All language subtitles for Vigilados, Person of Interest - 3x10 - Esa parte del diablo

I read that it works this way.

That the therapist waits until
the silence becomes so unbearable

that the patient
is forced to speak.

It can work any way
you want, Mr. Wren.

Is there something particular
you'd like to talk about?

- Grief. I'd like to talk about grief.
- Of course.

I want to know how it works,
if it has a purpose.

That's a big question.

It might be best if we talk about
your specific circumstances.

Have you lost someone?

My closest friend. There was
an accident. I was with him.

I'm very sorry, Mr. Wren.

Do you have someone
to comfort you during this time?

I was in a relationship,
but that's over now.

The emotional fallout
from these types of traumas

can be extensive.

Which brings us
to your question, grief.

Whether it has a purpose.

An evolutionary purpose.

I mean, I find myself reevaluating
choices that I've made.

Things that I should have
done differently or better.

As if in losing everything,
I finally understand.

But then it occurs to me that...

It occurs to you that
this feeling might be temporary.

There's a false sense of lucidity
that often accompanies grieving.

I've been thinking
about doing something radical...

...as a tribute to his memory.

I would caution
against that, Mr. Wren.

I see this so often.

I've been working with the survivors

of the ferry bombing
earlier this year.

Their trauma is similar to yours.

More extreme, of course.

Many of them experience a sense
of responsibility for what happened.

Survivor's guilt, I'm familiar.

Well, then you're also familiar
with what I'm about to say next.

That you think your friend's death
was your fault.

Otherwise, you'd have to face
a very painful truth.

- Which is what?
- That you are not God.

You don't control who lives or dies.

That powerlessness also means

that your friend's death
is not your fault.

I assure you, Mr. Wren...

...in time,
the guilt you feel will pass.

Let me ask you a question then.

Does survivor's guilt pass

when everything that has happened
actually is, in fact, your fault?

You look tired, Harold.

Please talk to me.

I have nothing to say, Ms. Groves.

I offered before.

Let me help you.

It's a little too late for that,
don't you think?

Not for John.

He's in trouble. I can tell
by the look on your face.

And I don't want to sound
unsympathetic, Harold,

but we have
much bigger problems at hand.

Whatever your machine
was trying to prepare me for...

...it's coming.

- Yes, Detective?
- We got a big problem.

Break it down into a 50-footer.
You can roll it up.

You heard him, Eddie?

I heard the call on the radio.

Someone t-boned him then interrogated
him while their car burned.

Guys in the front might make it.

Guy in the back might make
a good bag of charcoal.

Witnesses put our pal,

the psychopathic vigilante,
at the scene.

Which one?

You mean both your stray dogs
are off the leash?

This was the handiwork
of tall, dark, and deranged.

And I shudder to think
what the other one's up to.

I have reason to believe
that one or both of them

are looking to track down
and kill Simmons.

We all want Simmons.

Piece of crap killed my partner,
then went after my kid.

But the scorched earth campaign
is only going to make

Simmons harder to find,
not easier.

Who were they?

Dirtbags of the highest order.

Run drugs, underage hookers.

And a lot of paper.

- Paper?
- Yeah, counterfeit bills.

IDs, passports,
for a forger named Yorke.

We'd better find Mr. Yorke then.

Hey, get me down.

Come on.

Take me down, you bitch!
I told you everything I know.

And somehow,
I just don't believe you.

Hey! Hey, hey.
Hey, guys, call the cops!

You want to take a crack at him?
My gun hand's cramping.

Guy's not looking so good.

- Did you break his legs?
- Nope. Reese did.

Got to him before I did.

Dropped him off the roof
of the building.

I found his sorry ass
in the parking lot yelling for help.

Still got his arms, though.

Did you see Reese?

Gone by the time I got here.

- We have to stop him.
- Why?

One less dirty cop-killing cop
sounds good to me.

Setting aside your somewhat
binary moral compass, Ms. Shaw,

you should know that Mr. Reese's
injuries are life-threatening.

All right, Harold.

We'll play it your way.

But if Reese
doesn't want to be found,

our only way of tracking him
is by finding Simmons ourselves.

Guy give you anything?

Speak up!

The only one who knows Simmons'
exit strategy is his boss, Quinn.

And if you're looking for him,
get in line.

Everybody wants him dead.

Can I go to the hospital now, please?

You got an inside track to the feds?

We got to get to Quinn
before Reese does.

Are you kidding?
Quinn ran a bunch of corrupt cops.

Feds aren't talking to me.

I know one man who will know
Quinn's location.

After his arrest,
Quinn retained Jimmy Ransone,

high-dollar criminal defense attorney
with a questionable reputation.

And even suspects in protection
are allowed to see their lawyer.

Wait a minute, come on, guys!
Get me down!

Aw, come on,
get me the hell out of here!

I'd say our boy's come and gone.

Finch?

We got a problem.

You couldn't find Mr. Ransone?

We found what's left of him.

Someone used him as an ashtray before
putting a bullet in his head.

Reese has really gone
off the reservation this time.

No.
Reese doesn't even smoke.

He would have just used a lighter.

This is theatrical.
Amateur hour.

Well, at least we know
he's still alive.

How badly is he injured, Ms. Shaw?

He doesn't look so good.
We don't have much time.

Reese leaves,
and five minutes later,

these jokers show up.

Russians.

It figures.

Quinn turned state evidence
against them.

So now both Mr. Reese
and the Russians

know where to find Alonzo Quinn,
and we still don't.

Ransone is the only one that
can tell us where Reese is going.

Not the only one.

Who?

Harold knows who I'm talking about.

We're out of options.

We need Root.

We need to discuss the Loftin case.

Caucasian male, 83,
presented with acute pneumonia.

I know the case, Dr. Shaw.

I also know about your interaction
with the Loftin family.

You walked into the waiting room
eating an energy bar

and proceeded to tell the Loftin
family that their father was dead.

Because he was.

And, presumably, you were hungry.

You managed to revive
Mr. Loftin four times.

You went to truly heroic
measures to save their father,

and yet, all the Loftin family
will remember

is the doctor who gave them
the worst possible news

while she was eating a candy bar.

Let me ask you this.

Do you care if your patients
live or die?

Of course.

But does it hurt you?

I've been watching you
for some time,

and it doesn't seem to bother you.

This place is filled

with doctors who don't care
if their patients live or die.

No, this place is filled with doctors
who pretend they don't care.

But you're different.
Aren't you?

Your attendings all say
the same thing about you,

technically brilliant.

Remarkably calm.

They can't spot what you really are.

And what's that?

You know the DSM backwards
and forwards, Doctor.

You probably diagnosed
yourself in your first year.

A diagnosis which meant that you

never should have been
accepted into this program.

I watch the others.
I watch the fear creep into them.

I watch them make mistakes,

and you think these feelings
that I'm lacking make them better?

You'd really rather have one of them
working on you instead of me?

Yes.
Because if...

If the only thing motivating you
is technical mastery,

when one of your patients
needs you the most,

then this job just
might start to bore you.

That's the difference
between fixing and healing.

You have a brilliant mind, Sameen.

And you're very gifted.

But you'll never be a doctor.

Time's up, Harold.

This is not something
we should go about lightly.

It's the only way.

There will be larger consequences
if we make this decision.

We need to be ready for that.

John isn't going to make it
if he winds up in a crossfire

between a bunch of feds and organized
criminals in his current state.

I know this is
our only option, Ms. Shaw.

I just want to make sure we're
prepared for what may happen.

'Um in.

Are you?

I'm guessing that isn't for me.

If you told me about
the carpooling arrangements,

I would have driven separately.

Ms. Groves is here
to help us locate Alonzo Quinn.

We're close.
Turn off the headlights.

How am I supposed to see?

You don't need to.

Steady for another 800 feet.

Adjust left when you feel it.

Feel what?

Harold, grab the first aid kit

when we get
out of the car, will you?

Pull over to the right.

Tell me why we're listening to the
crazy chick who kidnapped Glasses.

In your right pocket,
you have 85 cents.

The change from
your morning coffee run.

In your apartment,
there's an old photo of your father

at the Franklin Park Zoo
taken when he was a child.

He's feeding a lion cub.

Do you know
what that cub's name was?

Lionel.

That's where your name came from.

I promise I'm here to help.

Just when I think life with you people
couldn't get any weirder,

one of you takes it
to the next level.

Where are we, Ms. Groves?

May I have a gun now?

What's with you
and your poor listening skills?

No way.

Then you better turn around.

Unh!

Follow me.

And bring him with you.

You just shot a federal marshal.

Just between us,
not my first time.

Wait for the light at 12:00.

Is that...

Alonzo Quinn.

The building has two main exits,
two emergency exits.

Twelve US Marshals guard the building,
plus our friend over there

who was scouting the perimeter
that we're now inside.

Air support is ten minutes out.

While the Russians aren't here yet,
they will be soon.

You sure the big guy's here?

What the hell was that?
Move in! Get CRT on standby.

Pretty sure.

Your test scores are good,
but I have my doubts about you.

You look soft to me.

Sir, no.
No, sir.

See, that's what I'm talking about.
Stop with the "Sirs." You're green.

From the soles of your feet
to the top of your pointy head.

I'm sorry.

Were you expecting me
to ask about your feelings?

'Cause you're about to join men
living out on the ragged edge

where extreme actions are required

to stop extremely bad things
from happening.

Are you prepared
to do terrible things?

And then turn it off
when you need to?

Yes, sir.
I am.

Could you kill a terrorist
standing two feet from his young son?

Blow his head off
and then walk away

while the kid cries next
to his daddy's dead body?

If those are my orders, sir.

Says here your dad died
when you were just a kid.

Army man too.

You're not gonna decide
at the wrong time

that a child should have a father,
even if that father is a terrorist?

No, sir.

I'm sorry for going
at you like this, son,

but I'm the last stop between you
and the darkness that awaits you.

I need to be sure you're mentally
tough enough for this program.

If you spun out,
got your brothers killed,

it would be on me.

Well, you're just doing your job.

I get it.

I've been through this before.

No one does this twice.

If you washed out, we wouldn't
have recruited you again.

I didn't wash out.

I've been a part
of this program for three years.

A very trusted part.

In fact, my CO tasked me
with finding out

who's been selling the names
of our operatives

to Chinese counterintelligence.

Took me a while,
but I found him.

If only you'd just done your job.

You're pretty damn good at it.

Who the hell pays for the damage?

Get back inside now.

I'm radioing Pollack.
We need air support.

Get in. Get in.

Sir, are you seeing this?

Do we need to call for air support?

It's a car fire in Queens.

I'm not calling air support for that.

Rapid response team
standing by on the second floor.

Have your men do
a perimeter check and report back.

Copy that.

Russians, feds. I don't care.
I just want to know.

Who pays for the... damage?

You should probably call for backup.

You worried some of your old buddies
came to shoot the breeze?

Sadly, my men are very good
at their jobs.

Anybody wants a crack at you,
they're gonna need an entire...

Sir. Sir, we've got a situation.

Robbins is down,
and the hotel doors

have been secured from the inside.

Someone's in there with you.

Secure the door.
Now.

Ready Team, this is Highlight.

Spread out to the stairwells.

No one gets to three.
Expect multiple shooters.

Copy that.
We'll lock it down.

Secure the hallways.
We're taking the prisoner out, now.

Looks like I underestimated
your popularity.

Let's move.

No point.

The guy who's coming after me...

Your men won't be able
to stop him.

Move, move!

Wait a second.

On my mark, move.
Go, go!

Team Two, report.
Report.

I made three shooters, maybe four.

On my count.

Three, two...

I'm sorry.

But I need a word
with the man you're protecting.

You just attacked a dozen marshals.

Sorry's not gonna cut it.

They'll need some aspirin, maybe
a little physical therapy. Move.

You sit this one out.

Simmons.

I want his exit.

Loyalty.

That's why Simmons
came after you and Carter.

Loyalty-

That's how we built
this whole damn thing.

I'll be damned if I repay
that loyalty by breaking it now.

Even if you threaten to kill me.

You see?

That's why you and I
understand each other.

Now, everything you do
is an abomination.

But your word...

Your word is your bond.

To your godson.

To Carter.

You do what you say.

So do I.

I'm not going to
threaten to kill you.

I'm going to kill you
whether you tell me or not.

No bargaining.

In three minutes...

...you're dead.

I've killed many people.

Never bothered me much.

That's why I was good at it.

I didn't like them suffering, though.

Took me years to figure out
how to do it quickly, painlessly.

But if you don't tell me,

I'm going to forget all of that.
Understand?

And I'll make the last three minutes
of your life last forever.

May I please have a gun now?

No, and you're really starting
to irritate me by asking.

As far as Root's request
for a weapon, Ms. Shaw,

the situation is becoming
increasingly dangerous.

- Yeah, no kidding!
- And if she wanted to kill us,

I'm guessing she could have
done so many times already.

Speak for yourself, Harold.

But fine. Whatever.
Take it.

Can I have a second one, please?

Two guns at once?
That's kinda lame.

You all set?
Let's head up.

Too late.

Where's she going?

Okay, that was kinda hot.

I'll watch the front.

You should head up.
We're running out of time.

Time's up.

Mr. Reese.

You know what Joss sacrificed
to bring this man down on her terms.

Legal terms.

Everything.

Yes.

So if you're going
to kill Mr. Quinn,

don't imagine that you're
doing it in her name.

That's not what
she would have wanted.

We should have killed him
in the first place.

Why didn't we, Finch?

That's not our purpose.

We save lives.
You save lives.

Not all of them.

You're dying, John.

Let us help you.

No!

Let's get him out of here.

I'll stay and make sure the feds

take this piece of garbage
back into custody.

We should be going after Simmons.

Reese got his location.

Sometimes you have to make
choices, Ms. Shaw.

We've already lost a friend.

I don't intend to lose another,
not tonight.

I can't believe
we're going to let him get away.

The Machine never said
Reese was the only one

planning to kill Simmons.

Let's get you out of here.

We've been talking
for nearly 20 minutes, Lionel,

but you've said almost nothing.

And I thought we were
really starting to hit it off.

Look, this is a safe place.

I may get paid by the city,
but I serve the police officers

who come into my office.

Yeah? In that case,
I'll take a bourbon and rocks.

Alcohol abuse is common
among officers after a shooting.

So is sarcasm.

How have you been sleeping
since the incident?

Just fine.

You were forced
to take someone's life.

That's a hard pill to swallow,

even when the shooting
was justified.

Fine.

- I encountered the suspect...
- It's better if you use his name.

Okay.
I encountered Jules.

It was dark, he saw me,
went for his piece.

I got to mine first.
The end.

Well, that must have been terrifying.
You could have been killed.

Part of the job.

Yeah, well, part of my job,
Lionel, is dealing with cops

who act tough and end up eating
a bullet because of a cascade

of untreated posttraumatic symptoms.

Now, you can hide your real feelings
from everyone else,

but with me,
you need to get real.

All right.

This is a safe place, right?

Doctor-patient, confidential,
all that, right?

Yes, everything you say here
is completely protected.

Use this time to unburden yourself.

Wasn't a good shooting.

Well, I'm sure you may
feel that way, but...

Ain't got anything
to do with feelings.

You see, Jules shot
an off-duty rookie last year.

Twenty-four years old.

Kid had a baby on the way.

But good drug dealers
can afford good lawyers,

so Jules walked.

I had been tracking him for weeks,
just waiting to get the guy alone.

And there he was,
walking out of a bodega,

with not a care in the world.

No protection either.

He saw me.

He knew why I was there.
I could see it in his eyes.

Sol smiled at him.

Just before I put two in his chest.

You killed a man.

No.

- He got the devil's share.
- The what?

That's what you call it
when a guy like Jules gets his.

It's the way the world
evens things out.

Guy got what he deserved,

and you want to know
how I've been sleeping?

Like a baby.

But thanks for letting me
unburden myself.

Missed your flight.

I told the pilot
you weren't going to make it.

So what's the plan, Fusco?

Going to shoot an unarmed man?

Nah.

I got a better idea.

Been waiting to do this
for a long time.

Carter got you good?

I get it, Fusco.

I always knew you were a killer.

Get it over with, will ya?

That's just it.

I could've been just like you,

a bottom-feeder
who turns on his own kind.

For what?
Money, power?

I got lucky.

I had a partner.

She was good for me.

For a lot of reasons.

She reminded me that
I could be good again too.

I could be a good father,
a good friend.

A good cop.

I'm not going to let you
undo all the good she did.

Carter saved my life.

She saved me from myself.

Because she believed in me.

And I'm not going to throw all that away
on a piece of crap like you.

Patrick Simmons,
you're under arrest.

You have the right to remain silent.

Anything you say...

Doctor said he's going to pull through.

Lost a lot of blood.

I'm going to go steal some more
from Manhattan General.

Where's Root?

Think he's finally warming up to me.

You were free.

Why did you come back?

Like I said, we have
a larger fight ahead of us.

I think we should be together
when that begins.

Don't you?

Thank you.

Dr. Sandler to nurse's station.

Dr. Sand/er to nurse's station.

It's just me, officer.

Elias.

What do you want?

Quinn and I are busted.

HR is dead.

Nothing else to do
but rub my face in it.

That's not really my style.

Then why the hell are you here?

Well, there remains a debt.

Civilization rests on the principle
that we treat our criminals better

than they treated their victims,
that we not stoop to their level.

But you and I are outliers.

We're not really
a part of civilization.

We're something... older.

Which means, of course,

that we can do the things
that civilized people can't.

I offered to kill you for
Detective Carter many times,

and she always said no.

She was civilized
to the very end.

I don't think she liked me.

But I liked her very much.
You killed her.

So now I consider it
my responsibility

to fix the particular problem
that is you, Officer Simmons.

You really think you're
going to be the one to kill me?

No!

No, my friend
is going to kill you.

I'm just going to watch.