All language subtitles for Ray.Donovan.S06E07.The.1-3-2.720p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-NTb (No-HI)

Previously on
Ray Donovan...

You keep it on...

Feratti wants to see you.

Don't do it!
Keep your hands

where I can see 'em!

Had an idea.

Hey, stop it!

Get off of her!

Don't you fucking do this!

Are you fucking kidding me...

How you doing, Ray?

- Danny.
- Hey, Ray.

Ter.

The fuck you doing?

Mick and Ma...

So they used to come back
from Florene's, drunk

and singing and dancing
to Gladys Knight.

And you and Ray...
You were asleep,

and I used to crawl out of bed,

and I used to watch.

- Florene?
- Yeah.

Yeah, you remember, Florene.

Yeah.

Talking...

Anyway, Ma, she always
used to close the night

with a Boston Slammer,

'cause she said it helped
to settle her belly.

You gotta lick that.

I know how to do it.

She was a tough lady.

Ah.

Sweet.

She was a good mother.

No, she was a f...
She was a fucking great mother.

Every Beat of My Heart.
Hm.

She used to be in the kitchen,

singing it over and over
and over again.

Sláinte.

Sláinte.

I want to see her, you know?

Talk to her.

Yeah, yeah, me too, Bunch.

Every day.

I'm gonna turn myself in.

To the cops?

Am I supposed to do?

Be on the fucking lam?

No, you just...
You just stay here with me.

And hide in a closet?

I don't know, Bunch, but

you don't want
any part of prison.

Morning.

So Ray,

the boys talked it over
last night

after all the fucking drama

about the situation here.

Yeah?

And Danny was saying that

you didn't know
what you were doing,

that had you known,

you would never have gotten
involved with Novak.

Known what?

Well, our interests
are in opposition.

Oh, yeah.

Well, now we know.

Right.

Well, maybe last night should've been

more of a conversation.

Sure.

Well, the short of it:

Stop pulling that shit
in the mayor's race.

Help us fix what you broke.

What shit?

The town hall stunt
with Cesar Martinez,

the bullshit attack
in Central Park.

I don't know
what you're talking about.

And going after Feratti

at the Athletic Club,

threatening to kill him.
I suppose

that wasn't you, either, huh?

I gotta be honest with you, Ray.

This isn't how I was hoping
this conversation would go.

Oh?

What were you hoping for, Rad?

Come on, Ray.

Help me help you.

Cesar Martinez.

The fucking bullshit
rapist in Central Park.

Now, how do we put that
back in the bag?

I don't know.

You don't know, huh?

That refresh your memory?

Fuck you.

I need a, uh...

A one-way

on the 8:30 to Buffalo.

8:30's sold out.

When's the next one?

Overnighter.
Departs at 10:00 p.m.

I better grab that one.

How much?

Sixty-six dollars.
I need to see some ID.

Here's, uh... here's a $20,

there's $50, there's $70.
Here.

Here's my ID.
Here.

Have a good day, Father.

Yeah.

God bless you, then.

When I say 7:00 a.m.,
I expect 7:00 a.m.

There's a consensus
amongst my colleagues

that the best course of action
is to arrest you

very publicly,

then watch
the cockroaches scatter.

I need more time.

And I need Feratti admitting

his role in the organization,

and I need it on tape.

Give me a few more days.

You, of all people, should know

how many cops are in Feratti's pocket.

Yeah?

Hey.

Your boy's in the basement.

- What?
- Ray.

We picked him up last night.

Rad nearly killed him.

What are you talking about?

That motherfucker's

been on Novak's campaign

this whole time.

- Did you know about that?
- No.

Yeah, well, you need to come in.

Our friends at the 1-3-2?

I gotta go.

Mac.

Next time, it's the evidence,

or I'm reading you your rights.

You think Maria will forgive me?

Yeah.

You forgave Mick.

Let's go to Boston.

What?

See Ma, Bridget,

and you can spend one last day
with your brother.

Prison ain't going nowhere.

All right.

All right.

I washed the shit out of my hair.

Cleaned up.

Come on.

Terry Dono-vizzle.
What's up, my nizzle?

What the fuck are you doing here?

You know my guy?

Oh, Jay White?

Yeah, uh,

he flew to Malibu last night...

Uh, rehab...

So they shut production down for a month.

Ah, fucking pussy.

Yeah, he is.
Well, anyways,

turns out that PTSD

and cocaine do not mix.

So, you know,
I figured in the meantime,

I'd come here, work out,
keep my shit tight.

Yeah, all right.
It's all yours, D.

Hey, wa... whoa, Terry.
I mean,

you got some time to take me
through a few rounds?

No, I'm just leaving.

But where are you going?

Home.

Wait, S-Southie, home?

Yeah.

N... I'm...

I'd love to go.

Yeah.

Yeah, we can bus you in.

Okay.

Jesus.

Drink it.

Come on.
You look horrible.

What are you doing, Mac?

Told you.

I fucking told you.

I fucking told you

to get out of town.

Didn't I?

Why are you here?

You have to work with us.

Tell Rad everything you know,
figure out a way

to get Ed Feratti back in the lead.

And if I don't?

Be smart here.

Rad, Danny...

These guys...

Think of your kids.

Go fuck yourself.

I'm trying to save your life.

You understand that?

Unbelievable.

Fucking unbelievable.

What'd he say?

I talked some sense into him.

Ray understands.
He'll work for us.

I got orders to keep him.

Well, let me talk to Feratti.

He was clear.

Ray can change the game.

He can win this election for us.

No.

Look what he did with Novak.

Okay, we don't make a move,

Feratti's gonna lose.

And what if you're wrong?

I'll take Ray out.

But if I'm right,

if Ray delivers,

I deserve a seat at this table.

- With Feratti?
- No, Eli fucking Manning.

I'll call, ask,

tell the big man
what you promised.

Good.

You know, Bunch,
I just want to say

I'm sorry about your kid.

Her name's Maria.

Well, I'm sorry about Maria.

Told you to throw that gun
in the fucking river.

What?

This is your fault.

Well, how's this my fault?

You shot Frank Barnes.

Yeah, and you kidnapped my movie star!

Yeah, and you put Pop in jail.

Ray made me do it.

You always do everything Ray tells you to?

Do you?

Fuck you.
You shouldn't even

be on this trip.

I paid for these tickets!

Yeah, with the money you got

from screwing Mickey over.

Enough.

You know what?
B-Bunchy, you got something

to say to me?

Yeah.

You're a shit singer.

Terry, you hear this guy?

Okay, don't do it to yourself.

You're embarrassing
yourself, and won't you stop...

All right, drink up.
We're gonna be late.

Fucking asshole.

That one went platinum.

Here.

You know, I vouched for you
back there.

Put myself on the line.

Come on, Ray.
They would've let you

rot, or even killed you.

What'd you tell them?

That you'd fuck
Novak's campaign.

Come on, Ray.

God damn it, Ray.

Where you going?

You don't have a choice.

They're gonna hold me responsible, okay?

Punish me, my family.

I fucking vouched for you!

Ray!

How about those other games?
Manhunt.

You, one versus, like,
10 to 1200...

She wants to be by the shore.

She likes the water.

Where the hell have you been?

I need you to bring me a gun.
Pier 44, Red Hook.

Jesus.

I'd say it takes
about 20 years off,

if that's what you're going for.

Yeah.
Yeah, I'm an old fucker, huh?

But I still got a right hand
like a fucking hammer.

Boom.

That happens
from down here, you know.

That moves first, and then you...

Very butch.

Can I try on those glasses?

Sure.

Just wanna see, you know?

Ooh, tasty.

Tasty.

How much, uh...

How much for the entire wardrobe?

Y-your whole thing, just as it...
as it is.

- This whole thing?
- Yeah.

- $500?
- Nah.

$800?

How about $1,000

and a date?

I'm sorry, kid.

I don't swing that way no more.

But you used to.

When you're in a tight spot,
you get creative.

But I never got fucked in the ass,

or vice versa.

$1,500.

Does that include the chain?

Sure.

Deal.

Hey.

Where's the gun?

What's going on?

They arrested me last night.
Kept me in Staten Island.

- Why?
- They know everything.

Want me to work for Feratti.

All right,
so what do you want to do?

I gotta go get Bridget.

They're outside her apartment.

- You can't do that.
- Why not?

Because they know who you are.

So?

So what, you're gonna shoot 'em?

Let me go.

No.

Ray, they don't know

what I look like.

Come on.

I'll be fast, I promise.

All right.

Take her to my place
and sit with her.

Lena.

Thanks.

Yeah.

Yeah?

Mr. Donovan.

We need to talk about your friend Mac.

Who is this?

Patrolman responding
to a possible explosion

on the corner of Van Brunt and King.

Hi.
I-I think a car blew up

over there.

Why do I get the feeling you had

something to do with that explosion?

Because I just blew up a car.
Where's your boyfriend?

You want to explain
what the fuck is going on?

Yeah.
Will you text him?

Tell him not to come back here.
Put this on.

Bridge, I know.
I'm sorry,

but I just... I need you to do this.

You know it's fucking ridiculous, right?

I do, yes.

The famed Hollywood fixer.

What do you want?

Your friend Mac?

He's caught between a rock
and a hard place.

So?
It's not my problem.

No, but Michael Radulovic,

Daniel Bianchi,
Judge R. Gregory Scholl,

Mayor Ed Feratti...

They are your problem.

Mine and yours, Mr. Donovan.

You see, this whole dance...
It's over a private prison

built on 70 acres
of wasteland in Staten Island.

Arthur Kill houses roughly 4,000 inmates.

You know how much those bodies
made Feratti

in kickbacks last year?

Four, five million, at least.

Probably more.

What's your point?

I want Feratti as badly as you do,

but I can't get him
without my informant.

What's that got to do with me?

I want you to do
what they asked you to do.

Fire a shot at Anita Novak.

That way, you and your family
will be safe,

and Mac will avoid
serious time in Attica.

I do that,
Feratti wins the election.

That may be the battle,
but not the war.

I'll arrest him eventually,

and Arthur Kill will go for auction.

Sam Winslow will be a happy woman.

You know, I was sitting
in O'Donoghue's

long before Sergeant McGrath

hauled you into the 132nd.

Yeah, I saw that, Ray.

Saw a few other things, too.

Like what?

Fetu Autufuga ring a bell?

I'd appreciate your help,

in exchange for mine.

Yeah?

Meet me at Stuyvesant Square.

Where the hell have you been?

Out looking for a job.

You need to leave

- the apartment.
- Huh?

I'll explain later.

Just, you need to leave.

Oh, hold on.

There's somebody at the door.

- Who?
- I don't know.

I should answer it.

- It's probably, like, a...
- No, don't!

No, could be, like, a cop,
or a firefighter.

No, Smitty...

Uh, yeah?

I'm looking for Bridget.

- Who is it?
- I don't know,

it's some old dude.

Looks like the guy

from Boogie Nights.

Mark Wahlberg?

No, uh, you know,

the Burt Reynolds guy,

except he's a little taller.

Hey.

W-what do you want?

I'm Bridget's grandfather.

Oh, shit.

What?

It's your grandfather.

What the fuck?

Why is Mickey there?

Is that her?

Let me speak to her.

He wants to talk to you.

No, Smitty,
he is a fucking fugitive.

She says that now is...
Is not really a good time.

Give me the phone, son.

Good boy.

Hey, sweet pea.

How you doing?

What do you want?

I'm gonna be leaving, Bridge.

I don't know when, if ever, I'm

gonna see you again.

Put Smitty back on the phone.

I just want you to know
I love you.

Put him back on the phone.

Here.

Hey.

Hey.
Get him out of there,

go to a coffee shop,

and call me when you get there.

All right.

Hey, I gotta go.
Uh...

You her boyfriend?

I'm her fiancé.

Wow.

Congratulations.

Yeah, thanks.

Tell her I'm sorry
I wasn't a better grandfather.

How long you been wearing a wire?

Had a little talk with Emerson
on the piers today.

I didn't know
who to turn to, Ray.

I didn't know who to trust.

I need you to believe me.
I wanted to tell you.

A hundred fucking times,
I wanted to tell you.

I just was so fucking spun.

There's a guy named Will Evans

paroled out of Rikers yesterday.

330 Water Street.

I want you to pick him up
and hold him for possession.

Why?

You want me to take down Anita Novak

- or not?
- Yeah.

Thank you, Ray.

You know what happens
to cops in Attica, Ray?

What would happen
to Jimmy and Amber?

I did what I had to do, Ray.

I did it for my family.

Christ, you think I wanted
to put you in this position?

Well, you did.

Ray.

On my way.

Here you go.

Oh, shit.

Okay, Bunch man, where to first?

Yo, how about we go to Fenway,

go check out the Green Monster?

Dodgers fans don't get to go to Fenway.

So what you saying?

Saying that hat's fucking ugly.

I thought it was the Yankees
you guys hated.

It's Boston.
It's the Sox or nothing.

Yeah, well,

I'm a Dodger fan, man.

I ain't take my hat off
for nobody.

Yeah?
Your funeral.

But seriously, where are we going?

See Ma and Bridge.

Terry,

is he gonna be all right?

He wants to turn himself in.

What?

He can't see it any other way.

I mean, that's freaking crazy,
Terry.

So... I don't know.
What are we gonna do?

Been trying to figure that out, D.

What do I say?

I don't know.

Hey, Ma.
Hey, Bridge.

You know, I always think
about the fingernails.

What?

They keep on growing after you die.

You hear that?

The toenails, too.

You know, Ma was always there for you,

and she did the best she could.

Now can we go and get a drink?

Kelly's?

Sure.

I miss you, Ma.

I love you.

I love you, Bridge.

Oh, shit.

Come on in.

Look, Ray.

I don't know what you're up to,
but I didn't...

This is Robbi.
She's the executive producer

of Nightly Nation.

Nice to meet you, Justine.

What the fuck is going on?

Can you give us a minute?

Sit down.

You're gonna be the lead guest
on Robbi's show.

I want you to tell Billy Till

that a man you never met before

hired you to stage
the Central Park attack.

You're gonna tell him
it was a fake.

Why the fuck would I do that?

Because your brother
just got arrested again.

What?
No, I...

I was just with Will

this morning.
He...

I can get him out.

You had my brother arrested.

Does Lena know about this?

Don't mention Lena's name, or mine.

Are we clear?

You're a fucking asshole.

Good.

I don't see my kid, neither.

Yeah?

Fucking heartache of my life.

What happened?

Screwed this barfly, Pamela,
in my marital bed.

Stupid me.

Wife came home, caught us 69ing.

That was before the accident.

Next day, she took the kids
to her mother's in Allentown,

never came back.

If I could do it over,

you know what I should've done?

Taken Pamela to a Motel 6.

Yeah, you oughta tell your brother

to take off that hat.

I already fucking told him.

So where's he been?

Fuck if I know.

Well, how you stay with a guy like that?

Well, first off,

he's the father of my kid.

Second off, uh, he loves me.

Yeah, but do you love him?

Enough.

And what would Abby say?

Abby was a good aunt,

She would just've given me

a box of really fucking nice
hand-me-downs,

tell me to keep a bank account
that Mike knows nothing about.

Yeah, that's Abby.

Let me get you another shot.

Now, folks,
just when you thought

that politics couldn't get
any dirtier, they just do.

Anita Novak, a candidate
too good to be true,

a real-life hero
who saves a woman

from being raped in Central Park.

In the wake of that story,
she then takes a lead

in every poll.
Just one thing:

Anita Novak is no savior.
With me in studio:

The victim of that attack,
Ms., uh, Justine Evans.

- Oh, shit.
- What?

Thank you for having me.

So, tell us
what happened in the park.

How'd you get involved
in the Novak campaign?

A stranger approached me.

How?

Well, the way clients usually do,

with a phone call.

I was asked to...
To do something,

to fake something.

To fake what?

An attempted rape.

Why?

So Anita Novak could save me.

How much were you paid?

$50,000.

$50,000?
As in 5-0?

And this... and this ruse
put over on the public...

It was devised and planned
by the Novak campaign?

- I don't know.
- You don't?

Can you tell us who paid you?

No, I never met him.

I never saw him.
He didn't give me his name.

An envelope of money
just showed up in my mailbox.

Oh, so... so this was not
the same man

who a... who pretended
to attack you in the park.

No.

Folks, I get it.
It's a dirty, dirty business.

But paying an escort to stage a rape

so that your candidate

can appear the hero...

Well, who comes up
with a scheme like that?

So far, no comment

from the Novak campaign.

How's it going, Lou?

All right, Rad.
How 'bout yourself?

Two more whiskeys here.

Hey.

You did good today.

Yeah.

And that thing we discussed?

What, you meeting with Feratti?

- Yeah.
- Yeah, not yet.

Ray did what we asked.

I mean, look at the news.

Novak's finished.

Feratti says it's not enough.

What?

Well, he wants the hooker
to name Sam Winslow

as the person who paid her.

Why does that matter?

Feratti's gonna win this election.

Sure.

He's got a vendetta, I guess.

Against a fucking billionaire?

That is way above
our pay grade, my friend.

Can you get Ray to do it?

Incriminate Winslow?

Mm-hmm.

I'll ask.

And Mac, let me be clear.

This is not a request.

It's an order.

Understood.

Good.

We'll see if I can get you

that sit-down with Feratti, huh?

Go Yankees.

You take care, Lou.

See you, Rad.

That's her favorite song.

Mary?

Yeah.

Um...

Terry, I just want to say, man,

I'm really sorry.

About what?

It was all that shit
with my mom and Mickey...

Oh, get out of here.
All that crap

had nothing to do with you.

I really appreciate you, Terry.

Well, it didn't.

Yo, get me a Boggs here.

Hey.

Sweetheart, I'm talking to you.

In a minute.

No, how about not in
a fucking minute?

How about now?

Hey, the lady said in a minute.

Yo, who the fuck is this guy?

Yo, guy,

who the fuck are you supposed to be,

some kind of, uh,
Bilbo fucking Baggins?

Is he a middleweight?

No.
Hey, my man,

come on.
Don't be that dude.

She's getting your drink.

Yo, when do you think...
And look, I'm just being,

uh, you know, historically
fucking speaking here.

When do you think they started
letting LA faggots

into our bar?

Come on, Terry.
Let's move down.

Come on, brother.
I'm fucking with you.

Sit down, bro.

Yo, there's nothing worse
than a black man acting

like a fucking LA faggot,
am I right?

Hey, fuck you.

Oh, and a happy fucking
Hobbit Day to you too, huh?

Yo, my man, that's my brother
you're talking to.

Holy shit.
You two are brothers?

Yes, we are,
and you better shut your mouth.

- Shut my mouth?
- Yeah.

And what is this,
fucking grade school?

Those are my brothers, too.

Yo, get the fuck...
We got the whole

goddamn Village People
up in here, huh?

Yo, ginger, look,

I hate to be the bearer
of bad news,

but this brother
is a fucking nig...

Oh!

Attention, please.

Now boarding on track three,

both east and west gates,

the New Jersey Transit
1:00 a.m.

North Jersey Coast Line
en route to Long Branch,

making stops at Secaucus,
Newark Penn Station,

Newark Airport, Elizabeth,

Linden, Rahway,
Woodbridge, Perth Amboy

South Amboy, Aberdeen-Matawan...

Whoa.

- Are you okay?
- Why, you...

What the fuck?

Hey, get over here!

Hey, stop!

Hey!

Stop!

Jeez!

I bet those guys
are gonna call the cops.

Yeah, well, they ain't got use
of their mouths no more.

Yeah, or their hands.

Hey, we should go to Fenway.

Yeah, yeah, I could use

- a hot dog.
- A hot dog?

You're...
You're not hungry?

No, no, no.
In Fenway,

they got these... these sausages

with these onions and pep...

Bunch!

Bunchy, where you going, man?

Where's Bridge?

Justine called me.

Her brother's out.

Was it worth it?

Anita's finished, and Sam's
gonna come after you.

I'll figure it out.

Well, I hope you're right.

What'd you do this time?

It's over.

Can Smitty go home?

Yeah.

And can I go home?

Sure.
I'll give you a ride.

No, no thank you.

How many miles between us

is it gonna take, Dad?

What do you mean?

How far do I have to go
to get away from all of this?

I'm sorry, sweetheart.

You always are.

You...

and your father.

You fucked me.

You fucked me so bad.

In the sacristy,

in the reconciliation room...

in Father O'Connor's
private quarters...

in his car...

and the bedroom that I grew up in.

You keep on fucking me

over and over and over

and over again.

Show me one fucking thing,

something.

I deserve it.

I deserve it, don't I?

You show me right the fuck now!

Right.

I fucking hate you.
I fucking hate you...

so fucking much.

Hey, Bunch, you all right, man?

- How do I get to the FBI?
- Oh, w-w-w-w-whoa.

Listen to me, listen to me,
listen to me.

You're not gonna turn
yourself in, okay?

What do I got, Daryll?

I got no wife.
I got no kid.

I'm a fucking felon.

I don't know.
We'll figure something out,

man, but you're not gonna
turn yourself in, okay?

Bunch.

What's the matter with you?

Holy shit.

What?

What's wrong?

What?

Bunchy...

Hey!
Whoa!

Bunchy!

Leave a message.

Yeah, Ray.
It's me again.

Call me back.

Who the fuck are you?

Ooh!