All language subtitles for Solace.2015.720p.BluRay.X264-AMIABLE

- Cuban.
- What's the word, Sawyer?

Looks like a match.

Yeah, it's Joe. We've got a series.

Same M.O., same signature, no DNA.

Not one goddamn shred.

You said that already.
I'm doing everything I can.

Goddamn fucking asshole.

Fuck.

I need to go see him.

Joe.

I think it's a mistake.

You're entitled to your own opinion.

Well, let me rephrase that.

I think it's a big mistake.

Apart from time and resources,
it's bringing an unknown into a...

- into a really bad situation.
- Not unknown at all.

I've worked with him before,
and he's actually my friend.

- You said he's unstable.
- I did not, Katherine.

I said he's had a hard time.

It's too early for a Hail Mary, Joe.

You will learn it's never too early
for one of those.

Goddamn, are you seeing this?

I mean, look at all this...
pretty green shit.

How long has he lived out here?

Two years.
Ever since his daughter Emma died.

Leukemia. In his arms.

Gave up his medical practice.
Hell, he gave up everything.

What happened to his wife?

Well, therein lies
the truth about tragedies.

They bring some people
closer together...

drives others apart.

There it is.

Do you mind staying here?
Let me talk to him alone?

- You could have left me in the city.
- I could've...

But you would have missed
the pretty green shit.

Sentiment.

Yeah?

- John? It's Joe.
- Yeah, I know.

Are you gonna open the door?
I'd like to talk to you.

Not interested.

John, I just drove three hours
to come and see you.

Come on. You know me well enough
to know that I'm not leaving.

And I'll kick down this door
if I have to.

A real pain in the ass.

Yeah. I've heard that before.

You know, I sent you a letter
like a year ago. Did you get it?

Yep.

What did it say, John?

"No parent should outlive a child."

- So you've been holed up here.
- Uh-huh.

I see you've settled in.

- It's a beautiful day out there.
- That's what they tell me.

So you don't get out much?

- Do you want a soda?
- No, thank you.

I don't have cigarettes.

I gave them up a few months ago.

Meet my new addiction.

Laura and the kid okay?

Yeah, they're good. Thank you.

Heard from Elizabeth yet?

No.

You will.

So, besides wanting to see you...

I've got a situation that
I'd like you to take a look at.

- I could just tell you about the victims.
- I'm not interested.

By the way, who's your girlfriend?

That is my loyal partner, Agent Cowles,

who apparently doesn't listen
to a fucking word I say.

S.A.C., Joe.

I thought you might
want to take the call.

Excuse me, John.

- Hi.
- Hi.

- I brought the case files.
- It wasn't necessary.

The Agency has changed the guidelines

for the way we break down the cases.

It makes them more readable.

Oh. Well, that's a relief.

We gotta go.

Three murders. Identical M.O.

Agent Cowles.

I'll leave the case files here.

John.

You okay?

If you change your mind about this...

you know where to find me.

- Hey, Joe.
- John.

I make no promises.

I'll stay maybe one day. Maybe one week.

Deal. No promises.

- You knew I'd come back?
- I had high hopes.

You remember Agent Cowles?
I should say "Dr." Cowles,

- with a doctorate in...?
- Psychopathology.

She was to become a professor
before the bureau snagged her.

- You gave up academia for this madhouse?
- They let me carry a gun.

Wow! So sexy.

You two will make a good team.

John, you know when and Katherine, you
know why someone's about to do something.

Run this through until we come out.

Dr. Clancy, before we go upstairs,
with all due respect,

I don't hold an ounce of confidence
in the paranormal as a field.

I think it's a sham. I hope that's okay.

No problem at all.
I feel the same about shrinks.

After only one thing, your money.

They'll take your whole hand.

Whoever said that has obviously
never met a good one.

It was Sigmund Freud.

Like I said, a hell of a team.

Consistency #1: method.

Each victim was killed by
a puncture wound at the skull.

Inflicted by a five-inch instrument.

It went straight into
the medulla oblongata.

Immediate, according to the coroner.
Painless execution.

- These photos are all post-mortem.
- A couple of them almost look alive.

Consistency #2: No mistakes.

Crime scenes so far have yielded
no evidence of DNA, hair-fibers,

- shoe-prints, nothing.
- No witnesses, either.

Ward lived in a secured building.
No signs of forced entry.

On the psych front, it's unheard of.
There's no geographical, chronological

or astrological pattern to the murder.

No robbery.

Other than that,
we got a good handle on this case.

John?

John.

Yeah.

Robert Ellis, the kid in Mount Pleasant.

- He was eating ice cream.
- He was.

Where do you want to start, John?

Well...

how about the beginning?

The residence of
Mrs. Ethel Jackson, age 69.

She lived alone with three cats.
Was a regular at church.

Landlady grew suspicious when she
hadn't seen or talked to her in two days.

She was found killed
in that rocking chair.

On the TV, the Cooking Channel played.

And the note we were looking at earlier?

Was here. On this table.

My wife. I need to take this.

Sweetheart, I...

- What do you make of the note?
- As a shrink?

- Yeah.
- It's a classic riddle.

"I will tell you in two words who I am,
what I do and how I live. May I?"

Taunting questions designed to mislead.

Asking our permission to reveal himself,
yet never intending to.

It's playful, but only one person
is playing here. It's solitaire.

Or is it something more?

Is it a cry for help?

An indication of
split personality disorder,

where the riddler is
asking themselves, and us,

who they actually are? But no.
That's not consistent with the crime.

This is too controlled, too sharp.

There's something else going on here.

It's like he's looking for someone.

- So?
- She likes hats.

Hey. How are we doing?

Fantastic.

Katherine works up a full
profile based on the note.

- Which she's finishing at home.
- Okay.

- I'll see you in the morning.
- Yes.

John.

How about I buy you dinner?
Special treat. Best place in town.

Do I need a jacket?

Hell, no, you don't. I got connections.
I know the maître d'.

Goddamn it. This is so good!

- John?
- No, I'm fine, thanks.

- For John, one more please. Yeah?
- Coming up.

My boy has a rough time in school.
Came home in tears again today.

- Being bullied?
- Yeah.

I don't know what to do.

Don't know. Give him a hug.
Tell him a joke.

- A joke?
- Yeah. A joke.

I don't know any jokes.
I'm serious, John. Come on.

In the name of friendship,
tell me a joke.

Me? I don't know any jokes.

Okay, just one. Um...

This woman, Mrs. Jones, uh,

was suffering from
a rare heart condition.

The doctor prescribes male hormones
to up her testosterone, 2 pills a day.

A month later
she goes back to the doctor and says...

"That medicine
is doing wonders for my heart.

But I'm growing hair
where it has never grown before."

"Don't worry, excessive hair is to be
expected. Where does it grow exactly?"

She says, "On my balls, Doctor."

It's funny, isn't it?

I can't tell that to my little boy.

- Say "testicles."
- That cleans it right up.

Yeah. Biology.

- It's a good joke.
- Yeah.

I thought you'd like that.

Elizabeth told me
that's why she fell in love with you.

- Why was that?
- That smile.

- Oh, the smile.
- Not your joke telling.

John, do I have another
sandwich coming here or what?

Tonight, as we were
leaving Ethel Jackson's,

- you were onto something.
- Hmm.

Come on, John. Talk to me.
What do you know?

I want this over as quickly
and as badly as you do,

but you gotta tell me
what you're seeing.

I don't know yet.

John...

John.

Received an anonymous call
from a payphone an hour ago

offering way too specific information
about the Peter Ward murder.

Then listed a midtown address. Perimeter
is secured. They wait for us to go in.

Clear!

Clear!

Joe. Take a look at this.

What do you think?

Four-sixteen. Bible verse?

No, it's the time.

Four minutes ago.

Four-sixteen precisely.

Your watch is fast.

Fuck. He's here.

- Are you good?
- I'm good. Go.

Mrs. Raymond? FBI.

Would someone please turn that shit off?

- Bingo.
- Wound on the back of the neck.

- Familiar.
- She's been dead for 5 or 6 hours.

- Perp must have hung around.
- He left hours ago.

Would you two mind
clearing the room for us please?

Thank you.

John.

Same type font as 4:16
and the note at Ethel Jackson's.

Mm-hmm.

- You okay?
- Shit.

- Go ahead. Take a look.
- Can I touch her?

Yeah.

David.

David?

There you are. Come in.

Wash my back.

John?

- You all right?
- Yeah.

- What do you see?
- I'm not sure.

- Okay.
- What?

- Don't touch the bathwater.
- Why?

I'm not sure why.

Joe? Holy shit, we may have a suspect.

- Who?
- David Raymond.

The husband.

He says he was at the bar all night.

His bartender and his breath
corroborate his story.

- Agent Cowles are you ready?
- Yes, sir.

I want you to take the lead.

Mr. Raymond, a cup of coffee.

- Been a long night for all of us.
- Thank you.

If you don't mind...

I'm just gonna jump
right into this. Okay?

- Mr. Raymond.
- Yeah?

We regret to inform you that
your wife Victoria

died last night.

Jesus.

Jesus Christ.

Oh, God. Oh, God...

Mr. Raymond...

you were seen leaving your building

last night in an agitated state.
Can you tell us why?

Did she leave a note?

Did she leave a note?

Mr. Raymond, your wife was murdered.

- What?
- Your wife was murdered.

She didn't leave a note.

No! No! Oh, Jesus, God!

- What do you think happened?
- She didn't commit suicide?

Why do you think that?

The letter, I wrote... I...
I wrote a letter.

- This letter?
- No. What is that?

You didn't write this?

I left a letter.

What did it say?

David?

"I never meant to hurt or betray..."

David? What did the letter say?

He left her.

I was leaving her.

Okay.

You were leaving her. Why?

He left her for someone else.

I was leaving her for someone else.

For another woman?

Yes.

He's lying.

Oh, V, I'm so sorry.

Uh, could I have a word with
Mr. Raymond?

- Dr. Clancy...
- Joe?

- All right.
- Thanks.

You're telling the truth,
or at least some of it.

You didn't kill your wife
did you, Mr. Raymond?

No.

But you believe the note you left
could've driven her to take her own life.

Your wife had a history of
emotional instability.

And the note was telling her that you
were leaving her for someone else.

But your note failed to mention
you were leaving her for a man.

How the fuck do you know that?

That, in fact, you had contracted HIV.

Is that right?

Her blood was contaminated.

That's why:
"Careful with the bathwater."

I want to see the files again.

It's 7:30. My family's up. Breakfast?

- Yeah.
- Let's go.

- Thank you.
- Thanks, Laura.

- You need to eat.
- I'm good, baby. Thank you.

- Family is looking good, Joe.
- They are.

I try to spend as much time
as I can with them.

We've seen Elizabeth.

- Oh, yeah?
- We've kept in touch.

- Good.
- She still loves you, John.

All right. So, uh... What do you think?

They were all
incurably sick, terminally ill.

- That is the consistency.
- We explored that. It doesn't hold up.

Ethel Jackson. The wigs, the hats...

- She had chemotherapy.
- Three years ago.

She was in the clear, John.

No one's ever in the clear.

80 % of cancers return. Whenever they do,
they're quite difficult to eliminate.

So?

Peter Ward, it turns out,
had Lou Gehrig's Disease.

That can be a very slow, painful death.

Victoria Raymond suffered
chronic suicidal depression,

self-destructive behavior,
cutting, overdose, and so on.

- Finished breakfast?
- Yes!

Hey. Backpack!

Yes.

Come here, say goodbye to John.

- Bye-bye, John.
- Goodbye, monkey.

Give your dad a hug.

- Bye, Dad. See you after school.
- Yeah. Have a good day.

Okay.

- Have a good day at work.
- Bye, honey.

Let's say I give you Ethel Jackson
and Peter Ward.

Two words that destroy
this whole theory:

The boy Robert Ellis was healthy,

and as Christian Scientists,
his parents don't believe in medicine.

He had no medical file.

- Well, let's go talk to them.
- Okay.

Remember your appointment?

Right. I have a phone call with the
director at 9:00 am,

which I am immensely looking forward to.
So Katherine will take you.

Okay.

Dr. Clancy...

How do you refer to it?

To what?

To, uh, what you have?

Is it prescience,
clairvoyance, precognition?

Oh, it's a hoot. A laugh a minute.

Never mind. I'm serious.

What is it you see exactly?

Do you see people's futures?

Bits of their futures
and of their pasts.

It's all the same in the end.

- Is it mystical? Or religious?
- No. I'm a scientist.

I believe in theoretical physics and...

biochemistry and that's it.

Whatever it is, I happen to get
the deluxe edition of what people now call

intuition or gut reaction.

Do you see anything now?

What do you mean? About you?

I guess so.

No. Nothing.

- At all?
- At all.

Just nothing.

Nothing at all.

So how's the investigation going?

It's improving.

We believe we know why
your son was killed. Why he was chosen.

Mr. Ellis, I need to ask you a few
questions but I don't want to upset you.

It's all right. Ask.
If I can, I'd like to help.

Do you remember in the weeks
or months leading up to Robert's death,

was he at his best? Was he healthy?

- Perfectly.
- He never complained of any pain?

Did he ever have trouble keeping up
with other boys at school?

Was he ever short of breath?

Uh... No. No.

- Be careful.
- I will.

Robert was a sculptor?

Yeah. He enjoys it.

He enjoyed it. He had very good hands.

I'm so sorry, Mr. Ellis.

- They're beautiful.
- Thank you.

What happened to this one?

He knocked it over
maybe a day or two before...

How did he knock it over?

I don't remember. Kids are clumsy.

Robert especially?

Well...

Sometimes.
He'd upset his glass at dinner...

- You're talking to them?
- They just got here.

Did you catch him?

No.

- Then what are you doing here?
- Mrs. Ellis...

There was another murder last night.

We believe it's the same man
that killed your son.

All of the other victims have suffered
from an illness or a condition...

- Robert was 12. He wasn't sick.
- We'd like to verify that.

How are you going to do that?

We conduct an autopsy.

You dig his body up, pry him open
and search around inside him?

Yes, we do.

- Who are you?
- I'm a doctor.

He wasn't sick.

And even if he was,
he did not need a man like you.

It's fate.

It's just that some people
do not have the courage

to accept the wisdom of the Lord.

I agree with you,
Mrs. Ellis, absolutely.

I know the limitations of medicine,

I've diagnosed many patients
with death growing inside them.

Like my own daughter. She had Leukemia.

For 2 years,
I went to the hospital every day

and watched her suffer.

Every procedure, every test,
all totally useless, of course.

And one day she died.

And that was that.

In the end, it was a blessing.

I do understand something about fate,
Mrs. Ellis.

And, uh, I certainly wouldn't use
medicine to alter God's plan.

I... just want to know
why your son was killed.

And medicine can help me discover that.

And then, perhaps, it can
help me catch the man...

who killed your little boy.

Dr. Clancy. Fax for you.
It's marked urgent.

What is it?

Check the cerebellar lobe.

Whoa! What is this?

- Well, there's your answer.
- What?

Brain tumor. Size of a pea.

Hidden in the cerebellar lobe.

- John?
- What's up, Doc?

Christ!

- John?
- I'm out. Finished.

The fax? What the hell did it say?

I don't know.
It was urgent and confidential.

Somebody trained you too well.

John!

Goddamn it!
You gotta let somebody in on this!

- We're walking right into a trap.
- What? You gotta talk to me.

He's way ahead of us.
And we do exactly what he wants us to do.

Don't you get it?

I'm out.

Doctor Clancy?

- Hi.
- Hi.

- Do you mind?
- Go ahead. You're paying for it.

So, we find a tumor...

that no one could've known about.

We've established connections

between victims that, I freely admit,
I could never have seen.

And instead of stepping up
and leading from the front,

you run out of an autopsy,
which you asked for,

coincidentally, without any explanation,

and now you're packing your bags
and you're going home.

Forgive me, Clancy,

but what the fuck?

Hmm.

"Who am I?

I will tell you in two words
who I am, what I do, and how I live."

What about that riddle?

- It's not a riddle.
- What is it?

"Le diro con due parole,
chi son, e che faccio, come vivo."

- It's from La Bohème by Puccini.
- So the killer is an opera nut.

That really helps with the profile.

- Thank you, Clancy.
- No.

I'm the nut. I'm the opera nut.

I happened to be listening to those lines,
the very moment I read your case files.

- I... I don't get it.
- He knew I'd be listening to that music.

He knew that you would ask me to help.

He knew we would arrive at the
apartment at exactly 4:16 am.

Because he knows everything.

You see... He's just like me.
He sees things.

Only he's better at it.

A whole lot better. Come, read that.

Come on, read it!

"Dr. Clancy,

Check the cerebellar lobe."

Okay.

So that's why you're quitting.

You've met your match.

Oh, no.

No. This guy, he's way beyond me.

I can't stop him,
which begs a more important question.

Is he really worth stopping?
These victims, they were dying anyway.

He's not killing them out of
compulsion, or anger, or any...

deviant psychosis or so.

No, he's the cigar, the ice cream,
the cocktails, the flowers in the bathtub

and all that whacko stuff.
This guy is brilliant.

And he's killing them with kindness.

Get it? It's mercy killing.

- Bullshit!
- Is it?

- It's murder.
- Mm-hmm.

That may spare a lot of suffering.

If this was your daughter, would you
be saying the same thing, Clancy?

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...

It's just...

I know your...
I know your daughter died.

But we all die someday, don't we?

So what is it...

that's so terrible
that you can't talk about?

Okay!

Here's what I'm not telling you.

You lost your virginity
to a drunk stud called Bruce

in the back of his green
Ford Bronco at 17

You didn't like it very much because

he puked all over you.

5 years ago,
you had a boyfriend called Kevin.

No, sorry. Gavin.

A year into that
relationship you discovered

he thought
you were pregnant with his baby.

Gavin didn't want it
but you did, so he left you.

And 21/2 months later,
the baby was born.

A little girl, Amanda.

But one day you decided
to give her up for adoption.

It's breaking your heart,

tearing your guts out and that's why you
pretend to be so foul-mouthed and cool.

Exactly twice a year on each of your
parents' birthdays, Doreen and Frank,

On their birthdays, 11/16 and 10/23,

you call them in Cincinnati

and tell them you love them,
they reply "We love you too, honey bunny."

And then you will cry your heart
out on that red goose down pillow.

And you'll hate my guts
for telling you all this.

But you know what, Agent Cowles?
Nobody gives a shit.

You want me to go on?

Go ahead.

What else do you see for me?

Just go home, Kathy.

Just go home.

I've gotta search.

Holy Mother of God.

Unsub is male, between
the ages of 18 and 35.

Mental illness likely.

Look for a man with
little personal hygiene,

someone conspicuously short
on social skills. A...

mercurial or an artistic temperament.

And for Christ's sakes find
the bottom half of that dress.

Sexually motivated, excessively violent.

This isn't even close to our guy.

Hey, cop!

- Joe.
- John.

John!

John!

Maybe you're right, John.

Maybe we can't catch this guy. Maybe...

Maybe that's exactly what he wants.
We found a clue, John.

And I think it's a good one.
I want you to see it.

Call it a personal favor.

You know, something really bad
is going to happen.

Your mystery fax was sent over
the Internet by high anonymity proxy.

We had trouble tracking it.

We also did a chemical analysis
of Victoria Raymond's bathwater.

HIV positive which we knew
from the autopsy and from you.

But we found trace elements
of an anti-invertebrate toxin.

Snail poison. On the flowers.

John, I gotta ask.
Do you just know this weird crap

or are you seeing into
my brain right now?

We're here.

This is where the flowers came from.

Hey.

I owe you an apology.
I'll explain later.

- You okay?
- John.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Wow.

We shouldn't be doing this.

Over here!

Too late now.

They look clipped. Not torn off.

I'll call forensics.

- John?
- Uh-huh?

- You up for this?
- Yeah, sure.

It's over there.

The bottom half of the dress.

Shit!

Get Otis in from the 14th now!

I'm on it.

We found the top half of
the dress pasted to a wall in a tenement.

At least half the victim's blood supply.
I was sure it wasn't our guy.

Still doesn't feel right.

- Otis is here.
- And Otis is who?

Besides you,

he's the best there is.

Otis! Come on, boy. Let's go.

- Where's the item?
- Right here.

Let's go, boy. Find it.

Let's go! Move it up! Let's go!

I want a 3-block perimeter.
We're on our way to Riverside.

- How far do we follow him?
- As far as he goes.

I don't trust it.
Either this is useless or...

he's leading us somewhere,
maybe into a trap.

- John, should I not follow the lead?
- No.

We have to follow him.
Christ, no! It's weird.

Let's go!

Possible subject location.
Give me all units, now!

- You wearing a vest?
- Of course. We all are, John.

Let's go! Move it up!

2 men on each exit, 6 going in.
Sawyer runs the perimeter.

Let's go.

Go!

Stairway up.

Landing. Clear.

Stairway up.

Landing. Clear.

Open door! Closed door left.

Hallway. Closed door right.

Closed door left.

Closed door right.

Closed door right.

FBI! Open up!

Go.

FBI! FBI!

Stay to your left!

- Left side clear.
- Right side clear.

Room clear!

- Whoa!
- Do you live here, sir?

- Do you live here?
- This is my studio.

What's your name?

Linus Harp.

Do you know
who occupies the opposite studio?

No... No one does.

- Turpentine?
- I'm a painter.

That's great. Can you
please step outside with us?

Can I lock up first?

No. Your studio is safe. Step outside.

Frogs.

Freeze!

- Man down!
- Move! Ambulance!

Agent down!

Suspect on foot!

He jumped out the window!
I'm coming down!

We gotta get him to county!

- What?
- How's it look?

It's not great. Get an ambulance! Now!

Go with Katherine.

Come on and get him!

- Got anything?
- No sign!

We got anything? Anything?

- What am I looking for?
- No idea!

- White male...
- Left!

- Left here?
- Left here.

Car heading west...

- In pursuit.
- Give us a description.

- Right!
- We will when we can.

Yellow cab. He's stolen a yellow cab.

I need a number.

- Five. M. Four. Three.
- There!

Hey!

Look out!

We're gonna lose him!

Hey!

- Take a left.
- He went straight!

Take a left!

- Okay, stop!
- Sit back!

- Stop the car!
- I got this!

Stop the fucking car!
What's the matter with you?

- He's gonna get away.
- Just stop the car.

- You want me to let him go?
- Shut up!

Come on! Come on!

Right. Go!

- You okay?
- Yeah. Are you?

Yeah.

Where is he?

Where is he?

Hey, cop!

You're not him.

- You want a moment alone with him?
- Yeah.

- Did you get the guy?
- No, Katherine did.

Good for her.

It wasn't the guy, was it?

Nope.

So you were right.

He was just leading us down a path.

Mm-hmm.

Handing us that psychopath.

And now...

Now he's got another
terminal case to show for it.

Stage four cancer.

You'd picked up on that, hadn't you?

I figured.

I appreciate you
not making me talk about it.

I got the diagnosis...

a few months ago. And...

It's too advanced
to do anything about it.

You will...

You'll check on Laura
and my little man now and then?

Yes, of course, I will.

Hell, John!

I'm not ready to die.

I guess, uh...

You know, I'd been planning on it.
I've been expecting it for a little bit.

But not for a few more months.
You know, I...

I have so much stuff to do.

I want to move Laura to the country.

I want to teach my little boy to drive.

You were always a lousy driver.

I know.

I wanted him to take after his dad.

You know, we, uh...

We want for so much in life, you know?

And then we get it.

I have it.

But I've run out of time.
There's just no time left.

Well, you did a hell of a lot
with your life and time.

My friend.

- Not enough, John.
- You did.

No.

It's good having you back, you know?

Hey.

Tell me one of your crappy jokes.

Crappy joke? How about I disconnect you?
Would that make you laugh?

It's true. You really fucking can't.

That smile right there.

You do me a favor. You take that
to Elizabeth. Okay?

You make it up with her.

I'm sorry I said to you
what I said last night.

You wanted to tell me
something at the park.

What was that?

Oh, yeah, I remember.

Yes, it was a...

beautiful Sunday afternoon.
June 24th 1990.

I watched my daughter
playing in the garden.

Everyone singing "Happy Birthday."

It was her sixth birthday.

All the other kids had a great time.

Suddenly, there it was. I saw it...

Standing just behind her, behind Emma.

It was a shadow.

It was moving like a curtain.

Moving in the breeze.

I knew it was no trick of the light.
I could feel it all around me.

Inside me. Oh, God.

It was weird.

And then it just sort of faded away.
And, uh...

I didn't tell anyone,
not even my wife Elizabeth, no one.

But I had no doubt, no doubt at all.

And 20 years later,
to the exact day, she called us.

Thursday morning, 9:23.

I thought, "Okay,
This is it. Here we go."

Then came the diagnosis,

Leukemia,

followed by two years of
agonizing treatment.

Then came the worst day
of my life when she...

died.

And she was gone.

Emma.

And on the third day,
He arose from the dead,

In accordance with the scriptures.

He ascended into heaven

and sits at the right hand
of the Father.

He will come again in glory,

to judge the living and the dead.

And his kingdom will have no end.

Amen.

Kevin, come here.

I know, okay.

Hey.

- Anything else?
- I'll have the same again.

I wanted to meet you for so long.

We're finally face-to-face.

Here you go.

- Could I have another one of these?
- Sure.

John, each life I take,

it's a life that's saved
from enormous pain.

I see what lies ahead for them.
The suffering and the sickness.

I see them writhing in agony.

I hear them screaming,
begging for release.

They beg for it, John.

And I grant them their wish.

Only better.

I get there before
the wish is even made.

I get there before the pain even starts.

As for their loved ones,
there's always an autopsy

when the existing condition is found.

That's when I see them
go from shock to relief.

I hear them say things like,

"Thank God it was so sudden."

"At least she felt no pain."

In the end, they're grateful
for what I've done.

That's why I helped your friend Joe.

He had 73 days of horrific pain ahead.

Do you know what benefits
his family would've gotten?

Dying of natural causes,
14 years into his career? None.

Now his wife gets a pension,
putting their son through college.

Stanford, actually.

You think Joe wouldn't have
taken that deal?

Please don't call to them.

Come on. You know I have a gun on me.

- He's got a gun!
- Gun! Get down!

Drop the gun! Drop the gun!

I've seen all possible
outcomes of this meeting.

I walk away healthy from each one.

One version's gruesome for our waitress

who'd be unlucky as her shift ends
in a couple of minutes.

I don't enjoy the work I do.
John, it's not a fetish.

It's about allowing those who are
already dying

to die with some dignity.

Sometimes the greatest acts of love
are the hardest acts to commit.

Why are you giving me
the silent treatment?

I got it. It's a lot to process.

That wasn't supposed to happen.

To be continued. He's got a gun!

He's got a gun! He's got a gun!

It's him for Christ's sake!
Leave me alone! Get him!

Oh, he was drinking beer.
But it was non-alcoholic.

He had a scar on his forehead.

It was kind of jagged, like, scar.

Here are all unsolved
murders over the last 10 years

with terminally ill victims.

- How many?
- 7. No punctures to the medulla,

but all painless.

- Poisons, gas.
- These are all local?

You want the national data, too?

Is this how you saw it? What's Atticus?

- John?
- We're connected.

We're the same animal.
Does this look familiar?

I'm scared.

Did she leave a note?

Concentrate, John.

Focus, John.

John!

- Hey, cop!
- I'm scared.

Just... focus.

Concentrate, John.

Focus.

62 in the last 10 years,
ranging from Juneau to Miami Beach.

Shit!

Do one more search.
Remove the terminal constraint.

Look for other unsolveds
in the same time period.

The killer may have known
they were sick when no one else did.

Run everything against this description:

Male, 30s, front-left cranial scar,
almost certainly post-surgical.

Bring me everything...

anything you come across. Okay?

Hmm.

That's what it means,
"Congratulations, partner."

I'm getting upped!

That's what 20 minutes
with a rich geriatric will get you.

Well, I'm the youngest partner
in the firm's history.

You can tell your friends that.

I don't know, I mean...
Bring me them on Monday?

Whatever they think is right.

How to keep. Is there any,

is there none such

bow or brooch or braid or brace,
latch or catch or key to keep,

keep it, beauty, beauty,
beauty from vanishing away.

"O is there no frowning
of these ranked wrinkles deep down?

No waving off of these messengers...

Still messengers sad and
stealing messengers of grey.

No, there's none.

Nor can you long be what
you now are, called fair.

Do what you may do, do what you may.

Wisdom is early to despair.

So, be beginning..."

- Hello, John.
- Hello, Charles.

"Nothing can be done to keep at bay
age and age's evils, hoar hair,

ruck and wrinkle,
death's winding sheets,

tombs and worms and tumbling to decay."

Anyway, you were right about me.

- I was... What's the word?
- Conflicted.

I was conflicted about you.
Yeah. But not anymore. Oh, no.

You had no right to take
one hour, one minute,

not even one second of time
away from my friend, Joe Merriweather.

I don't know if you've ever really known
anyone who was dying, Charles.

Watched them struggling
on the edge of terror and horror

as they try to hold on to life.
I don't know,

but if you had, perhaps you would
have appreciated how time at the end is...

kind of precious, I guess.

At that point,
even the pain of life itself

may be quite beautiful.
You know what I mean?

Is that how your daughter felt?

That her...

- ...her pain was "beautiful?"
- Well, my friend,

I'm afraid you won't find out.

- Who the fuck are you guys?
- Sit down and shut up.

I don't see you pulling that trigger.

Ditto.

- This is not your style. It's not mercy.
- No?

A bullet to the head is better
than what he's got coming.

You see, Jeffrey here...

has a fight ahead of him
with neurofibromatosis.

And that's gonna turn him into
a writhing, crooked beast.

Tomorrow night, after some cocktails,
Jeffrey gets his girlfriend pregnant.

And the real charm about NFB
is that it's hereditary.

There's a 50 percent chance
the kid gets it, but I can tell you now:

the kid... gets it.

- What's NFB?
- And you want to gift him that suffering?

Destroy three lives in one,

all because of some moral judgment?

We can't play God.

No. I have no interest in playing God.

As far as His work is concerned,
I'm not impressed.

It's okay.

Look at you. You're so confused.

You don't even know
which one of us to shoot.

You'll figure it out soon enough.

Call an ambulance. You've been poisoned.

You need to get to hospital.
Throw up, vomit, whatever. Drink milk.

Good luck.

I think we got him.
Your search came back.

I crossed him with the gun records.
Gun was bought by a Charles Ambrose.

Oh, man. Let's go.

Concentrate, John.

Someone dies tonight.

Don't lose me now.

FBI! Open door right! Open door left!

Move in! Room, clear!

What is this place?
No furniture? Nothing?

Not a bad view.

Listen!

Katherine!

Who is Charles Ambrose?

Who is he, really?

- How the fuck's he doing this?
- I know what they'll look for.

Dysfunctional childhood
that involved abuse and neglect.

Later on...

couldn't hold a job,
couldn't keep a relationship.

- Wrong on all counts.
- What the....

Concentrate.

Mom never left me. Dad never beat me.

You won't find any trace of violence
or antisocial behavior in my past.

I'm not a radical.

I have no interest in fame or power.

I'm simply a man
who could no longer look away.

Don't stop.

God knows I would prefer
to live the quiet life...

away from all that I have become.

But we don't always
get to choose what we are.

There you go.

It hurts so bad.

I'm so scared.

Officer Pearce.
My name is Charles Ambrose.

Tell your supervisor you just met me.
It will do wonders for your career.

Officer Pearce here.

And now the savior... needs to be saved.

Clancy doesn't want you
to respond, Agent Cowles.

Sloman.

He doesn't want you
there when it happens. But you will.

You'll respond. You'll be there.

You can't help yourself.

Hey.

Hey, a beat cop

just reported a Charles Ambrose
at Ashland Station.

Where are you going? Hey! Get back here.

See you soon.

And here you are.

- Welcome.
- Thank you.

Just as I've seen it all those years.
You, me, this train.

You've seen it, too, right? You've heard it?
Day after day? Month after month?

Except something's not right.

He's got a gun!

This is Agent Cowles. Our suspect
is headed into Ashland Station.

We'll have the engineer stop the train
in a station up ahead where we'll set up.

- Then what?
- We take him out.

- I advise you to stay clear.
- I'm not staying clear.

We have control. Stay clear.

Shit!

We're connected.

- The same animal.
- No, no. I'm not a killer.

- We can talk about that in seven minutes.
- Seven minutes?

That's when you kill someone.

- Who might that be?
- Me.

Move, Move! Move in!

- Let's go!
- Move!

Go! Move!

Go! Move! Move! Move!

Train is five minutes out!

Let's go! Move!

I'm dying, John.

I can't continue this work anymore.

That's why I need someone
to carry on for me.

Someone who can see the pain.

The suffering. Sickness.

There's another reason you have
to shoot me that you don't see.

Concentrate!

John.

John.

There it is. Thank you.

Agent Cowles.

You've grown so fond of her.

It's like having your daughter back.

I'm sorry. You've lost me, Charles.

She doesn't fit your profile.
Why would you kill her?

You're right. Of course I won't kill her.
She's perfectly healthy.

That's the beauty of it.
You're going to stop me first.

Yes. With one bullet, right here.

- And after that, there's no turning back.
- Sorry, my friend.

The game stops here and now.

I want 4 shooters, 3 low, 1 high!
Train is 60 seconds out.

Let's go. Move!

FBI!

- Ma'am...
- FBI! Let me through!

Look at me, John.

Does this look familiar?

See now?

All your visions become real.

50 seconds to target.

- Do you have a visual?
- Captain.

- Do you have a shot?
- Affirmative.

She's going to make it just in time.

- Take the shot!
- Take the shot!

Fuck! I lost him!

Take the shot!

Target is locked.

Let's go!

Say hello to your destiny, John.

Fire!

Hold! Hold!

I told you you'd kill me.

Clear to fire! Fire!

- John.
- You're okay.

You're okay.

Oh, hi.

Hey.

- How are you doing?
- I spoke to the chief surgeon.

He said the surgery was a success.

- Good.
- He said the bullet went clean through.

I was hoping you would
consider a reinstatement.

As Joe said, we'd make a hell of a team.

Oh no, I want a quiet life.

Yeah.

Joe would be proud of you.

Don't cry. You're a good kid.

It was good working with you, John.

- I'll see you around.
- See you around.

- Take care of yourself.
- I will.

Oh, yeah, um...

Nearly forgot. Could you
help me with this?

See it gets to delivered.

I got it.

Joe.

Hello, Elizabeth.

Hello, John.

You look so beautiful.

I read your letter. Several times.

It's different than the others.

Which way?

It's all about the past.

Oh, yeah?

Yeah, I think of Emma. Every single day.

Come here.

It's okay.

It hurts.

I'm scared.

I'm so scared.

Oh, my.... It hurts.

Sometimes the greatest acts of love...

are the hardest acts to commit.

Let's walk, shall we?

See you soon, John.