stop!

Gil?

- JT called. He found Clayton.
- And?

His twin found him first,
beat him half to death.

- Where's Felix now?
- He wants to bring Clayton back home,

after he takes care of the witness.

Gerald?

But that means that Felix
is heading towards...

Bright.

Is that your phone?

That... What did I... I'm...

- I-I'm sorry, Gerald.
- I mean...

That's a text, which means
it's not my father.

_

It's Dani.

- We have to leave.
- What? Why?

Felix is here.

What do we do?

Hide.

Damn it.

Oh!

Oh, I'm just a rat in a cage.

What could I possibly be plotting?

Oh... Oh, my God.

Help. Help!

Someone, please help me!

The Surgeon is escaping!

Jess? It's good to hear
from you, but I can't...

Gil, I am trapped at Claremont.

- What?
- The guards are all gone,

the doors are all locked,
and there are rats!

Something terrible is happening.

You were right to call me.
Everything's gonna be fine.

You're not listening to me.

Martin is escaping.

Okay. Here's what
I want you to do, Jess.

Find something to defend
yourself with, then hide.

I'm on my way.

Oh, thank you. Thank you.

I know what you saw, old man.

But don't worry.

I'm not gonna do that to you.

Not if you come out now.

This isn't happening.

We can't stay
here. We have to evade capture.

What's the move, Gerald?

The basement.

We'd be open targets. Try again.

There's a closet.
Diagonal across the hall.

It's not big enough for both of us.

Gerald, we're in the endgame.

There's only one play for a pawn.

Get to the end of the board.

You mean, outside?

I can't. I can't.

It's now or never.

Blackmailing Dr. Capshaw, Friar?
How Christlike.

- What would you know about it, Judas?
- Shut up.

Let's move. This way.

Pharaoh's army approaches.

Get the restraints.

Secure the whole area!

Go, go! Move!

Oh...

Oh.

You?

Wait, where have I seen you before?

You're The Surgeon's wife!

Did-did Martin send you?

You're-you're, you're a friend of his?

No, nah. We hate The Surgeon.

We?

Yeah, me and Willie.

Oh.

Well, this is a misunderstanding,

'cause I hate Martin, too.

Despise the man,
so we are on the same side.

Uh-huh. Fool me once,

shame on you.

Fool me twice...

kill your wife.

What's that, Willie?

You hear that?

Willie's got a wicked
imagination for hurting people.

Don't...

Don't you take another step.

Oh, really?

What's the pretty little lady gonna...

Uh, just one last piece
of business to attend to.

Part of the plan, of course.

Rosalie was a nice girl.

I didn't want to hurt her.

All she had to do was tell me
where my brother was.

Except she said they were in love.

Where are you, old man?!

Wait, wait, wait.

Go.

Stop.

- Almost there.
- I can't.

There are no other moves for me.

This isn't chess.

It's life.

And it's waiting for you outside.

Don't you think that's what
Rosalie would've wanted for you?

Yes.

This time, make the right choice.

What's our strategy?

Run.

Gerald!

NYPD. Stay down.

I see why you like her.

Jessica?

You men, spread out.

That way.

It's okay. It's okay.

- You're okay.
- No, I'm really not.

We're locking down Claremont.
You're safe now.

Gil, if Martin is free,

no one is safe.

Martin!

At last.

So, how does it feel?

Smells like garbage.

But I suppose some things never change.

I'm happy for you, Gerald.

That was big, what you just did.

Well, we lived to tell the tale.

Forge new relationships,
all that hooey you were selling.

I meant every word.

Oh, yeah?

Prove it.

Time for my move.

My boy, um,

I had hoped we could speak again,

but I don't have much time.

There are so many things to say.

But there's just one thing
I need you to know.

I am not the man I used to be.

I'm not a killer anymore.

Whatever you hear, whoever tries
to rattle your faith in me,

what I am about to do

is not about murder.

No. This is about family.

Everything I'm doing, everything
I've done, it's all for you.

For us.

I hope you find me, son.

You're the only one who can.

Because we're the same.

Bright, have you heard?

What happened at Claremont?

Your father...

The Surgeon,

he escaped.

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