All language subtitles for Breakout.Kings.S02E09.Freak.Show.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DD+5.1.x264-Cinefeel_track3_[eng]

This is Souza-Baranowski
Correctional Center,

permanent home to Max Morris,

the infamous escape artist
serving

four consecutive
life sentences.

It was 20 years ago this week,

during a performance for the
Porter Brothers Circus

in Pittsfield, Massachusetts,

that Max Morris
earned his hard time.

Open D82.

REPORTER:
Moments after his big finale,

(buzzer sounds)
Max inexplicably set fire
to the circus tent,

killing four spectators
and leaving a dozen more

burned or trampled
in the ensuing stampede.

Since then, Max has proved
to be one of the most violent

and uncontainable prisoners
in the state's history,

escaping from two
other facilities

before finally landing
here in supermax.

(buzzer sounds)

Now, after two decades
of silence,

Max Morris has agreed to his
first interview ever.

Take a seat.

Take a seat.
Take a seat!

I got this one.

All right,
lock it up.

Stay still.

(snorts)

Take it off.

You rolling?
Good to go.

Max, you've never spoke about
what happened

that day in Pittsfield,
not even to defend yourself

against the charges.

After years and years.

Perhaps you're finally ready
to tell us what drove you

to carry out your ghastly crime?

Perhaps not.

What the hell is this?!
(indistinct shouts)

(alarm blaring)
GUARD: Lock down B-wing!
Lock it down!

(coughing)

(indistinct shouts)

This is not happening!

(coughing)
(alarm continues blaring)

I need backup in B-wing!

(coughing)

(grunts)

Where is he?!
You're asking me?

(alarm continues blaring)

(indistinct shouts in distance)

(loud grunt)

Thanks.

I'm telling you, Lloyd,
this guy's fascinating.

He made a smoke bomb from
the stuff he has in prison:

aluminum foil, sugar,
stump remover from
the maintenance shed.

Potassium nitrate--
that is fascinating.

I wasn't kidding--
I am off the team.

I'm telling you, it
was like a magic act.

Poof, this guy
disappeared.

They searched the yard;
all they found was a
hole in the fence.

I mean, he must've coated
it a day or two before
with homemade corrosive.

Mm-hmm. How many
ways can I say it?

I'm done. I'm out.

And if the other inmates see me
fraternizing with the enemy,

I am screwed, so please...

(clears throat)

Look, we need
you back.

And this fugitive is
right up your alley.
Yeah, Damien was

right up alley;
look where that got us.

Charlie's gone.

A young woman died
while I watched, helpless.

And Max Morris watched
his family die when
he was just a kid.

They were trapeze artists.

They fell to their death
right in front of him.

And then years later,
he burns down the same
circus he grew up in.

Now, tell me you're not
dying to get inside this
guy's head and find out why.

So, he grew up
in the circus--

who was his state-
appointed guardian?
Which state?

The circus moves from
one town to the next.

He grew up off the grid.

He doesn't even have a
social security number.

Well...

No. I'm out. Sorry.
Yeah?

You're out?

(dialing)
Sorry to have to
do this to you.

Threaten me with
maximum security, Ray?

It's nothing compared
to the hell that
I've been living in.

WOMAN (on phone):
Hello, Lloyd. Are you there?

Mother.

(whispers):
Why are you calling her?

(ice clinking)
You hear that, Lloyd?

Is that nice?
You drinking already?

What time is it?
Oh, I'm drinking, Lloyd.

I'm gonna get shit-faced and
forget the shame you caused me.

Shame? Mother, I...
This job was the one
good thing you had going,

(groaning)
and you just had to quit it,

like everything else
from violin to Boy Scouts

All right, I'm in. I'm in.
and ballet lessons...

Get these things off me.

SHEA:
His parents are dead,

and he has no other family,
so where is this dude going?

I mean, did he keep
in touch with anybody
after all these years?

No. No letters,
no visitors.

Max barely has
a paper trail.

He never enrolled
in school.

He never reported
any income.

He spent his childhood
working as a roustabout
in the circus.

If he spent his whole life
in the circus, he must've

made a friend or two--
let's talk to them.

None of the
other performers

came to his defense
after the fire.

Don't sound like
friends to me.
Okay,

but the guy was voted
"Best Escape Artist in America"

at the age of 16.

Must have had a mentor.

According to the PR spin,
Max is self-taught.

Where was he headed
the other times he escaped?
We don't know.

Both times he was apprehended
before he got very far.

But what we do know is
Max is highly dangerous.

An unstable childhood,
grew to adulthood in prison,

where he has amassed
a long record of violence

and uncontrollable anger.

Yeah, shame
Lloyd ain't here.

He'd have a field day
with this freakazoid.

So, um... what
happened with that?

He just refused to get
on the van, or...?

Yeah, pretty much.

Morning. Detective Estes,
NYPD, Major Crimes.

This is Detective Gay.

We're looking
for Ray Zancanelli.

He's not here. Um,
I'm Julianne Simms.

I'm with the Marshals.
Can I help you?

Yeah, we're investigating
an assault on Tommy Fitzgerald.

We understand
he was the subject

of a search
on your computers.

We were told the same thing--
that's about all we know.

Turns out Mr. Fitzgerald
had business ties

to a Pete Gillies.

Rents commercial space
one floor down from you guys.
JULIANNE: Yeah.

He must have gained
access to your computers

in order to track down
Mr. Fitzgerald.

ESTES:
Yeah, we were just down there,
but it looks like the office

got cleaned out-- thought
maybe you guys might know
something about it,

where he might have gone?

No. Uh, no idea.

No, we, uh, we barely
talk to the guy.

ZANCANELLI:
You guys holding up
my elevator?

NYPD. Detective Estes.

Ray Zancanelli.
Detective Gay.

What's this about?
NYPD just found a link

between Tommy Fitzgerald

and, um, that guy Pete
from downstairs.

You're kidding?

My office.

ZANCANELLI:
Have a seat.

I assume you have
a case folder for me.

Uh, yeah. Right here.

So why are you...

(object shatters)

(panting)
What are you doing here?

Bitch, what are
you doing down here?

Your boy's gone.

If you left any clues
to where he was at, cops
would've found him already.

Came here to
tell me that?

I came down here to tell
you, if the Marshals

found out that one of us
gave her boy-toy access

to the computers for
criminal purposes,

it's over,
for all of us.

Are you accusing me
of something?

You're damned straight!

You better fix your mess.

'Cause I will turn into
the lowest kind of snitch

before I let your hormones get
my ass sent back to Sing Sing.

That's my word.

(indistinct radio chatter)

*

*

* You always

* Hurt

* You hurt the one

* You love

* The one...

Clocked you the second you
walked in here, circus freak.

On the ground.

Hands where I can see 'em.

All the way down.
Down, down, down, down.

All right, hands
behind your back.

Other one.

Now, don't move.

You're not the first
shoplifter I've caught,

but you're the first one
that's gonna get me on TV.

Now, don't you move,
Magnificent Max.

*

* You

* Always hurt...

(grunting)

(bones crack)
(choking)

All right, thanks
for your time, Zancanelli.

Sure thing. I'll
talk to my people.

If we find out anything,
we'll be in touch.
Yeah, yeah. Good.

(phone ringing)

(continues ringing)

Your phone's ringing.

I see it.

It's a blocked number.

Must be Damien.
Most likely.

(ringing continues)

ZANCANELLI:
Hello? Hello?

Talk to him, Lloyd.

I'm a little busy, Ray. Sorry.

Hey, Damien.

This is Ray Zancanelli.
Talk to me.

Come on, Damien.
(beep)

(line disconnects)

Track and trace that call.

Okay, but it's gonna be
the same scrambled signal.

Do it anyway.

What's the matter with you?

What?
I know you
went through

something awful,
but Charlie's killer's

trying to reach out to you.

At least answer the call.

(whispers):
I have a plan, Ray.

What, you
have a plan?
Yeah.

You have a plan.

Max Morris, he's
all over the news.

Right? So Damien would've
heard about the breakout,

and he'll assume, correctly
as it turns out, that

I have been furloughed
to work the case.

And naturally,
he's gonna try and call me

and to taunt me
some more, but...

if he can't get me on the phone,
that lack of attention

is gonna drive him nuts,
and it's gonna unsettle him,

and that might be
when he slips up.

That's it?
Yeah.

Your plan to catch
Damien is ignore him?

Look, if you're
too traumatized

to talk to Damien,
just say so.

Okay? Don't dress it up
as some clever strategy...

Oh, my goodness!
I'm not dressing anything up.

Ray, there are seven phases
to a serial killer's process.

Okay, right now Damien
is in the totem phase.

The next is depression.
Now, in order

for him to maintain
the rush

from his most recent murder
and avoid a scathing

case of the gloomies,

he needs to hold on to a trophy.

I'm his audience, Ray.

I am the proverbial trophy.
If I talk to him,

I'm just giving him
what he wants.

But if I ignore him...

that's gonna knock him
off balance.

SHEA:
Yo...

"Fire and Ice."

"Fire and Ice," Sheamond.

ZANCANELLI:
Well, if you want Damien
to think that your putting

all your focus into
Max Morris...

you better put all your energy
into Max Morris!

I'm way ahead of you.

When Max lit that big top fire,

traveling circuses
were already

a dying form
of entertainment.

But they've been around
for a long time.

So their social composition
is well established.

They are nomadic,
insular group of people

whose members consist
of generations of families

raised in the same lifestyle.

It's a world where
you can escape society,

uh, untethered
to any one place.

It's a world where you can be
free to create your own history.

Where you can, uh,
conceal your past

through a fictional
origin story.

No one questions it
because they're all there

for the same reason.
Precisely.

So you want to find Max Morris?

First you have to pierce
the veil of lies

surrounding his childhood.

You have to find out
where he came from,

and then maybe you could learn
where he's really going.

Can't ask his coworkers.

The file says
the circus shut down

after Houdini went
all firebug on it.

JULIANNE:
That's true but
another company

bought up
the Porter Brothers' operation

and, um, they still have
a sort of travelling carnival,

with a juggling show,
magic act, clowns.

ZANCANELLI:
Where's this carnival?

JULIANNE:
It moves around, but it's

based out of
the northeast.

I'll check the calendar.
SHEA: We got

a homicidal maniac
on the loose,

and you want to ride
the tilt-a-whirl?

Looks like they're set up
in Far Hills, New Jersey.

ZANCANELLI:
All right, come on.

I'll buy you a cotton candy.

(snaps fingers)
Hey, you part of this team?

Come on, let's go.

You don't...

look much like a horse.
What are you doing back there?

Sorry. Saw Texas plates,

figured you're
headed down south.

Thought maybe I'd catch a ride.

Well, you probably be
a lot more comfortable

up in the cab.

(engine starting)

ZANCANELLI:
So you've got nothing
on Max Morris?

No.

ERICA:
Okay, none of the
game booth operators

worked for the
Porter Brothers.

The acrobats were too young.

But I did find a truck driver
who worked the circus,

but he said the drivers and the
performers never mingled much.

All right, so we'll see what
Shea and Lloyd come up with.

This guy Pete
from downstairs...

Yeah?

You see, uh, Shea and Lloyd
get friendly with him?

No. No, I don't think so.

I had to ask.

I've been giving you guys
a lot of slack since Charlie.

This thing with the computers

is making me wonder.

What did you find out?

I just had
a nice conversation

with a contortionist.

I don't remember anything
that she said to me.

How about you?

Yeah, yeah,
you know...

Nothing? Talk to anybody

except the guy who sold you

that cotton candy?

Listen, you're supposed
to be able to relate

to transient types,
speak their language.

You telling me
you couldn't get

anybody to talk
about Max Morris?

Shut up.
What?

Shea's afraid of clowns.

ZANCANELLI:
You're afraid of clowns?

Listen, you better start
looking under rocks.

LLOYD:
Come on, Ray, fear of clowns
is a real neurosis

recognized by the DSM--
coulrophobia.

See, man,
it's a legitimate condition...

ZANCANELLI:
Then it's the
only thing about you

that is legit.

Ray...

I think we got a bogey.

Split up!

Hey! (yells)

(moaning, whining)

Hey! Whoa!

Shea!

That is the way to work
out your issues, Shea!

Yeah, that was good.
Good for you.

Whoo!

Good for you.

Let's get him up.

MAN:
You don't look like
a fella who's

headed for a hot meal
and a warm bed.

You look more like a fella
who's headed for trouble.

And I don't mean
nothing by it.

It's only that, uh...

you know, I got a
familiarity with anger.

And I know you got your
fair share of it, son.

Huh? Look, it don't
make you a bad person.

Even if it's made me
do bad things?

Don't let anger
define you, okay?

There's good in you.

I can see it.

(chuckles)
I can see it.

That's a black dude?

SHEA:
Oh, man, this ain't right.

LLOYD:
Black man in white face.

Racist.

ZANCANELLI:
All right, Bubbles ran here

because he had an
outstanding warrant.

Let's go, Lloyd.

Mike Dodd...

you're wanted in Ohio for
non-payment of child support.

Ooh. Another deadbeat clown.

Just Ohio?

ZANCANELLI:
I could look for other
warrants if you want.

No. What I really want
is a lawyer

so I can sue you for that
beat down your homie gave me.

I got plenty of witnesses.

Okay, well, let's
keep it simple.

You worked for
Porter Brothers

back in the day along
with Max Morris.

Yeah. Damn near got killed
in that fire he started.

True he got out?

ZANCANELLI:
Sure is.

So tell us everything
you know about Max Morris

and maybe I won't send you
back on a bus to Columbus.

What would I know
about Morris?

Any background information,
like, who raised him

after his parents died
in that trapeze mishap.

You got to go back
way farther than that.

That trapeze artist--
Tanya and Vincent Morris--

they weren't Max's parents.

That was just some sort
of romantic fiction

that management cooked up
to promote Max's act.

So who were his parents?

Tiny Tony and Eleanore Tubbs.

Couple of sideshow acts.

He was three foot six.

She was 950 pounds
of cushion for the pushing.

Oh, Lordy.
Tony got sauced one night

and stumbled into
Ellie's trailer on a dare.

What happened in there
no man can say.

But nine months later
Max was born.

So where are they?

Eleanor's long dead.

Diabetes got her
before Max was maybe seven.

I got no idea where Tony is.

He got out of the game.

Midget acts don't play anymore.

But Tony raised Max?

Oh, please.
If Max got within five feet

of Tony,
he'd whack the kid aside

with his little cane.

Tony had a family working
in the show.

He never coped
to banging Eleanor.

Okay, so who did raise Max?
Well...

No one really. I mean,

the kid just kind of
hung around.

He was always there.
So we just...

let the little lunatic
stay on.

So let me get
this straight.

No one took
care of Max?

And all of you stood by
while this kid

was exploited for cheap labor?
Is that right?

No. Well, you're making it sound
worse than it was.

I mean, we let the kid
perform, didn't we?

You called him Mad Max,
didn't you?

Well, if he
didn't like it,

how come he stuck around
all those years?

Well, as you pointed out,
Max was mentally unstable.

I mean, it sounds like
the circus community

unwittingly applied some
destabilization

which is a brainwashing
technique

where you bully someone
and you lower their self-worth.

You took a malfunctioning
mind and you just

broke it completely.
He didn't leave

because he blamed himself

for the situation.
He tried to fit in

by putting together
a world-class act,

but that didn't even
earn your respect.

Is it any wonder he tried
to burn the circus down?

What's going on?

Max had a very specific
reason for setting that fire.

I read something in his
deposition. I'm just...

Okay, here, here.

The prosecutor was asking him
if he had any remorse

for killing those four people.

"What did you have against
Arnold Weir?" Max says,

"I just wanted to kill him."

"What about that young boy
from Hinsdale, Paul Doonan?"

Max says, "I just
wanted to kill him."

Then they ask about a victim
named Sammy Hearns.

He just wanted to kill him?
Exactly.

But here's the thing.

Sammy's a woman.

Max wasn't talking
about his victims.

When he says, "I just
wanted to kill him,"

he wasn't explaining
his actions,

he was explaining
his intentions.

The fire was meant
to kill one man.

Most likely the person
he blamed for his low status

in the circus community.

Tiny Tony. The father
who denied him,

and even refused to
acknowledge his existence.

JULIANNE:
Tiny Tony--

his real name is Wesley Peebles.

And it looks like his
Social Security checks

are being sent to an address
in Sugar Loaf, New York.

Let's gear up.

(phone rings)

Yeah, Jules?

Oh, okay.

Forgot to release
the clown.

I wasn't gonna say anything.

Get in the truck.
I'll be right down.

LLOYD:
Okay, Shea, take me back--
when did the clown...
(buzzing)

SHEA:
I don't know when it started and
I don't want to talk about it.

LLOYD:
I'm here to help. Please.

SHEA:
I don't want to talk about it.

(conversation continues
indistinctly)

I got to go call my kid.

Dickhead, you used me
to find a guy, and then

you put him in a coma.
It's not like that, Erica.

That wasn't the plan.

I went to Fitzgerald
to get the 50 grand

that he stole from me.

He's the one that
got violent.

If he doesn't wake up,
that's murder.

And if I'm implicated in that,
my daughter will be

grown and married
by the time I see her.

How are you gonna fix this?

I don't know.

Okay look, Pete, I need to know.

Was I just part of some
long-term con?

Hey, no, Erica...

Absolutely not.

Yeah, I saw an opportunity,
and I took it.

My feelings were real and
they will remain real.

What? You want proof?

Okay.

Let's run away.
I got 50 grand.

We'll get out of the country,
we'll get up on our feet.

We're gonna run away
together?

Play house,
be a big happy family?

Erica, I...

No, Pete. If you're about
to say "I love you,"

I am gonna punch you
in the face.

Run away with you?
You run away, Pete.

You disappear,

because if they can't
find you,

they can't connect
me to you.

I was gonna say you
can call me on this.

It's prepaid.

Think about it.

Okay, I've thought about it.

You're the one who
got us into this,

and you are the one
that needs to vanish.

ZANCANELLI:
Erica!

Let's go!

Um, okay.

I guess we're looking
for a hobbit-sized trailer.

You know what I don't get?

How can a midget
and a fat lady

have a tall, skinny kid?

Oh, come on, I'm the only one
who remembers Punnett squares

from biology class?

Erica, Punnett squares?

The odds are entirely dependent

on whether they're dominant
or recessive genes

controlling the obesity
and the dwarfism,

which, by the way, is way less
offensive than the M word, so...

M word?

There it is.

Hey, Ray, we found it.

I'm coming up the back way.

I thought there was a difference
between midgets and dwarves?

No, actually that's
only according to P.T. Barnum,

who coined midget to describe
the evenly-proportioned

little people
he found most entertaining.

(knocking)
Word sticks around
for over 100 years.

It was inevitably replaced
with little people,

and currently dwarfism
is also acceptable.

I wish they'd make up
their mind.

Say that to
the National Association

for the Advancement
of Colored People, huh?

Huh, huh?

SHEA:
The bigger question is
how does a dude

that small get it on with a
woman weighing in at 900 lbs?

It's all mechanics,
Shea, okay?

So you take the fulcrum...
the fulcrum, right?

(door opens)

(indistinct TV noise)

Can I help you?

Uh, sorry, we're, um...

We're looking for Tiny Tony.

LLOYD:
Uh...

Wesley Peebles.

Yeah, he's like,
uh, yay-big.

Yeah, I know Tony, and I'm
quite aware of how bid he is.

Uh, is he here?

We need to see him.

Not at the moment.
Do you know
when he'll be back?

It's kind of important.

We think he might be
in danger.
I'm sorry,

are you cops?
That's kind of
a gray-ish area.

Are you his lovely daughter?

Ew, that would be incest.

Could you just tell us where he
is or call him, because again,

his life is in jeopardy.
I don't know where he is.

Tony doesn't live here, does he?

Or did he have a growth spurt

and change his name to Jesus?

Where'd you get that?

Found it on the clothesline
out back.

SHEA:
You stepping out on Tony, huh?

Okay, look,

hon, we're not interested

in your personal life,
but we just told you

that Tony is in real danger,
and you don't seem too worried.

Because his life can't be
in any danger.

He died over a year ago.

Yet his social security checks
are still being cashed?

So, where is he?
You and Jesus make

the little man disappear?
What? No.

Look, Tony drank himself to
death under a highway overpass.

All I did was leave

his body unclaimed at the morgue
so the checks would keep coming.

I know it was wrong, but...

You know, great theory, Lloyd.

How can Max kill a dead man?

Who else knows Tony's dead?
No one, probably.

His wife died,
and the only family

he's got left is his son, Kurt.

They stopped speaking years ago.
He's not the only one.

If Max doesn't know
Tony's dead,

he might still be coming
after him.

Anybody else come
looking for Tony?

Not that I know of.

You have a safe place to go
for a little while?

Maybe down
to the social security office?

Cancel Tony's benefits?

Sound like a good idea?

(sensor dinging)

So, what do you got in mind?

Don't recognize me, huh?

Used to be famous.

On the TV?

Trained myself
to be an escape artist.

How I did it was I put myself
intentionally in a bad situation

to see if I could get out.

Lock myself
in the trunk of a car,

tie my hands
and jump into a lake,

that sort of thing.

I loved the challenge.

Hm.

I got it.

Use a lark's head.

Cross-wrap it nice
and tight.

That's it, cowboy.

Finish it up
with a square knot.

(grunts)

All right?

Hey, now, whoa.

Man,

easy, man.

Take it easy.

You get to it before I do,

you live.

If not...

You're crazy.

One,

two...

Uh-uh.

No.

No, listen,

I'm not playing
your sick game, man.

You better.

Because I am.

Stop it.

Three.
Lost your mind!

No, please.

Thanks for the ride.

(gunshot)

You know Julianne can run
a trap-and-trace on our phones.

There's not even
a single picture of Max

in this whole thing.

It's like he doesn't
even exist.

(phone ringing)

Do not get that.

I know it seems like
a counterintuitive approach,

but trust me,
it's gonna drive him crazy.

Then if you don't answer
this phone, I will.

(ringing continues)

Fine.

Just-just let it go.

(ringing continues)

Ow!

Jerk.

Come here.

Don't want to
talk to him?

(beeps)
I'm gonna make you listen.

He doesn't want
to talk to you, Damien,

and I can't blame him.

So you're stuck with me.

Come on, I know you're there.

Pathetic mental case.

Why don't you drop some
of your wisdom on us.

What's happened to you,
Deputy Zancanelli?

Did they demote you?

How do you mean?

There are some big fugitives
out there.

I know because I'm one of them.

But your bosses aren't
letting you chase me, are they?

Oh, I haven't forgot about you.

Of course not.

But you can't do anything
about it, can you?

Too busy hunting down
circus freaks.

Oh, don't worry about that,
I can multitask.

Give it up, Zancanelli;
you lost me.

I'm the one that got away.

First you lost your partner,
then you lost me.

No wonder they don't trust you
to track me down.

Not even with the help
from the eminent

Lloyd Lowery.

How about we get together,
Damien?

Just you and me.

I have nothing more
to say to you.

I want to speak to Lowery.

But I understand
if he's in too delicate a state.

I told you.

I'm driving him nuts.

No, you're driving me nuts.

(phone rings)

Go ahead, Jules.

Ray, I got a hit.

A big one. Okay.

A man was found dead on the side
of the road in Wurtsboro.

Now, his credit card
records indicate

that he was in Deerfield,
Massachusetts earlier today

at a truck stop where a cashier
was found murdered.

Now, Deerfield is not too far
from the prison

where Max Morris broke out
of this morning.

Mad Max must have caught a ride.

Where the hell is Wurtsboro?

That's the thing,
Max is already west of you guys.

Max isn't coming after Tony.

Check this out,
Wurtsboro is only 20 minutes

from Monticello, where Tony's
legitimate son lives.

Max's half-brother.

Maybe he's going there
for help.

No, not help.

Maybe the "him" Max was talking
about wasn't Tony.

I mean, look,
children instinctively want

to form attachments
with their fathers,

but Max's dad only bonded
with his other son,

his dwarf son, Kurt.

So, we could be talking about,

uh, just some
sibling rivalry here.

Max doesn't know
that Tony's dead.

He's still trying
to win his love,

and he's trying to do it
by eliminating the competition.

All right, Jules,
tell Monticello PD

I want eyes on Kurt Peebles.

We'll be there
as soon as we can.

You got it;
oh, and Detective Estes called.

He wanted to tell you
that Tommy Fitzgerald

was taken off life support
this afternoon.

He's dead.

All right, just get a hold

of Monticello PD.

(indistinct radio transmission)

Way to keep a low profile.

Idea is to catch Max,
not scare him off.

You Kurt Peebles?

No, I'm Yao Ming in disguise.

Ray Zancanelli, US Marshals.

Oh, great.

More government employees.

So, you want to tell me
why you think Max Morris

is coming to see me?

Some people think
Max Morris is your brother.

Yeah, it's half-brother,
and they're wrong.

No way I share blood with that
twitchy psychotic arsonist.

Me and the other kids,
we used to bounce juggling pins

off his head
when we were little.

That loon used to just sit there
and let it happen.

Don't tell me I'm related
to that.

But you know what,
more to the point,

anybody who suggests
that my father got busy

with some morbidly obese chick
who smelled like a yak,

I got this to say,
they don't know my father.

He is far too lazy to get on top
and do all that work.

Wow.

Uh, sir, when's the last time
you saw your father?

A lifetime ago, why?

Well, I'm sorry to
inform you that your dad

passed away a while back.

Wait, don't tell me.

Electrocuted himself trying

to steal copper wire
off a light pole.

No, he drank himself to death.

Now,
that was my next guess.

Can we get back to Max
for a second?

What's his beef with me?

Gee, I wonder.
For whatever reason,

Max is on his way here.

So, we'd like to move you
to a safe location

stake out your house
in order to catch him.

Screw that! I got a Storage Wars
marathon sitting on my DVR.

I ain't going anywhere.

Okay, sir,

we are dealing with a very
dangerous and determined

psychotic here...
Oh, please.

I spent ten years working
in biker bars,

getting tossed around
by 200-pound meth heads.

Think I'm scared of some
imbecile who plays with matches?

Besides, how the hell
is he gonna get in here

when you got an army of cops
out there trampling my lawn?

Let you doughnut-eaters earn
my tax money.

I am sitting and watching TV.

(indistinct TV noise)

Yeah, Max is definitely coming
to kill that guy.

What the hell is this?

I said get rid
of the three-ring circus,

not add more tour dates.

That is what
I'm telling them, Ray.

Who ordered this?

Monticello chief of police.

Said the little
douche bag inside

won't let the cops
use the bathroom.

They're gonna be
here a while, so...

Where's your chief?

Cover for me, okay?

Last time I covered for you,
a dude ended up in a coma.

(phone rings)
Erica?

Tommy Fitzgerald is dead.

Pete, I am sorry
about the way I said it before,

but you need to disappear.

Okay, things just got real bad.

First thing you need to do
is cut up your credit cards,

IDs, everything.

Don't tell anybody
where you're going, not a soul.

Erica, listen to me.

I already spoke to my lawyer.

Why?

He says I can plead down
to a manslaughter charge.

That's great for you, Pete,
but what about me?

I'll gonna lose
my privileges here. I'm...

I'm going to go back
to hard time.

I'm not gonna say anything
about you.

What are you going
to tell them, Pete?

That you broke
into a US Marshals' office?

That's a federal offense!
You can't... you can't

plead your way out of that one.

But you already knew that,
didn't you?

You mother...

Listen.

I don't know what to do, Erica!

What difference does it make?
You're already in jail!

That came out wrong.

Max.

How the hell did you get in...?

Hey.

Hey, you look good, Max.

How you... how you been?

Hey. Hey, hey, good news.

You-you and me--
we're-we're

brothers, man.

I mean, of course,
I had heard the rumors

back in the day,
but apparently, it's true.

Look, I'm...

I'm really sorry that Dad never
had the balls to admit it

before the old bastard
kicked it, you know?

You didn't know, either.

I just found out

myself.

Hey, come on, man.

You know, don't treat me
like that, right?

I mean, come on. Enough
with the silent treatment.

Oh, you won't...

(Kurt mumbles)

(bones crunching)

Move all these vehicles
out of here.

Okay, maybe keep one, two
unmarked cars in the distance.

If you're gonna
truck in toilets,

you might as well hang
a welcome banner.

And how long's it take
to deliver a Porta Potti anyway?

(garbled radio transmission)

(indistinct,
overlapping chatter)

MAN (on TV):
This is a cash-only sale.

All sales are final.

We're gonna cut the lock.
We're gonna open the door.

MAN:
You guys. 21...

Around the rear.
MAN (on TV):
...not open any boxes.

We are gonna sell this
to the highest cash bid.

Are you ready to go?
Let's go.

Half the local force is
here, and Max still gets in?

Lock down this
neighborhood.

Max is still here.

Have your men check every
square inch of this house.

Got it.
Where's Erica?

(phone vibrating)

ZANCANELLI:
Where are you?

Hey. Ray, sorry.
I-I just had to pee really bad.

I'm at the corner store.
All right, Max is here.

He killed Kurt.
He's on the move.

Max is here?

Why aren't the cops
doing anything about it?

They are. Why aren't you?

Ray, I got him.

Come on,
let's go.

(truck engine starting)

(engine revving,
tires squealing)

(grunts)

(tires squealing)

(engine revving,
tires squealing)

(engine revving)

(tires squealing,
engine revving)

(tires squeaking)

(Erica grunts)

(Erica sighs,
tires squeaking)

(horn honking)

(engine revving,
tires squealing, Erica gasps)

(tires squealing)

(gasping)

(engine hissing)

(tires squeak)

(coughing)

Not another step.
Get down.

Get down!
(Erica panting)

Are you okay?

You okay?
Yeah.

(siren blaring)

You got everything?
Yeah, everything
I could find.

That ain't nearly enough.

Jules, do you, um...
do you have an aspirin?

Uh, yeah, on my desk.

You okay? I heard things
got pretty hairy out there.

(sighs)
Yeah, I'm good.

So, you missed
some excitement here, too.

NYPD got a hold of Pete Gillies.

What happened?

One or two?

Two.

Nothing... yet.

His lawyer's bringing him in
tomorrow for questioning.

Good.

Well, guess
we'll get some answers.

Your... aspirin?

Yeah.

MAX:
What you want to do

is duct tape over
the keyhole.

Yeah? I want any shit out
of you, I'll squeeze your head.

How about that?

(spits)
Oh, come on!
Ooh! Jerk!

Jules, get me the spit mask.

We don't have any.

What? Why?

Because we've never
needed one before.

But I've got an idea.

(siren tooting)

(water dripping)

(sniffles)

(siren blaring)

(rhythmic dripping of water)

Mmm. Mmm!

Still warm.

Oh, that's got to
be killing you, man.

Homeboy's been here
for three minutes,

and he's already in
Julianne's drawers.

That cuts deep, Shea,
like a knife.

Thanks for the support.

You lost to a guy
whose daddy was so short,

he could have posed
for trophies.

(slams foot down)
Oh!

Wow. That got a rise
out of him. Do his mother.

Oh, his mama?
Yeah.

Oh, yeah, his mama was so fat...

How fat was she?

Her cereal bowl came
with a warning sign.

Mm-hmm.
"No lifeguard
on duty."

(laughing)

I don't...

(phone ringing)

JULIANNE:
US Marshals.

Hello? Hello?

Put it on speaker, Julianne.

(beep)

Damien?

DAMIEN:
Well, well, well.

Why are you ducking me, Doc?

Was it something I said?

It wasn't you... Damien.
It's, uh... it's me.

I know
that really sucks to hear,

but I needed a challenge.

You know? Needed
something shiny and new,

something to hold my interest.

Think I found it.
Might have heard of him.

Max Morris,
the, uh, escape aficionado.

DAMIEN:
The circus tool?

Now, now, with the names.
Come on.

Speaking of names,
remember Nina Paulson?

Little dame we two-wayed.

Well, I did all
the heavy lifting,

but you were
a commendable sous killer.

Man, was she hot.

Cute smile, taut little body.

And her feet-- the way
they wiggled in her last throes.

This investigation is ongoing,

and it's only a matter of time
before we find you.

"We?" You're not even
on the case.

I meant the royal we, okay?

We are through.

You are officially
in my rearview mirror, Damien.

I'm all about
Max Morris now, so...

Nina's death is on you.

Had you pressed harder
when you had the chance,

I wouldn't be out.

You know that,
and you want to right that.

So, put your coat back on
and come after me like a man,

because there's another girl
missing,

and she needs your help.

How did you know
I took my coat off?

Son of a bitch is watching us.

And he calls when he knows
we're in the office.

Oh!

He's got to be
on that rooftop.

All right, Jules, grab
a firearm, keep an eye on Max.

Got it.

Warm.

Son of a bitch was right here
watching us

right in our backyard.

Jules,

put an alert out.

Call everyone.
The son of a bitch is here.

I'm on it, Ray.

Oh, my God!
It's Ray's daughter's ID.

Yeah, Christina,
it's Ray.

Let me talk
to Theresa.

What do you mean,
she's late?

How late? Five minutes?
Five hours?

Because I want
to talk to her!

She's my daughter!
Where is she?!