Original subtitles

What the fuck?

Get off the tracks!

Get off!

It's all so beautiful.

Go up. Third floor.

Park in front of the red "P3 north" sign.

Get out of the car.

Keys on the trunk.

Done.

You have two minutes to get to the southwest corner

of Jackson and LaSalle.

Go.

Okay. I'm here.

Empty the Pringles can.

Ring the bell.

She's there.

Let's go.

They know I'm blocks away. They're making their move now.

Keep the change. Just hurry up.

Yes, sir.

Gate's been a little slow lately.

Come on. Come on.

Where is she?

Where is she?

Up here.

I got her.

It's okay. We're good guys.

Mr. Kinney?

Your daughter's safe.

All right. Got it.

Are you gonna introduce me to your old sergeant or what?

Major.

What, he shy or something?

Or something.

My boss wants to say thanks.

I didn't help him. I helped you.

- Not necessary. - Okay, but from me, thank you,

for dropping everything and coming to help.

You're my friend.

- Not necessary. - Well, I owe you.

And I know how to pay you back.

You never told me what you were doing down in Santa Fe when you got my message.

Checking out the Miraculous Staircase in Loretto Chapel.

Which is?

Spiral staircase built 150 years ago with two 360-degree turns,

no visible means of support, no use of nails.

Laws of physics say it shouldn't exist.

Didn't know you were into miracles.

I'm into craftsmanship.

So, when you taking off?

Few days.

If I didn't know you'd hate it, I'd be half tempted to join you.

No one else to catch a game with in Chicago?

Not particularly.

Doesn't bother me, though.

I know I'm an acquired taste.

Makes two of us.

Yep.

So, if you ever get that ranch, the one with the four or five dogs,

give me a ring, 'cause working the land

and drinking beer while watching ball games

doesn't sound so bad sometimes.

How's your dad?

He's gonna get better.

But if he doesn't, I'm fine on my own.

That ranch thing was a joke.

It was funny.

I think I'd get bored on a ranch.

No crimes to solve.

Cattle rustlers.

Glad you could make it in today.

Mr. York would like to see you in his office immediately.

What for?

That's a question for Mr. York, isn't it?

It's 4:30.

I took Reacher to a Cubs game.

Fuck's sake, Neagley.

I was showing gratitude to someone who helped your firm

on a delicate case and didn't ask for a penny.

Found out this morning that Reacher isn't a licensed P.I.

I said he was an MP.

You said P.I.

Remember who you're talking to. I was a second-grade detective

- in New York. - Second-grade detective in New York City.

Well, I was.

The social he gave us isn't real.

The phone number's to some blues club in Atlanta.

What if the kid got killed?

We'd get sued.

I-I'd lose everything,

including this new office we had to move into

'cause you got the last one shot up.

I work with who I want to work with.

That's the problem. You won't work with anyone here.

I gave you your own team to run, you didn't like it.

The girl is safe, so maybe you crawl halfway out of my ass and say thank you.

I have treated you so well since you came here,

given you more leeway than anyone.

- Gave you your own branch to run. - And I appreciate it, Gerry.

Then act like it.

Goddamn it.

When are you gonna just fire her?

Neagley.

Frances, this is Tina Crane.

Something terrible has happened to Tommy.

I knew Tommy Crane since he was a kid.

I coached him from Pop Warner through eighth grade.

Wasn't the strongest, wasn't the fastest, wasn't the biggest,

but had more heart than any other player.

How much time?

Eleven minutes.

Forty-eight hours' leave?

What's the point?

Spend half your time traveling.

Point is, I get to see my people.

I remember that scar.

That fight with Bryan Higgins.

We kicked that bully's ass.

I can't believe you took him on.

- Boy was twice your size. - He was always messing with you.

- Not after that. - You're damn right.

You always had my back.

Almost 1400 hours.

Bus will be here soon.

"1400 hours."

Remember you couldn't get to homeroom on time?

Right.

Army straightened you out.

I needed it.

Army's giving me structure,

after a life of being a single mom to my own father.

It's also the one job you don't have to shake anyone's hand.

I know you.

Better than anyone.

I'll be back home soon.

Fourteen hundred hours?

You guys can't just say "two o'clock"?

I'll call.

I'll write.

You do the same.

'Cause last time, it was six months

not hearing from you.

No more falling out of touch.

I promise.

Okay.

Frances.

Would you like to say anything?

Growing up, kids were mean to me,

but not Tommy.

Not once.

He was my best friend when I really needed one.

I reached out to him a lot, but he was hard to pin down.

We lost touch the last few years.

I wish we hadn't.

I never had a lot of family,

but I always felt like I had a brother in Tommy.

Thank you.

Do you believe what they're saying about Tommy?

Sorry?

Do you believe what the conductor told the police about Tommy,

that he was so high that he just walked right into the train?

'Cause my son didn't use drugs.

I know this is hard, Mr. C., but...

sometimes people are good at hiding what they do from their parents.

Like joining a cult?

- It was a collective. - It was a goddamn cult.

What was?

Echo Canyon Farm out in Lee County.

Tommy never seemed like the kind of person who would join a cult.

Tommy bounced around all over after college.

But he always checked in.

But as soon as he got to Echo Canyon, it took over his life.

He never called. We never saw him.

He'd send us f-four letters a year.

I-I think the communications were being monitored.

A-A few seemed, resealed.

I found the last letter he sent.

It mentioned you.

"Mom and Dad, Echo Canyon is my life now,

but that doesn't mean I don't love you.

I want to see you, but please don't criticize my life choices

or my Echo Canyon family.

It's so wonderful here.

It reminds me of my time at Lake Lavern Summer Camp.

Please tell Neagley that the next time you see her.

I wouldn't want her to worry, either.

Love to you both.

"Tommy."

You should have it.

He adored you.

Thank you.

That you, Frances?

Hey, Dad.

How are the Cranes doing?

Not good.

I gave them your condolences.

Said how sorry you were you couldn't be there.

Tomorrow, send them some food from the Italian place, Damato's.

I already put the order in.

Good girl.

Can I ask you something?

Where am I going?

What do you know about Echo Canyon?

Farming community, about a few hundred acres.

About two hours out of town, but another world, though.

Why you asking?

It's where Tommy was living before he died.

Ever hear any problems out of there?

Anything hinky?

- What kind of string you pulling at? - I don't know.

It just doesn't feel right.

Tommy, walking into a train, high as a cloud?

I mean, what was he even doing in the city at 2:00 a.m.?

Frances, what's the first rule?

Nothing good happens on the street after midnight.

So, he was probably trying to score.

Yeah, but he wrote this letter to his parents,

comparing Echo Canyon to Lake Lavern Summer Camp,

saying how much he loved it.

Specifically wanted me to know that.

Except Tommy hated that camp.

Never told his parents 'cause it cost a fortune

and he didn't want to seem ungrateful.

This last line...

"Please tell Neagley that next time you see her.

I wouldn't want her to worry."

I hadn't spoken to Tommy in years.

Why mention me in the letter unless "worry"

is exactly what he wanted me to do?

Frances, investigators are always looking for a problem to solve.

Can't solve X, so I'll focus on solving Y.

Even if it doesn't really exist.

What's X?

What can't I solve?

Me, sweetheart.

I'm gonna die, and there's nothing you can do about it.

You've been...

taking care of me for...

most of your life,

and you won't accept that you can't fix me.

So you look for somewhere you can help,

by looking for something that doesn't exist with Tommy.

I hate when you talk like this.

Control what you can,

let go of what you can't,

and don't go chasing fog with a butterfly net.

You won't catch nothing.

You don't know "The Super Bowl Shuffle"?

No.

No, what is it, like, a TikTok or what?

Would you look at this shit?

A whole generation doesn't know our history.

Damn, young lady. How do you know that?

My dad used to play it for me at bedtime.

Chicago lullaby.

- Smart man. - Smart cop.

On the job almost a decade before he got sick.

And I'm a P.I. looking for a little help.

Neagley. You Calvin's daughter?

You know my dad?

Back when I was a PPO.

What kind of help you need?

Need security video from the other night.

The pedestrian strike on the "L" tracks.

Rats.

Help this young lady out.

Yeah. Yeah, sure.

But then maybe you can finish your own case reports?

No.

You can do 'em when you're done with her.

- Hudson Riley. - Frances Neagley.

So, SDSC's down this way?

Yeah. Yeah.

So, you work for the city?

York Investigations.

No, I mean, did the city hire you?

Getting their ducks in a row in case the guy's family sues?

I'm with the guy.

- He's a friend. - Oh.

Well, condolences.

Yeah, I read about it online.

It's brutal.

- The film? - Well, not good news.

Looks like the pods on that platform were broken.

All of 'em?

Well, Chicago political machine making sure no tax dollar's wasted.

Can you pull up a five-block radius?

- Same time frame. - Yeah, shouldn't be a problem.

From what I read, didn't sound like an accident.

Sounded like he meant to...

No offense.

All right.

I'll run it at 1.5.

Take that bank.

So, how long you had haphephobia?

Just figured when you didn't shake hands.

You know, you don't touch people.

I do when I'm beating the shit out of them.

I'll keep my distance then.

There.

Back this one up.

Stop. Play it back.

This guy's running his ass off from the Blue Line

less than a minute after Tommy was killed.

I know that guy.

- You sure? - Yeah.

Every cop in North Side knows him.

Goes by Keno.

He's been brought in so many times, he should have a holding cell

- named after him. - Bad guy?

Nah. Jacket a mile long but all misdemeanors.

Half a scam artist.

Know where to find him?

I could poke around.

I'll drop my info.

You think this is a homicide.

You have my number.

Give me a call when you get a bead on that kid.

If this is a homicide, I want in.

- I work alone. - You're not a cop.

I was one in the military.

When I need an arrest made, I'll call you.

Look, it's not gonna work that way.

I find you Keno, and if there's any developments, you talk to me first.

This becomes a Chicago PD investigation, I bring it in.

Otherwise, there's the door.

Fine.

Hey...

Look, I didn't mean anything by the haphephobia comment.

Just...

Look, my...

My best friend growing up, she has it.

She never leaves the house.

Figured she suffered some kind of a trauma.

Yeah, that's not me.

I don't have trauma.

Trauma...

can be erased.

I know you're the heads of the psychiatric departments

of some of the biggest hospitals in the United States

and I'm just a salesman, but trust me...

I know a bit about this.

When I was nine,

my mother was driving me over Skyway Bridge.

But halfway across, she stopped the car and got out.

I didn't understand what was happening,

even as I watched her climb over the railing.

But when she turned to me and smiled, I knew.

Because my mother never smiled.

In college, I...

experimented with psychedelics.

Go figure.

But eventually found my mind expanding beyond

and then completely outside of that trauma

until it was so far behind me,

I couldn't see it anymore.

My use of various combinations of psilocybin

and lysergic acid diethylamide, LSD,

through a meticulously designed medical protocol, well...

it saved my life.

Based on all of our animal testing so far,

with our compound, people will be able to,

in less than 1230-minute sessions,

permanently change the physiology of the brain,

cutting depression by 80%,

anxiety by 90%,

healing people, like myself, who were thought to be lost causes.

Think about that.

Thirty minutes.

Less than half your patient's lunch break.

Once our drug gets FDA approval, I'm confident you will be clamoring

to prescribe this for those you treat,

and we will proudly provide it, because together...

we're gonna cure the world.

One mind at a time.

With Tranqlara.

Wait. Stop, stop, stop.

I can get it. I just need a day.

You had many fucking days.

Tomorrow, noon, two grand or two in the dome.

He's had enough.

Who the fuck are you?

I need to talk to this guy.

Who is this?

I've never seen her before.

Shut up, Keno.

Let's go.

Lady, get the fuck out before I shoot...

Turn this shit music off.

Let go of him or I vent your skull.

Let's go.

Who are you?

Neagley. Oh, one name... same as me, man.

- I've always found having one name... - Shut up.

As a policy, shut up unless you're answering me.

Get in.

Not to violate the "shut up" policy so quick,

but I just shook free of a kidnapping and this feels like another kidnapping, so...

I'm a P.I.

We need to talk about the "L" stop at Wells.

Wasn't me.

My friend was killed on the tracks.

So, either you tell me what you saw

or I feed you back to those jackals and join in myself.

My number's five grand.

You dipped in gold isn't worth five grand.

Breakfast.

Get in.

Okay, you've put a dent in it.

You're a foster kid.

Group homes.

The "L" at Wells.

I do occasional work for an ambulance chaser.

His client tripped on a crack leading to the Wells Street platform,

and, unfortunately, the crack is what some judges would call a de minimal.

- De minimis. - Wh-Whatever.

I was... retained

to widen this crack with a hammer and chisel

to, make the lawsuit better.

And then I heard the train coming and the conductor screaming

and... and... something awful.

The body slamming into metal.

Why do I have film of you running away from the tracks?

'Cause right after the impact, down the street,

headlights turned on and this truck peels out, coming right at me.

Make and model?

I dove under the stairs to hide, you know.

I was kind of working outside the law.

Color?

It was too dark to tell, and it blew by too fast.

I mean, shit was flying out of the bed.

And I knew cops would be coming, and I didn't want to explain

what I was doing there with a hammer and chisel, so I boogied.

Hey. Slice of rhubarb with vanilla ice cream, please.

What flew out the back?

Green shit.

Greenery.

I don't know. Might've been a gardening truck.

You're showing me exactly where this happened.

I just ordered pie.

Imagine being on the tracks for that.

Where were you standing?

I only took out a half inch more

than was already gone, so it doesn't look too obvious.

The truck was there?

Yeah.

They positioned themselves to make sure they'd hear the impact.

You'd have heard it on Michigan Avenue.

Down the block, they turned right.

I-I know you jumped for breakfast,

but I'd rather actually get paid for my services, you know?

I... I need the cash.

How'd you get in Dutch with those guys anyway?

I sold 'em digital scales that were supposed to be tweaked

so they read 1.2 ounces when the dealer's just selling an ounce.

But my programmer got into some edibles and fucked it up in favor of the buyer.

Those guys beating me, they lost two grand and they say it's my fault, so...

Buckwheat.

I'll take your word for it.

Five-pointed blossom.

Grew wild in my grandmother's yard.

Well, what are you looking for?

Where this came from.

"We're also a supplier of buckwheat groats to local markets."

Echo Canyon Farm grows this stuff.

Cool.

What's our next step?

Yours is to get lost.

Mine is to do recon.

Sweet. Yeah, I can do recon.

What's recon?

Reconnaissance.

My instincts tell me this farm had something to do

with my friend getting killed, so I'm gonna find out

exactly what happened to him, who everyone involved is,

and then I'll make my move.

A'ight, so check this out: I'm the human quarter, man.

And a quarter can be used in parking meters,

candy machines, pop machines.

You know, I know this city better than anyone else.

Okay, so I'll run down information for you,

I'll hide shit, find shit, whatever you need.

I'm like that Leatherman tool. Million and one uses.

Thought you were a quarter.

I can be two things.

You know, I can help you put all these people in cuffs.

When I find out who's responsible for Tommy's death,

they won't wind up in cuffs, they'll wind up in the ground.

Hello. It's another remarkable day at Echo Canyon Farm.

- How may I help you? - Frances Neagley.

- I'm here to see... - Ms. Neagley, Judith is expecting you.

Just follow this road, and it will take you to her.

Frances?

Judith Gray, operations director.

We are...

brokenhearted.

Speaking for the family, we are, too.

Why don't you follow me?

Is it customary for the farm to not reach out to family when a member dies?

We tried.

All the information Tommy gave us was fake.

It happens.

People come here looking to cut ties.

Is that why you think Tommy came here?

To cut ties with his family?

People come here for a million reasons, Frances.

We take in the indigent, we take in the homeless,

the addicted, the desperate.

If you're willing to work hard, we'll feed you,

give you a bed, a job.

You do have to stay clean, though.

Anything indicating Tommy Crane was using?

He was disappearing off-site without signing out.

He was late for shifts.

But...

we liked him, so...

Maybe if we had been less tolerant, it would've been a wake-up call.

Few changes of clothes, toothbrush...

and a pamphlet for the farm.

This is it?

It's less than some.

More than others.

I volunteer for the City of Chicago, finding relatives of people who die alone.

Never seen anyone leave this little behind.

Best word to describe Tommy was "unattached."

That's not the Tommy Crane I knew.

Has it been a while since you spoke with him?

Yeah. Kinda.

People change.

His bunkmates, the others who knew him, I'd like to talk to them.

Just for some closure. It's been hard.

It's market day. None are on-site.

But you can always come back.

Sorry for your loss.

Hey!

- You forget something? - Frances Neagley.

One-two-four West Ave., Chicago.

Former master sergeant of the 110th Special Investigators Unit.

Currently a P.I. with York Investigations, also Chicago.

It's clear someone was in my car, resting their foot on the runner

while they wrote down my VIN from inside the door frame.

Right now, you're using that information to find out everything you can about me.

Figured I'd save you the trouble.

Are you even a friend of the Crane family?

For years.

And I don't like how Tommy died, and now I don't like you.

I have a guy with no history of drug use ingesting a shit ton of psychedelics.

I have a gardening truck, like that one over there,

speeding away from the "L" moments after he was killed.

And that buckwheat sure as hell resembles

what flew out of the truck near where he died.

And now I have the commune that kept him from talking to anyone he knew for years

running the VIN of someone who was only here to pick up his effects.

I really... don't know how to help you.

Thank you for visiting Echo Canyon.

Have a nice day.

Look, I appreciate you filling me in,

but I still don't see a homicide here.

For Tommy's sake, can you get me a warrant for that farm?

Yeah, well, you're not getting one with what you have.

I know what effects look like when people die unexpectedly.

There's a sense of interruption.

Lists of things to do,

a book they meant to read.

This was whitewash.

- Can I play devil's advocate? - No.

The letter he wrote to his parents was torn from

the page of a journal.

So either the last letter he wrote happened to be

on the final page of his journal, which he then threw away...

and who the hell does that? Or they took it.

That's off.

Off but not criminal,

and getting in the lady's grill shuts her down.

Opens her up.

My dad would call it "flushing-out behavior."

And I think I just flushed them out.

Yeah? What are you seeing?

- Truck. Moving fast. - You got plates?

Not gonna get them at the moment.

What-what am I hearing?

- No plates. - What's going on?

- PIT maneuver. - You're chasing him now?

We may have a DOA.

- Hold tight. - What?

You're not a cop. Shit.

Not happening, asshole.

Who are you?

I smell gas.

Get me out of here.

Don't leave me.

I can't move.

I'm pinned in.

I'll get a crowbar.

Hurry!

Car's a little banged up.

She's fine.

Marauders are made of kryptonite.

Well, looks like a hit man's car.

Hit men don't want to be seen, and neither do I.

I can park a ride with over 650 horsepower outside a target's house

and they walk right past me.

What about shithead's vehicle?

Well, maybe we can pull the VIN when it cools,

but the fire cooked any I.D. and most of the driver.

Checked his gun for serial numbers.

- Filed. - I know.

I looked. Run ballistics anyway.

Appreciate the direct order.

Want me to say "please"? Please.

Maybe it's in the system. Though I doubt it.

Yeah.

Anything that could've been helpful exploded.

Maybe not.

I sketched his tattoo. Run that.

Great. Another direct order.

Look, I'll run it, all right?

But if whatever comes back still doesn't yield shit,

definitely no warrant for that farm.

How's the, how's the head?

- Fine. - You want me to take you to the ER?

The scar could ruin your modeling career.

I'm not bleeding. Just banged it.

But thanks.

All wrapped up here, Rats!

Your nickname even made it out to the sticks.

What's that all about?

It doesn't concern you.

Hold on.

Who are you?

Did he answer back?

I'm in the middle of something.

- I can't come in right now. - Middle of what?

Gerry will ask. He wants you here ASAP.

It's the pro bono case I told you about.

I'll be in when I can.

He said the pro bono case isn't approved.

I'm not interested in his approval.

Listen, I need you to look something up for me...

I don't work for you.

But you want to be me.

Want to be a P.I.

I can track who opens my summary reports, and you read every one.

You want to do what I do?

Start by finding out who knew what cameras would be nonoperational

on the "L" track where Tommy Crane died.

- How? - Freedom of Information request.

Go to the county clerk's office, get a list of anyone

who made a FOIA request for security camera repair requisitions along the "L."

That's someone who wants a platform where they wouldn't be seen.

That's... a good idea.

I'll be in touch.

Five minutes. No more.

You said that already.

It's really against regulation for anyone...

That grand I gave you was to fuck off while we said goodbye to a loved one.

You want to keep it?

Fuck off.

Ran it through CLEAR, CAPS and NCIC.

No hits, not gang-related. Brick wall.

- The truck? - Stolen. Five years ago in Ohio.

It's going down as a John Doe road rage incident.

We'll see.

I planted a little seed.

Maybe it grows, maybe not.

Maybe you be a little less opaque.

I got a lieutenant calling this a pointless time suck.

Coffee, Riley?

- Thanks. - "Riley."

She's the only person who hasn't called you Rats.

Yeah, it's nothing. It's stupid.

Now who's being opaque?

Wait.

Rats.

You're one of The Water Rats.

I'm not. I'm a detective in the Chicago Police Department.

Three generations deep.

Guns, stolen merch, using the lake to smuggle back and forth from Canada.

Move on.

So, you became a cop to outrun the reputation.

Look, every detective over 30 has worked a case involving my family.

And they all look at you crooked, assuming you're playing both sides.

Yeah. Yeah, it's the same shit-talking since the playground.

"Don't trust him. His family's all criminals," you know.

Why go through this? Leave Chicago.

Go to L.A. Start your modeling career.

What, leave and let them win?

- Fuck no. - Who?

The cops or your family?

Both. Look, I break one big media case,

it'll get "Rats" out of the mouth of everyone in the department.

At least when they refer to me.

So, did you want to stay updated on Tommy's case

to find out what really happened to him or wash off your family's original sin?

Both.

You know what? I'm done talking about me.

What's this, seed you planted?

Might've just sprouted.

- Where are you going? - It's not just your case anymore.

Get used to it.

This is your secret weapon?

Wouldn't kill you to be cool, Detective.

He's extra eyes.

Earning a few bucks so he doesn't get his ass beat.

Thought you worked alone.

I use people for grunt work when I need them.

Well, you're really scraping the barrel here.

I arrested this guy for selling bogus water purifiers

- by Navy Pier. - They weren't bogus.

PVC pipes stuffed with gravel?

I stand by my product.

What'd you see?

Two thuggy types.

Pulled up in a truck.

It could've been the one I saw by the "L," but not sure.

The plate.

They went in for ten minutes, came out and left.

You search the truck?

Locked. Peeped in the windows.

You see any pamphlet like this one?

Anything relating to Echo Canyon?

Nothing.

Well, there's a huge yield.

He's not the seed I planted.

They took his teeth.

They said he was a loved one.

Odd way to show love.

All right, stand in the hallway. Talk to no one.

I'm deciding whether to arrest you for abetting the desecration of a corpse.

You know, if you just asked, I could've had patrol sitting on this place.

Nah, they would've sniffed out cops, and I wanted them to come here.

Guy like Keno spends a lot of time hiding from people.

He knows how to not be seen.

What the hell are you doing?

Getting the seed I planted.

Recording device.

Voice-activated.

Molar's stuck.

- Need the hammer. - Move. I'll do it.

We got to move faster.

Lawrence wants confirmation we got them all as soon as possible.

Fucking ghouls.

"Lawrence." It's probably Lawrence Cole.

I dug around. He owns the title to Echo Canyon.

And why is he so worried we might find out who this dead asshole is?

Hey, hey. I figured something out.

You know Mad magazine, how you fold the back up to show a hidden cartoon?

Check it out.

It's just like your drawing.

It's the tattoo.

They wanted him unidentifiable because he's one of them.

How's that for a yield?

Think you owe me some pie.

Oh, no.

My heart stopped a full minute.

Neighbor did CPR until the paramedics got there.

She should've stepped aside.

Dad.

I'm gonna die in here, Frances.

That's the last thing I wanted.

I'll buy you time.

I'll get you out.

I promise, I will not let you die in here.

Stubborn.

Like you.

Renée?

I got that info you requested

about the train station cameras.

- Where are you? - Crete,

Illinois.

Glen Arms Mobile Home Park, residence of Charlie Halle.

He filed a FOIA request for camera repairs last week

at the "L" train station where Tommy Crane was killed.

He used a fake name and photo I.D.

I reversed the photo using A.I.,

got a real face, then a real name, then an address.

That's actually good work.

Now go home.

You're not licensed, and you have no idea what kind of guy you're dealing with.

Police blotter shows two shootings, a meth lab fire

and a knife fight here in the past month,

so I do have an idea of who'd live here.

I found him.

I get to be in on the interview.

Go.

Go work your case.

Mr. Woodrow, should we wrap it up?

Break it down for me.

Drug was administered 40 minutes ago,

Core body temp rose ten minutes later,

and they all started having sex five minutes after that.

We're almost out of time to get this right.

Throw the vials away. Start on a new formulation immediately.

Copy that. Sorry for the setback.

I'll just break it up and get them back in their rooms?

No. Let them finish.

About time.

This is the one.

All right.

Mr. Halle?

Jesus.

This is a hell of a mess.

This isn't a mess.

This is Echo Canyon trying to clean things up

'cause they know I'm coming after them.

That's not gonna work.

Seems like kid got high and he walked

into a train... case closed.

- Bullshit. - Yep.

At the farm, who's running things?

Lawrence Cole.

He is a portal to a better world.

I am your own personal Jesus!

I mean, this is a cult we're talking about.

I'm working with this cop.

I can't work with people who lose their cool.

You want to close this case? You got to work on your issues.

Deal.

I'll deal with my issues when you deal with yours.

When did it start? Me not wanting to be touched.

Don't touch me!

You told me you had no idea

when it started or why.

You lied to me.

We're never gonna know what's going on at that farm

until we get on-site.

No judge is signing a warrant on this.

We don't need one if we're invited on.

Echo Canyon takes junkies, people with

no place else to go.

You're out of Apple Jacks.

They're killing people,

funding a massive farm.

Running that kind of operation,

has to be spending a fortune.

Cole? Got to have someone over him.

Take the shot.

This guy was hunting me?

Now I'm hunting him.

Things are getting very real.

I need the truth.

So, then what's our play?

I'm gonna burn that farm to the fucking ground.

No one will be able to prove it was me because

I'm really good at this kind of shit.

Neagley!