All language subtitles for 17-The.X-Files.S06E17.Trevor

Man, this little piece of wood
ain't gonna hold no twister!

- We need to dig a hole!
- Whaley!

Big hole! The man oughta
be givin' us shovels!

This whole damn place is gonna
blow away. Why even bother?

- Yo, boy, back me up here.
- Shut up and hold it still!

I know you ain't talking to me!

You a big man, huh? Is that right?

Charlie Potatoes, big-ass criminal.
Are you a bad man?

You a little bitch! That's all you are!

You ain't got no money. You ain't got nothin'.

I'll hold it still.

Is that still enough for you?

Huh?

Put down the hammer, Rawls!

Rawls!

- Messed up ol' Whaley, did he?
- Messed him up good.

- What'd you go and do that for?
- The man pissed me off, boss.

Who the hell doesn't? Box him.

You can't put me in that box.
The storm's comin'.

Should've thought of that
before you hurt Whaley.

The hell with Whaley.
You can't put me in that box!

Boss! You can't put me in there!
You can't put me in that box!

You can't do it!
You're gonna kill me, boss! Boss!

- They're sayin' tornadoes all over the county.
- I can't be responsible for acts of God.

- Good luck, Rawls.
- Let me out! Let me out!

Somebody let me out!

Help!

Somebody help!
Somebody help me, please!

Oh, hell.

Hello, sir?

Oh, my God.

- Should we arrest David Copperfield?
- Yes, we should. But not for this.

This is Raybert Fellowes,

superintendent of Road Farm 6,
Mississippi Department of Corrections.

One of his guards found him in his office.
Not a drop of blood in the place.

Maybe he was killed elsewhere.

I don't think so. It took 40 minutes to do it
in the middle of a tornado.

What do you make of that?

I don't know. It's, uh...

It's not a simple bisection. There's
a large amount of his abdomen missing.

It almost looks like a burning,
but it's too localized.

Maybe an industrial acid.

There was, uh... no acid found in his office.

Hm.

Spontaneous human combustion.

Scully...

- Isn't that where you're going?
- "Dear Diary, today my heart leapt

when Agent Scully suggested
spontaneous human combustion."

Mulder, there are one or two
somewhat well-documented cases.

Mulder, shut up.

- OK, what do you make of this?
- I don't have a theory.

But I know someone who does.

Hell, yeah. It was Pinker Rawls who did it,
though you got me as to how.

- And who is Pinker Rawls?
- Inmate.

Mean son of a bitch.

He was the prisoner who supposedly died in
the tornado that preceded Fellowes' murder.

So you're saying that a ghost did this?

I'm not puttin' a word to it. That's up to y'all.

All I know is that Rawls hated the captain.

Captain locked him in the box when
the storm hit and Rawls didn't like it.

And when we found the box,
biggest piece was about yea big,

three miles from here.

Now, this whole place was locked
and boarded up tight.

No man got in here.

That's all I'm sayin'.

So we're looking for a dead man?

I disagree. I think this
Pinker Rawls is still alive.

They never found his body.

OK. At the risk of further ridicule, Mulder,
what if this wasn't a murder?

I mean, as I understand it, current theory
on spontaneous human combustion

is that climatic conditions play a large part,

so possibly a tornado may fit the bill.

We've got lightning,
static electricity at a high potential.

I can't argue with that.
But I do think it's murder.

Well, then how did
Rawls or whoever do this?

How did he get in and out of a locked office,

and prop a body up
against the inside of a door?

Termites?

This is all he had in his bunk area.

Wilson Pinker Rawls, age 34.

Eight years into 30 for robbing
a wire office in Bay St Louis.

$90,000 he stole was never recovered.

Mm-hm. Not in here.

Hey, look at this.

Ouch.

His record dates to 1978.

Mostly small-time.
History of violence throughout.

I wonder who she is.

Thanks, cutie.

- You broke out the good stuff.
- We're worth the good stuff.

Mm.

- Hey, Robert?
- Hm?

Can I show you something?
Just a little food for thought?

Wait, they're talking about the tornado.

Take a look at this video.

Hardest hit was a prison farm
near the village of Stringer,

where two deaths are reported in the storm.

A funnel cloud with winds topping 150 miles
per hour tore through the work camp,

passing within yards of a barracks
filled with terrified inmates.

Among the dead, Captain Raybert Fellowes,
the farm superintendent,

a 28-year veteran of
the Department of Corrections.

A second casualty was a prison inmate,
Wilson P Rawls, age 34.

- Excuse me.
- Are you OK, June?

High winds apparently carried the man away.

Though his body has not been found,
Rawls is presumed dead.

You got a gun pointed at you.
Don't try to run.

I ain't runnin'.

Hey, that's store property. Take those off!

Ooh! There's somethin' so nice about
puttin' on a brand-new pair of socks.

- I don't know what it is.
- I said take those off, boy!

Mmm. Ooh!

Oh... my. What you think?

That's me, right?

- And room to grow in.
- You got an attitude, I'll say that.

Get the hell over there.

Turn around, hands behind the pole.

This is Bobby in Security.

I detained an intruder at the Value Mart
at the Nine Mile Road and Route 60.

The door wasn't jimmied. I don't know
how the hell he got in here.

He's in back. Yeah, I'll hold.

- Is that the guy?
- Yeah, could be... I guess. It was pretty dark.

- How'd he get away?
- Whoever he was.

You got me. The guy's like Houdini.

Turned my back, he was gone.
I had him right here.

You had him handcuffed... here.

Can I see your handcuffs?

Do we have a last known
address for Pinker Rawls?

Hey, hello?

Rawls?

- What's up?
- You're on the news, man.

They're saying you got killed.

- Where is she?
- June? She's gone.

Long gone, man.
She left me, like, four years ago.

You mad cos her and me shacked up?

I'm sorry, buddy.

Bo, I want what's mine.

I might have her address.

You got nothin' in there but your nine.

Get the hell outta my house.

Bo, are you gonna shoot me?

Boo!

Boo!

You gonna do somethin'?

No. No!

This is Rawls' last known address.

The security guard's car.

Mulder...

Ugh! Oh!

Gesundheit.

Oh, my God.

Pistol in his hand, the slide locked open,
shell casings everywhere.

But I don't see any
bullet holes anywhere, Mulder.

Don't recognize him from
his drivers license, do you?

Bo Merkle. This is his house.

But Rawls used to live here, and
he's come back looking for something.

$90,000.

The wire-office robbery eight years ago.
That money wasn't recovered.

I don't think he spent that in prison.

Mr Merkle didn't either, judging by the décor.

Maybe she knows. That's this house, isn't it?

Yeah.

- I can run down her name.
- Yeah, I bet Rawls is looking for her.

Yeah, this is Special Agent
Dana Scully with the FBI.

There's been a murder here at
922 Washington Avenue in Jackson.

We need crime-scene support
on site as soon as possible.

Thank you.

Got a name to go with the face.
June Gurwitch.

There's no current address though,
and no record of her since 1996.

Maybe she changed her name.

Maybe she was afraid she'd end up like that.

The state police put out an APB on Rawls.

You might warn them not to shoot to kill.
He seems to find that annoying.

- Even if those were bullets...
- They are.

Their composition's been changed,
just like the handcuffs and the prison wall.

There is still no way they could pass through
Rawls in the way you're describing.

Not without leaving him dead
on the ground for us to find.

I think they went through him.
Like his wrist went through the handcuffs,

- like he walked through that prison wall.
- He walks through solid objects.

Changing their composition.
Making steel brittle.

- turning bullets into powder.
- Flesh into carbon.

How else do you explain
what happened to Fellowes,

or to poor Mr Merkle,
who's got no face any more?

Where's the science in this?
You're talking alchemy.

I'm not saying it can't be explained
scientifically. Maybe it's the tornado.

You suggested it yourself: unusual climatic
conditions, high electrical potential.

I'm sorry I even brought it up.

- OK. We both agree on who he's looking for?
- June Gurwitch.

And do we have any idea of
how to find June Gurwitch?

She has a sister named Jackie,
and I have the address.

Hello?

- It's me. Is this a good time?
- No, Jackie. It is never a good time.

The Jackson City Police just called me.

Yeah. They're lookin' for you.

- What'd you tell 'em?
- Nothin'.

But they brought up Pinker and wanted
to know what he might want with you.

Pinker's dead. I heard it on the news.

Well, maybe you better call 'em...
just in case he's not.

- June?
- I gotta go.

June?

Hey, Jackie.

That's not very friendly, Jackie.

Jackie.

Tell me where she is.

I'm not tellin' you anything.

Jackie Gurwitch?

FBI!

Where'd he go?

He left.

Her son's at a friend's house.
She'll meet them there.

She said that she didn't tell
Rawls where her sister was.

Mulder... she said that he
walked right through the wall.

Bo Merkle's car is down the street.
That's how he got here.

- I don't know how he left.
- Maybe he left on foot or stole another car.

Why would he leave without
the information he wanted?

Maybe he's still in the neighbourhood.
The local PD can search, but we have to go.

- Where to?
- Meridian.

It's where June Gurwitch lives.
Or June Burdett, as she's now called.

- Yes?
- Agents Scully and Mulder, FBI.

We are looking for June Gurwitch.

Also known as June Burdett.

Also known as...?

June!

What's this about?

An escaped convict by
the name of Wilson Pinker Rawls.

We believe he may be pursuing Ms Gurwitch,
with the intention of harming her.

Gurwitch? I don’t understand.

June?

Pinker's alive, isn't he?

Jackie? She and her son?

They're fine.

- Who is Rawls to you?
- A mistake. The biggest one of many.

We lived together.

Are you sure you know
who you're lookin' for?

One time, this guy cuts
Pinker off on the highway.

I mean, the kind of thing that
happens to everybody every day.

He followed this guy for 62 miles,
right over the state line. 62 miles.

Me pleadin' with him to stop.

Follows the guy to his house. The guy's
smilin'. He doesn't know what's coming.

Pinker pulls a picket off a white picket fence
and cracks that guy's skull open with it.

He's not gonna stop.

What does Rawls want?

The money?

90,000 from the Bay St Louis robbery?

I didn't know about that till
they came to the door to arrest him.

Pinker was already in prison
before I found that money.

By accident.

So you took it.

Eventually, yeah.

I thought about it for about a week or two.

And where's the money now?

Put a down payment on this place.

Bought a couple of sofas,
chintz curtains, PC for Robert.

I just wanted another chance.

Look, I have a job, responsibilities.
I can't just disappear like this.

It's best you both stay under 24-hour guard
until Rawls is apprehended.

- It's for your protection.
- Her protection.

This guy Rawls, he's not looking
for me. She took his money.

- I'm sorry...
- Excuse me.

I've got my own place. I promise to
stay the hell away from here. OK?

How about it?

Look, I just want to get out of here, OK?
I didn't break any laws!

Don't discuss this with anyone, Mr Wenher.

I'm forgetting it ever happened.

Give me your keys.

Get her outta here.
I want a guard on her at all times.

- Rawls was in the trunk?
- We took him right where he wanted.

Mulder?

Think he's trying to tell us something?

Scully, look at this.

I assume Rawls wrote this with his finger,
like the other. But look here.

- He stopped at the mirror.
- Or the mirror stopped him.

I mean, what makes an object solid?

What prevents one solid object from
passing through another solid object?

Electrostatic repulsion. Individual electrons
repelling one another like magnets.

What if Rawls' ability
has to do with electricity?

What would preclude it or contain it?

Resistance against electrical current.
A good insulator, like rubber, like glass.

Exactly. Rawls couldn't pass through this.

Say that your theory is correct,
that he can walk through walls.

Why go through all this
over an old robbery score?

His $90,000. He could
get that anywhere, right?

It's not about the money.
It's never been about the money.

Yet he turned this place upside down
looking for something.

And I think it has to do with this.

It's a lien on unpaid hospital bills
dating back to 1992.

The patient name is June Gurwitch.

And this is an ICD-9 number,
a hospital diagnostic code.

- This particular one means...
- Pregnancy.

Right. Specifically, C-section.

This is seven years ago. Just a few months
after Rawls was sent to a prison farm.

Uh-huh.

"I want what's mine."
This man's looking for his child, Mulder.

..and will return in time to
take part in meetings at the UN.

A statewide manhunt is underway
as escaped convict Wilson Pinker Rawls,

a man previously thought to be
a victim of Tuesday's storm,

continues to elude police.

He is to be considered armed
and extremely dangerous.

In other news...

- I'd like to call my sister.
- Sorry, ma'am. No calls.

This is a nonsmokin' room, ma'am.

Looks like Collins put up a fight.
Guess it wasn't enough.

I can't tell you what happened here,
how Rawls got in.

But he took the woman with him.

- Where are they headed?
- He stole a station wagon.

Last seen headed south.

He has to intend for June
to lead him to his child.

- We gotta get there first.
- Where? We don't have a name or address.

June may not either, for that matter,
if the child was adopted.

I think our best bet is to go through state
records, but it's gonna take some time.

We're gonna need some
equipment. Special issue.

Pinker, I apologize.

Look, I'm really scared
right now, OK? Talk to me.

Please, please say something. Anything.

Look, I'm sorry about the money.

Your money. I shouldn't have taken it.
It was wrong. I was wrong.

Pinker, I can pay you back.

What was it? What'd you have?

Dumb bitch. You don't know
what I'm talkin' about,

What'd you have? Was it a boy or a girl?

A boy. A boy.

A boy.

A boy. A boy.

What's his name?

You know his name, don't you?

- Trevor Andrew.
- Trevor what?

Trevor Andrew.

Trevor Andrew... Rawls.

You never were gonna tell me.

I'd have gone to my grave never knowing.

But... years later, million-to-one shot,

I hear on the farm from a guy
who knew a guy who knew a guy.

You know what that means?

That means God wanted me to know.

He fixed it so I'd hear.

And then he fixed it so as I had passage.

And I'm here.

God's will.

What do you want with the boy?

He's my son.

Now you're gonna take me to him.

Can you also check her alias? It's Burdett.

It was a live birth. That's all you can tell me?

Yeah. Can you check on that, please?

- This what you were looking for?
- Yes. Thank you.

All right. Thank you very much.

No match on Burdett or Gurwitch.

Riot slugs. Rubber.

Uh-huh. Yeah.

No?

Thank you.

- It's a boy. That's all I got.
- Sealed files?

No files. No adoption records.

No records of foster care in
Alabama, Mississippi. Nothing.

Maybe she didn't go through
official channels.

Maybe the kid's with a friend
or a relative somewhere.

Zoom-blam!

- Come on, Trevor.
- Zoom-blam!

Trevor, put your toys away.
Dinners almost ready.

Trevor?

- I'll get it.
- No, go wash your hands. I'll get it.

This is Agent Mulder...

- June.
- I'm so sorry.

You could've saved me a trip.

Where is he?

My boy, where is he?

Hi.

I appreciate all you've done,

takin' care of him.

You're a good mother.

Better than some, I could say.

Somethin' smells good in here.

What are you gonna have?

Hi, Aunt June.

Hey, baby.

Now you... you sit him back down
and you feed him his supper.

It's all right.

It's gonna be all right. Don't be upset.

I ain't mad at you, buddy.

It's OK, Trevor. Mama's here, OK?

Come on. I'm not gonna hurt you.

It's OK, buddy.
Why don't you come over here?

We'll have a man-to-man.

We'll just have a nice talk. You and me.

Uh... You're Trevor, right?

Trevor Andrew.

That's your name. My name's Pinker.

But you can call me Pinky.

Anyway, uh... you and me,
we're gonna take a trip.

Pinker...

Shut up, please.

You got some stuff you want to pack up?
Some toys and stuff?

Uh...

Trevor?

- Jackie?
- Trevor, go. Go and pack some stuff, OK?

OK.

He's a good boy.

Trevor, run!

Trevor!

Trevor!

Trevor!

Hey, buddy!

Hey, buddy.

Hey. Trevor!

Hey, buddy!

Get him out of here, Scully.
Don't make me shoot you!

- Don't make me shoot you.
- Trevor!

OK.

Everything's gonna be all right.
We're gonna get you to a safe place.

Let's go. Run!

Run! Run!

Get inside, get inside. Get inside!

Get inside!

He's my son! Trevor! Trevor!

Give me my son!

Trevor!

Give me my son now!

No!

Trevor!

I had to do it.

He would've hurt Trevor, he would...

God only knows what he was thinkin'.

What did he want?

Maybe another chance.

I made this.