All language subtitles for Resurrection.1999.REMASTERED.1080p.BluRay.H264.AAC-RARBG.en

(moody, foreboding music)

(eerie, chorused singing)

(eerie singing cont)

(scissors snipping)

- Prudhomme.

- [Man on Phone] John,
sorry to call you so early.

- I was up.

- [Man on Phone] We got a problem.

- What time is it?

- It's early.

- Okay. I'll make you some breakfast.

- I don't have time.

Go back to sleep.

- Okay.

(sound of train on
train tracks in the distance)

- Yeah. The old man says,

"Son, I get a hard-on once a week,

but I fall down at least ten times a day."

(man laughing)

- Good morning, John.

- Keep them away, Mac.

- Okay. Stay back!

- You've been inside?

- No, I just got here.

- [Woman] You have any
idea who could do this?

- Hey, how does a blonde
turn the lights on after sex?

She opens the car door.

I do not know why I waste
my good jokes on you.

- I don't know, either.

- [Scholfield] Prudhomme.

Hey, what are you doing here?

- I got the call.

- Bullshit. We were on the scene first.

- I got the call.

- What's the deal, man?

What, you don't have enough
cases that you need more?

- Where's the body?

- I asked you a question.

- Hey, he's just doing
what they told him to do.

- Hollinsworth, I'm not talking to you.

- Oh, you're not talking
to me, Scholfield?

Yeah, well, I'm talking to you.

- So, what is it?

You better than everybody else?

Nobody can do it as good as you?

We're all idiots here?

- I don't see the point
of this conversation.

- The point is, it's the
reason why nobody likes you.

- I like you.

(latex snaps)

(ominous music)

- He's a little ripe, but, uh,
he's been dead for four days.

(ominous music)

- [Hollinsworth] Who is he?

- [Walter] Peter Balcour.

He owned the place.

- Who found him?

- The contractor who had
an appointment with him.

Seems Balcour's old man
was bit of a recluse.

Owned a large fleet of fishing boats.

He died a couple of months ago

and left everything to his son.

Balcour had an appointment
with the contractor

to fix the place up to sell it.

- Any other family?

- Contractor says the kid
was the end of the line.

- Anything taken?

- You mean besides his arm?

(Walter chuckling)

No. We did find his wallet
in his jacket pocket

with $112 in.

(foreboding music)

- Was he alive when he lost the arm?

- Yeah, if you check
out the blood splatter.

But take a look at this...

He's got some kind of
strange burn effect here.

And the back of his head is all singed.

- [Prudhomme] What is it?

- I don't know.

I'll have to verify all
that when I get him back

to the shop.

- Any more light in here?

- No, that's it.

I didn't wanna touch anything,

so I left the curtains closed.

- Open them.

- Sure.

(tense, ominous music)

(boat horn blowing)

(traffic sounds)

(indistinct chattering)

- You finished that report?

- Yeah.

- Thanks.
- Okay.

(indistinct chattering)

- [Rousch] Do you think this guy

is somewhere in New York city?

I'll get in touch with
NYPD and when they get him,

I'll get his ass!

(phone ringing)

- [Man] Hey Jack, can I
get one of those papers?

- Prudhomme, Hollinsworth, in my office.

(phone ringing)

Rousch and Scholfield were just in here

bitching about you stealing their case.

- They can have it if they want it.

- This is not a democracy, Prudhomme.

It's your case, I gave it to you.

- Then what's the problem?

- The problem is you pissed 'em off.

Hollinsworth here is the only
one in the entire department

who wants to work with you.

I don't know what it
was like in New Orleans,

but since you came here

you've gone through one
partner after another.

- Did you bring me in here to talk

about my social skills?

- Talking to you is like
pissing into the wind.

- You should know better by now.

(man sighs)

- What've you got?

- Peter Balcour, 33 year-old male,

owned a fleet of fishing boats,

had his right arm cut off at the shoulder.

The killer presumably took
it with him when he left.

- Took it with him?

You mean like a souvenir?

- Mmh-hm.

- That's somethin' new.

Witnesses?

- No, but the killer left us
a message, written in blood.

- Prints?

- Forensics is checking.

- [Prudhomme] We won't find any prints.

- How the hell do you know that?

- [Prudhomme] Because
he doesn't want us to.

And also, there will be more bodies.

- You don't know that.

For all you know, this, what's his name?

- Balcour.

- Balcour shorted a
customer on a case of tuna.

The guy cut his arm off and
he pulled all this bullshit

to throw us off track.

- The killer wrote, "He
is coming" on the window.

That signifies a future event
that hasn't taken place yet.

This guy has something worked out

and today was just the first move.

- If this was all planned,
what's the motive?

- We already know the motive.

The killer wanted his arm.

That's a motive.

(upbeat music)

(indecipherable French)

(speaking French)

- Would it be too much to
ask to get a cheeseburger

every once in a while?

- What do you think he took the arm for?

- We have to talk about this over lunch?

I don't know.

Obviously, we're not dealing
with somebody who is playing

with a full deck, here.

God only knows what he's doing.

Maybe we got another Jeffrey Dahmer.

- Why not take the whole body?

- Maybe he only wanted a snack.

(fan whirring)

(paper rustling)

- Jenny called today.

She's gonna come visit us.

- Again?

- Yes, again.

What, is there a problem?

- No, but the last time
she came for a weekend,

she stayed two weeks.

- She's my best friend.

What I'm supposed to tell her?

Stay in a hotel?

- No.

- Hey, you okay?

- Yeah. Just thinking.

- About that case?

I saw it on the news.

I mean, this world just
keep getting sicker

and sicker everyday.

Why would someone do such a thing?

- I don't want to talk about it.

- Well, I'm not asking details.

I'm just asking your opinion.

- I said, I don't want to talk about it!

(gentle string music)

(drawer sliding open)

(Prudhomme crying)

- And the fat guy says, "Yeah,
I thought I was gonna scream

when I came out of the closet."

(Dr. Nestler laughing)

- Prudhomme.

- Do you know the exact cause of death?

Yeah, exsanguination.

That means he bled to death.

He also has some burns on the right side

of his parietal region.

Looks like he was tortured

with a taser or some kind of cattle prod.

It didn't kill him, but it
probably knocked him out.

- So, he wasn't conscious
when the arm was taken?

- No, unfortunately, he was.

His endorphin and adrenaline levels

were incredibly high in his blood,

which means he was wide awake.

He experienced a severe
trauma just before he died.

- Wait a minute. You telling
me that he waited for him

to wake up before he cut his arm off?

- [Dr. Nestler] Yeah,
that's what I'm telling you.

- How sick is that?

- I can also tell you
that whoever this guy is,

he knows what he's doing,
because he removed that arm

with almost surgical precision.

This guy's no Jack the Ripper.

And you might be interested in this.

Roman numerals.

- What's that?

- Oh, yeah. It's a keymark.
Etched in permanently.

(keys rattling)

- Let me check the neck.

(keys rattling)

Bismark Locker Service.

(car horns blaring)

(footsteps pattering)

- Over there.

(indistinct street noise)

Bingo.

(locker clicks open)

(car horn blaring)

(locker slamming shut)

Can you identify it?

- Brachychiton acerifolius.

It's a flower from the bottle tree.

- Where can I find it around here?

- You can't.

That's indigenous to Australia.

- We're not in Australia.

- I can see why they made you a detective.

- What about the Botanical Museum?

- I don't think so.

This flower was picked
only a few days ago.

There is one, however,
at the Botanical Gardens.

(footsteps approaching)

- There's your flower.

- Billy?

- Got it.

(rustling)

(camera shutter clicking)

Hey, Prudhomme.

This whole area has been
cut out and laid back in.

(foreboding music)

- Pull it up.

- Why not?

(camera shutter clicking)

(foreboding music)

Oh, my God-

(Billy coughing)

Jesus!

(Billy coughing)

(ominous music)

What the...?

(coughing)

- Call Chibley and close this place down.

- [Man] Section this area off.

- [Prudhomme] How difficult could it be

for someone to get in here at night?

- Not very difficult.

All we have is a wall around the property.

- No security?

- This isn't a bank.

All we have are plants here.

- [Forensic Guy] Prudhomme?

(foreboding music)

- Andy...

His arm has been removed.

What's that?

- This guy likes to play
with numbers, doesn't he?

(moody string music)

- Prints identify him as
Matthew Leesan, age 33.

He works for the I.R.S.

- At least our killer's taste
in victims is improving.

- He was killed before Balcour
and at a different location.

The killer moved his body to the Gardens.

- Why go to all that trouble?

Risk being seen?

- What about the numbers on the victims?

- Actually, they're numerals.

- What?

- They're roman numerals.

- And numerals aren't numbers?

- No. All I'm saying
is, I think the killer

choose numerals for a reason.

119, 2427.

Numbers, numerals.

- So far, we've only found
what he's wanted us to find.

No prints, no trace evidence, nothing.

What we have here is a
very clever serial killer.

(tense, dramatic music)

- Guys, the lab just called down.

The blood on the window wasn't Balcour's.

- Whose was it?

Killer's?

- It wasn't anybody's.

Lab says it wasn't human.

Says it was lamb's blood.

(siren wailing)

(footsteps pattering)

(children playing and
shouting in distance)

(eerie music)

- Do you wanna play?

That's it, my baby.

You wanna play?

(tense, foreboding music)

(tense, foreboding music cont.)

(horn blaring)

No!

(thud)

(Prudhomme sobbing)

(rain pattering)

- Excuse me, excuse me,

who called it in?

- I did.

- Where is it?

- Just over here.

(rain pattering)

Its right down here, gentlemen.

Watch yourselves, it's a mess down here.

Transients, deviants, whatever.

(tense, menacing music)

All sorts of weird shit happens down here.

- [Hollinsworth] Fuck, it stinks!

- [Officer] Yeah, some of them
are too lazy to go outside

to relieve themselves.

- How did you come across him?

- One of his buddies flagged us down.

(cat yowling)

(rats squeaking)

Rats in this city! Jesus.

Here's something you don't see every day.

He's in there.

(foreboding music)

(water dripping)

(latex snapping)

- Oh my God!

Oh my God!

Oh my God!

Oh my God!

What's this guy got?

Fucking shopping list or something?

Where's his head?

(tense, ominous music)

There's a guy sitting in front of me here

without his head, John.

Where's his head?

(tense, ominous music)

I'm sorry.

(Hollinsworth panting)

- [Prudhomme] Where is Chibley?

- [Officer] He's on his way.

- One plastic comb, about $1.25
in change and a pack of gum.

Oh yeah, and a wallet.

One James Ordway.

- You done?

- Yeah.

I got a pretty good
idea of what killed him.

- Is this the scene?

- No.

The killer cut him in here, strung him up

and then he bled him like a stuck pig.

Then he dragged him back
in there, cleaned him up,

and sat him on the throne
for dramatic effect.

- Okay.

- I gotta get some air.

Thanks.

- You're welcome.

(footsteps fading)

(rain pattering)

- Any witnesses?

- No.

- What?

No witnesses?

No witnesses?

Are you kidding me?

- We talked to everyone in the building,

no one saw anything,
no one heard anything.

- Wait a minute!

You're kidding me.

A guy comes in here, cuts
another guy's head off,

walks off with it and
nobody sees anything?

No witnesses?

Fuck!

I swear to God, man, I've
been on the job eight years

and I've never seen -- I've
never seen anything like this.

Never!

- He wants to shock us.

- He's doin' a good job.

- Let's go.

(rain pattering)

- We found the victim's wallet.

Driver's license ID'd him as James Ordway.

- Are we sure it's him?

- Yeah. We checked the prints
against the license, it's him.

- Leesan was killed two weeks
ago, Balcour one week ago,

Ordway last night.

- We're up to speed.

- I had the lab blow up his license photo.

(moody, foreboding music)

(indistinct chattering)

- Two-thousand, four-hundred
and twenty-one...

Numbers, dates...

(pages flipping)

(Prudhomme sighing)

One-nineteen...

Dates...

Numbers...

One, plus one, plus one, two...

Two...

Two...

Two plus four.

(foreboding music)

(papers crumpling)

Four, plus two, plus
seven...five, plus six.

Doesn't make sense.

Doesn't make sense.

Peter...

(pencil scratching)

One-hundred and nineteen...one-one-nine.

Peter 1:19...

(pencil scratching)

My God!

Peter 1:19, Matthew 24:27.

(train screeching)

Peter, Matthew, James.

All names of apostles.

Peter was a fisherman,
Balcour owned a fishing fleet.

Matthew was a tax collector,
Leesan worked for the I.R.S.

- So the guy is some kind of a zealot?

- The numbers he carved on the victims

are chapter and verses from the Bible.

Peter 1:19.

One-one-nine.

"But with precious blood as of a lamb,

unblemished and unspotted, Christ."

A message was written in lamb's blood.

Matthew 24:27.

"For as the lightning
cometh out of the east,

and shineth unto the west,

so shall also be the
coming of the Son of man".

All the victims were 33 years old,

the same age as Christ when he died.

All three died a week apart
of each other on a Friday,

the same day Christ died.

The guy is rebuilding the body of Christ.

- You say he's actually rebuilding a body?

- Yes. He's killed a person a
week for the last three weeks.

He's halfway through.

If he stays on his Friday schedule,

that'll take three more weeks.

What's three weeks from now?

- Easter.

- The resurrection.

(train screeching)

Scholfield, you and Rousch
contact every seminary,

school and church in the area.

Check on zealots, disturbed personalities,

anyone who might fit the profile.

Moltz, check the mental institutions,

see if they ever treated
anyone that could be our boy.

- Got it.

- The rest of them should
canvas the crime scenes again.

Somebody had to see something!

(indistinct chattering)

- Get a beer later?

- No I can't, I promised Sara
I'd go to the market with her

so the house is stocked
when Jenny comes in.

- So what's the story with this Jenny?

Is she cute?

- I guess so.

- You guess so?

She's cute.

She's cute, right?

Okay, so what's the problem?

You know I'm cute, can we
make a little connection here?

You'll hook us up?

- I don't know, that's all
I need is for her start

liking you and decide to stay longer.

- No, no, that's good.

She likes me, she can stay with me.

It's all good.

We all win.

- Are you really that desperate?

- Yeah.

Yes, I really am.

(car engine revving)

(car door slamming)

(door opening)

(door closing)

- Hi.

Father Rousell dropped by
to see how we're doing.

- Good to see you, John.

- What brings you by, Father?

- Well, it's been six months
since you've been to church.

I just wanted to see how you were doing.

- I'm fine.

- You two sit down and
I'll just get some coffee.

- I'm just fine.

- You shouldn't turn
your back on your faith.

God loves you, John.

His love can help you heal.

- Oh, I've seen how he loves me.

My son was in a coma for five days.

You know how many times I prayed?

Where was my God when I needed him?

(footsteps fading)

- I'm sorry.

- It's all right.

It's all right.

(liquid pouring)

- What the hell were you thinking, Sara?

- I can't reach you anymore.

- I'm right here.

- I'm worried about you.

I'm worried about us.

- What do you want from me?

- I want you to talk to me!

Will you please just talk to me?

(somber music)

It's been one year since Michael died,

and you have not visited
his grave since the funeral.

- You don't understand.

- You are not the only
one who lost a child!

(Sara sobbing)

- I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry.

I didn't mean that.

(gentle string music)

(gulls honking)

- [Woman] Morning, John.

- Hi.

- So he says, "we
finally get back together

and she gets hit by a bus."

(Prudhomme laughing)

- This isn't a joke?

- No.

My cousin's girlfriend got
hit by a bus last night.

- I'm sorry.

How is she doing?

She's got a broken leg.

(indistinct chattering)

- Smooth, John, smooth.

- I thought it was a joke.

- What's so funny?

- You had to be there.

- What've you got?

- Well, since your press
conference last night

we've received about 50 calls.

We've got people accusing everyone

from their mother-in-law to the mayor.

- Well, the mayor might not be a bad lead.

- I got someone in my office
you guys should talk to.

- [Hollinsworth] Who is he?

- [Jack] FBI profiler.

- [Prudhomme] Come on, Jack.

- Look, he's just trying
to help, all right?

This guy solved a lot of cases.

- What is he gonna tell me?

I'm looking for a white
male, 25 to 45 years old?

- Just talk to him!

Prudhomme, Hollinsworth, agent Wingate.

- Nice to meet you.

Hi.

- So, I understand you
might have something for us.

- Well, I thought maybe I could help,

though I've never come
across a serial killer

who's moved at such an accelerated pace.

- How do you know what
pace he's moving at?

- Your captain let me
look through the files.

- Did he?

- Based on what I've seen so far,

I'd say you're looking for someone

of above average intelligence.

White male, 25 to 45 years old.

(John chuckling)

Something funny?

- No, no.

Go on, I'm sorry.

- He'll be middle class,
a loner, not married.

Those who know him will
find him aloof but cordial.

See, though he prefers isolation,

he has the ability to navigate

in social settings when he has to.

He will have strong moral
and religious convictions.

- But obviously his moral
convictions don't include murder.

- Well, he doesn't view
what he's doing as murder.

To him, he is making sacrifices to God.

- Okay, what point is there in
keeping his victims conscious

while he mutilates them?

- Christ suffered on the cross,

he wants his victims to suffer.

- But leaving clues
behind...this puts him at risk.

- He want us to know what he's doing.

- True, but there's more to it than that.

If he merely wanted you
to know what he was doing,

there are more direct ways to inform you.

The clues he leaves give
him a sense of power

and shows he's in control.

(knocking)

- Prudhomme, this fax
just came in for you.

I think you should take a look at it.

(paper rustling)

- You have heard the voice of the prophet

as he prepares the throne of grace,

and you've twisted his message.

Those who die do so for the glory of God.

Spread the true gospel before
the end of the Boanerges,

or you shall be judged by me.

What makes you think this is him?

- Read the bottom.

- So you do not doubt:

Inside the third one is
the key to the mount.

- May I?

Third one?

- Ordway.

- Ordway, James.

(keyboard clicking)

(door knocking)

Come in.

- Where's Ordway's body?

- Yeah, I just finished the autopsy.

I'm making out the report now.

You can have it in...

Well, you can have it by this afternoon.

- Anything unusual?

- No, not really.

Except, all he'd been eating was olives.

His stomach was full of them.

- Mount of Olives.

- It's him.

See ya.

- This guy is fucking with us.

- He let you into his world so
you would publicize his work.

He knows you know what he's doing.

So your failure to acknowledge
it has angered him.

- Yeah, well, he's going
to kill again tomorrow

and there's nothing we can do to stop him.

- Can you run a search
through your database

and see if you have
anything similar on file?

- No problem.

Here's my direct line at the Bureau,

and my cell phone number
will be on the back.

Call me if there's anything I can do.

- Thank you.

(car doors slamming)

(car engine starts)

(indistinct chattering)

(footsteps approaching)

- They've already got a name for him.

- It sells papers.

- What do you think
makes someone this crazy?

- Who knows?

Problems mount, pressures grow...

One day you start to
slip through the cracks,

and there's no one there to catch you.

Happens every day.

- I'll tell you one thing for sure,

I'll feel a hell of a lot better

knowing that he's drooling on himself

in a padded cell somewhere.

- You're assuming we're gonna catch him?

- What the hell's that supposed to mean?

Assuming we're gonna catch him?

- It means that either we'll
catch him, or, he'll finish

what he's doing and disappear
like Jack the Ripper

and the Zodiac Killer.

- Or, come Easter,
he'll realize all he has

is a rotting corpse in his garage,

so he'll figure he fucked
up his little recipe,

and start all over again for next year.

- I don't know if he really believes

he's creating the second coming.

I think it's more symbolic.

He's sending a message.

- Yeah?

To whom?

- To us, the world.

- The guy is a fucking nutcase, okay?

All this religious
mumbo jumbo is bullshit!

You don't think the guy
is at home right now,

reading these headlines
and jerking himself off?

He loves the attention,
he wants the attention!

- I'm not doubting he's insane.

But don't discount his intelligence.

You think you just go out and
you find a 33 year-old guy

named Peter who happens to be a fisherman?

Or someone named Matthew
who is a tax collector?

Don't you see planning
that's gone into this?

The time.

- Stop admiring him.

He kills people.

Let's not lose sight of that.

- I admire the intellect, not the action.

Do you know how difficult it
is to get away with murder?

There are 50 ways to fuck up a crime,

and if you can think of 20
of them you're a genius.

So far, this guy is batting a thousand.

(chewing)

(silverware clattering)

(moody string music)

(papers rustling)

(Prudhomme muttering)

"...just to find thy words
the faith of the son of God.

Spread the true gospel before
the end of the Boanerges,

or you shall be judged by him."

(papers rustling)

Boanerges...

"From the Greek, sons of thunder...

an epithet used by Jesus."

Sons of thunder...sons... two
people...two people or more.

(moody string music)

(car engine revving)

(somber string music)

(car engine humming)

(car screeching)

(door knocking)

- [Father Rousell] Who is it?

- It's John Prudhomme!

- John, it's very late.

- I'm sorry, Father.

I need to talk to you, it's important.

- Well, come in.

- Thanks.

(door closing)

- [Father Rousell] Is
everything all right?

- Yeah. I need some information
on the...the Boanerges.

- The what?

- The Boa-ner-ges.

- Oh, it's pronounced Boa-ner-ges.

- Yeah, whatever.

I know it means "sons of thunder."

Whose sons?

- Zebedee.

- Who is he?

He's only mentioned in the
Bible in relation to his sons.

- Yeah, where in the Bible?

- You should know this.

- Listen Father, I don't have time

for a Bible class right now.

- Well, come with me.

(Prudhomme panting)

(papers rustling)

Yep, here it is.

(Father Rousell sighing)

Mark 3:17.

"And James is son of Zebedee
and John, the brother of James,

and he surnamed them the Boanerges,

which is the sons of thunder."

- John, the brother of James?

- Yes.

- Thank you, Father.

Ordway has a brother, his name is John.

He's going to be the fourth victim.

I need an address, fast. Thanks.

(tense, suspenseful music)

- [Hollinsworth] John
Ordway, photographer.

He has a work studio at 1432 Baker Street.

- Home address?

- [Hollinsworth] The
studio is his home address.

- Okay, I'm 10 minutes away.

Call him and tell him to lock
himself in and wait for me.

- [Hollinsworth] I'll meet you there.

(rain pattering)
(tense, suspenseful music)

- I talked to him and told
him to lock himself in.

- Call for backup and check the perimeter.

(foreboding music)

- Detective Hollinsworth requesting backup

at 1432 Baker Street.

(foreboding music)

(stairs creaking)

(man gasping)

(foreboding music)

(creaking)

(projector humming)

(foreboding music)

(dramatic whooshing)

(dramatic whooshing)

(man shuddering and gasping)

- Help me.

(man gasping)

(Prudhomme shouting)

Hang on!
(foreboding music)

Hang on!

(blood spurting)

Oh God!

Hang on!

Hang on!

- Help me.
(man panting)

Oh my God!

(man panting)

(foreboding music)

(man muttering)

God!

(somber music)

(rain pattering)

I think he's still here.

(footsteps pattering)

He's here!

He's here!

(suspenseful music)

(Hollinsworth groaning)

(footsteps pattering)

- Are you okay?

- He fucking got by me!

- Where did he go?

(suspenseful music)

(suspenseful music cont.)

(rain pattering)

(grunting)

Let's split up!

(rain pattering)

(siren wailing)

(dog snarling and barking)

(fence rattling)

(siren wailing)
(tires screeching)

- I want a 10-block perimeter set.

- I'm on it.

Close the roof!

(ominous music)

(taser buzzing)

(gunshot)

- You two take the alley!

We'll take the street!

(taser buzzing) (Hollinsworth groaning)

(siren wailing)

(moody, suspenseful music)

Freeze!

(guns cocking)

Put your hands on your head!

- He's got a gun!

(guns cocking)

- Drop the weapon!

Drop the weapon, now!

- [Man] Put your guns down!

(indecipherable)

- Don't shoot!

(gunshot)

(Hollinsworth gasping)

No!

No!

- No!

Shit!

The gun was taped to his fuckin' hand!

- No!

(Hollinsworth panting)

Get an ambulance!

Get an ambulance!

Take it easy!

God!

No!

Oh, no!

(Hollinsworth gasping)

- I can't feel...I can't feel my leg.

I can't feel my leg!

- [Prudhomme] Can't
you give him something?

- I did. It doesn't seem to work!

- Did you see my leg?

Did you see my leg?

- Hold on!

We'll be at the hospital in few minutes.

Hey, Andy, two boys are
sharing a hospital room,

so, one boy asked the
other what he's there for,

so the boy says, "circumcision."

And the other boy says,

"Oh man, I had that done
right after I was born

and I couldn't walk for a year."

- That's the worst fucking
joke I ever heard, John.

- I know, I know.

- How are you, Jack?

- Sara.

- How is he?

- We don't know yet.

(door closing)

- Bone's completely shattered.

We've stopped the bleeding,
but we'll have to amputate.

- There has to be
something else you can do.

- If there was, detective,
I'd be doing it.

- Hey.

- Hey.

- [Hollinsworth] How you doin'?

- I'm okay.

(Hollinsworth panting)

- They wanna take my leg.

They wanna take my leg.

- I know.

- Don't let 'em take my leg.

Please, don't let 'em take my leg.

John, please don't let 'em take my leg.

I'm scared.

I'm scared.

I - I'm scared!

(Hollinsworth sobbing)

- What the hell is he doing?

It's an old Cajun superstition.

When someone's suffering,
you put a knife under the bed

and it cuts the pain in half.

(indistinct chattering)

- What are you doing here?

- I'm working.

- John, go home.

Get some rest.

- I'm not tired.

- In my office.

(door closing)

John, I want you to take a few days off.

- We can't waste any more time.

- That's really how you see it, isn't it?

If you're not here,

the rest of us are just
plodding along in the dark.

- I didn't-

- You see those guys out there?

Those are detectives.

They do the same job as you.

- I know that.

I also know we had him last night.

He was standing in the same room with me,

and got away.

Don't take me off this, Jack.

- All right.

- Thanks.

- What do you think he's gonna do?

I mean, you interrupted him last night.

He didn't get what he came for.

- If he wants to stay
on schedule for Easter,

he's gonna have to make up for lost time.

- So are you.

(phone ringing)

- John.

We just want you to know that-

- Thanks guys.

Thank you.

(phone ringing)

- There's a Dr. Nestler
on line one for you.

- Hi, doctor.

- [Dr. Nestler] We've a problem over here

that I thought you should know about.

- I thought the operation went fine?

- It did.

- I...I don't understand.

- [Dr.Nestler] One of our orderlies

was found unconscious down there.

Someone beat the hell out of him.

- I'll send an officer over.

- [Dr.Nestler] The
police are already here.

Detective, the orderly was
carrying an appendage downstairs.

Somebody stole your partner's leg.

(foreboding music)

- Can I see him?

- He's still pretty groggy.

Try not to be long.

- Thanks.

Hi.

(scraping)

I wanted to stop by and
see how you were doing.

Do you need anything?

- Yeah. A leg.

You got one?

- I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry.

- Hey, you know, when I was
coming out of the alley,

I was -- I was -- I
could hear you screaming.

I just -- I never imagined
that you were screaming at me.

I must have been...

I must have pretty out
of it, though, you know

from the stun gun.

I just get...I just kept moving towards

the sound of your voice.

I love being a cop.

It's all I ever wanted to be.

Far back as I can remember.

A cop.

Helping people.

Righting wrongs.

You know what I mean?

That's the finest thing you can be.

Oh man, oh man, what am
I gonna do now, John?

What am I gonna do now?

You can go, you know?

You can go.

I just want to be left alone, all right?

Go on.

Go!

Go on.

(phone keypad beeping)

(phone ringing)

- [Wingate] Wingate.

- John Prudhomme.

(heels clicking)

- Thank you.

You're lettin' him inside your head,

you can't do that.

- How do I not do that?

- You divorce yourself from the emotions.

- What?

Turn it off like a light switch?

Right now, there is a cop, a friend,

who will never be the same because of me.

- You're doing exactly
what he wants you to do.

You're concentrating on your guilt.

- I got my fucking
partner shot last night!

What the fuck are you looking at?

- How can I help you, Prudhomme?

I assume there are others

you can talk to if you
just wanted to vent.

- I'm sorry.

I think last night was my best shot

at catching this guy and I fucked it up.

I don't know where to go from here.

- If you can't go forwards, go backwards.

Back up.

Who is he? What do you know about him?

- He wants to kill?

I mean, he's insane.

- You know, I've spent
years studying these guys.

They've all got their excuses.

Fathers who beat them,
mothers who rape them,

voices tellin' them what to do.

The bottom line is, except
for a very small percentage,

they all know they're committing murder.

- He thinks he's rebuilding
the body of Christ.

If that is not insane-

- His actions don't
define his state of mind.

Look at Dahmer, Casey, Bundy,

they all committed horrible
acts, but they were sane.

The fact that he's careful not
to leave any evidence behind

shows he's aware there are consequences

to his actions, right?

- Look, I don't care if he's sane or not,

I just wanna catch him.

- You couldn't catch a cold
the way you're thinking.

- Thanks.

- Stop focusing on his state of mind.

Look for the pattern.

And whatever he thinks
he's doing, or creating,

that's what drives him to murder.

What he's doing isn't as
important as why he is doing it.

If you can figure that
out, it'll lead you to him.

You really should eat.

- No, thanks.

(phone ringing)

- This came for you while you were out.

How is Hollinsworth doing?

You didn't see him?

- Yeah, I saw him.

Anything else?

- Nothing.

The computer gave us a couple of names

that could be our boy, but

they're all in prison or in the loony bin.

- [Killer] It would appear
I underestimated you.

Sometimes, I'm too clever for my own good.

It won't happen again.

You must admit there's a strange irony

to last night's events.

In the end, I got what I wanted.

John would have been better,

but Andrew was an apostle also.

I was hoping not to make this personal.

I warned you that you would be judged

if you did not tell the world of my work.

Your lack of contrition
leaves me no choice

but to punish you.

Your penitence shall be remorse.

Remorse for the death of your wife.

(tense, suspenseful music)

There's a unit in the area!

Send them over, now!

Get out of the way!

(tires screeching)

(tense, suspenseful music)

Shit!

(horn honking)

(tires screeching)
(horns honking)

- Sir, you have to stop right there!

- I live here!

- Believe me, you don't wanna go inside!

- Let me go!

- Well, John, look, I'm
taking care of this now.

You don't need to see this.

- No.

No.

No!

- John, come on.

Come on!

(John crying)

- Oh, no, no.

- You don't need to be here.

Step outside.

(John wailing)

- No!

- Come on, John, step outside!

John, don't touch anything.

This is a crime scene.

- Jenny...

Jenny.

(camera shutter clicking)

(indistinct chattering)

- I'm pulling you off this.

It's gone too far.

- He came to my house to kill my wife.

- Which is why you're off this thing.

It's personal now.

- You can't do this.

- It's done.

I'm giving it to Rousch and Scholfield.

(somber string music)

- Sorry Ma'am.

Ma'am, I can't let you in.

- No, Jenny.

- No. no!
(Sara wailing)

- I went out to get
something special for dinner.

Jenny was tired from the trip.

- [Prudhomme] We don't
have to talk about it now.

- Why would someone do such a thing?

It was him.

The guy who is killing all these people.

- He was trying to hurt me.

- By killing Jenny?

Oh, my God!

He was trying to kill me!

- I thought I'd lost you.

I want you to go stay with
your mother until this is over.

- But, John-

Sara, please.

- Good evening.

As it has been, our top
story tonight continues

to be the ongoing search
for a serial killer.

Chicago Police Department
has released part of a tape

sent to them by the "Numbers Killer."

"It would appear I underestimated you.

Sometimes I'm too clever for my own good.

It won't happen again."

- [News Anchor] Now, anyone
who recognizes this voice

is asked to contact the Homicide Division

of the Chicago Police Department.

In other news tonight,

Chicago City officials have released

last year's crime statistics..."

(train screeching)

(phone ringing)

- What's up?

- A woman just called
from the Beaumont Hotel.

Said she recognizes the voice on the tape.

- I'm gonna want to take a
couple of bodies with me.

- Take whoever you need.

- Let's go.

- Yeah.

- Scholfield.

Prudhomme.

He said whoever I needed.

(car doors slamming)

(metal pounding)

I'm looking for Dolores Koontz.

- What did she do?

- Chief, this ain't an interview, buddy.

- 4-D.

- Nice smell in here.

It's like a goddamn latrine.

(baby crying)

(door knocking)

- Miss Koontz?

- Yeah.

- I'm Detective Rousch.

You called us?

- Yeah. I sure did.

While I was watching
the news this morning,

I heard the tape.

As soon as I heard it I thought to myself,

that's Mr. Bresler.

- You know his first name?

- First name?

No.

I just always called him Mr. Bresler.

He seems like a very nice guy (laughs).

But I bet a lot of those serial
killers are like that, huh?

- You sure it was his voice?

- Yeah, I mean, enough to call.

- Where can we find him?

- Down the hall, 4-J.

Hey, if it is him, do
I, like, get anything?

- Yeah, appreciation from
the people of Chicago.

(door jostling open)

(moody, suspenseful music)

(knocking)

- Mr. Bresler, it's the police.

Would you open the door, please?

(moody, suspenseful music)

(doorknob turns)

- Mr. Bresler, we'd like to talk to you.

Please, can we come in?

(chimes jingle)

- Mr. Bresler, we're here
because someone thinks

you might have sent us a tape.

- A tape, huh?

- Mr. Bresler, I'm gonna read
you a couple of sentences.

I'd appreciate if you'd
repeat 'em back to me.

"It would appear I underestimated you.

Sometimes, I'm too
clever for my own good."

- "It would appear I underestimated you.

Sometimes, I'm too
clever for my own good."

"It won't happen again.

You must admit there's a strange irony

to last night's events.

But in the end, I got what I wanted.

John would have been better,

but Andrew was an apostle also."

Should I do the rest?

- He's not the guy.

- Say what?

Did you hear his voice?

- He made the tape, but he's
not the guy we're looking for.

He's blind.

Mr. Bresler, you made the tape?

- Yes.

- Why?

- Someone paid me 50 dollars.

- Who?

Do you know him?

- Some guy I met in the park.

Said he was working on some kind of movie

and he was looking for interesting voices.

I knew that was a load of bullshit but,

50 bucks is 50 bucks.

- Thanks.

He's smart.

He talks to us without using his voice.

The guy who made the
tape can't identify him.

I'm getting the feeling we're
never gonna catch this guy.

- They just found number five.

(siren wailing)

(footsteps pattering)

(foreboding music)

(indistinct chattering)

- Hey, John?

- Yeah?

- You got change for a dollar?

(coins clinking)

- Come with me.

- [Walter] What are we looking for?

- Peter Balcour had five
quarters in his pocket.

So did Leesan.

What about the others?

(paper rustling)

- James Ordway, too.

- John Ordway also.

So did Wells.

Five victims, all with five
quarters in their pockets.

- No way that's a coincidence.

- Wait.

To finish what he's doing,
he needs six bodies.

Six bodies with five
quarters each is 30 quarters.

Thirty pieces of silver!

- He thinks he's Judas?

- No. He's letting us
know why he's doing it.

He's atoning.

- John?

- Take a look at this.

- What is it?

- It's a homicide report from Tennessee.

Two and a half years ago,

police in Clarksdale
found a 33 year-old man

with his head cut off.

Victim's name was Philip Weir.

Philip's an apostle name, isn't it?

- Yeah.

How did we get this?

- FBI computer spit it out.

- Just now?

- What do you mean just now?

We called over to Quantico
about three days ago.

- But I asked Wingate three weeks ago!

(door squeaking)

I'm Detective Prudhomme

and I wanna see agent Wingate.

- Agent Wingate is in a meeting right now.

- I don't care what he's doing.

I wanna see him now!

- I think you better get out here.

Have a seat, please.

- No, thank you.

I don't wanna sit down.

I wanna see Wingate.

- [Agent Wingate] Is there a problem here?

- What the fuck?

Yes, there is a problem!

I wanna see Agent Wingate!

- I'm Agent Wingate.

(suspenseful music)

(dramatic whooshing)

- Didn't anybody check his I.D.?

- Desk sergeant said he saw it.

It looked good to him.

- Somebody this clever
wouldn't have any problem

getting a card.

A badge you can find anywhere.

- What about the office number he gave?

It was a message center, rented
by mail with a money order.

- And the cell phone number?

- Cloned.

- If we get a print and he's
on file, we'll I.D. him.

- Yeah, well, we still
have one thing on our side.

He doesn't know we know.

- [Wingate] Wingate.

- Prudhomme.

- [Wingate] How's it going?

- Good. We may have found a few things

that might put us a little closer.

- [Wingate] What things?

- Well, I'd like to run
them by you here sometime.

- [Wingate] You know
I'm kind of busy today-

- It would only take about a half hour.

- I'll tell you what,
I'll meet you in two hours

over at that pizza place.

- Great, I appreciate it.

- [Wingate] No problem.

We got him.

(indistinct chattering)

Are you guys ready?

- Ten-Four.

- [Prudhomme] Moltz?

- [Moltz] Roger.

(foreboding music)

- He's here.

He's crossing the street.

Dark blue suit.

- We've got him.

(gun cocking)

(tense, suspenseful music)

- Take him!
- Freeze!

(intense, suspenseful music)

- Put your hands up over your head, now!

Put your hands on top of your head!

Get down!

- Down!

(all shouting)

- [Rousch] Get on your fucking knees, now!

Get on your knees, now!

- [Moltz] You have the
right to remain silent.

Anything you say can and will be used

against you in a court of law.

You have the right to an attorney.

If you can't afford one,
it'll be too fucking bad.

Okay, let's get this prick
into the fucking car.

- It's just a matter of time

until your prints tell us who you are.

- Only if I have a criminal
record in Illinois,

which I do not.

I'd like to know why I'm here.

- Because you murdered five people.

- Really?

And what, may I ask, is the evidence

you're using to support this claim?

Do you have any prints?

Any trace evidence?

Physical evidence?

Witnesses?

Motive?

Anything?

One thing that connects
me to these crimes?

You don't have to answer, I already know.

I've seen the files.

- You think you're
really clever, don't you?

Let's talk about the Clarksdale murder.

- I'm afraid I don't know
what you're talking about.

- Oh yes, you do.

You were there.

What was it, a practice round?

Do you really think
you're doing God's work?

And if God were to call upon someone,

do you really think he would choose

a pathetic little worm like you?

- Why, Detective Prudhomme,

I do believe you're trying to provoke me.

- Listen to me.

- No!

You listen to me.

I'm only talking with you
because it gives me something

to do before my attorney arrives.

The truth is, I'll be
out of here in 48 hours.

You know it and I know it.

Of course, you and your
partner will follow me.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I forgot!

Your partner can't walk anymore
since his leg got blown off!

- Shut up!

- I'd imagine you carry a tremendous

amount of guilt for that.

- Shut your mouth!

- He trusted you but when he
ran towards you for safety -

- [Stanley] Prudhomme, outside.

Now!

- Uh oh!

I enjoyed our little chat, detective.

I truly did.

(door slamming)

- [Stanley] He's a cocky
little prick, isn't he?

- He knows we have nothing.

- He also knows the law.

If we don't get something in 48 hours,

we've got to cut him loose.

- Hey.

Hey, I'm sorry about last week.

It wasn't your fault.

You know that.

- It's okay.

- They say you got him.

Who is he?

- We don't know.

We've plastered his
face all over the news.

Hundreds of people are calling.

We feed the names into
the computer and, uh,

wait for a print match.

- But it's him?

- It's him.

- You can't let this fucker walk, John.

- I won't.

I won't.

- Not guilty.

- [Judge] Bail?

- Your honor, the State is requesting

that bail be denied.

- On what grounds?

- We do not know the
defendant's true identity,

therefore we cannot
determine his ties, if any,

to the community.

We feel that the risk of flight is great.

- Judge, the fact that the police

cannot prove nor disprove
my client's identity

is not grounds to deny bail.

The truth is, Mr. Wingate has been held

for nearly two days on
a probable cause arrest

for another matter.

- Is this true, Mr. Galloway?

- Yes, your honor.

He is considered a
prime suspect in regards

to the recent spree of murders.

- I see no murder charges before me.

The only charge I see is

that of impersonating a federal officer.

Bail is set at $20,000.

We'll have a ten minute recess.

Gentlemen, would you
approach the bench, please?

Mr. Galloway, what exactly do you

think you're doing out there?

- Just trying to stop a
murderer from going free.

There are procedures for that.

As a district attorney, I should
not have to tell you this.

I will not have this courtroom used

for your personal agenda, Mr. Galloway.

- Judge, my client is ready to post bail.

I'd like to request his immediate release.

- I still have six hours left to hold him,

and I intend to use them.

- [Judge] Six hours, Mr. Galloway.

You either file murder
charges or you release him.

(phone ringing)

(indistinct chattering)

(tense, dramatic music)

- Janice, I sent photos of a man!

Uh-huh? Oh, sex change operation?

Okay, thank you very much.

(dramatic music)

- When was the last time you saw him?

Forty years ago?

I'll check on it, thanks.

- Billingston, Tennessee?

- Ask him how far he is from Clarksdale.

Ma'am, how far are you from Clarksdale?

- Twenty miles.

- Ma'am I need you to -

- Gerald Demus.

Rush it through, FBI,
Tennessee Police and the DMV.

- No, thank you.

I'll be going out to lunch today.

- I just got off the phone with the

Billingston Sheriff's Department.

They have no record of a Gerald Demus.

- You try the neighboring towns?

- We're on it now.

- I'm here for Greg Wingate.

(phone ringing)

- Yeah?

(man on phone) Elkins is
here to pick up Wingate.

- What?

Stall him!

- How?

I don't know, think of something!

- We're having trouble
finding the paperwork.

(phone ringing)

- [Woman] City Court.

- Judge Seers, please.

- Prudhomme, what the hell
do you think you're doing?

Wingate was supposed to be
released 15 minutes ago.

- [Prudhomme] Re-cause him.

- You got something
you can give right now?

- No.

- Well, then, kick him loose.

I need a little more time.

We think we know who he is.

And if he is, he lived 20
miles from an identical murder

two years ago!

- We don't have any more time.

I just got a call from Judge Seers.

She issued a writ for
his immediate release.

- Thanks a lot.

(keys rattling)

- You're outta here.

- I want you on him the
minute he walks out the door.

If he takes a shit,

I wanna know how many
times he wipes his ass.

- Sign here.

- Thank you.

Thanks.

You, too.

- My pleasure.

- Taxi.

(suspenseful music)

- He's heading south on Blanche.

He's headed for the train station.

- Go.

(suspenseful music)

- Sheriff in Woodsville, Tennessee

says he arrested Gerald
Demus five years ago

for attacking the town minister.

Prints are on their way over.

- Get that out.

(car door slamming)

(bustling traffic)

(dramatic, suspenseful music)

- [Moltz] You think he's leaving?

- No. He's not finished yet.

- [Woman] Amtrak train
number 27 to Columbus

will be departing at the
West platform in 10 minutes.

(doors slamming)

(zipper ratcheting)

(suspenseful music)

(Demus coughing)

(gun cocking)

(suspenseful music)

(stall door slamming)

- Cap, prints are in.

Lab's working on it now.

(suspenseful music)

- Can't you do this faster?

Yes! We got a match.

Take him.

- Demus?

This is the police.

Stand up and open the door slowly.

Do it now!

(door slamming)

- Shit!
- Shit!

Fuck!

What?

Everyone move in.

I want this place closed down now!

- Seal the door.

- Got it.

Hold it, please. No one must leave.

This is a police emergency.

(dramatic, suspenseful music)

- Shit!

Hey!

Sorry.

Hey!

Hey you!

Hey you, stop!

(screaming)
(gunshot)

Get down!

Get down!

(dramatic, suspenseful music)

Stay down!

Get out of my way!

(crowd screaming)

Freeze!

Move!

Demus!

Motherfucker!

(dramatic, suspenseful music)

Freeze!

Motherfucker!

Get out of the way!

(horn honking)

(somber music)

I lost him.

Shit!

Five years ago, Demus
attacks the local minister

in Woodsville.

The minister refuses to press charges,

so they kick him loose.

- Yeah, but they still arrested him.

Why weren't his prints in the system?

- Woodsville is a small department.

They only came online with
the Tennessee state database

three years ago.

And even then, they only
entered recent arrests

into the system.

- Hundreds of millions of
dollars in computers and we I.D.

the guy because some old lady
in Billingston, Tennessee,

is watching on TV?

Incredible!

- Two and a half years later,
Demus kills Phillip Weir.

Why'd he stop?

- Because, two weeks after the murder

he was picked up in Tulsa,

wandering the streets,
talking to the pigeons.

He spent the next two years
in the state mental hospital.

They just released him three months ago.

- Why didn't he stay in Tulsa?

(keys rattling)

(door creaking)

- Robert?

Robert?

(taser buzzes)
(man groaning)

(taser buzzing)

Ow!

(somber string music)

- Scholfield!

Welcome.

Thomas Heckert, 33.

That's the boyfriend there,

he works the graveyard at
the Memorial Medical Center.

Found him this morning
when he came in from work.

- How long has he been dead for?

- A few hours.

He took the torso.

He left the legs, the arms, and the head.

- You think this is the end of it?

- I hope so.

This didn't have to happen.

All you had to do was hold
Demus a little longer.

- Don't lay this at my door!

This man would still be alive
if your guys didn't lose him!

- Yeah, right.

- Fuck off!

- You've seen this?

They're running a pictorial
of the crime scenes.

Jesus!

Next, they'll be giving tours.

- This isn't right.

- What isn't right?

- This photo.

When we sealed the crime scene,

all the windows and shutters were closed.

Look at the upstairs window.

It's open.

Where's the best place to hide?

Somewhere we've already looked.

(dramatic, suspenseful music)
(car tires screeching)

(door busting open)

- [Stanley] Go upstairs.

(dramatic, suspenseful music)

- Go, go!

Move, move!

Go!

(dramatic, suspenseful music)

- Clear!

(dramatic, suspenseful music)

(doors sliding open)

(flies buzzing)

- Sweet mother of God.

(officer coughing)

Prudhomme?

You better get in here.

(sputtering)

(Prudhomme gasping)

(electric sparks snapping)

(Prudhomme gasping)

- Oh, shit!

(flies buzzing)

(Rousch coughing)

- [Moltz] Prudhomme!

Check this out upstairs!

- [Demus] Behold the glory of God!

Sinners, take heed!

Soon, the hand of
judgment shall be upon ye!

- Motherfucker!

(somber music)

- All right. We leave a team
here in case he comes back.

- He'll be back.

But when he does, someone
else will be dead.

Rib spreaders.

Used to open the chest.

- Don't even tell me that.

- Yes. He's going after a heart.

Tomorrow is Easter.

We need to search every hospital.

We're looking for a woman who gives

birth to a son after midnight.

- You know how many hospitals-

- Her name will be Mary.

(phone ringing)

- I've got a Mary at St. Paul.

She's in labor now.

- Girl or boy?

- I don't know.

The parents didn't want
to know the results

of the ultrasound.

- You and Scholfield go to see that one.

(dramatic, suspenseful music)
(phone ringing)

Thanks.

- Got it!

- What?

- Oak Park Memorial has a Mary Dominguez.

She just gave birth to a boy.

- Let's go!

(sirens wailing)

(phone ringing)

God!

(phone ringing)

(tense music)

(baby crying)

(footsteps pattering)

Hey!

Hold it!

Come on!

(dramatic, suspenseful music)

(tins clanking)

(gunshot)

- You okay?

Yeah! Go, go!

- Call for backup!

- Go, go, go!

(Moltz groaning)

(dramatic, suspenseful music)

(door banging)

(gunshots)

(dramatic, suspenseful music)

(gunshot)

(gun clicking)

(dramatic, suspenseful music)

- It's over!

Give me the baby!

(baby crying)

No!

No!

It's kind of an inconvenient
predicament, isn't it?

- Put down the gun.

Put it down!

(baby crying)

- Okay.

- I would imagine this is
a very painful situation

for you, with already losing one child.

- It's over!

We've been to the victim's
house and took the body!

- Sacrilege!

Sacrilege!

(baby crying)

- You're nothing now.

Nothing but another lunatic.

One year from now, no one
will even remember your name.

- If I drop this child, they will.

- No!

(baby crying)

- He is my last offering.

- No!

No!

(Prudhomme groaning)

- It's time for us to die.

- Motherfucker!

(gunshot)

(gunshot)

(baby crying)

- [Nurse] There you are, Mr. Prudhomme.

- Thank you.

- Are you all right?

- Yes.

- John, the baby's parents
would like to thank you.

- Thank you for the life of my son.

- I'm glad he's all right.

(baby cooing)

- Please, take this.

- Thank you.

Thank you.

- I spoke to the doc,

you're gonna be out of the
field for at least three months.

- Its not important.

I need some time.

I need to pick up some
of the pieces in my life.

- I love you.

- I love you too.

- Hey.

- Hey man, come on in.

Just in time for a test drive.

- You're looking good, Andy.

- No, I'm not.

I look terrible.

I met a guy who ran the Boston marathon

with one of these things on.

- When are you coming back to work?

- I'm coming back.

Don't get me wrong, John, I'm comin' back.

I'm comin' back, but
I'm not sitting behind

one of those damn desks, either.

Guys ski with these things, you know?

(Andy groaning) Fuck.

- Hey, let me help.

- I'm okay, John.

I'm okay.

Listen, seriously,

if this is gonna work for real,

you gotta give me a chance, all right?

You gotta give me a chance to come back.

I'll be good as new,

but you gotta give me a chance.

- Okay.

- You may have to pick up a
fair share of the legwork.

(Prudhomme laughs)

But I will be back.

- Whatever you say, partner.

(Andy panting)

(soft music)

(soft music cont.)

(funky music)