Original subtitles

Self-aggrandizing gasbag.

Uh, vainglorious bastard.

Camera whore.

Lemme guess.

This is Macy's response to our well-intentioned yet markedly inappropriate Hawaiian Shirt Day?

Oh, dear Jordan.

Garret's speech.

The Coroner's Convention.

Euw.

He's been obsessing about it for a week.

Do I smells me an office pool?

We just got word Doctor Macy is no longer the keynote speaker.

Not Hawthorne.

- Hawthorne. - Hawthorne.

- Sucks for Garret. - He is our nemesis.

And Macy's still losing sleep over that Sullivan thing.

Care to pony up twenty bucks on how Doctor M will refer

to our forensic representative when he learns he has to introduce the toff?

Anyone take vainglorious bastard?

This guy.

Damn, he loves that one.

What?

You've been bumped as the keynote.

Hawthorne?

- Hawthorne. - Hawthorne.

Makes perfect sense.

Just because he only lends his expertise to the defense of the obscenely rich

and clearly guilty doesn't make him any less an expert.

Shall we go?

Vainglorious bastard.

Yes!

For the last decade, he has brought our profession into the spotlight.

His ability to make complicated science accessible to the layman in the jury box

has earned him renown worldwide.

I, for one, am honored that he took the time out of his busy caseload to address us,

his humble colleagues.

Ladies and gentlemen,

Doctor Benjamin Hawthorne.

번역포럼 Turla

Thank you, Garret. I almost believe you meant that.

No hard feelings about the Sullivan thing, I hope.

Good.

Nice intro, boss.

Of course, it might have been more convincing if you weren't grinding your teeth the whole...

- Shut up, Nigel. - ...necessitatem.

William of Ockham wrote these words seven centuries ago.

His meaning was...

don't overcomplicate things.

Ockham's Razor...

the simplest answer is often the right one.

Unfortunately, we know too much.

With today's technology, we're capable of

detecting blood at a crime scene that was actually left decades earlier.

As such,

everything becomes evidence.

Technology has become our savior,

but it's also become our downfall.

Speaking of which, it seems our Boston hosts haven't upgraded to vibrate.

Well, I guess he wasn't over the Sullivan thing after all, huh?

Casandra Morgan's Penthouse

Hey, Doc.

You didn't have to get all dressed up.

What have we got?

Cassandra Morgan.

Her manicurist called us when she didn't show up for an appointment.

Apparently, a very big deal.

Now, I know that you are the expert here,

but I'm gonna take a wild guess at cause of death.

Did pretty well for herself.

Defense attorney.

Did you know her?

Not her.

Her husband.

Crossing Jordan 2x10. Ockham's Razor

질 헤네시(닥터 조던 캐버노 役)

미구엘 페러(게럿 메이시 소장 役)

켄 하워드(맥스 캐버노 役)

라비 카푸어 (닥터 마헤시'벅' 役)

캐서린 한(릴리 레보스키 役)

스티브 발렌타인(나이젤 타운센드 役)

로레인 투셍(닥터 일레인 두샴프 役)

ORIGINAL AIR DATE ON NBC: 2003/01/06

Yeah, I got it.

Where are your gloves, Officer?

In my pocket.

You know what a fine toothed comb is?

'Cause it's about to rake all over you like you wouldn't believe.

Easy, Doc.

Just 'cause you know this Hawthorne guy, doesn't mean...

That I know him has nothing to do with it.

That he's the country's foremost authority on forensics and the victim's husband does.

Every piece of evidence in this place is gonna be second guessed if he becomes a suspect.

Suspect? We haven't even talked to him yet.

This wasn't a burglary.

It's a crime of passion,

and ninety percent of the time, the killer is the husband or the boyfriend.

You're not gonna go all Jordan on me here, are you?

What does that even mean?

You're gonna keep an open mind, right?

Of course I'm gonna keep an open mind.

Garret,

did you come to apologize for walking out on my speech.

Can we have a moment, Doctor Hawthorne?

Let me guess.

I took your parking space, so you called the cops.

If we could talk in private.

Would you excuse us?

What's up?

Your wife is dead, Ben.

Thanks for telling me so sensitively.

Sir, I'm Detective Woody Hoyt.

Would you mind coming down to the station?

Of course I mind.

What do you think, I'm an idiot?

She's not just dead, is she? Cassie was murdered.

I assume you already know we were recently separated, acrimoniously.

Where were you last night?

You really love this, don't you, Garret?

The irony's just poetic.

I'm gonna ask you again. Where were you last night?

Nowhere.

It's nice meeting you, Detective. What was it?

- Hoyt. - Hoyt.

When you're ready to press charges, I'm in the Presidential Suite.

Nice guy.

Doctor C, Doctor C, there's a call for you.

Or at least I think it's for you.

You think?

Uh, they got your first name wrong, asked for Emily Cavanaugh.

I'm sorry?

Said they got the number here from your home machine.

They've been calling Cavanaughs for the past couple of months, I guess.

I told 'em we had a Jordan Cavanaugh and they asked to speak to you.

Oh, did I do something wrong?

No.

No, that's alright. Uh, I'll take the call.

It's Seventh and Commonwealth.

Got it.

Thank you.

So, who was it?

Uh, it was a photo shop that's going out of business.

They were cleaning out their inventory

and came across some film from so long ago they don't even have the date.

My mom's name was on it.

So why didn't they call her?

Oh, my mom's been dead for about twenty-three years.

Oh.

Wow.

That's kind of cool, though, you know.

It's like a time capsule or something.

Yeah.

Yeah, it's like a time capsule.

I ain't dead yet.

Geez, you scared the hell out of me.

Well, that's what you get for sneakin' up on people.

Who are you?

Uh, my name's Jordan Cavanaugh.

A woman called earlier about some film you'd found.

Oh, it must have been Jena.

She left already.

Cavanaugh, huh?

Yeah, it was under Emily Cavanaugh.

Oh, that one.

Found it in a box in the old vault.

August eighteen, nineteen hundred and sixty-three.

Looked like the film was sixteen millimeter.

Uh, was?

Somebody picked it up. It's not here anymore.

What do you mean?

What does it sound like I mean?

Uh, well, who was it?

How should I know?

You're gonna have to come in tomorrow when Jena's here.

Cassandra Morgan's Penthouse

'Evening, Doctor M.

Boys.

What are you doin' in there?

- Thinking. - About what?

About the killer.

- You mean Hawthorne. - I mean the killer.

- Who you surmise is Hawthorne. - It's not my job to surmise.

But it sure would be nice to jam him after what he pulled on that Sullivan thing.

The man blasted me in front of a hundred people a few hours ago,

and it's well-known I'm not his biggest fan.

But I don't want anyone saying my objectivity was compromised by a desire for revenge.

We do this by the book.

Why is it so dark in here?

It's easier to focus on the specifics.

Take one piece of the room at a time.

Yeah. You're trying to get inside his head, aren't you?

Like um, "Silence Of The Lambs."

Okay, here's what we do.

Each item a man might touch in this apartment gets printed.

Now, Hawthorne said he and his wife were estranged.

He never lived here, so there shouldn't be a trace of him.

Think outside the box.

Look maybe they made a mistake.

It's not like we're the only Cavanaughs in Boston, you know.

It wasn't a mistake, Dad.

They tracked me down.

Well, I don't know what to tell you, Jordan.

Well, the guy said the film was from nineteen sixty-three.

Well, your mother and I had a house on Broad Street in 'sixty-three.

Probably home movies.

Yeah, that's right, it was sixteen millimeter film.

We used to have that projector, remember, in the upstairs closet.

I think I got rid of it.

I don't understand why someone would pick this film up.

What do they want with it?

Oh, I'm sure there's a simple explanation.

You don't find this the least bit strange?

I mean, just uh, a touch bizarre that this is happening?

Yeah, I think it's strange,

but I'm not gonna lose any sleep over it, and neither should you.

We both know what happens when you get lost in this stuff.

- This stuff? - You know what I mean.

- No, I do not. - Aw, come on, Jordan.

Just...

let it go.

It's home movies. I'm sure it's no big thing.

Okay, maybe you're right.

I am?

Yeah.

I'm obsessing.

It's not good for me.

I will just forget about it.

Good.

Well?

You're not gonna like this. Trace Evidence

Nothing?

You couldn't find anything to put him at the crime scene?

That's not exactly the problem.

"Soup spoon, videotape, newspaper, bedroom doorknob."

There are eighty items here.

And Hawthorne's prints are on all of them.

He touched everything.

Uh, including the murder weapon.

What about blood?

The sample I took from the kitchen sink...

I assumed you were being literal... doesn't match Cassie Morgan's,

but we can't be sure it's Hawthorne's unless he gives us a sample to match it to.

I mean, for somebody who knows how to commit the perfect murder, he was a tad sloppy.

'Evening, Doctor Macy.

I think I might be in some trouble, Garret.

I think you might be, Ben.

I want to apologize for my behavior earlier.

I had no business mentioning Sullivan.

I'm over the Sullivan thing.

So I guess I should explain.

Listen,

obviously, I'm not a police officer,

but you should probably know that anything you tell me can be used against you.

Please, you're giving me Miranda?

Don't forget who you're talking to!

Don't forget who you're talking to.

And who's that?!

The guy who just found your prints on the knife sticking out of your dead wife's chest.

You want to tell me how they got there?

Because I used that knife.

I was at Cassie's Saturday night.

She invited me over for dinner, to reconcile.

Didn't exactly turn out that way, we had a fight,

but I didn't touch her.

Saturday?

Yes.

Rigor puts her TOD at eleven p.m. last night, Sunday.

And I left a forensic treasure trove there Saturday.

But so what, right?

I mean, the cops can't tell the difference between a print left yesterday

and a print left today.

I know, I know, it looks bad.

Mm-hm.

I know.

But I didn't do this, Garret.

And you're the only one who can prove it.

Hi.

May I help you?

Yeah, I believe we spoke on the phone earlier

about some film you found under the name of Emily Cavanaugh.

That's been picked up already.

Yeah, I know, uh, but I was just wondering if you could tell me who picked it up?

Uh, I don't remember.

Actually, uh, I think you do.

Look, the guy gave me twenty bucks not to say anything.

I'll give you forty.

I feel really uncomfortable keeping secrets, you know?

So what'd he look like?

He was a big guy.

Oh, eh, big big?

Yeah, like six-five or six-six, maybe.

About sixty, blondish gray hair?

Yeah, that's right. You know him?

Yeah, I know him.

Bye.

You want to tell me what I'm about to walk into, Doc? Boston P.D.

'Cause I'm smellin' the curry on this one.

- Smelling the curry? - It's a Wisconsin thing.

- You wouldn't understand. - Try me.

It's how you trap a badger.

You lay out flower and curry like bait.

Ah.

I told you you wouldn't understand.

Smelling the curry.

Yesterday, Hawthorne tells us to take a flying leap in the harbor.

Today, he comes in willingly for questioning without an attorney.

Why?

Because I need to build up some good will.

And why is that, Doctor Hawthorne?

You serious?

I'm serious.

I'm not exactly a fan of law enforcement.

And why is that, Doctor Hawthorne?

Because my testimony generally illuminates the incompetence of the police.

You think we're out to get you.

I do.

Alright, so...

you say you were there Saturday night, but you were not there Sunday night.

That's right.

Where were you Sunday night?

In my hotel suite, preparing my speech.

Can anyone verify that?

No.

Ooh, you have a cut on your hand.

Yeah, I broke a vase.

A vase?

A vase.

How about those scratches on your arm?

How'd you get those?

I don't remember.

Alright, let me get this straight.

Your wife recently left you,

neighbors said the two of you had a huge fight

the night before she was stabbed to death,

your fingerprints are all over the murder weapon,

and we're out to get you.

I was framed.

Okay, by who?

Cassie.

Of course.

Framed by your dead wife.

How could I have missed that?

I know where she got the idea.

Cassie defended a man accused of stabbing his wife to death.

Her defense was the wife was despondent, suicidal.

She stabbed herself, framing him as her final act.

Wow.

That is one crazy story.

Did the jury buy that?

Of course.

That's too bad.

Why is that?

Juries need reasonable doubt.

I don't.

Take a blood sample for yourself and one for my boys.

And check the scratches on his arms, see if they match the wife's nails.

You don't believe him?

No, I don't.

Dad?

Jordan, I've gone to finish this.

It's burnt.

No, really?

Now, it's celluloid, Jordan.

It's emulsion, chemicals.

It's completely ruined. Look...

I can't do anything with this.

All I need is a few frames just to see what's on it.

A few frames would be generous.

I will take whatever I can get.

Alright, but I'm not making any promises.

Ah, thanks, Nige.

This for a case you're working on?

Yeah, sort of.

You'd tell me if this was something I should be...

concerned about, right?

No.

Well, at least I know where I stand.

Doctor Macy,

I, uh, ran those tests you asked for on Hawthorne.

And?

Good news or bad news first?

You pick.

Mmm. I guess it depends.

If you want Hawthorne to be guilty... and who doesn't, the conceited prig...

then uh, good news for him is, in fact, bad news for you, so...

Bug, does Hawthorne's blood match the blood we found in the wife's sink?

Yeah.

Son of a bitch almost had me believing it.

Uh, not so fast.

I tested the swabs you took from the scratches on his forearm.

Yeah?

I found fingernail fragments, but they don't match his wife.

But the scabbing on the wound tells us it happened the night of the murder.

Seems our dog was scratched by another kitty cat.

The Heckman/Lauer Orifice Probe has been... Annual Coroner's Convention Heckman/Lauer Seminar

the industry standard for evaluating decedent temperature... consequently,

time of death... for the last thirty years.

My niece knows that.

However, times... slide... they are a-changin'.

Let's take a look.

What was your blood doing in Cassie's sink?

Surprised to see you back down here.

Thought you were trying to nail me to the cross.

I asked you a question.

The blood came from my hand.

I cut it on a vase that Cassie threw at me.

This fight the neighbors overheard, it was physical then?

I'd consider having a vase thrown at your head physical.

So it was Cassie who scratched your arm?

Yup.

Screw you.

You ask for my help and I give it to you.

I don't like you and I give it to you anyway, and you have the stones to lie to me?

Hope you fry.

The Sullivan thing was your fault.

What?

You nailed him on the bite marks, but you never considered he might be wearing dentures.

I get paid to point out forensic mistakes.

You don't like it, don't make 'em.

I think you're second rate, bush league.

The fact that I have to put my fate in your hands is some kind of karmic joke.

Is this supposed to get me to stay?

You wanted the truth, that's the truth.

Who scratched you?

Her name's Paula.

If she was with you the night of the murder, why doesn't she come forward?

There was an airtight pre-nup.

Cassie drew it up herself.

I cheat, she gets everything.

Paula vouches for me, my money goes to Cassie's estate.

So you'd rather sit on your alibi than lose all your money?

I didn't do this.

The evidence will prove it.

That's your problem.

You always try to understand the story, the why.

Don't listen to the story, listen to the evidence.

Sometimes a bite mark is just a bite mark.

Trace Evidence

Hey, what do you have for me?

Well, I salvaged sixty-four frames of film.

Mmm, it's about three seconds worth, but I put it on a continuous loop.

Appears to be of a woman standing in a kitchen.

I ran it through this film scanner, bleached it all out, now

I'm putting the colors back using a basic three-strip technique.

It's like the old Technicolor process.

That's my mother.

Your mother?

That must be in their kitchen on Broad Street.

Where?

Broad Street. We lived there 'til I was two.

The whole block's abandoned now.

When they routed the "T" under the street, the city closed the street down.

It's like a ghost town now.

God, she looks so young.

Let me just add some cyan to the image.

Wait a minute. What's that?

What?

In her arms there.

There.

Give me twenty times magnification on her.

Oh, you were a cute little thing, weren'tcha?

You said this was nineteen sixty-three.

That's six years before you were born.

So if that's your mum...

Then who's the baby?

- Woody. - Agh!

I think it's time to cut back on the java.

I think it's time to stop sneaking up on people like that.

So I heard you got a warrant to search Hawthorne's penthouse.

Sure did.

Well, why didn't you tell me about it?

Our search of the suspect's premises had nothing to do with your office.

Now, if we had found a body, you'd be the first guy I call.

You got that warrant because my people matched the blood samples.

Which is your job.

Look, Doctor Macy,

you know this guy.

That's a conflict of interest.

This is a big case for me, okay?

Now, my superiors have put a lot of trust in...

Your superi...?

Will you listen to yourself?

Why do you think you caught this case?

High profile defense attorney is brutally murdered.

Who do they call in?

You?

Think about it.

You're young, inexperienced and willing to follow orders,

but the minute this thing goes south, you better watch your back, Detective.

They're leading you down the wrong road.

You are so focused on Hawthorne, you can't see the forest for the trees.

You can't see the forest for the forest.

Excuse me?

You think this guy is innocent.

You're actually buying his rap.

I'm weighing the evidence, that's what I'm doing.

Alright.

Alright.

We found this crumpled up in the back of Hawthorne's closet.

It's a sock. It had dried blood on it.

It matched his wife's.

Who ran that test?

You can't be sure of anything in this case.

We ran it and we can be sure.

Now, his story is that his blood got in her place 'cause he cut his hand.

Fine.

But how did her blood get on his sock?

Alright, looks like Max made three phone calls last night.

First one was to the Pogue.

Probably to tell 'em he wasn't coming in for work.

Right, and this next one here is to directory assistance, four-one-one.

Okay, and the last one?

Uh, forty seconds later.

A local number, prefix eight-seven-seven.

That is out in Framingham.

Alright, it's registered to a Samuel and Doris Horton.

Three sixteen Millbury Avenue.

Ring a bell?

Horton? No, no.

Well, whoever they are, he spent forty-one minutes on the phone with them,

starting at nine forty-three last night.

Okay. Run the names through Lexis/Nexis, see what you come up with.

Okay.

"January sixteenth, nineteen sixty-two.

The body of eight-month-old James Horton was found dead this morning

in a rural area six miles north of Marblehead."

"The child was kidnapped from his parents' Beacon Hill apartment three months ago.

Samuel Horton and his wife Doris could not be reached for comment." Tragic End In Horton Kidnapping

Jordan,

take a look at this.

"After an anonymous tip as to the boy's whereabouts,

the body was discovered by rookie officer Max...

Cavanaugh."

Where is it, Doc?

Hello, Woody.

Where is it?

You talking about this?

Do you know how burned I'm gonna get

if anyone finds out I broke the chain of custody.

Chain of custody?

You have no idea how much I'd love to see Hawthorne go down,

but there's no way I could do it.

Do what?

I tested the sock, Woody.

I found EDTA.

Now, EDTA is not found in the human body.

It's a blood preservative used by labs, forensic labs.

That came out of a vial.

You should know something.

I was at Hawthorne's suite when we found this sock.

I was the one who put it in the bag.

I was the one who walked it to the lab,

and I was the one who watched

when they matched it to his wife.

It never left my sight.

Someone planted it.

Forget someone. There is no... someone.

Now, I want you... to look me in the eye

and tell me... I planted evidence.

Ockham's Razor.

Wh... what?

Son of a bitch played me.

He did it in Boston because he knew I'd get the call.

He chose me because he knew I hated him,

that I'd go out of my way to believe him because I hated him.

That I couldn't accept an expert would be so sloppy

and that I'd get lost in all the evidence.

All the damn evidence!

Ockham's Razor.

The right answer is the simplest answer.

Wife gets killed, husband has motive, means and opportunity.

Husband killed wife.

She didn't frame him.

He framed himself.

Yes?

My name's Jordan Cavanaugh.

Do I know you?

No, but you know my father.

You spoke to him last night.

Is everything alright, dear?

I think this woman has mistaken me for someone else.

I know about your son,

James.

We need to talk.

You're gonna have to leave right now.

I'm not leaving until I find out where my father is.

He called you.

Why?

Your son James was kidnapped in 1962 when he was eight months old.

You paid a 500,000 dollar ransom

and three months later his body was found.

The next year, you quit your job and you moved here.

And then somehow you had another child.

A boy.

You called that child James.

I think this is him.

You have made some kind of mistake.

I am not leaving until you tell me what you know.

Now, how did my father get that baby?

Whose was it?

Please.

We don't know anything.

He had no birth certificate, no record of being yours.

I want to know how the hell that could happen.

Tell me!

Tell me.

She deserves to know.

But we're all gonna need a drink first.

Your father was a young beat cop assigned to the case.

We spent a lot of time with him those three months.

And then he stayed in contact with us after James was...

He called every few days to see how we were doing.

It was January...

almost a year after the kidnapping.

Your father came to see us one night.

He had the baby with him,

a precious little boy.

Like a miracle.

He told us he didn't know what to do,

that he didn't know how he could... care for him without his wife.

He said she wasn't well,

she wasn't capable of being the child's mother.

It was just for a few days, he said.

Just until everything was alright.

But he never came back.

And we didn't go looking for him, either.

I had a brother.

My dad called you last night.

Why now?

He wanted to know where James was.

What'd you tell him?

We haven't seen James for twenty-three years.

He ran away from home when he was sixteen.

James had problems.

What kind of problems?

He was disturbed.

He was violent, cruel.

One night, he found my diary and he discovered we weren't his parents.

He also found your father's name.

He was very angry.

The night he left, he threatened to kill us both.

Twenty-three years ago.

September seventeenth, nineteen seventy-nine.

The last time we saw him.

September seventeenth?

That was the day before my mother was murdered.

That's quite the dramatic entrance.

Can you pull a twenty-three-year-old print off this?

Depends.

On what?

On how many people have touched it since then.

Two, including me, except I was wearing gloves.

Well, then theoretically, yes.

Why?

Fine.

What is it?

What's it look like?

Some kind of trophy.

Baseball, to be exact.

Where'd you get it?

I stole it from a sixteen-year-old's bedroom.

I hear that's actually frowned upon in some countries.

Spare me the commentary, Nige, and just do it.

Yes, ma'am.

Alright, that's everything we took out.

Now it's just like we found it.

Cassandra Morgan's Penthouse

I feel a little strange not doing this with Jordan, Cassandra Morgan's Penthouse

almost like I'm cheating on her.

I'm sure she'd be honored. Let's talk through it.

Okay, Saturday night. Cassie invites Hawthorne over.

She says she knows everything about the other woman,

that she's gonna sue him for everything he's worth.

They argue. She throws a vase.

He cuts his hand.

Neighbors hear everything.

He wants to kill her, but he doesn't.

Instead, he figures that if he comes back the next night,

there's an explanation for all the evidence.

He can touch whatever he wants on Sunday.

We'd never know the difference.

So...

the only way we could nail him is to prove that he came back on Sunday.

You still have the list of everything we lifted his prints from?

You think something was here on Sunday that was not here on Saturday?

I don't know. Read it off.

In the bathroom, he touched the faucet, hot.

Hand soap, medicine chest.

You check the prescription meds?

Newest one is three weeks old.

Moving on.

"Spoon,

wine glass,

steak knife,

Chinese food carton."

Stop.

When did she order the food?

Swing and a miss.

- Friday. - Alright, go on.

"Placemat, rented videotape."

I already checked. She took it out last Tuesday.

"Chair, tabletop, newspaper, corkscrew, fruit basket."

Newspaper.

Sunday edition.

Boo-yah.

Boston PD Interrogation

So what?

Excuse me?

You have my prints on Sunday's paper.

So what?

You killed her, Ben.

You killed her and you made me a part of it.

Is this where I'm supposed to confess to everything?

Applaud you on a job well done?

You can make this easy on yourself.

The D.A.'ll cut you a deal.

A deal.

Because you have one piece of evidence?

I think I'll roll the dice and let the jury decide.

And we all know how juries feel about me.

Okay, so we do it the hard way.

But let me make you a promise.

This isn't gonna be a Sullivan thing.

You can pull out all the smoke and mirrors you want,

but at the end of the day, I got you.

And you know I got you.

I listened to the evidence, and guess what?

Sometimes a fingerprint is just a fingerprint.

I'll see you in court, Doctor Hawthorne.

What is that?

A phantom print.

As in the phantom print?

As in the only print found at your mother's crime scene?

As in the print that belongs to no one?

Every print belongs to someone.

Now, please just pull it up and run a comparison.

MATCH

What is going on?

He killed her.

What?

I've been looking for this for twenty-three years.

The print doesn't exist because my father buried the birth certificate.

Wait a minute. What are you talking about?

Dad figured out where he is.

Who?

Dad's probably in trouble.

Now, Jordan, where are you going?

To pick up his trail.

Hello.

Hello, who is this?

Well, hello...

Sis.

James.

Max said you would figure it out.

Where is he?

Here, with me.

We're catching up.

Here at home, at the old house on Broad Street.

Nothing much has changed, really.

Is he alright?

Well, why don't you come down and see for yourself?

I think it's time we had a little... family reunion.

1947 Broad Street

- Dad! - Don't move, Jordan.

Stay where you are.

And turn off the flashlight.

I said turn off the flashlight.

Are you alright?

I've felt better.

I didn't ask for this.

And what do you want from us?

What do I want?

I was happy where I was.

I moved on, but he couldn't leave it alone.

This is his fault!

No, you killed her.

Fine, if that's what you need to believe.

But she was my mother, too.

You stole my life, Jordan.

You got everything I didn't.

I got a mother who was murdered when I was ten years old!

And I got two people who wanted me to be their dead son!

Leave her alone, James.

She didn't know anything about you.

Don't you think it's time you told her?

Hmm?

I think she would find it very educational.

Go ahead, tell her.

Tell her how you gave me away.

I did what I had to do.

Doesn't exactly instill confidence in a young lad, now does it?

I thought I was doing the right thing.

By abandoning me.

She wouldn't have been a good mother to you.

She couldn't cope.

Well, I guess we'll never know that now, will we?

What do you want to hear, James?

That we'll take you back into the fold, no questions asked?

We can be one big happy family.

Just forget about the past, put it behind us.

Is that what you want from us?

Seems to me, you're avoiding the big question here.

What question is that?

Oh, I think you know.

I think it's floatin' around in that pretty little head of yours.

Why couldn't Mom cope with him?

Why did Dad give him away

and not me?

I think Max asked himself the same question.

I was trying to protect you.

You don't know how sick she was.

Protect me? You think that lying to every person in my...

She had you in the bathtub under the water.

I pulled you out of her hands myself.

No, that's not why.

You told 'em he would come back for me,

but you didn't.

I did!

I did.

You know how many times I stood outside that house,

watched you with them in the park?

But it was too late...

to take you back.

It would have been a bigger mistake than giving you up.

That is not why.

What the hell do you...

Shut up, Jordan!

That is not why, and you know it.

Mom told me things the night I came to visit her.

Told me everything.

She was in a mood to get things off her chest.

So go ahead, tell us.

Tell us why!

Hey!

Okay,

if you're too much of a coward to tell her,

I'll tell her myself.

I'll tell you why he gave me away.

Because he...

isn't my father.

Oh, you knew.

You just weren't man enough to face it.

But you felt it.

You knew that morning when they brought me home from the hospital

and you looked in my eyes.

You knew when you held me,

didn't you?

And you knew the night you gave me away.

You're pathetic, the two of you.

Searching for an answer...

that isn't there.

Turn around, Jordan.

Do what he says.

So what do you do now, James?

Kill us both?

Jordan!

Jordan, let him go!

Please,

let him go.

We stop this... now.

- What? - All of it.

You understand?

It ends here.

Now.

We never speak of it again.

Promise me.

Jordan.

Okay.

Promise me.

Okay.

Okay, it's okay, Dad.

It's okay.

번역포럼 Turla