All language subtitles for Notes.From.The.Heart.Healer.2012.720p.WEBRip.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]

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MAN 1 ON RADIO:
...Pan Transit 848.
See you next time.

Official YIFY movies site:
YTS.MX

MAN 2 ON RADIO:
Happy holidays, 848.

PILOT ON RADIO:
Middleborough Approach,

Pan Transit 848
descending through 12,000.

PT 848,
Middleborough Approach,

radio contact 60 miles
north of the airport.

Reduce speed
to 210 knots.

You're cleared
at 10,000,
squawk 6371.

PT 848 copy,
cleared to 10,000.

Maintain 210,
squawking 6301.

Morning, Jim.

Hey, Peyton.
How's the column going?

You been reading it?

Occasionally.

And?

And your picture
looks great!

PILOT ON RADIO:
Middleborough Approach,
PT 848,

we're experiencing a little
electrical problem.

848, are you declaring
an emergency?

Not at this time,
Middleborough.

We'd just like to
expedite our landing.

He liked my picture.
The writing stinks,
but he liked my picture.

Morning, Chief.

Don't call
me "Chief,"

this is not
the Daily Planet.

And don't ever ask
anyone what they think
of your column.

I don't have a column.

Yeah, well, I'm beginning
to wish I didn't, either.

Speaking of which,
Nora wants to see you,

and I quote,
"the second she drags
her butt in here."

Perfect. She probably
wants to comment
on my picture, too.

What?

What have you
got on your face?

(EXCLAIMS)

It's part of the look.

Just so you know,
most people pay to have
stuff like that removed.

PILOT ON RADIO:
Middleborough Approach,
PT 848,

we got a generator
issue here.
We're losing altitude.

848, say again.

I say again, we're
losing power to avionics.

We're going to
declare an emergency
at this time.

Stand by, 848. KB Air,
114, Middleborough...

Fire Control, we have
an emergency on final
approach, runway 21 right.

(BELL RINGING)

MAN: MacGruder.

How goes the struggle
"to uplift and inform"?

Impressive, Kingston.
You are probably the
only one at the Times

who not only knows
what it says on our masthead,

but actually quotes it.

This paper's my life, Peyton.
Thought you knew that.

Hey, hey, hey.
What's your hurry?

Why don't you
pull up a step?
Chat for a minute?

I can't. I've been called
to the principal's office.

What are you doing
out here, anyway?

Smoking a cigar.

A cigar?

It's virtual.

What?

I would if I could.

PT 848, Middleborough.
We got you at 20 miles,
straight in.

Descend to 5,000.

PILOT ON RADIO:
We seem to be getting
fumes in the cockpit.

Could be an electrical fire.

848, you're cleared
to land on
runway 21 right.

Winds are variable,
three knots. Altimeter
two niner niner one.

Got your message.

Good. Sit down.

Sounded kind of urgent.

Results are in from
the last reader survey,

and the corporate
bean-counters have made
some recommendations.

Such as?

Such as dumping
your column.

They can't do that!

Please.
Of course they can.

Look at these numbers!

Out of our four regular
features, your column
ranks the lowest.

How many e-mails
do you get a week?

Dozens.

When Emma Duncan
wrote the column,
she got 1,000.

In the last 10 months
since she died and you took
over "The Heart Healer,"

your readership has
steadily declined.

My column is
filled with good,
practical information.

Which is fine for
the Style Section.

During your time there,
your writing was excellent.

But when you asked
for your own column and
this became available,

I told you you'd have
to do more. You'd
have to give it your all.

I am!
You're not!

You're not giving it
that part of you it needs
to attract a following.

"The Heart Healer"
has no heart!

You're not touching
your readers.

PT 848, Middleborough.
We have you at
six miles on final.

Do you have
visual contact?

PILOT ON RADIO:
Maintain stable
flight level.

PT 848, say again.

Get everybody
in lifejackets, now.

MAN: We've got
fire on board!
I repeat, fire in the...

Emergency equipment
is deployed
and standing by.

We have you at four miles.
Maintain descent.

Pan Transit 848,
Middleborough.

PT 848, Middleborough.
Acknowledge.

PT 848, Middleborough.
Acknowledge!

Christmas is in three weeks.

If you can't hook
your readers during
the holidays, you never will.

Excuse me, Nora,
a Pan Transit jet just
crashed off the coast.

Oh, my gosh.

Improve these numbers
by Christmas,

or you're out.

(SIGHS)

MAN ON RADIO: Pan Transit
flight 848 en route
from New York's JFK

experienced a catastrophic
electrical failure and crashed
into the ocean just off

Middleborough,
North Carolina,
this morning.

You okay?

A Pan Transit spokesman
reported one hundred and...

The airline just released
the passenger list.

I knew a couple people
on that flight.

Oh, gosh.
King, I'm sorry.

Tom Harold and his wife.
He was the pitching
coach at State

when I played for them
about a hundred years ago.

And I thought I was
having a bad day.

You want to grab a coffee?
Have that chat now?

Chat, yes. Coffee, no.

KING: He was
the best coach and
teacher I ever had.

And here you go.

Oh, thank you.

Cool wife, too.

Adrienne.

She insisted that he take
her to no less than two
Broadway shows every year.

That's probably why
they were in New York.

I guess you never know.

I wonder...

If they did know.
What?

Your friends,
the other people
on the plane,

I wonder if they knew
they were gonna die.

MacGruder,
morbid much?

I'm sorry.

I just can't stop
thinking about it.
You know, was it sudden?

Did they all die instantly?

Or did they have some
time to say goodbye?

To say, "I love you."

To hold each other and
know it was the last time.

Sounds like
a "Heart Healer"
column to me.

You know something,
we work on the same
floor for four years.

We finally go out and
have a real conversation,
and you make fun of me. Nice.

Who's making fun?
I'm just saying there's likely
to be some serious mail

coming your way.

I hope not.
I couldn't handle
that responsibility.

Which is why I probably should
never have asked for this
column in the first place.

Does this have
anything to do with you
having had a bad day?

Nora is giving me
until Christmas to improve
my readership, or...

That's harsh.

Still,

nothing like a plane crash
to lend a little perspective
to your problems.

TRUMAN:
...to retrieve the wreckage
from the downed aircraft.

Now there's little or no hope
of finding any alive
of the 137 passengers

on board the flight
which originated
in New York.

Officials say it could
take up to weeks,
perhaps a month,

before any final list
or picture emerges of
what exactly happened

in the final moments
of flight 848.

REVEREND:
Lord of the universe,
Lord of the sea and sky,

send us your guidance
and grace at this
moment of great loss.

Comfort our families and
friends and strengthen our
faith in spite of our fears.

Help us to support
one another with the assurance
that our loved ones

are indeed at
peace with you,

now that they know
all of the great secrets
of the universe.

Amen.
ALL: Amen.

TRUMAN: Get the ocean
in the background.

Keep me in the shot
as I walk down
the hill, all right?

Okay, I'm going to go
talk to these people.

(TRUMAN CHATTERING)

I'm sorry. I don't want
to intrude on you.

Excuse me.

Are you a friend
or family member?

No. I'm a reporter,

well, I mean, I write a column
for the Middleborough Times.

Sorry to interrupt...

Look, I can only imagine
how you must be
feeling right now,

and I know the last thing
you need is a reporter asking
you personal questions,

but I was wondering
if you could share...

Reverend, perhaps
you'd care to comment...

PEYTON:
How does he do it?

I mean, how do these network
guys find the chutzpah

to shove a microphone
in someone's face
and ask how it "feels"

to lose a child
or a father, or...

How does a guy
like Truman Harris
sleep at night?

Comfortably wrapped
in the arms of
any woman he wants.

The dude is
totally awesome.

You're not helping.

Sorry.

Okay. Let's review.

You've gotten letters
about the crash,

but you think it's
too ghoulish to interview
the relatives.

Correct.

So why not write about
how you, "The Heart Healer,"
feel about loss?

That doesn't work for me.

Why not?
It just doesn't.

Talk about your perfect
opportunity to write
with emotion...

I said no!

I'm sorry. I didn't
mean to snap at you.

You know what?
I think I'll work
on this at my place.

Maybe a single-serving
can of soup can
inspire a little passion.

MacGruder!

I can't talk.
Got to find a bridge
to jump off.

So the column's
going well, then.

I am totally skewered.
I'm a dry well.

I have no idea
what to do.

Just do your
job, Peyton.

Which means, just like me
and every other columnist,

you may have to pry
open some doors
you'd rather leave closed.

Is that how you
earned the prize?

I earned my Pulitzer
the old-fashioned way.

Hard work?
Dumb luck.

TRUMAN: ...PT 848.
The FAA announced
early this morning

that the cause of
the accident is
most likely due

to an electrical fire
onboard the aircraft.

The pilot apparently
reported trouble

minutes before
the fateful crash that brought
the airplane down.

Speculation has it
that the pilot

intentionally diverted
the plane away
from populated areas,

a strong indication
that he knew...

(SWITCHES TV OFF)

So they did know.

They did have time.

Come here.
Look at you.

What would I have said
if I only had time
for one last thought?

Peyton MacGruder?
Sorry, ma'am.
We have some bad news.

We're afraid your husband's
been in an accident.

(SEAGULLS SQUAWKING)

Yes, in Middleborough.
For Kingston Danville.

Thanks.

It's Peyton MacGruder.
Did I wake you?

I'm sorry.

Look, I have something
I have to talk to you about.

PEYTON: Why don't you
come over in the morning?
I'll cook you breakfast.

Nice job on the
Christmas decorations.

What Christmas
decorations?

My point exactly.

Well, who's going to
appreciate it? My cat?

Wow, MacGruder.
Is this how you
do over easy?

I'd hate to see
well done.

(CHUCKLING)

Here. Kills
the carbon taste.

Well, you are
a regular domestic
diva, aren't you?

Sorry. I'm a little bit
out of practice, but hey,
the price is right.

And the waitress is cute.

(EXCLAIMS)

Okay.

So, what do you think?

Okay.

There was a huge
explosion and a fire.

Could a plastic bag
and a piece of paper
survive all that?

I don't know.
I'm asking you.

I suppose anything
is possible.

This piece of
life vest washed up
right next to it.

So if I can get
the FAA to confirm that
this came from Flight 848,

I think it is
reasonable to assume
that this did, too.

Well, they've been
finding stuff all up
and down the shore,

so, yeah. I mean,
it's reasonable.

Right.
So what do I do?

What do you
want to do?

Read it.

What's this stuff
inside the baggie?

Cookie crumbs.

It's addressed to
"T". Who's "T"?

I don't know.
But I want to find out.

I want to find out
who wrote it,

and give it to the person
that it was meant for.

And write about it
in your column.

Exactly.

You know, I mean I could
probably get this thing
fingerprinted, or go online...

But no column.

Correct.

I want to solve
the mystery of
this note myself

and bring my readers
along for the ride,

and hopefully fix
my problems with Nora.

So what do you think?

I think you may have
struck gold here.

Really?
Yeah.

Except one thing.
What?

Do you really think
that a guy sitting
on an airliner

hurtling helplessly
towards Earth

is going to have
the composure
to write a note?

I've thought about that.
The pilot notified
ground control

that there was a problem
in the cockpit a full three
minutes before the explosion.

Three minutes, King.

Yeah.

Okay.

Okay. So in those
three minutes,

people knew they were
in trouble. I mean,
they must have known,

or at least had the fear
that they could die.

What would you do?

Eat the cookies
for sure,

but write a note?

I don't know.

It's signed "Dad".
If you had a kid,
wouldn't you want him or her

to know what was on
your mind in those last,
terrible minutes?

I do have a kid.

You do?

He's a boy, 19.
He's away at college.

So, you actually found
a woman who could
put up with you, huh?

Not quite.

She dumped me
for a State Farm agent
six years ago.

I'm sorry.

I didn't mean
to poke fun.

It's okay.

I'm way past it now.

Unfortunately,
David, my...

My son, he pretty much
only heard her
side of the story,

so he blames me
for the divorce.

Thinks it was
my fault.

Was it?

I don't know. Maybe.

Being on the road
as much as I was.

Anyway, he is
miffed at me.

Basically, we have
zero relationship.

So, in your last
couple of minutes
on this planet...

Uh...

I guess writing him
a note might've
crossed my mind.

Hey, how about
another cup of this
less-than-desirable coffee,

and then I will
get out of your hair.

You have
a column to write.

"Dear readers, I found
myself inexplicably drawn
to the shore today.

"To a place where a few
days before, I'd seen
several family members,

"gathered to mourn the loss
of loved ones on flight 848.

"While there,
I chanced upon a treasure.

"It was not one of jewels,
or gold, but a simple
handwritten note.

"Its words speak of a love
as wide as the sea
in which it was discovered.

"This treasure rose up amid
the debris of Flight 848,
and was signed only 'Dad.'

"If the message was written
in the final few
moments of that flight,

"then it is the last
communication

"from that doomed plane
to those of us still living.

"Because I was
entrusted with this note,

"I feel that I should do
everything in my power

"to unite that father
on Flight 848
with his child.

"I have to do all I can
to deliver the last message
to a grieving soul."

Is this for real?

It's for real.

Here you go.
Thanks.

A note just falls from
the airplane and contains
a message for somebody?

That's right.

Well, what did it say?

I can't tell you that.

But why?

I'm saving it
until I find the person
it was meant for.

How're you going
to find them?

I'm not going to find them.
We're going to find
them, together.

Wow! A lot of
e-mail today.

I'm not surprised.
It's a phenomenal story!

A man writes a note
minutes before his death

and prays that it'll find
its way home.

That's way cool.

Yeah, way cool.

If we can track down
the owner. Grab a chair.
Let's get to work.

By the way,
this is top secret,
okay?

Absolutely.
Eyes only, chief.

Sorry.

All right. Now, the note was
addressed to someone
whose initial is "T."

"T." Okay, what else?

That's it.
There is no "else."

That's it?

So we've just got to
find out who "T" is?

"T" is the son
or daughter of
a man on that flight.

We're going to have
to go through
all of the obituaries,

out-of-town newspapers,
all of them, find the names
of the surviving children

and then narrow it
down to those whose
names begin with "T."

(PHONE RINGING)

MacGruder.

NORA: Peyton, I need
to see you immediately.

Okay, I'll be right up.

Gotta go put out a fire.

I'm counting on you.

What's all this about a note?

What do you think
you're doing?

Exactly what you told me
to do. I'm injecting
more heart into my column,

and I'm increasing
my readership.

There were more than
200 e-mails for me
in my box this morning.

Two hundred?

Yeah. They're still
coming in, too.

Well, what if it
turns out to
be a hoax?

It won't.

The FAA just confirmed
that the piece of inflatable
life vest

that I found with the note is
definitely from Flight 848.

So I'm as sure
as anyone can be.

It's the real deal.

And if you can't
find the person?

I'll cross that bridge
when I come to it.

Well, I'm not convinced.

(PHONE RINGING)

What is it?

(EXCLAIMS)

All right, put him on.

Mr. Pargrave,
how are you?

I just read Peyton
MacGruder's column.

This business about a note
that fell out of the plane...

Yes, sir. She's in
my office right now.

We're just
discussing that.

How certain is
she of her facts?

Well, she says
she is very certain.

Right.
Let's run with it.

This is good stuff.

It's pulling something
inspiring out of tragedy.
People love that.

Yes, I suppose they do.

Let's get her an
expense account.

Let her travel if she
has to, within reason.

Let's see what she can make
out of this little mystery.

Fine. I'll do that.

You look like you just
won the lottery but
you lost your ticket.

What's going on?

You first.
What're you really
doing out here?

(GROANING)

I used to come
out here when
I could smoke a stogie.

I discovered
there were no phones,
no interruptions.

Unless, of course,
there's a fire.

Or you find yourself
in need of
a therapy session.

So what's your problem?

It didn't really
hit me until
I left Nora's office.

What hit you?

I'm going to have to
interview people.

Grieving people.
People who've just lost
a father on that flight.

Yeah, sure.
I mean, you can't
get around that.

But the thought
of doing it makes me

sick to my stomach.

Well, maybe it's
hard for you, because

you once were on the
receiving end of the
same kind of questions.

Wait a minute.

How did you know
about my husband's
accident?

Well, I, I Googled you.

When?

When I saw you
get off the elevator.

This morning?

Four years ago.
Your first day on the job.

King, have you been
crushing on me?

Maybe. So what?

So... So, I'm...
I'm flattered.

Yeah.

I am, really.

Well, that's... That's nice,
but we have not solved
your problem yet, have we?

No, we haven't.

And under the
circumstances,
I mean us just

having been necking
here in the
stairwell and all.

Necking?

That's how I plan
to remember it in
my memoirs.

Anyway, I,

I feel it's appropriate
for me to offer up

some advice from my
deep, deep well of
journalistic experience.

I'm all ears.

Look,

you can either
say to yourself,
"I'm intruding

"into the lives of these
poor, grieving people..."

Or?
Or,

you can say to yourself,

"I'm giving these poor,
grieving people
the opportunity

"to talk to someone."

'Cause in the end,
what we all really need

is someone
willing to listen.

Hey, we're finished
with the "K's" and we're
starting with the "L's."

And I'm starting
to worry.

Why?

Well, at first I was
afraid there'd be
too many, you know,

like dozens and dozens.

But here it's
the second day,
and not a single one.

We haven't even
gone through
half the list yet.

"T" is out there.
I know he is.

Caffeine confidence.

What is that?
Like your sixth triple grande
espresso since lunch?

Seventh, but who's counting?
Besides you, I mean.

Oh, my gosh.
I got a live one.

Let me see!
Let me see!

In Morehead City.

(PHONE RINGING)

Peyton MacGruder's desk.

Yes, she is.
Hold on one
second, please.

You are never going
to believe who this is!

Peyton MacGruder.

Ms. MacGruder,
Truman Harris.

Yes, Mr. Harris.
What can I do for you?

Well, first,
you can call me "Tru."

All right, Tru.

What's up?

Liked your "note" story.
It's a great premise.

How would you
like to take
it national?

What do you mean,
"national"?

I'm leaving in a
few hours for New York
to do my show,

but maybe we can
meet before I go.

I could bring a crew,
get you talking about
the note on tape,

cut the footage
into a tease.

We could air it
on tonight's show
if we work fast.

I don't know, Truman.
I don't think
I'd be interested.

Well, think
of the exposure.

With TV coverage,
you can find your
missing person in no time.

Thanks, but I plan to do
the story as a continuing
feature for my readers.

Television isn't what
I had in mind. Sorry.

Well,

I guess I'll just have to
put on my thinking cap

and come up with
a way to persuade you.

I wouldn't waste my time.

That's something
I never do.

That was Truman Harris!

I know.

So spill!
What'd he want?

A story. Our story.

And you said no?
Yeah, I said no.

Come on, let's
get back to our guy
in Morehead City.

All right,
Winston Lavery.

Survived by a daughter
and a son,

Reverend Timothy
with a "T" Lavery
of St. Louis.

MANDI: Are you crazy?

You said no to Truman Harris,
the hottest thing on TV?

Before you completely
melt down,

will you please get me
a plane ticket to St. Louis?

There is a man there to whom
I hope to deliver a very
special Christmas gift!

Merry Christmas.
Merry Christmas,
everybody.

PEYTON: "Dear Readers,
I'll have no way of knowing

"for whom the note was
written until I've talked
to each prospect."

Thank you.

"I'm waiting for the right
person to identify the shadows
of concern in this note

"and recognize them
as a familiar love.

"What would you say
to a loved one if you
only had a few seconds

"to impart a last message?

"What language
does love speak?

"That's what I'm hoping
to find on this leg of
my journey."

(PHONE RINGING)

Peyton MacGruder's desk.

It's Truman Harris calling.
Is Peyton available?

Mr. Harris.
No, I'm sorry,
she's not.

That's too bad.
Who's this?

Me?
I'm Mandi Hillridge.

Hey, Mandi.
Are you a reporter, too?

No. I'm just an intern.

No, no such thing
as "just an intern."

I'd bet you Peyton'd
have a rough time writing
that column without you.

Listen, Mandi,
has Peyton left
for St. Louis?

Yes, Mr. Harris, she...

Hey, hey. Call me "Tru."

She just called, Tru.
Her appointment was
postponed until tomorrow.

Well, that's great!
It means I have
time to meet her.

We're... We're collaborating
on this note story.
I don't know if you know that.

No, but that's wonderful!
I told her that she should.

You two will make
a terrific team.

You know what?
I think so, too.

Listen, I'm sure
she'll call, but in case
we cross connections,

could you remind me?
When and where is
that appointment again?

Tomorrow at 11:00
at the Holy Fortress
Baptist Church.

Thank you, Mandi.
I look forward
to meeting you.

Okay. Bye.

PEYTON:
Here you go. Thanks.

Very pretty.

The Sunday-schoolers
make them out
of recycled cans.

The congregation
buys them to raise
money for the poor.

Never ceases to amaze me
how these people, who
have so little themselves,

give so freely
to those who
have even less.

Miss MacGruder,
I assume?

Yes. Reverend Lavery?

Most folks just call me
Brother Tim. Or Tim,
if you like. Have a seat.

Thank you.

First, let me just say
that I'm very sorry
for your loss.

Thank you.

My mom died when I was a kid,
and my dad died
about three years ago,

so I know how
hard it can be.

I know where my Pop is,
and that makes me very happy.

I don't know
what your religious
affiliation is, Peyton,

or if you
even have one,

but that's what
I believe, and it gives
me great comfort.

And that makes this visit
so much easier for me.

You told me on the phone
that you might
have something for me.

I subscribed to your
paper on the Internet
to read your column.

I assume that you
brought the...
The note that you found?

Yes, I have a photocopy
for you to look at.

Well,

someone will be
incredibly happy
to receive this.

Someone?

It's not mine, Peyton.

I hope that doesn't
disappoint you, but there's
no way my Pop wrote this.

You're certain?

He would never address
me as "T." I was always
"Timothy" to him.

And he would never
sign anything as "Dad."

He was "Pop."
Not just to me,
but to everyone he knew.

Well, would you mind, then,
if I asked just a couple
more questions for my column?

Sure.

Can you tell me
what your relationship
with your father was like?

Well, you have to
understand this.

My... My father built
this church.

He... He started out
preaching on street
corners and in alleys,

slowly gathering his flock,

some of whom still come
here every Sunday.

I grew up
in this church.

I found my faith here.
I married my wife here.

I christened my
little girl here.

And when he decided
to retire last year,
I took his place here.

That must've made
him very proud.

Yes.

A few months ago, the...
The Bishop offered me
a new posting. Uptown.

Big church.
Big congregation.
Big potential.

What did your father
think of that?

Well, that's why
he came out here.

He told me to go for it,

'cause that's what he
thought I wanted to hear.

But it wasn't?

If I take that job,
this will be my last
Christmas in this church.

Didn't God once
use a star to help

guide people
who were searching
for a new beginning?

Yes, he did.

Maybe what you
told me about

these precious
little stars
can help guide you.

I do love this scrappy
little congregation.

And this church is
ingrained in my soul.

I want to
thank you, Peyton.

For what?

For the visit, and this.

I don't understand.
I thought you said that...

No, he didn't
write it.

But this note

helped me to think
about my last
conversation with Pop,

and about what I know
he felt in his heart,
regardless of what he said.

About what's important,

and how I want to spend
the time that I have
been given on this earth.

And for that,

I'm very grateful.

Reverend Lavery, I'd like
to ask you about the note.

Was it written
by your father?

I didn't know
anything about this.
I'm sorry.

It's okay.
And who are you?

Truman Harris.
National Television
Broadcasting.

My... My viewers are
interested in a note

purportedly written
by a passenger
on PT Flight 848.

I was wondering if you
could shed any
light on that subject.

I could, but I think
I'm going to leave that
to Ms. MacGruder.

No comment.

Let's back up
for a wide shot.

MAN: Okay, pull back.
Get a whole
shot of the church.

Oh, your star.

Keep it.

Is this more than...
Than just a column for you?

I don't know
what you mean.

Well, maybe that note
is meant to be your star,

and guide you to whatever
it is you're looking for.

TRUMAN: Well, folks,
you heard the man. I guess
we're gonna have to wait

for Peyton MacGruder's
next column to

find out whether the note
was meant for Reverend
Timothy Lavery, or not.

Reporting from St. Louis,
I'm Truman Harris,

with National
Television Broadcasting.

All right, that's it.
Let's wrap it up
and go home.

What are you doing?

Earning a living,
just like you.

And how did you know
to come here?

It's a confidential source.
I'm sorry.

This is my story.

It's a free country,
MacGruder,

I can report on anything
I want as long
as it's accurate.

Well, without the note,
you've really got nothing.

No, I've got you, Peyton,
and your heartwarming quest.

Now, the only thing
that would make that better
is if we work together.

Come on, come on.

We become a team,
we could milk this
for a Christmas special.

Don't hold your breath.

I don't think holding
my breath is going
to be necessary.

(PHONE RINGING)

(MOANING)

Yeah?

KING: Nice greeting.
Turn on the TV.

Why?

You'll see.
I'm on my way
with Chinese.

Truman Harris, National
Television Broadcasting.

My viewers are interested
in a note purportedly
written by a passenger

on PT Flight 848.

Could you shed any
light on that subject?

I could, but I think
I'd like to leave that
to Ms. MacGruder.

No comment.

Despite Reverend Lavery's
reluctance to
answer our question,

we have learned
from a reliable source

that Tim Lavery is not the man
to whom the note was written.

We'll continue to follow
this unfolding story
on tomorrow's show.

Until then, I'm Truman Harris,
and this is National
Television Broadcasting.

You stole my story!

Grab some chopsticks, why
don't you? Lemon chicken'll
help dull the pain.

I don't want to
dull the pain.
I want it to fester,

so the next time I see Harris,
I'll feel good about running
him over with my car!

How come I've never
seen this sensitive
streak in you before?

Because nothing
like this has ever
happened to me before!

Sit. Eat. Come on.
Before you completely
snap your wrapper.

So what exactly
happened in St. Louis?

Nothing that Harris
hasn't already reported.

What he reported was
Lavery isn't your man.

I mean,
that's a good thing,
isn't it?

I mean, 'cause if number
one's your guy, then
your series is over.

Now you get to bring up
batter number two
and keep the inning alive.

Yeah, if I can stay
ahead of that rat Harris.

(MOANS)

You'll find a way.

Curtis Pargrave came down
to the newsroom today.

How come?
To say that your column

was hitting a nerve.

Pargrave said that?

We're selling out every issue
you're in, the online
subscriptions are way up,

people all over
the country are
reading you on the net.

Wow.

Well, your enthusiasm
is underwhelming.

Sorry.
What?

On the plane today,
it occurred to me,

you know, there was
some turbulence,
and I thought, "What if...

"What if this plane
were going down?
Who would I write to?"

You are so macabre.

What I realized is
there isn't anyone.

MacGruder.

There isn't! There isn't
a single soul that I would
have to say goodbye to.

We could change that.

Anyway, look,
I'm worried about you.

Just be careful you don't let
your story make you another
victim of this plane crash.

King?

Thanks.

For the free
psych session?

For the kung pao.

PEYTON: "Dear reader,
I have just returned from
a typical mid-American city,

"its snow-covered halls
well decked with
Christmas cheer,

"its children
sledding or skating

"or poking carrot noses
and coal eyes
into snowmen faces.

"The journey took me
not to a house,
but to a church

"to meet my first prospect
to receive the note I found.

"A man of God,
as it turns out, as was
his father before him.

"I showed the pastor a copy
of the note and it took only
a moment for him to conclude,

"as has been reported on TV,
that it had not been
written by his 'Pop.'

"He had good reasons, and I am
convinced the note had not
been intended for him.

"Nonetheless,
I believe the note had
a profound effect.

"It offered the reverend
an unexpected opportunity,

"a second chance if you will,
to reconsider a recent and
life-changing decision.

"The note, and the
plane crash, served
as a reminder to him,

"and to all of us,
that life is fragile

"and we must live
each day as though
it might be our last."

I am so sorry.

Mea culpa. Mea culpa.
Please forgive me. I...

You have apologized
twenty-five times.

I've forgiven you
twenty-five times.

And what is so important
in Nashville that they need
to keep me on hold forever?

And besides,

the only true thing about
Tru Harris is that he's
a dishonest dirtbag,

and you and I are
gonna steer clear
of him, right?

Right.

Good.

WOMAN: Sorry to keep
you on hold. Ms. Quist
is not available.

Did you tell her
it was about
her father?

I did.

And she's still
not available?

That's correct.

Would you like to leave
a number where
she can reach you?

I did that three calls ago.

Look, just tell her
that I called again,

remind her that it's
important, and ask her
please to call me back.

I'll be sure to do that.

Oh, my gosh!

MANDI: What?

Have you seen
all these e-mails?

Nearly 2,000.

Amazing!

Peyton, do you see
what time it is?

Oh, yikes.
I was due upstairs
three minutes ago!

Okay, when I'm done
up there, I'm gonna go
straight to the airport.

Miss Taylor Quist
is going to see me,
like it or not!

(PHONE RINGING)

Oh, tell them
I'm on my way!

Peyton MacGruder's desk.

Glad you
could make it,
Ms. MacGruder.

I'm sorry. I had some
last-minute travel
arrangements to finish up.

I had a call this morning
from the CEO of Kelliston
Communications in New York.

Of course,
you know they're
our parent company.

They asked me to
include a friend
of yours in this meeting.

Hello, Peyton.
It's Tru Harris.

Harris.
What a surprise.

Let me get right
to the point. My...

Our boss wants
to make your
story bigger.

Bigger?

Kelliston Communications
owns the Times.

They also own NTB,
which is Truman's network.

TRUMAN: Corporate wants us
to join forces, Peyton.

His crew would follow you
on your search for
the owner of the note.

Once the rightful
person is found,

he or she would be
revealed on a one-hour
Christmas program.

Told you I'd get
you a special,
didn't I, Peyton?

So, what do you think?

I think that

corporate should
go to...

Peyton!

Look, this is a story
that either I can tell,
or Truman can tell.

Oh, wait a minute.
I forgot.

Truman can't tell it,
because he doesn't
have the note.

And you don't have
3,000,000 people
reading your puny column.

I have all the readers
I need.

And to me, they are
the only ones who count.

And I owe it to them,
we owe it to them

to reveal the owner
of the note in
"The Heart Healer!"

And after that, Harris,
you can report on any
darn thing you please.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I have a plane to catch.

(HUMMING)

Can't hear you.

Button.

You gotta press the button.
The button behind you?
Press the button.

Oh. Hello?

I'm sorry to bother you.

My name is
Peyton MacGruder.

How'd you get in here?

Oh. There was
nobody out front,
and I just walked...

Okay, that's not
entirely accurate.

The receptionist
was there,

and I told her I was
delivering some
contracts for you.

Are you, like,
a stalker or something?

No! Gosh, no!

I called.

My name's MacGruder,
Peyton MacGruder, with the
Middleborough Times.

Can I come in there?

Talking between the glass
makes me feel like
one of us is in prison.

Door's on the side.
But I'm warning you,
I don't give interviews.

Hi.

I liked the song
you were playing,
by the way.

Oh, thanks.
Just noodlin'
on a new tune.

You're the first to hear it.
Well, you and Marabelle.

Marabelle?

My cat.

You're not allergic,
are you?

Got one of my own.

Tell me
you're married.

I'm not.

(SIGHS)

Two soon-to-be middle-aged
women, living with their cats.

Oh, gee. I hadn't really
thought of myself that way,

not until recently, anyway.

Sorry. Didn't mean
to offend.

So you're here all the way
from North Carolina?

Uh-huh.
Well, then,
it must be important.

Yes. A few days
after the plane crash,

I found a note
in a plastic bag.

It had washed ashore
with some other debris
from the plane,

and it appears that
the note was written
by someone on Flight 848.

I have a copy
for you to look at.

Can I get you
something? Coffee?

No, thanks.

My father didn't
write this note. No.
No?

My father kicked me
out of the house
when I was 16 years old.

He had years to get
in touch, and he didn't.

Now, why would he spend
the last few seconds of
his life writing that note?

I don't know.

Of course you don't.
How could you?

How could you know
anything about it?

My father gave me
to my grandmother
when I was 10.

Why am I telling
you this?

No, please.

Go on.

My mom died. My dad was
in his second year
of medical school,

and I guess he
figured that he
couldn't raise a kid

and finish his studies
at the same time, so...

But after that, I rarely
saw my father, except
around Christmastime.

My nickname for him
actually became
"Mr. Holiday."

"Mr. Holiday,"

I like that.
I could write
a song about it.

I mean, it's not that
my father didn't love me,

I'm sure he did, but...

Where is he now?

Gone. Died a few
years ago.

I spent most
of my teens
strung out.

My folks finally had
all they could take
and kicked me out.

"Tough Love,"
they called it.

It took me years
to get clean,

and when I finally did,
I realized that

it was all my fault.

I thought about calling,

but I decided
that I'd put them
through enough already.

But maybe I was wrong.

Maybe I should've
called a long time ago.

But now, you know...

Might be time
to write a note
of your own.

What do you mean?

Your mother wasn't
on that flight, was she?

No.

No, she wasn't.

What're you doing here?

I figured you'd be
too tired to stop
by the office,

so I brought you
the rest of
the obituaries.

Atta girl.

So how was Nashville?

Rewarding.

Meaning, we have
a winner?

No, Taylor Quist
is not the person
we're looking for,

but I think the note had
an effect on her, anyway.

It seems to do that
to everybody.

It certainly turned
my life upside down.

Which reminds me,
Nora called for you.

Am I fired?

She didn't say
one way or the other.

Good. So let's hold her
off until the morning,

'cause I've got
a column to write

before this paper
goes to bed.

I need a cup of tea.
You want one?

Oh, no, I'm okay.
This is a great place.

My husband and I
bought it right after
we were married.

Look at the backyard.
It'd be perfect for kids.

Peyton MacGruder?
I'm afraid your husband's
been in an accident.

Take it easy, man.
Can't you see the
woman's pregnant?

Peyton?

Hey, Peyton,
you all right?

Yeah.

What have you
got for me?

Just one. If it's not him,
we're out of luck.

Him?

Local guy. His father
was a big-time
real estate developer.

He owned half of the buildings
in downtown Middleborough.

Nice work. You're gonna
make a heck of a
newspaperwoman one day.

Thanks.

You sure you don't
want a cup of tea?

Can't.

Mandi, I like your outfit.

Are you kidding me?
This is so not me.

Then why are
you wearing it?

Blind date.
Don't want to scare
the guy off. See you.

(CAT MEOWS)

Well, looks like
it's you and me, kiddo.

The middle-aged
woman and her cat.

PEYTON: "Today I met with
a well known songwriter.

"A woman who has everything.
Celebrity, wealth, beauty,
talent and intellect.

"Yet, I had to wonder,
is she happy?

"The life I observed today
would probably not satisfy
most of us 'average' folks.

"You see, this woman
and her family

"had a falling out years ago
when she was a teenager.

"As adolescents,
we are so self-centered,
so focused on our own desires

"that we have trouble
seeing our parents
as real people.

"We see only their authority,
their rules and
their expectations,

"not their dreams,
not their strengths and not
their human weaknesses.

"This woman carries
a burden of alienation,

"but it's by her own choosing
that she shoulders the load.

"It has become a shadow
she's accustomed to seeing,

"and I fear it will
walk with her for
the rest of her life.

"I bear the burden
of my own shadows.

"By showing her the note,

"I had hoped to offer her
the courage to step into
the light.

"And in doing so,
I have found myself
reflected in her.

"Perhaps, as the
journey continues,

"I will also find the strength
to leave the shadows behind.

"I say 'as the journey
continues,' dear readers,

"because the woman
was certain the note
was not written to her.

"But having read the message,
my sincerest hope

"is that it will still move
her to open doors
too long left closed."

Hi.

Oh, I was just
reading your column.

I'm proud of you,
Peyton.

Really?

Not just because
your writing's great,

or because you've
brought up the numbers,

but because
you've made the
column your own.

So much so
that you were willing
to risk getting fired

to protect your
readers' interests.

Oh, listen, I really hope
I didn't leave you
in a bad position

the other day
with Mr. Pargrave.

Curtis Pargrave's
been a "print"
guy for 30 years.

He loved you standing up
to those "new media"
types in New York.

My knees were so wobbly,
it was a wonder
I could stand up at all.

Keep doing what you're doing.
We'll watch your back
as best we can,

but don't let
your guard down.

I don't think
you've heard the last
of Mr. Harris.

So, who's next
on your list?

Tanner Walton.
His father was
a local developer.

Yeah. I did a piece on him
a while ago. He was in
business with his son.

But I thought his
name was Peter.

PEYTON:
Maybe a brother?

Anyway, the note
was addressed to "T,"
so it's got to be Tanner.

And if it's not him?

Then my Christmas column's
gonna be one heck
of a disappointment.

(NEWSCASTER CHATTERING
ON RADIO)

You look busy.

Never too busy
for beer or broads.

Then since
I am neither...

Sorry. Hey, sorry.

Too much time
in the locker room.

What can I do for you?

Take me for a drive?

KING: This guy's the son
of a real estate tycoon?

Tycoon's a bit
of an overstatement.

Either that or he was
cut out of the will.

So you want to
go in, or what?

MacGruder?

What?

Wow.

What planet were
you just on?

I'm sorry.

This note thing
is just bringing up
a lot of stuff for me.

Is that why you
brought me along?

I don't know.
I guess so.

What kind of stuff?

Peyton. What kind
of stuff is it
bringing up?

I guess I was just...
I feel like I was given
the note for a reason.

I feel like it gives
everyone it touches
a second chance.

To do what?

She's still alive.

Peyton?

A second chance
to do what?

To fix their
broken lives.

And what about you?

Me?

This note has
obviously
touched you.

It's kind of
complicated for me.

I don't feel
like I deserve
a second chance.

Everyone deserves
a second chance.

I should go in.

I couldn't agree
with you more,
Mr. Harris.

It could turn out
to be a bit of good luck
for both of us.

I think that's her now.
So I'll see you soon.

Mr. Walton?
I'm Peyton MacGruder.

Hi. Come on in.

This was written
by my father.

You're sure?

It's his handwriting.
And the message.

My father and I
did not get along
for many years.

My father was
a wealthy man.

Real estate, right?

Yeah.

He wanted me and my brother,
Peter, to follow him
into the business, but...

I tried. But it, you know,
it wasn't my thing.

To be honest, Miss MacGruder,
it bored the heck
out of me, so I quit.

And my father
never got over
the disappointment.

He took it as
a personal affront.

We couldn't speak without
arguing, until eventually
it got to the point

where we didn't
speak at all.

Well, I guess, in the end,
he changed his mind.

Yeah. I guess,

I guess he did.
That's why this note
is so precious to me.

I'd never have known how
he felt if you hadn't
found that. So, thank you.

You have no idea
what you've done for me.

So I guess you're gonna
write all about
this in your column.

Yes, I will, if that's
all right with you.

TANNER: Sure. You can use
my name, if you like.

Mr. Walton.
One more question.

Did your father
always call you "T"?

No, he...

No, he probably
didn't have a lot of time.
To write the note, I mean.

But he knew
I'd understand
that it was for me.

I don't suppose
I could get a promise
of confidentiality.

How'd you do it?

Let's see. Your column
yesterday said you'd gone
to meet with a songwriter.

It was easy to discover
that Taylor Quist had lost her
father in the plane crash.

Now, the only obvious
similarity between Taylor
and Reverend Timothy Lavery?

Both their names
begin with "T."

And Tanner is the
last "T" on the list.

Yeah. It's cake.

What makes you so sure
that he's the right guy?

Said he was,
didn't he?

And now what?

Well, publicity's already
working on a promo
for a one-hour.

Live, tomorrow night.

Getting scooped
is a pain, isn't it?

I got a baseball bat
back in my office.

I could turn his "stand-ups"
into a "sit-down" with
one well-placed swing.

They'd just tape it
and turn it into
another one-hour special.

Tanner Walton's
definitely the right guy?

He says he is.

But you're not convinced?

Okay, let me dig around
a little, see what
I can come up with.

MAN: She's still alive.

What about the baby?

Will they be able
to save the baby?

* Deck the halls
with boughs of holly

* Fa la la la la,
la la la la

* 'Tis the season to be jolly,

* Fa la la la la,
la la la la *

There it goes.
My last column on the note.

Too bad
nobody's gonna read it.

Maybe this'll
cheer you up.

Thanks.

I'm sorry, how it
all turned out.

PEYTON:
Yeah, me too.

You know, it's not
just getting scooped.
It's...

MANDI: What?

I don't know,

I guess I had hoped
that the note would
lead to something more,

for my readers and for me.

Ms. MacGruder?

Yes?

Can I talk to you?
About the note?

What about it?

I think that maybe
my father wrote it.

Oh honey, someone has
already claimed that the
note was written to them.

I'm really sorry.

Was the note
addressed to "T"?

What did you say?

I said was the note
addressed to "T"?

Let's talk inside.

Okay.

Tell me, why do you
think that your father
wrote this note?

He went on a business trip,
and before he left, we got
into a huge argument.

I felt just terrible
about it, and I know
that he would, too.

What's your name?

I'm Christine.
Christine Everby.

If your name is Christine,
why would he address
the note to "T"?

That was a nickname.

All my life I used to tag
along after my dad,

so he started calling me
Tagalong or Tag,

sometimes just "T."
I know that
sounds so silly.

Can you tell me
why you argued?

Yeah, it had to do
with my adoption.

After my mom died, I just
started thinking about
my birth mother,

and before he left
for the airport,

I asked him if he
would help me find
my real parents.

He said that he and my mom
were my real parents in every
way that mattered.

And I knew
that that was true.
I...

I didn't mean to
hurt him. I was just...

Curious.

Yeah, curious.
I just wanted...

I just wanted to meet
my biological mother,
you know, just once.

Seems perfectly
natural to me.

My dad didn't really
see it that way.

Then I guess I got
a little mad.

And I guess I said
some things,
you know, mean things.

You know what?

In the end,
he gave in to me.
He always did.

He hated to
see me unhappy.

He said that
when he got back
from his trip

he'd help me look
for my real parents.

And he left.

And I never got to say
that I was sorry for all
the awful things that I said.

You know what kills me?
That look on his face.

I hate it that our life
together ended that way.

This is a Bible
that he gave me
on my birthday.

He wrote inside it.
Here.

Is it the same printing
as was on the note?

It's the same.

It is?

He gave you this
on your 16th birthday?

CHRISTINE: Yeah.

So you were born
September 2nd, 1989?

Yeah.

Ms. MacGruder,
are you all right?

Yes. I...

Ms. MacGruder,
you're trembling.
Can I... Can I help you?

No. It's just that...

Ms. MacGruder?

It was in a baggie.
With cookie crumbs.

Christmas cookies!

I baked them myself.

Thank you.

Imagine what that
note came through
to get to you.

Just so that you could know

how much your
father loved you.

Yeah.
That's true, isn't it?

Listen.

There's going to be a man
on television tonight

who will claim
that this note's his.

He's wrong.
We both know that
this was meant for you.

Thank you.

Oh, Christine?

Yeah?

If I call you
just to see
how you're doing,

you know, check on you,
would that be okay?

Yeah, that would be fine.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

Nora?

You look awful.
What's happened?

I'll tell you later.
Scrub the column
that I filed.

What?

I'm writing a new one.

Hey, Peyton?
I thought you left.

I'm back.

Oh, good.
It'll save me from
leaving you this.

The most amazing thing
just happened to me.

I've got to rewrite
my column.

How come?

I just met the real
owner of the note.

A young girl.

So, it's not
our boy Tanner?

No. He lied to me.
I don't know why.

I'll give you twenty
million reasons why.

What do you mean?

I talked to our
business editor.

The inside story is
Tanner's old man

left everything
to his brother, Peter.

So he was
cut out of the will.

Both boys went to work
for the company
right out of college.

Tanner wasn't pulling
his weight, so his
brother bought him out.

Then apparently,

Tanner has squandered
all the dough that he
was paid for his share,

and Peter worked
his tail off to build the
company into what it is today.

Okay. But I still don't
understand what Tanner had
to gain by lying to me.

"All is forgiven. Dad."

It's exactly what he needed.

Tanner's already hired
an attorney to
contest his father's will.

And Truman Harris
was probably more than
happy to help him out.

What're you going
to do about it?

Well, I'm going
to call Tanner
before it's too late.

I'll tell him
about the girl I met,

and the proof that she showed
me that confirms the
note was meant for her.

And then I'm going to
offer him a second chance
to do the right thing.

Good. Sounds good.
Yeah?
King?

Where is that?

"Lapinsky,

"playing deep right field,
wearing his blue uniform,

"looked every bit
like a great heron

"as the tie-breaking
run rocketed
from home plate

"toward the high fence
behind him,
its trajectory clear.

"A guaranteed
season-shattering grand slam,
until the gangly Lapinsky,

"all arms and legs, rose,
as if carried on the
crest of a tidal surge.

"Higher and higher in the
humid July air, floating
beyond human capacity,

"until with sublime grace,
he snagged the ball
and saved the day.

"I do not believe in divine
intervention, or gods who
toy with the lives of men.

"But that day, I did believe.
That day,
I witnessed a miracle!"

My Pulitzer piece.

Where'd you find it? When?
I Googled you.

Four years ago.
My first day on the job.

MacGruder, have you
been crushin' on me?

Is it true what you wrote?

Do you believe in miracles?

Why?

I was pregnant
when Gil died.

I fell into
a deep depression.
Total despair.

And I tried to end
my own life.

And I nearly
lost the baby.

After she was born,
I couldn't care for her

and I couldn't care
for myself,

so Children's Services
took her.

And then several
months later, my father

convinced me to let them
put her up for adoption,

but if I had been normal,
I never would have
given up my baby.

But you weren't,
were you? Normal.

No, not for a long time.

Did you ever
try to find her?
Your daughter?

No, I never
looked for her.

Why?

I didn't have the right.

I tried to take
her life when I
attempted to take my own.

But now, because
of this note,

I believe that
she's found me.

You mean the girl who...

Yes.
Come on.

I know it sounds crazy,
but there's evidence,

and in my heart, I know,

I know that's my daughter.

Did you tell her
that you think you
might be her mother?

No.

I was afraid that
the truth about why
I gave her up would be

more painful for her
than just not knowing.

I set out to offer
somebody else
a Christmas miracle,

but I ended up
with my own.

Listen to me.

You have kept
the most private,

intimate details of
your life all to yourself
for so many years.

It's gonna
change now.

You're not alone, Peyton,

not anymore.

Not anymore.

Tell us, if you would,
Mr. Walton,

about your feelings when
you first saw that note.

Well, I thought how great
it would be if it turned out
to be written by my father.

And then when you actually
opened it and you saw
that message inside.

(CLEARS THROAT)

I know this is
difficult for you, so...

I wish I'd given
my father a reason to
forgive me, but, I hadn't.

The note

was not meant for me.

Wait a minute.
Did I hear you right?

Did you just say
that the note was
not meant for you? The...

Turns out that the note
was not meant for
Tanner Walton, and so...

(TURNS TV OFF)

(SIGHS)

"Dear readers, I visited
and spoke with my
third and final prospect.

"He claimed the note.
At the time,
I had no reason to doubt him.

"Since then,
I've met a young woman

"who persuaded me
that the note had
been written for her.

"She had convincing proof,
but I didn't need
her evidence to realize

"the note had
at last come full circle.

"Through this journey,
my friends, I've
learned something else.

"The note itself is not
the most important thing.
The message is.

"For it contains the
power of life and love."

(CELL PHONE RINGING)

MacGruder.

Do you have any idea
how stupid you
made me look?

Yes.

Who's the girl?

I promised her anonymity.

What the heck
am I supposed
to tell my audience?

Tell them what
I said in my column.

The note, or who wrote it,
isn't really that important.

It's the message
that matters.

That's absurd.

Peyton?

Peyton?

PEYTON:
Finally, I understand why
the note was given to me.

Not because of what I could
do for it, but because
of what it could do for me.

Hey.
Hey.

How the heck
do you reply
to a text message?

Oh. It's from
your son.

Yeah.

That's great.
What do you
want me to say?

"How soon
can you get here?"

Perfect.

That's great.

How about joining us?

I will do the cooking.

Now there's a tough offer
to turn down,

but I'm afraid
I'm going to have to,
this time.

Oh.

I am, however,
available on
New Year's Eve.

PEYTON: "This search has done
something to my heart,
tearing down old walls.

"Through the painful process,
I learned something.

(DOORBELL RINGING)

"That the heart
most in need of
healing was my own.

"Throughout my search,
I've shared the anguish
of despairing people

"and I've finally learned
to share my own pain."

Hi. Come on in.
Hi.

Oh, wow,

it's so beautiful.

Gosh, I'm sorry.
I should've
brought you a gift.

You being here
is the best Christmas
gift I've ever had.

And if you
don't mind, Christine,
I'd like to tell you why.

Okay.

PEYTON: "The note, after all,
was a message of forgiveness.

"And to this broken heart,
it has not lost
its power to restore."