Original subtitles

Ah, competition brings out the best in people.

That's what they say.

When the game is on the line, a true sportsman

wants the outcome to rest on his shoulders.

The logic being: you make the winning play,

you walk away a hero.

Of course, if you fuck up, you're the goat.

The problem with competition here in Oz

is we mostly got goats.

Please welcome a new contestant, Joanie Kennedy.

And you are going to be helped by a man

who's done just about everything, Bill Boggs.

- How are you, Bill? - Good to see you, Gordon.

Okay, let's play the game. The category is sports. The question is this:

ln basketball, Joanie, what does it mean when a referee makes this motion?

He wants to do the hustle?

Sorry, l don't follow basketball.

l'm more into deep-sea fishing.

Okay, an assist from you then, Bill.

When the referee does that, it's also known as ''walking.''

How you feeling there, Omar?

- l'm feeling pretty good. - Really?

l still feel all kinds of aches and pains

from when you stabbed me.

Well, you know, l'm sorry about that.

- Oh, you're sorry? - Yeah.

l'm sorry you didn't die.

No, no, no!

Prisoner number 96G522,

Carmen Guerra, aka ''Chico'';

Convicted June 4th, 1996; murder in the first degree.

Sentence: 53 years,

up for parole in 17.

- McManus, l got to talk to you, man. - Later.

lt's about your pet project, Omar White.

- What about him? - He's still a tit man.

And you feel compelled to tell me this out of some need to save his soul?

Look, he shanked you and he shanked me,

and it's only a matter of time before he shanks someone else.

You shake him down, you'll find drugs.

Shakedown!

Hey!

- Lookie, lookie. - Look at my shit.

Double play.

- You yellow rat motherfucking punk! - Fuck you, man.

- You bastard! - Put Mr. Guerra in the cage.

- Take Mr. White upstairs. - Fucking yellow rat bastard punk!

Pussy!

We had an agreement.

- No drugs. - l know.

So tell me why l shouldn't FedEx your ass back to solitary.

There is no reason.

lt's that when it come--

comes to tits, l'm just a little shaky, man.

l mean, God knows l try.

l try.

But the temptation--

it just grows and grows

until l can't help it. l just--

l just got to shove that shit where it don't belong.

You really think l'm a bubblehead, don't you?

Sir?

You make that sorrowful face,

you say what you think l want to hear. You're full of shit, Omar!

And you can try my patience only so far.

Now Sister Pete says you've been inconsistent about going to rehab.

- Nuh-uh. - There is a session at 1 :00 today.

Fucking be there.

Let's go.

The key-- the key is to fill the time

you would use doing drugs with something else.

Like busting McManus' ass in basketball. Okay.

Well, activities are good, but l mean,

that doesn't change one basic fact, you know.

You're not going to quit unless you want to quit.

You know, you have to hit rock bottom before you can crawl out.

Why you looking at me when you say that?

l wasn't saying it to you. l was saying it to the group.

What? You-- you think you're better than me

- because you-- you quit and l can't? - Omar.

You ain't better than me, you fucking punk-ass white boy!

lnstead of snorting, you've been sucking cock!

- That's enough, Omar! - You want to suck this, motherfucker?

Hey, hey, hey, hey!

- You got nothing! - You think l'm fucking here?

You got no game, Vahue.

What you gonna do, come over and scratch me again?

l got you. l got you, Chapman.

- You piece of shit. - Poet's the greatest of all time!

Take care.

As a rule, l don't give up on people,

but this guy, Omar, may be the exception.

White!

l know. l fucked up again.

- Mm-hmm. - All the bullshit aside,

l want-- l want to own my own mind.

Look,

l don't know why l think l can help you,

but l'm not giving up on you, Omar.

You understand? l'm not giving up.

Thank you.

You fucking bastard!

l hope you die in here, you motherfucking bastard!

l hope you rot in hell!

You killed my baby!

The parole board has set the hearing for next Wednesday.

lf all goes according to Hoyle,

Tobias, you could be out of Oz by the end of the month.

Have Cathy Rockwell's parents been made aware of the hearing?

Probably not. ln most cases, it's the responsibility

of the victim or the victim's family to stay informed.

Well, l want you to tell them.

That's not advisable. lf they ask to testify, Cathy's parents could

sway the board away from paroling you.

Until my son was killed, l never fully understood

what l'd done to those two people.

l can't go back into the world knowing that l snuck out.

The Rockwells are as much a part of my prison term as anyone.

They have a right to be heard.

Okay, l'll phone them.

But first, before the parole hearing,

l'm going to ask them to have an interaction with you.

Catherine.

l hope you understand why l'm doing this.

As a lawyer, l think you're insane.

But as a mother...

l think you've got balls for days.

Last time we saw each other, Mrs. Rockwell,

l didn't say much.

- You didn't say anything. - Yeah.

Well, that's because l was on drugs

and l was confused,

full of self-loathing.

And now you've forgiven yourself?

No.

What l did to your daughter will shadow me forever,

just as being in Oz will.

What's happened to me in here--

well, whether l've suffered enough to satisfy you

l don't know.

When you were sentenced to 15 years,

l was stunned.

15 lousy years doesn't equal the lifetime my daughter lost.

You say you've suffered,

and l say l'm glad.

When the lawyer came to talk about my being paroled,

she said that because of extenuating circumstances,

the board might look kindly on me.

Why don't you explain the circumstances?

Since l've been inside,

my son was murdered

and my wife may have been,

both as a result of things l did in here.

lt's ironic that l came to Oz

walking across the grave of your daughter

and l may leave walking across

the graves of my own family.

lf they had lived, l wouldn't have the chance of going free.

When l saw you four years ago,

the pain of Cathy's death was still so new.

Dave and l...

grieved and grieved and grieved.

We still do.

But the sorrow is balanced with joy.

We have another child, Richard, and he's growing up to be remarkable.

We've come to believe that even though

we don't understand why Cathy's gone

we accept her death as part of some...

wise plan.

l don't know if you've suffered enough.

That's not up to me to decide.

Only God can.

We will not interfere with your parole.

Vince Lombardi once said

that winning isn't everything, it's the only thing.

But the one thing Lombardi held in higher regard

than winning was character.

ln fact, without character, there'd be no victory.

Now, don't get me wrong.

Some of his players would miss curfew, cat around, get jiggy,

but they always knew where to draw the line.

That's right.

A good man knows where to draw the line.

Robson, you are one ugly motherfucker.

l don't see you modeling in Milan, you black bitch.

Hey, shut the fuck up. l'm trying to masturbate.

- Fuck you, Alvarez! - Quiet!

- Warden's on deck. - Yo.

Yo, Glynn. Yo, l need an appointment, motherfucker.

Hey, Glynn, you get me excited.

Why don't you hold my dick?

We need to talk alone.

- Did you frisk him? - Yes, sir.

Okay.

You actually think l'd shank you?

l have no idea what you're capable of anymore.

l'm stunned.

l mean, here you are, a man feared by all the prisoners in Oz,

- afraid of me. Wow. - What do you want?

l've decided to confess to the murder of John Basil,

and l intend to ask for the death penalty.

So that you can die a martyr.

l've written a manifesto

l want published the day l'm executed.

Where'd you get the paper? Officer Smith!

Under no circumstances is this prisoner to be allowed paper.

- Leo! - You want to destroy yourself, fine.

But l'm not going to make it easy for you.

Goddamn motherfucker!

Oh, don't go away, Uncle Tom.

Don't go away. Don't leave me like this, baby.

- Don't leave me like this. - Warden!

Carl Jenkins is dead. You've no case against me.

l want out of here, Glynn.

l want out of here, Glynn! l want out!

l want a fucking lawyer! Get me fucking Said!

You motherfucker! Get me out of here!

l don't want to release Robson from solitary

anymore than you do, but l got no choice.

Carl Jenkins committed suicide.

A good defense attorney could shoot holes through his testimony.

And without his testimony we got no case against Robson.

So you're going to put him back in the Gen Pop

even though he masterminded the death of Salah Yudin

and he has vowed to kill me, too?

l'm afraid so. Since we can't prove Robson's guilt,

keeping him in solitary would be unjust.

Now, why is it that justice

only works in somebody else's favor?

Arif, help me.

l have such rage inside of me.

Rage unlike l've ever known.

You've always been able to control such emotions.

l don't think l can do that much longer.

- l feel like l'm possessed. - Pray to Allah.

Pray?

l pray and l pray and nothing.

Yo, sorry about what happened to Leroy Tidd,

or Ooga Booga or whatever the fuck you call him.

- You fucking nigger! - You want to see the nigger in me?

You want to see the nigger in me?

Fucking spade. Motherfucker.

Fucking cock-- motherfucker.

- Fucking nigger! - The Aryans must be punished.

We will no longer tolerate their actions.

From this moment on, we are all on point.

Said's nigger ass is in the hole.

- Looks like Arif's in charge. - All right.

These fuckers are more pissed off than ever.

l want you guys to watch each other's back,

- carry weapons whenever you can. - lt's payback time.

This shit's gonna go down real soon.

What the fuck is this all about?

Father Mukada loaned me his office.

The warden wants me to speak with you.

He fears that there will be an escalation of hostilities

between your people and the Muslims.

Sit down, please.

The hacks have good reason to fear, Preacher.

So do you.

You feel that l have wronged you

by getting Carl Jenkins to testify against Robson,

but l assure you what l did, l did in the name of justice.

No, what you did you did because Robson got pissed

when you tried to turn me into a psalm singer.

Oh, l never imagined that you would convert.

l simply wanted you to know a little joy in your life,

the birth of your grandchild.

Yeah, if she is my grandchild.

You ever talk to that woman in your congregation?

Sarah? Yes.

She and Carrie have had numerous conversations,

and at no time did Carrie say anything about having been a prostitute.

Sarah ask her directly?

No.

Well, then you've proved nothing either way.

When are you going to see this girl again?

ln an hour.

Unless the warden puts the entire prison in lockdown.

lf l could assure him that at least for the time being

there will be no immediate trouble,

maybe Warden Glynn will reconsider.

You've got yourself a deal.

Hi, Mr. Schillinger.

Ooh, what happened to your face?

Oh, nothing. lt's fine.

There we are, all nice and dry.

Hey, you ready to play with Grandpa? Huh?

- That's okay. - Something wrong?

l'm gonna ask you some serious questions,

and l want you to talk true.

- Okay. - Put the baby down.

lt's okay.

lt's okay, Jewel.

- Oh, sweetie. - lt's come to my attention

that you worked the streets, hooking.

l can see it's true.

- Hank said we needed money. - l don't want to hear that part.

What's important is who's child is that?

She's not Hank's, is she? You knew that the day you showed up here!

Mr. Schillinger, l swear when the doctor told me l was pregnant,

l counted backwards trying to figure out who the father was.

On the day the baby was conceived,

l had sex with three different men, okay?

Two out-of-town salesmen and Hank.

So the truth is l don't know which one was the father.

l'm not sure...

except-- stare at her face.

Don't she look like Hank?

Don't she?

lt's okay.

Okay, Cloutier's gotten Schillinger to agree not to retaliate,

so he's gonna keep his boy Robson in check.

l need your assurance that the Muslims will cooperate.

- No. - No? No what? You won't cooperate?

No, l can't assure you of anything, McManus,

least of all the good behavior of my people or myself.

Because, you see, what's been going on has been going on

and will go on till long after you, me and Schillinger are all dead.

- My only concern is right now. - Well, that's not surprising

because you always did take the short view.

Well, maybe you need another couple of days in here.

- Yeah, maybe l do! - Up to you.

Go ahead, get out!

lf athletes learned to control their tempers, to control their rage,

then hockey players wouldn't do time in the penalty box,

basketball players wouldn't draw technical fouls,

football players wouldn't be penalized 15 yards.

Of course, if athletes did control their rage,

nobody would be interested in sports.

The punching, choking, kicking, biting, screaming--

that's what the fans go to see.

Oh, shit.

What are you doing?

lt's 7:00 a.m. Game two's not till this afternoon.

Yeah. l wanted to work on my shot.

l'm still haunted by those fucking air balls l threw up last game.

Don't beat yourself up. l mean, l couldn't get much going, either.

Yeah.

What do you think of Vahue?

The guy's a stone bitch.

A strong, tough, talented player.

That's funny. That's what l said about you.

- Huh? - Well, maybe not in those exact words.

A friend of mine is a scout with the Sacramento Kings.

l told him about you. He says he wants to take a look.

- A look? - Yeah, today.

Hey, yo, you got two dunks off the bat,

l was like, ''Oh shit, the fat lady's singing.''

Hey, yo, man, seconds.

- And... special stash. - Oh, shit.

All right?

Hey, yo, man, this guy Brass, man,

- he's some fucking talent, huh? - Yeah.

- Oh, fuck that. - Uh-uh, that motherfucker can play.

- l'm too big for him, though. - Yeah, yeah.

You know game two gonna go like game one.

lt'll stay close...

as long as l let it.

- Are you hearing this? - Yeah, it's true.

Vahue's a wide body. There's no way to guard him.

There's no way for McManus and Brass to win.

Hey, Vahue.

Go back and get your tray.

- Oh, l got that. - Oh, no, no, no.

He busses his own tray.

Yo, fuck that.

- Oh, shit! - Back the fuck up!

Back the fuck up! Back the fuck up!

- What the fuck is that? Come on, man? - Damn! You broke my knee.

Well, say something.

Vahue brought the situation on himself.

We were by the book, McManus.

All right, let me know if it's too tight.

- ls it my ACL? - No, your ACL is fine.

lt's just your knee's badly swollen. You should stay off it a few days.

We'll push the game back a week.

- Oh, because you care about me, right? - No.

- l just want your best game. - Oh, you still think you're gonna win?

Like l said, the ball bounces the right way, who knows?

You're telling me l ain't got any damage?

None that l can see.

Then l'm going to see you in the gym then.

Tell your boy bring his A game, too.

?? People always talkin' what they gonna do ??

?? They must want their face to maybe taste my shoe ??

?? l can't understand all the push and shove ??

?? And what the -- happened to the peace and love? ??

?? Who planted that glove? Man, l don't care ??

?? l'm too busy running fingers through your momma's hair ??

?? l got no time for the fakes and phonies ??

?? The crooks, the creeps, the cops and the cronies ??

?? Am l the only one on my side? ??

?? Test my pride, l bet you run and hide ??

?? You think l'm weak, so you're looking for the kill ??

?? But there's 16 shots in my nine mil ??

?? l got one for you, this is your shot... ??

Yeah!

?? l got one for you, this is your shot ??

?? Jimmy Jimmy, Ji-- ah, Jimmy, Jimmy ??

?? Don't want to hear me cuss, don't want to hear me brag ??

?? So l'm grabbin' on my thingy while l let my pants sag ??

?? Never think what l've written, just write what l'm doin' ??

?? They say they like my records, but they still boo-hooing ??

?? My jeans always tight, my rhymes will floor you ??

?? Hey slime, you want to hit money? ??

?? l got one for you, this is your shot... ??

?? l got one for you ??

- ?? This is your shot ?? - Bullshit!

?? l like that. ??

Hey, Vahue.

Yeah, not.

You fucking let us down, Vahue.

l had a lot of money bet on that game, cocksucker.

Tug, let me get the chair.

No, man, l'm using it.

No, for real, dude. l need to sit down

and elevate this leg, man. Come on.

- Yo, l'm out, babe. - l'm with you.

Hey, yo, Poet. Hey, man, at dinner,

how about l get some more of that Gatorade?

l don't know, Jackson. l don't know.

l'm dehydrated, man. l lost a lot of water today.

l'll see what l can do, but it's a tall order.

Look, it's simple.

ln three weeks, l want you to come out to our rookie camp.

- Oh, Jesus. - No guarantees,

- but l think you can make our club. - Congratulations.

l got to go. Somebody from player personnel will contact you.

And one last thing. l don't want to tell you not to play pick-up games,

this thing you and Tim got going,

but use your head. All right?

All right. Stay strong.

- l'll still play. - l can't ask you to do that.

- l know you want to win that last game. - l'll find someone else.

- Tim-- - l'll find someone.

Fuck.

There he goes now, the luckiest man on the planet.

- Lucky? - Correction: formerly lucky.

The word's out, McManus.

That scout today came to scoop up your boy.

- He's on his way to the Kings. - Mm-hmm.

And without Brass, you're gonna look pretty fucking foolish.

l bet you'd lose by... 50, 60 points.

Well, who says l'm without him?

l thought Dave Brass wasn't playing.

- He's not. - So what was that all about?

l couldn't stomach giving Morales the satisfaction.

He'll get it soon enough.

- Hey, Martinez. Hey. - Hola, mi hermano.

- Warden still got you over in Unit B? - Yeah.

- Excellent. l need an ask. - Ask.

Easy, easy, easy!

Stay down! All right, all right! Easy, easy! God damn it!

- Where's Brass? - The ambulance just left.

- He needed surgery. - Oh, fuck! How bad was he?

On the big scale of things, he's going to be just fine.

- But? - But Dave's done with basketball.

His Achilles tendon wasn't just severed,

a chunk of it was missing.

He'll be walking funny the rest of his life.

What you want?

How does it feel?

How does what feel?

Being the one who snitched to the hacks,

who kept us from greasing Morales,

Pancamo and the rest,

who kept us from taking over the drug trade?

No, no, no, no. Come here, come here, come here.

Listen...

Burr Redding says you get to live

because you and he got history.

But he ain't going to be around forever, bro'.

And when he die... you die.

- Let the man go, son. - Oh, you want something?

- What's up, nigger? - You know, as much as l'd like to watch

the two of you whack each other, the smart thing to do is walk away.

- Yeah. Later. - You know it.

This is all l'm saying, Augustus.

You ain't got no friends except me.

The plan's working?

Yeah.

Morales and Pancamo think l'm their slave.

Burr Redding thinks l'm his most loyal soldier.

When we're done, they'll all be dead.

and we'll be running things our way.

l have to admit, Tug,

l was kind of surprised when you tapped my shoulder,

me being the one who greased your brother and all.

When l shanked you and you didn't die,

l knew you had balls.

lt doesn't take a genius

to figure out that Tug Daniels is a traitor.

l always had my suspicions.

What are you gonna do about him?

Well, l believe that every man deserves a fair trial...

before he's executed.

This court is now in session.

- Fuck you! - Tug Daniels...

you're being accused of the three disses:

disloyal, dishonest,

- disrespectful. - How do you plead?

Man, if y'all going to take me out,

just fucking take me out, man.

Stop the bullshit, all right?

You've been seen fraternizing with Supreme Allah.

Yo, l only let that fool think l was with him, man.

Soon as l killed you, him and Hill was dead meat.

The prosecution rests.

- You got any defense? - Yeah, l got a defense.

You're killing me for the same crime

you let Hill walk on.

You're getting old, Burr. You're getting soft.

- You can't go the distance no more. - Silence.

Yo, with me in charge, you motherfuckers would be running Oz.

Pay attention to what l'm fixing to tell you.

lt is the decision of this court

that you have been found guilty.

- Man, kill this old pussy, not me! - Therefore...

l must sentence you...

...to death.

Throw his ass back there behind the cafeteria.

Stick him in a garbage dumpster.

Move it!

What the fuck?

Oh, shit.

Hey, Officer Robinson.

Yo, you might want to come check this out. Ouch!

Central, this is 16. We've got a 44 in the cafeteria.

Lockdown! Lockdown!

Tug Daniels is dead.

Move it. Move it!

Our days are numbered, bro'.

Me and you ain't careful,

we're going to end up like Tug Daniels.

Let's go. Let's go!

More and more these days, you pick up a newspaper

and some athlete's name is in the headline.

Not on the sports page,

but for getting into trouble with the law.

l'm never surprised.

The adrenaline it takes to be a superstar

is the same as the rush you feel committing a crime.

When the game's over, it's hard to put a cap on that,

hard to go back to being ordinary.

l am so sick of hearing about fucking death row.

- Governor. - l see you're fully recovered.

And l can see how much that pleases you.

All right, let's get down to business.

l've had extensive talks with the Attorney General,

and here's how the situation lays out.

According to the law,

Giles is within his rights asking to be stoned to death.

The fucking anti-death penalty group that's suing us

will probably win. We'll appeal.

The case will eventually land at the State Supreme Court,

where God knows what those buttheads will decide.

You appointed half of them.

Thanks for reminding me. So...

instead of plodding through all that muck,

we've decided that it's simpler if you, Sister Peter Marie,

declare Giles mentally incompetent.

- What? - l'll commute his sentence to life

and we'll ship his ass over to the Conley lnstitute

where he can blubber until he dies.

Meanwhile, l'll have the legislature rewrite

the capital punishment law

limiting the prisoner's options

to lethal injection and electrocution.

l won't do it.

l won't say that William Giles is insane.

- Why? - Because he's not.

Leo...

now would be a good time for you to jump in.

Peter Marie, this solution would make the problem go away.

The problem will go away

when the death penalty goes away.

Now that there's DNA, every other week--

every other week-- there's another horror story

of some innocent man almost being put to death.

The governor of lllinois

- has put a moratorium on-- - George Ryan is an asshole.

And if l want to debate this issue,

l'll go on ''Meet the Fucking Press''!

You're not the only shrink in town, Sister.

lf you won't say he's crazy, l'll get someone who will.

Hello, William.

Peter. Peter Marie.

- How you doing? - Moses...

...dead.

Lonely.

l'll bet.

You know, it's lonely out here, too.

Your life and the lives of hundreds

of other men and women in the hands of lawyers and politicians.

l feel so...

powerless.

Noisemaker.

Yeah, that's me.

Blowing horns and banging pots,

and yet, nothing has changed.

Us.

Pray.

God.

Well, we do have that, don't we?

Yes, William.

Us.

Pray.

God.

The State Supreme Court, in a 5-4 decision,

declared the four-year-old capital punishment law

to be unconstitutional based on the case of an inmate

at the Oswald Correctional Facility who asked to be stoned to death.

The justices declared such an execution

would be cruel and unusual punishment, well outside the boundaries--

My support for the death penalty is unwavering.

However, the public's reaction to this incident

indicates that we should take this opportunity

to step back.

We must consider not only the means

by which we determine such a sentence,

but the ways in which we implement it.

l am therefore putting together

a non-partisan committee...

to re-examine all aspects of the death penalty.

Hey, Giles, what's going on?

l thought you were halfway to death.

No, alive. Alive!

Alive?

Hey, Officer Murphy, l'm not feeling so hot.

- What's the matter now? - Throat's sore.

Jeez, you know, you been getting sick a lot lately.

This winter weather, it's killing me.

Uh-huh.

Well, l got news for you.

- Dr. Nathan's not in today. - No?

How do you feel now?

l want to go see my brother in protective custody.

What a shock.

ln my opinion, calling someone a ''deadbeat dad'' is unfair.

l mean, l would have sent the money to my kids,

but l knew that bitch would spend my hard-earned cash

buying clothes for herself or that cocky kike asshole she's been living with.

Ryan!

Hey, Cyril. How you doing, brother?

You okay?

When-- when can l leave here?

- When can l come back to Emerald City? - l don't know.

Dr. Nathan promised that she'd help us out, but she's gone,

so as soon as she gets back, we're going to work on getting you out of here.

God, this place sucks, man. l know you're lonely.

Not so lonely...

now that Henry's here.

Hi, my name's Stanton,

Henry Stanton. You're Ryan, right?

Cyril's told me all about you.

- What'd you say? - Oh, nothing incriminating.

Well, that's good, you know,

'cause l figure a guy's in protective custody,

then well, he must have-- what, ratted out his friends?

No. No, some Aryan threatened

to separate me from my genitals,

so the warden thought a time-out might ease the tensions.

Don't be telling nobody our business, okay?

l don't. Henry's nice.

- l like your brother. - Hey!

Henry, do you mind?

l'm trying to have a private conversation over here.

Hey, knock yourself out!

Oh, Jesus.

- What do you want? - Just because we're not fucking anymore

- doesn't mean we can't be friends. - Yeah, right.

l hear they're shipping your brother off to the loony bin.

Yeah, because of you accusing him of attacking you without provocation.

l was being neighborly, he hit me with a tray.

Neighborly?

- Yeah, right. - Here's a deal.

l'll tell the warden not to send Cyril away

if you tell Cyril

he should let me fuck him.

What?

- l want to fuck your brother. - Uh-uh. No chance.

l don't want you going anywhere near my brother.

Okay, but if l don't get anywhere near him,

you won't get anywhere near him, either.

You know what, Howell?

You're one sick, fucking bitch.

Deputy Dawg.

O'Reily.

lt's about time. l'm famished.

Things are pretty quiet here in J these days, huh, man?

Well, Basil dead, Hughes in solitary,

it's just me and ''Her Highness.''

You don't like Howell?

lt's like being shackled to the Bride of Frankenstein.

Hey, Alvin, old pal,

how'd you like some extra vittles?

We're talking chocolate bars,

''Newman's Own'' popcorn for that microwave of yours?

- Sure. - All you have to do is just, you know,

make sure Howell has a little accident.

- Oh, l'm no killer. - No, no, no.

l'm not saying kill.

l'm talking a-- a busted leg, arm.

Just something to take her out of commission for a week or two.

You about done, O'Reily?

Oh, yeah. l'm done.

Maybe l got lucky and she's dead.

Help.

Help.

Help!

Help! Help!

- What's up? - Howell broke her pelvis.

- Oh, sweet. - Yeah, she'll be laid up for a while.

Oh, l'm just crying invisible tears.

How's your new cellmate?

Oh, Connolly's an ass. He says l'm not true lrish.

He tried to pull that same last shit with me.

- Don't worry, he'll come around. - Yeah.

Hey, Liam... check out a guy named Henry Stanton.

- He's in protective custody with Cyril. - No problem.

Stay down.

Stay down.

Hey! What the fuck is going on here?

Keep away, O'Reily. This is none of your concern.

l see two pussy Bible Belters wailing on a fellow Catholic?

Yeah, it's my concern.

Hey, come on, motherfucker.

l'm not going to swing on you, Burns. Not yet.

l've got God on my side.

Kirk, you meet me in the library.

Burns, l will talk to you later.

My apologies, sir.

l'm beholden to you.

First, you had Samuel Gougeon beaten,

now Padraig Connolly, both against my wishes.

l am doing the Lord's work in the best way l know how.

When you came to me and you asked to convert,

l thought you meant you wanted to put those ways behind you,

but l can see now that l was wrong.

You are no longer a member of my congregation.

- What? - l cast thee out.

- You can't. - Let me go.

- Please. - Let me go!

ln 1972, 14 Catholics were slaughtered.

What did they do?

They committed the hideous crime of walking down a road.

My mother ran out onto the street

and grabbed the neighbor's son out of the stampede.

The entire time...

a British soldier was holding an L1A1 to her head,

yelling at her to get back.

But she didn't...

and he fired.

Oh, shit.

We call that day ''Bloody Sunday.''

lt's visiting time. l got to go.

- Who's coming? - My mom.

You treat your mother right, Ryan?

We've been separated since l was a baby.

We only just found each other.

But yeah, l treat her right.

l know you wonder why l left,

and each time l've come to visit you, l've wanted to tell you the whole story.

Hey, tell me now.

The '60s were a mixed-up time.

We were living in a coldwater flat near the university.

And while l did what wives did in those days,

outside, the streets were on fire with protests.

- The Vietnam war. - l would carry you out into the crowd

and listen to the speeches, and then one day,

something just clicked, and l had to join.

So l-- l had to leave.

Yeah, but why did-- why didn't you take me with you?

Well, because my friends fought for peace.

We armed ourselves. We were militant.

- And someone got killed. - Yeah.

- And l ran, and l kept running. - Jesus.

So now after 35 years, l've decided to stop the marathon.

l'm gonna turn myself in.

- But what'll ha-- - l don't know what'll happen to me,

and l don't know if l'll go to prison.

But l wanted to see you again

and spend a few hours with you

and get to know you a little before whatever happens does happen.

No. No.

No, no, l can't lose you now.

Not after all these years.

Fuck that.

- Don't give yourself up. - l have to, Ryan.

l'm no good to you unless l'm true to who l am.

Fuck.

Look...

l wasn't going to tell you this,

at least not yet.

What if l told you l could fix it

so we could be together?

What do you mean?

A friend of mine is going to help me and Cyril escape.

No, Ryan, don't do that.

- Why the fuck not? - Because...

you'll have to spend the rest of your life doing what l've done,

hiding and lying and living in fear...

and denying who you are.

And that's a life without meaning.

And a life without meaning is no life at all.

Visit's over, O'Reily.

Mom.

You called me Mom.

l love you, Ryan.

l always have, and l always will.

- Goodbye. - Bye.

Bad news.

The Attorney General has circumvented the law of asylum.

You're saying we've lost the fight?

Your deportation has been ordered.

A week from today, you'll be standing before a British judge.

Once l get there, l'll not get a fair trial. l'll hang.

l know.

You admit to murdering him even though you know

l could tell the warden that you confessed,

and you'd probably end up on death row.

Yes.

- Hey. - Hey.

How's Cyril?

Oh, he's a little anxious to get out of protective custody,

but he's okay.

Hey, did you--

did you give any more thought to what we talked about?

Any thought? Your little proposition had me sleepless for three nights.

And what have you decided?

Here.

Why are you giving me this?

10 minutes ago, the warden asked me

if l knew anything about Keenan's death.

- What? - l lied and said no.

Oh, man. Thank, Christ.

Ryan, as we speak, the medical board is deliberating

whether or not l'm qualified to hold this job.

They're questioning my ethics, okay?

My initial reaction was, ''How can they do that?''

But...

you know what?

Now l'm questioning my ethics.

Now look.

Love is more important than ethics.

Well, now how would you know that?

l mean, your ethics, what few you have,

are completely screwed up.

Whoa. Why the fuck are you doing this?

l should tell Leo that you beat Keenan to death.

l should do it...

but l won't. God help me.

- Hey, Gloria-- - And l am not going to help you escape.

Do you understand that?

l will not do it.

And if you ask me again,

l will tell the warden everything.

Officer, we're done here.

l do have ethics,

and l'm not screwed up.

What do you want?

l've been on the computer reading about the troubles.

lt's not at all about God.

lt's about the money.

lt's about the-- the Protestants taking Catholic land.

How could you not hate the British?

l mean, if you've got any balls at all, then you'd better be lRA

You know, fighting for what's rightfully yours.

And what good does your newfound knowledge

and all this enthusiasm do for either of us?

l want to be part of something, something that matters.

Don't laugh at me, Connolly.

Hey, everyone knows l get things done.

That's my talent.

Let me help you do something for the cause.

Hmm? Something for lreland?

All righty.

l know what we should do.

Hey.

- Two gallons of bleach. - Good.

All your whites are clean,

so are you going to tell me now why you needed this stuff so bad?

No. Can you get me a wristwatch?

A wristwatch? Why?

Connolly, what the fuck are you doing?

Would you be willing to die with me?

Would you?

The bleach and the wristwatch are part of my grand scheme.

- Which is what? - To make a bomb.

You and me, O'Reily,

we're going to blow up Emerald City.

ln any sport, to experience victory,

the one element you need more than any other...

is teamwork.

But teamwork is also the scariest notion

a person can face.

Joining a team means giving up part of your individuality,

being willing to make whatever sacrifice

is necessary for the greater cause.

lf you're willing to do these things,

to truly become a team player,

then success will follow.

But a word of caution:

Be sure that the success you go after...

is the success you need.