All language subtitles for Trust (2018) 1x02 - Lone Star (English)

? Hey, rainmaker,
come away from that man ?

? You know he's gonna ?

? Take away your promised land ?

? Hey, good lady, he just... ?

The kid's run.
He's not coming back, girls.

No, he will. He's getting the money

from his grandfather.

Millions!

I don't need millions,

but I do need paying,

one way or another,

just like they do.

- Please!
- Ey, girls!

You make us wait?

Enough! Come on, girls.

A deal is a deal.

- Here they are.
- The cute one first!

- Look at that!
- Let go of me!

- Now, this is a party.
- Get off me! Get off me!

You stay there,

and you will be the next.

Fuck!

? From that man you know ?

? He's gonna take away
your promised land ?

? Hey, good lady ?

Synced & corrected by kinglouisxx
www.addic7ed.com

You look back, and some years
just shine bright in the memory.

The numbers just talk big.

1945.

Smiling Tommies, celebrating
the end of war.

Huge mushroom cloud, big as God,

over Hiroshima.

1963, Dallas.

JFK sprawled out in the back of a limo,

shot through the head.

1969, a personal favorite.

Buzz Aldrin slow-waltzing his
way across the gray old moon.

What a year for mankind.

But 1973?

What can you say about
that mousey-haired,

in-between girlfriend of a year?

Too old for the swinging '60s.
Too young for disco.

It was the year that America
finally admitted

that a billion dollars of
firepower could not beat back

a bunch of dollar-a-day commies.

The year a president said,

"I am not a crook,"

thereby adding crookery to his deceit.

The students rioted,

the workers went on strike...

and the pure-white cocaine
was cut with rat poison.

1973, year of our Lord.

The milk went sour...

...and a young kid disappeared.

? Prisencolinensinainciusol, all right ?

- Are you guys hungry?
- I'm starving.

Okay. I'm sure he's here.

- Senora!
- Senora Getty!

Mrs. Getty,
do you have any comment to make?

Who are all these people?

- Why are they here?
- Mrs. Getty?

Can we see the ransom note?

We've been camping.

What?

What did the kidnap note say?

Lang?

- Lang?
- Finally.

What's going on?

Don't ask me. Ask your son.

He's here? Where is he?

How should I know?

They're saying he's been
kidnapped, for Christ's sakes.

Don't I know it.
I had to unplug the phone.

But journalists'll say any old shit

- to get a story.
- Shit.

- He's on one of his benders again.
- No, he's not!

Yes, he is, Gail.

Jesus, any second now,
he's gonna walk in

with a massive hangover,
asking for money.

Wouldn't be the first time, would it?

Kids on benders don't send
fucking kidnap notes, Lang.

Oh...

- Hello?
- That I didn't know.

How was I supposed to know?

If I may be so bold, sir?

If the price of the paper
has gone up again,

I'm going to cancel my subscription.

No, sir.

Well?

It would appear, from the paper,

that your grandson has been kidnapped.

I am perfectly capable
of reading, Bullimore.

- Of course, sir.
- The butter is too hard.

Oh, come on, Gail... Gail, calm down.

I haven't even had breakfast.

Paul's been fucking kidnapped,

for Christ's sakes.

There's a ransom note.

A what?

What kind of ransom note? Jesus!

What does it, uh... what does it say?

It says he's been kidnapped,

and... Paul... they're
threatening to kill him.

Okay. Okay, this is, uh... this is bad.

This is bad.

How much? How much do they want?

Uh... no one knows. They didn't say.

Kidnappers who don't say what they want?

This fucking boy.
You are not gonna believe

what he has done, now.

- Paul? Are you still there?
- Yeah, no, uh...

I'm here. I'm here. I'm just,
uh... I'm just, I'm thinking.

Uh... okay.

Okay. Here's what we do.

What we do is, we just sit tight

and see what this is all about.
I mean, you know Paul.

He'll probably, uh, show up at
my doorstep in five minutes

all shame-faced and asking for a loan.

He will not!
He's been fucking kidnapped!

- You're saying we do nothing?
- She's hysterical...

I'm not saying do nothing, Gail!
I'm saying...

- I'm calling your father.
- No, no. No...

No, no, no, no, no. Don't do that.

- Do not call him.
- He'll know what to do.

Do... Fucking shit! Fuck...

What is going on, Paul?

She's gonna call him.

I cannot believe it. Fuck!

Shit!

Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!

Shit! Shit!

- Uh, what?
- ID please, sir.

Oh, come on. ID?
I am John Paul Getty II.

This place is mine,
effectively... eventually.

One moment, please, sir.

Oi! Hey!

Red E-Type Jag's just gone through.

You'd be well advised
not to do that again.

The gate man is authorized to shoot.

Exceptional times.

So you've heard?

It's a terrible business.

- It's terrible...
- Yes.

Grade-One listed.

We're going to have a devil of a time

with the Historic Buildings people.

I thought you would've been
in Rome by now.

He is your son.

- I...
- No, it's all right.

Under the circumstances,

I'll put a private jet at your disposal.
You can leave immediately.

You want a 747?

I can't.

- You can't?
- You know I can't.

Oh, of course.

Still wanted by the police.

And it's total nonsense.
There's no case to answer for.

I explained everything, but...

Still, th-there's no sense in having

two of your offspring whisked away,

location unknown in Italy, is there?

As so often happens,

we must find someone else
to sort out the mess.

A timely intervention of yours,

warning me of your son's

- drug addiction.
- Oh, well...

In my experience, and we know in yours,

funding a drug habit only
encourages further abuse.

Yes. Yes, exactly.

Though one suspects that
if you had you not shown me

that magazine, I would not have
withheld the money.

He would have repaid his debt

and he would not have been kidnapped.

Dum, dum, dum, dum.

Consequences.

What, this is my fault?

Meet Fletcher Chace,
my head of security.

My son. The boy's father.

Unable to travel to Italy
due to an outstanding

arrest warrant for possession
of drugs or manslaughter.

I forget which.

- Sir.
- Jesus Christ...

You didn't meet the young man,
did you, Chace?

No, I didn't, but I hear
he's a real nice kid.

He's troubled, in debt.
Wanted $6,000 from me.

Interesting. Did you give it to him?

In the end, no.

And so he left?

I asked him to leave.

- Who saw him last?
- I believe that was me, sir.

Did he say anything to you?

He merely mentioned
that he and his friends

owed money to the mafia, sir.

I'm sor... Th-The mafia?

And you merely mention this now?

Jesus Christ, Bullimore.

Well, I had hoped to mention it
to Mr. Getty at breakfast,

but there was a problem with the butter.

You for real? Is he for real?

Chace, do you have any idea
how much Getty Oil is worth?

Mm...

- half a billion?
- Quadruple that.

If he is involved with the mafia,

this could be a very bad
business indeed.

Take the next plane to Rome.
Find out what's going on.

Yes, sir.

? Jesu, joy ?

? Of man's ?

? Desiring ?

? Holy wisdom... ?

Your father's on line one.

Uh...

Hi, how are you?

Your nephew has been

kidnapped in Italy.

Little Paul? Jesus.

What... I thought he was
in England with you.

We are now all vulnerable.

What security measures
do you have currently?

- Uh, none.
- Well, then, you're a fool.

Get armed bodyguards for
yourself and for your family.

Take your children
out of school immediately.

This could bring us all down.

You understand?

The business, the family, everything.

- Yes, I suppose.
- Don't suppose.

Do it!

Ring Ronald, will you?

Is he going to fund this extra security?

Do I need to answer that, Ronald?

Hmm. In that case,
please thank my father

for waking me up
in the middle of the night

and tell him to stick
his security up his ass.

You're on speaker phone, Ronald.

But he's out of the room.

Would you like me to convey
your very best wishes

at this difficult time?

Yeah. Yeah, you do that, Robina.

Howdy.

Got a room booked under the name
of Fletcher Chace.

Certainly, sir.

Thank you, sir.

Uh-huh. Oh, hang on, there, son.

- Did I just give you a $10 bill?
- Yes, sir.

My mistake.

That's the problem
with these here greenbacks.

They all look the same.

Here's a 20.

Thank you, sir.

Welcome to Rome.

Grazie.

What's your name, son?

Uh, Livio, sir.

Hey, are you a member
of the mafia, Livio?

The mafia?

Me, sir? No, sir.

There is no mafia in Rome.

That right?

You know somebody who is?

Please, sir. I just work at the hotel.

You know somebody who knows somebody...

who... is?

Now we're getting somewhere.

Tell them Fletcher Chace is in town.

Getty's man. With dollars.

Enjoy your stay, Mr. Chacey.

_

"They will kill me unless you pay."

Inspector, did I miss the
search party on the streets?

They will kill him.

So it says.

And you doubt that?

I am happy to tell you
that most kidnappings

are resolved without violence.

- Most.
- Yes.

"All" would make me happy.

Where did this come from?

The boy's girlfriend brought it in.

And how'd she get it?

They seemed uncertain themselves.

They?

- Gemelli. Twins.
- Hmm?

Is this his handwriting?

Inspector, that's a whole heap

of I-don't-knows

for the grandson
of the world's wealthiest man.

Mr. Chace, in Italy, kidnapping
is seen as a personal matter.

In due course, a ransom
will be demanded.

And after a short period of negotiation,

the boy will be released.

The police get involved

and everything becomes
much more dangerous.

So... out here,

it's just a business deal with threats.

You know, the Red Brigade,

the mafia, the communists, strikes,

student violence...

these are busy time for the police.

Can I get a copy of this?

Yes. Uh, at the desk.

Uh, thank you very much
for your time, sir.

- You're welcome.
- I certainly appreciate it.

I sure hope you're right,
because if you're not,

a whirlwind of the Lord
will come forth in fury

and it shall fall grievously
upon the head of the wicked,

as we say back home.

We have Paolo.
We want a billion dollars.

Jesus.

Hello?

Mrs. Getty, have you got any comment

to make about the recent...

Howdy.

There might be some American
who may or may not have

had just seen a 16-year-old kid,
lot of red hair,

just sitting down on the Spanish Steps.

First name Paul.
Most likely, last name Getty.

Disconnect it.

For Christ's sakes, make it stop.

Thank you.

Not me.

They're all going.

What are they doing?

Mr. Getty, we
want, uh, six million dollars.

Hoax call.

We'll call you for drop-off...

Who the hell are you?

Fletcher Chace, sir.

Mr. Getty Sr. sent me.

Thank God.

- Is this an old picture?
- No, this summer.

He's young.

Yeah.

He wasn't living at home?

No. He, um, wanted his independence.

That is one word for it.

He's been kicked out of every school

he's ever been to.

Drinks, takes drugs,

- lives in a squat with God knows who.
- Lang.

Gail, the kid's totally out of control.

Paul's, he's been having, um,

a-a difficult time of late.

But he's a gentle, kind kid.

He's a bit of an idealist, you know?

Mmm.

You'll, uh, have to forgive me

for sounding like a policeman,

but can you tell me when it was
that you saw him last?

Oh, he went to England
a couple weeks ago.

Not since then.

Ah...

Okay. Um...

we're gonna have to trace his movements.

Is there someone who can watch
your other kids?

I'm a child minder now?

Please.

Your help would be
most appreciated, sir.

Kids. Out. Go.

Get your stuff.

Ma'am, I mean no offense,

but is there any chance
that he could he be involved?

Lang? No.

Doesn't seem to like your boy very much.

They didn't get on, for sure, but no.

- No way.
- What makes you so sure?

For one thing, he's not clever enough.

Okay.

I'll buy that.

That's... that's his Vespa.

Hello?

He was living here with both girls?

Yeah, most of the time.

Oh, and a boy, uh, Marcello.

Why?

Why what?

I wouldn't stable my horse in here.

Well, he liked it.

I mean, he was just doing his
own thing, living his own life.

You know kids these days.

Or maybe you don't.

You were okay with that?

No. No, I wasn't okay with it.

What was I supposed to do?

Lock him in his bedroom every night?

He's 16 years old, headstrong,

and his father doesn't give a damn.

He's in London,

hasn't even talked
to his own son in six months.

Now, I kept in touch
as best I could, but I...

Look, I should've done better.
I wish I-I had.

You don't need to tell me that.
You really don't. Um...

No judgment, ma'am.

Just want him back.

Hello?

Martine?

Have you found him?

- Have you?
- No.

Oh, Gail.

Well, come on in.

So, you found the kidnap note where?

MARTINE and JUTTA: We told you.
On the bed.

Hmm.

And when exactly did you find it?

Evening sometime.

8:00? 9:00?

This is not a good time for this.

- You can see that.
- A boy has been kidnapped.

That's never a good time.

Now, then, you said earlier
that you had been out.

- Is that right, Jutta?
- I'm Jutta.

Why are you asking us? What do we know?

All right. Look, well,

I'm just trying to establish

when the note was left here.

That way I can see if anybody
knows who left it.

If that helps to explain my thinking.

- No.
- Yes.

- Are these Paul's?
- Yes.

He likes to write a lot.

Has there been a ransom demand?

No.

Nothing at all.

Is it just me,

or is it Italy, but do y'all
find that kind of strange?

A kidnapping with no ransom? Hmm.

And where's Marcello?

Line it up and... now! Quick burst!

Shoot the hell out of them!

And up, up, up!

Oh, nicely done.

Definitely shot the library to buggery.

Back to base?

One more pass.

Please, Patrick, I want to take
out the ladies' corridor.

Bullimore!

Got any real ammo?

Hello?

Good morning, sir.
Welcome. Table for one?

Nice picture.
One of his better ones, I'd say.

These days they get monkeys
throwing paint at the walls

and they call that art.

Fletcher Chace.

- Table for one?
- Sure, why not?

Ah. Okay, please follow me.

So I'm guessing that, uh, you know Paul.

I'm sorry?

Paul Getty.
The guy who did that painting,

and that one, and that one,

and that one and that one.
Clearly a fan.

We're very busy, sir.
If you'll excuse me.

- Sure.
- Giovanni.

Giovanni!

I got all the time in the world.

We are closing now, sir.

There's an obvious design flaw here...

Mr. Bertolini, can I buy you a drink?

- Mm.
- Please. Allow me.

It's-It's free.

So, you and the young gentleman
were friends?

Uh, customer.

When he didn't have money,
I took a painting.

That's good of you.

You heard that he's
been kidnapped. Right?

- Huh?
- Yeah.

Gone to America, I say.

- I don't know.
- Or-or Morocco.

He was, uh, always talking
about it. Marrakesh.

He owed a lot of people
money around here.

- Hmm?
- He disappears.

Poof! Problem solved.

He owe you money?

You think I pay my waiters
with his paintings? Huh?

I tell you one thing, Mr. Texas.

If I saw him now,

I'd kidnap the little bastard.

How much did he owe you?

My business is my business.

No question.

I just thought that maybe...
I could help.

He owed me a lot more than that.

The kid liked his chow, huh?

He's not in Morocco.

Or America.

He's here.

Somewhere.

I figured I'd talk to the people
that run this place...

Rome.

And I heard,

I heard that one of them might be you.

Me?

Oh, sir, the people who run Rome
don't run restaurants.

Okay.

But the people who run Rome
got to eat someplace.

- Of course.
- To be clear,

I'm here to sort this out fast,

pay his debts, get him home, done.

No names, no police.

I have the means... in dollars.

I'm here till Monday.

It's been a pleasure
making your acquaintance, sir.

Uh, sir?

You have left your case.

So I have.

Madonna Benedetta.

Door's open.

Good afternoon, Mr. Chace.

Livio.

I was asked to give you this.

Somebody will meet you outside at 8:00.

It's on.

I recommend we have aircraft on standby.

Once that boy is released,

we're gonna need to get the whole family

out of Dodge, pronto.

We don't want the police
asking questions

and we don't need the mafiosis
changing their mind.

- Agreed.
- Thank you, sir.

Keep me informed.

Roger that. Over and out.

Get those cards up. All right.

Now, you look me dead in the eyes

and you tell me that my card's
higher than yours.

- Um...
- What is it?

You're so full of it, man.

You actually play cards with this man?

Look at him.

Hey, mister.

Nice bike.

- Come.
- Well, gents, that's me.

I'm gonna have to be on my way.

I'll catch up with y'all later.
Hey, kid, wait up!

Here.

Shoo.

Howdy.

Mr. Chace, benvenuto.

Benvenuto you, too.

He says in the circumstances,

Texas Hold'em is appropriate.

Mighty civil.

If he's ever in Texas,
we'll do gladiator combat.

Fletcher Chace.

No, I want to sit there.

- Wow.
- Hey, hey.

Paul's coming, too.

Mr. Chace says he's found him.

We'll be in England by morning

and we'll all be together again.

No way!

Oh, yes.

Stay awhile.

No, no, no.

I need to be there when he arrives.

Besides, Chace has put him
on a plane which gets in

sometime tonight.

And the old man is looking
at me with that way of his.

What way is that?

Like a lizard with second sight.

So he knows something.

Mm-mm.

You may mock,

but he can tell things just by looking.

He's extraordinary like that.

Terrifying.

If he's not on your side.

Which means we need to be very careful.

Alas.

Good-bye, darling.

Au revoir, mon amour.

Concerning your particular interests,

we've made inquiries
among our contacts in Rome.

Extensive inquiries.

Uh-huh.

We'd very much like to
do business with you, Mr. Chace,

but we regret

it's not possible.

I'm here to negotiate.

The briefcase is just what we
Americans call a loss leader.

It's a present.

As a favor to a respected visitor,

I can tell you
we asked all the companies

in this area of the market.

They also are all out of stock,
regretfully.

So please, be assured,

you will be the first to hear
if the situation changes.

But for now...

Okay.

So, you really don't have him.

Nobody has him.

Ms. Getty?

Uh...

Not today.

Let's get the kids off.

Are we in England?

No. No, Mark, we're not.

Where's Paul?

Come on. Come on.

Now that's a party.

Howdy, Marcello.

No.

You know, when I was in the CIA,

they taught us how to
kill a man with a pencil.

It just goes in the ear,

like that, through the eardrum,

and then "bam," right into the brain.

Lights out.

I've never tried it.

But I do not doubt the theory.

I've been looking for you, young man.

- I was in Positano.
- Doing what?

Nothing, just there for a few days.

Swimming, doing drawings
for the tourists on the beach.

- Paul there with you?
- No.

I was supposed to meet him
there, but he never showed.

Why?

I don't know, he just didn't come.

Straight up?

Yes. He just said to meet him.

I mean, I heard what's happened.

Is there any news?

So little news that I am becoming

awful agitated.

I have been up and down
the seven hills of Rome

looking for your friend.

It's just you and me now.

You know, that's the only sentence

in that Italian phrase book
that I can make out?

Son, look at me.

I'm slow to wrath.

As the Good Book says,

"anger resteth in the bosom of fools."

But I'm about clean out of patience.

So, I want you to take
this half of the pencil

and I want you to write down

everywhere that you
and your friend Paul went

in the last two weeks.

I need names, addresses, times,

sexual orientation, cup size, dick size.

I don't care if you pissed in a pot,

I want to know the name of the pot.

And I'm gonna just hang on to
this half of the pencil,

you know, just in case.

Get up. Walk with me.

Well...

I'll be damned.

I'll be damned.

Can I go now?

You read these?

They're Paul's. Why would I do that?

You ever seen this movie?

No.

This everything? Every place,

- every person?
- Yeah.

Giuro.

Go.

I don't know how we lost contact
with each other.

This boy. This is the Getty kid.
You haven't seen him?

- No, sir.
- Thank you very much.

- See him, see him?
- No, no, no.

Can you just look at it for a second?

- Just take one look.
- No, no.

This kid's got long red hair.

Have you seen this boy?

The Getty kid. Have you
seen this, this kid?

By any chance? His name's, uh, Getty.

Looks like this.

Thank you very much.

When's the last time you saw him?

- A few weeks ago.
- How many?

Uh, two weeks? Ten days?

A month? I need to know.

I'm gonna have a look around.

Scusi, Mister.

Are you looking for Paul?

How do you do?

I'm Fletcher Chace.

Nice to meet you.

- You know Paul?
- Yeah.

Where can we talk?

Thank you.

Your boy is creative.

Yeah, he has endless ideas, every day.

But they don't always...
turn into anything.

Some do.

Did you know he was...
he was writing a movie?

Look at that.

Um... what's your news?

You see this movie?

- No.
- Paul did.

I did.

It was slow,

but it did have
a fake kidnapping scene in it,

just like the one that Paul
was writing in his movie.

Chace, no.

That's the same bullshit
that everyone's talking about.

Yeah. I know, it's probably nothing.

- No.
- But then, there's...

...then, there's this.

That's a fresh round.

- What does that have to do with Paul?
- Probably nothing.

But I did dig it out of
the ceiling in their apartment.

Then there's the twins.

This was taken yesterday.

Look at that.

Go on, look at it.

There's a lack of concern there,
don't you think?

Under the circumstances.

I talked to our friends
at the police station.

Ransom notes go to the newspaper,

or a TV station,
or they go to the police direct.

They're never, ever just left on a bed.

It's not done.

It still doesn't prove anything.

You're absolutely right.

- It's probably nothing.
- No, it's not probably nothing,

it is nothing.

So Paul got obsessed with some movie.

That's what he does.

Fletcher, he wouldn't do this.

He just wouldn't do this. I know my son.

That's exactly what Paul did.

It couldn't be more clear.

"Since Thursday, I have been

in the hands of kidnappers."

Right there.

Thursday.

Two days later, he turns up
at the Treetops Nightclub.

He dances himself stupid,
he buys the waitress a drink,

and then he leaves, in a hurry.

Kidnapped Thursday,

in fear for his life Friday,
partying Saturday.

That's a very lax kidnapping
schedule, even for Italy.

That can't be right.

I talked to the waitress. She knows him.

Apparently, he had no shoes on.

- They made jokes about it.
- She's got the days wrong.

That's my first thought exactly.

But she only works on the weekends.

She's at university during the week.

She's a nice girl.

No.

He's broke, he's run up debts
with bad people.

This much we know...
he came to you for money.

No go.

He went to his grandfather in the UK.
Another no go.

Come back to Rome, he cooked up
this little scam.

He wouldn't do this.

He wouldn't do it. No...

Give me one good reason

that I'm wrong,

and I'll run with it, ma'am.

One reason.

Well, I'm fixing to head back now.

Ma'am, it has been a genuine pleasure

making your acquaintance.

God bless.

Chace?

What am I going to do?

Well, the good Lord
preaches forgiveness,

but... but what that boy's done
to his mama,

I'd whup his ass.

Chace thinks Paul's
done this whole thing himself.

Hallelujah.

You'll listen to Mr. Texas,
but when I say it, oh, no.

"Not Little Paul."

I can't...

He's wrong.

Paul wouldn't do this.

Blind spot.

Dark side of the moon, Gail.

He burns down a school, he takes drugs,

he's rioting, having sex
with girls, boys, God knows.

You think he wouldn't do this to you?

He's a Getty.

They do anything they want
to anybody they want

to get exactly what they want.

Better already.

What if...

Since when does he call, Gail? Huh?

Never.

Have a drink.

Relax.

How about I run you a bath, huh?

A hoax.

An inventive young man.

You could say that, sir.

Though a little theatrical for my taste.

And once an idea is out of the box,

once you let the lion out of the cage...

...I have three sons.

15 grandchildren,
six great-grandchildren.

That's enough to keep
a kidnapper in business

for the rest of time.

We need to put a stop to this.

I agree, sir.

Robina?

A press conference, I think.

Bath's ready, honey.

Gail?

I'm a specialist

in ancient manuscripts and books.

- Ooh.
- Well, my dad

is always trying to get me
into the family business,

but... I mean, it's only money,

isn't it?

Just...

ugly, meaningless money.

This is a BBC special news broadcast.

Oh.

And as if by magic.

...has been kidnapped in Rome, Italy.

Hey, hey, hey!

Listen up!

Welcome to Sutton Place.

I would like to send a message

to the persons,

or person,

responsible for the
disappearance of my grandson.

I have 14 other grandchildren

who would be put at risk

if I were to negotiate with kidnappers.

So for their sake,

I am making it clear now,

and for the record,
that I will not be paying

a single,

solitary cent.

And there it is.

Good evening.

"Not a single, solitary cent."

That man, there.

He's the meanest human being I ever met.

You've met him?

Just a bit.

Oh, my God.

You're Paul Getty.

The Second.

When you have everything
you could ever dream of,

what do you value?

Nothing.

S-So that boy there, that...

The boy who's been kidnapped.

He's the Third.

Because we all have to be named
after him, don't we?

Your son?

Yeah.

That's my son.

You want another?

You are the mother.

Gail Getty, yes.

I am working.

Oh.

I was going home on Saturday.

Late.

He was there, at the fountain.

Are you sure it was him?

Paul? My-my Paul?

Everyone knows the Golden Hippie.

What happened?

A car came...

Two men got out.

They talked to him.

I didn't see everything.

I am a statue.

There was a sack on his head.

They threw him in the back of the car.

He didn't want to go?

Do you want to go with people

who put a sack on your head?

Then what happened?

They drove away.

Away... where?

That way.

Will you...
will you tell the police this?

Please.

Please...

Here.

Please.

Please help me.

You wasted a bath full of hot water.

Lang.

Please leave.

- What?
- I should've thrown you out

a long time ago, and this never
would've happened.

Yeah, right, this is all my fault?

It's your fault that
Paul isn't living here at home.

With me. It's my fault
for letting you stay.

That, I can change.

- Please get out.
- This, right here.

This is what the little shit does,
and this is why he does it,

to get between you and me.

That "little shit" has been
hooded, shoved in a car.

Stolen, kidnapped.

If you're still here in five
minutes, I'm calling the police.

Gail, honey...

S�. S�.

To quote a certain John Paul Getty,

"The meek shall inherit the Earth.

But not the mineral rights."

Had it occurred to the old man

that maybe they didn't want them?

I mean,

you'd think that being rich
would be a breeze.

How much easier could life get,
to have what you want,

when you want it,
brought to you on a silver plate

by a butler?

Turns out, a rich life

is just as messed up as a poor life.

Just a different kind of messed up.

Kidnapped? Not kidnapped?

Alive? Dead? Whatever.

The mess was only getting started.

But you already knew that, right?

Synced & corrected by kinglouisxx
www.addic7ed.com