All language subtitles for Little.House.on.the.Prairie.S08E08.Chicago.1080p.BluRay.x264-OFT_track3_[eng]

-Charles!
-Good morning, Mrs. Foster.

I've got a
letter for you.

It's from
Mr. Edwards.

Isaiah? Do you mind
if I take a break, Nels?

-Not at all.
-Thank you.

-Thanks a lot, Mrs. Foster.
-You're very welcome.

How's that boy of his
doing in school?

He should be
graduating from
college any day now.

He's an honor student.
You ought to hear Isaiah
go on about him.

He usually writes
5 times this much.

What's wrong,
Charles?

His...

His boy has
been killed.

Oh, dear god.

It was a--
an accident.

I have to go, Nels.

I still can't
believe it.

It seems like
only yesterday

they'd take
you and John fishing.

Remember how mad
he used to get at you,
half-pint?

You always caught
the biggest fish.

When will you leave
for Chicago?

Charles: I'll check
the train schedules
in the morning.

Isaiah asked me to be
in Chicago by Friday.

I'll probably have to leave
sometime early tomorrow.

Such a bad time to go.
I have so much work here.

I can handle it
for you.

Mr. Edwards will
need you there, pa.

I still
can't believe it.

That boy was
the whole world to him.

[Whistle blowing]

Isaiah: Charles!

I'm sorry
I'm so late.

I only got here about
an hour ago myself.

Took the trouble
to get us a room

a couple of blocks
from here.

Let's go.

Want some
to take away
the chill?

No, thanks.

Right. It's been
so long,
I almost forgot.

Teetotaling.

"Deeply regret
I must inform you

"that John Sanderson Jr.

"Was killed in
a street accident

"10:30 P.M. today.

"Please contact me
or mercy hospital

for additional
information."

"T. Callahan."

Who is this Callahan?

The man
from the paper.

John worked there
after classes.

Paid his way,
that boy.

Have you talked
to Callahan?

No.

No, I figured
we could do that

first thing
in the morning...

Then make
arrangements to bring
John's body home.

Charles: You ought
to get some sleep.

Damn. He was
a fine boy!

[Sobs]

Driver: Get back,
you fool!

Do you want to get
killed?

Mr. Callahan?

Who might you be?

I'm Charles Ingalls.
This is Isaiah Edwards.

I'm sorry I had to be
the one to break the news.

I have
some questions.

At least a hundred,
I expect.

It's my lunchtime.
Will you gentlemen
join me?

Mr. Callahan!
Page one proof!

I counted
11 typos,

and that was
just the fast
look.

Later. Gentlemen.

But the bulldog edition
rolls in 20 minutes!

-I'm going to lunch.
-Lunch?

You heard me.

You got problems,
fix it.

Best roast beef
in town!

You're about four
hours early, Mr. T.

-Have you taken the day off?
-3 whiskies.

Friend here
doesn't use it.

3 whiskies.

To a better day.

Johnny was
a fine boy.

Clean and decent,
eager and
hard-working.

And he had
better newspaper
instincts

than any boy
I've ever hired.

I put him on
as a copy boy.

Next thing,
he wanted to
be a reporter.

Every morning,
he'd have a story
on my desk.

Nothing I could use,

but written
so the words

came off
the paper singing.

How'd it happen?

The rain and
the dark on west
O’Brien street.

Brewery
a half block away.

Bar wagons
coming and going
all night long.

The driver never
saw Johnny.

We loved Johnny.

Not just me,
but...

All of us.

He was so good.
So much to give.

He would've had
his own byline
in 6 months,

maybe sooner.

How do I find this driver?

The brewery's
6 blocks straight
down the street.

Works
the night shift.

Starts at 7:00.

What's his name?

Jacob Schultz.
Name's on
that paper.

If he drinks
what he hauls,

maybe that's why
he didn't see John Jr.

I know how you feel,
Mr. Edwards.

No, you don't.

Mortician's name
and address.
You'll need that.

An honest man.

And the rooming
house where
Johnny lived.

I sent him
to Mrs. Baxter

because she
could cook
for the angels.

She loved Johnny
like he was
her own.

And this...

The things
that were in
Johnny's pockets.

I got them for you
from the police.

Joe,
another one!

Right, Mr. T.

Thank you, lad.

Said it had
11 typos.

Still got 4.

My aunt's
cat could
do better!

If you see
Alex hill
before I do,

tell him
he's fired.

I expect you gentlemen
will be going home
in the morning.

If you need me, you know
where to find me.

Again, I'm sorry
for your troubles.

Best newspaper man in
this or any other town.

A little tough on his
hired help, isn't he?

Joe: You mean the man
he fired?

[Laughs]
Think nothing of it.

That's the fifth time
he's fired him this month.

[Laughs]

Fine whiskey.
Be a sin to let it
go to waste.

Mortician:
I think you'll find
that's everything,

and in proper order.

Now, if you'll give me
your departure time,

we'll see to it
that your son's casket

is placed aboard the train.

Railroad regulations
require that one of you

ride with him
in the baggage car.

Yes,
we were told.

What do I owe you?

Nothing. The bill's
been paid in full.

Who?

T. Callahan.

Why would he
want to do that?

Well, t. Callahan's
the kind of person

that we'd
all like to be.

If you doubt me, ask
the first hundred people
you meet on the street.

We'll let you know
about the train.

And thank you
very much.

Charles: Isaiah?

[Doorbell ringing]

-Yes?
-Mrs. Baxter?

Isaiah.

You have to be
Isaiah Edwards,
John Jr.'s father.

He talked
of you so much,

I'd have known
you anywhere.

Well, come in,
come in.

Isaiah:
This is Charles Ingalls.

Charles Ingalls,
Mary's father.

Oh, he spoke
about you, too.

You and Mary,
and Caroline,
your wife,

and your
little ones.

Charles: Yes, ma'am.

Won't you
have a seat?

Now, kettle's on
the fire. Nice
hot tea in a minute.

And then
I'll show you his room

and his things.

We haven't got
much time,
Mrs. Baxter.

We have another
man to see.

Why, Mr. Callahan
would never
forgive me

if I let you go
wandering off
in the rain

without tea.

Now, it'll just
be a moment.

Mrs. Baxter:
Johnny's pride and joy,
his typewriter.

Mr. Callahan
gave it to him.

A gift to the newspaper
from the manufacturer.

Johnny could
write faster with it

than he could
with a pencil.

Ma'am...

You took real good care
of John, Jr...

And for that,
I dearly thank you.

I'll send
for his things.

[Thunder]

Charles: Excuse me.

We're looking for
a Jake Schultz.

Jake Schultz?
That's me.

What do you want?

You ran over
my son.
Killed him.

Oh, ja.

Worst thing
that ever
happened to me.

The rain was
coming down.

A black night.

I never seen
a thing until
the horses shied.

It was too late
then.

Why didn't you see him?

Climb up on
the wagon seat

and look
for yourself.

A four-up in front
of you, all of them
wanting to go,

knowing the route
better than me.

I swear to you.

There was just a bump
when the wheels hit.

I was the sickest man
in all Chicago.

Man: 'Tis the truth.

He was sick indeed.

I carried him
myself to
mercy hospital,

but it was
too late.

The mud from
your ditch all
over the street.

No wonder
the boy slipped
und fell.

I didn't make the rain.

If prayers would
bring him back,

he would
be here now.

Man: If it's not
great trouble,

could you drop a half
a keg for my boys?

Working the way they do
in this kind of weather,

they can use it.

Talk to the boss.

Where did it happen?

Half a block.

Against the curb.

On your right.

Schultz:
Ah, mister.

If you have time
to spare,

I would like to
have--you have
a meal with us.

My missus
und my 7.

Then you will
know that I am
not one

to be
running down
young folks.

You!

Get back
to work!

Is this
about where
it happened?

Yeah, I guess.

[Saloon music]

Be right back.

There's times
when a man...

Don't lecture me,
Charles.
I heard them all.

Isaiah: Charles, look!

What is it?

It's John's watch.

Are you sure?

Of course I'm sure. It was
his going-away present.

Open up!

Isaiah: Open up!

Get away from here
or I'll call the police.

Charles:
Open it!

I told you,
I'll call the police.

-Where'd you get this?
-I'm warning you, get out!

I said,
where'd you
get this?

I bought it.

No, I bought it
for my son.

And he'd never
sell it!

Now, I want you
to tell me who
sold it to you?

I don't know.

One watch
looks like another.

Listen, this is
my son's watch.

And I want to know
who sold it to you.

I am a merchant,
mister.

13 hours a day
I stand here.

I buy, I sell.

Somebody offers
me something,

if the price is right,
I'll buy.

Faces--who
looks at faces?

You listen,
I want to know.

If you keep lying
to me, I'm gonna
punch you right--

-Isaiah!
- Another step and I'll shoot!

You answer me!

I swear
I don't remember!

That's enough, Isaiah.

Come on.

Come on.

It's Johnny's, sure enough,
his proudest possession.

You bought it
at a pawn shop?

Took it.

The pawnbroker
let us take it.

It proves
he knows
it was stolen.

Or the two of you
scared him silly.

He wasn't that scared.
He held a gun.

Where is this
pawnshop?

About a block
from the brewery

right where
Johnny was killed.

A lovely neighborhood.

Saloons, fancy houses,

pawnbrokers,
the machinery boys...

You name it,
they'll get it for you
in the morning.

Near the brewery...

Has to be either
Rosie Rosenthal's,

Isaac Abrams,
or Jack golden.

Jack golden.
That's the name.

T. Callahan: 12 Gauge.
Keeps it under the counter.

It's a good thing you guys
started walking.

He's used it before.

-Copy!
-Yes, sir.

Ask Mr. Hill to finish
this for me. I've got
business elsewhere.

-Yes, sir.
-Gentlemen, if you'd
follow me, please.

Golden: I am
an honest merchant.

Why do you bring
bring me trouble?

3 cents on the dollar,
and you'd do well
to get that.

Go home, Mr. Callahan.
You're drunk again.

It'll be on
page one of "the
express" tomorrow.

"Jack golden--
thief, fence.

"The man who'd buy
the depot stove

"when it's still hot
enough to fry your hands,

and watches stolen
from the pockets
of the dead."

Not me, Mr. T.

Callahan:
Who sold it to you?

Golden: Like I told
these gentlemen,

who looks at faces?

You do. You get
their names in your book

just in case
the police want to look.

Trouble.
Trouble!

These days,
a businessman

can't make an
honest dollar.

What would you know
about an honest dollar?

"John Smith."

"John Smith,

"Jane Jones,

"B. Jones,
Ryan O’Connor"--

there's a stranger
in a nest of snakes.

B. Jones,

sold you a watch
the day Johnny died.

B. Jones again.
Again.

Busy fellow,
Mr. Jones.

7 sales
in two days.

Some people need money.

"Watch, knife,
guitar,
miscellaneous."

Sold you
everything

but the courthouse
clock.

Who is he?

Uh...black kid.

Jones is all
I know.

Then we'll be
bidding you good
night, Mr. Golden.

But I'll be
taking this
along with me.

There's a detective
sergeant I know

that would enjoy
looking at it

after "the express"
is through.

All right. We know
some black kid

is using the name
b. Jones

took the watch
off your son's body.

Maybe he saw
what happened.

We know what happened.
It was an accident.

If he was your son,
wouldn't you want
to know for sure?

Well, I guess I would.

All right. You leave
the rest to me.

No, no, if you think
I'm going to--

look, do me the courtesy
to listen, Mr. Edwards.

Johnny was your son,

but you and Mr. Ingalls are
farmers from Minnesota.

In your country,
I'd be totally lost,

not knowing which one
of the horses to
tie the plow to.

In my town, you couldn't
even find the horse.

I know where to look
and what to look for.

And if I can't find it,

I can whistle up
20 reporters
to give me a hand.

There's got to be
something we can do.

Callahan: There is.

Go get yourselves
supper and a nice rest.

See me in the morning
at the office.

Good night,
gentlemen.

[Excited chatter in saloon]

-Where's Mr. Callahan?
-Mercy hospital.

Isaiah: What happened?

Police found him
early this morning.

Concussion,
multiple bruises,
possible fracture,

unconscious...

Ambulance driver
didn't think he
was gonna make it.

But the doctor says
he's got a head harder
than an anvil.

I was hoping you could
tell us what happened.

We got no idea.
How do we get to
mercy hospital?

Quickest way, grab a cab.

Mr. Callahan.
How is he?

As good as can
be expected. Better.

But no visitors.

If we don't talk.
Just sit with
an old friend.

He can't talk--
concussion.

Let us just look
in, and not a whisper
out of us.

3 or 4 minutes,
no more.

And no talking.

Our word on that.

He writes
everything down.

I'm going to check
his clothes.

"B.]."

Charles: That's
got to be b. Jones.

Yeah.

1021 east 43rd street.

Let's go.

Charles:
Oh, excuse me.

Can you tell us
where 1021 is?

It's right
over there.

Thank you
very much.

Isaiah: Does B.J. Jones
live here?

No Jones in
this building.

-I thank you, ma'am.
-There's a b.J. Jackson.

Are sure you got
the right last name?

No, ma'am.
We're not sure.

Woman:
Well, I'm Bessie Jane.

I think it's Bobby Joe
you're looking for.

Charles:
Yes, ma'am.

What about?

We just wanted to talk
to him...About a job.

Oh, I'm afraid
you missed him.

He's gets up
and gone early,

and works until
real late at night.

Won't you
gentlemen come in?

We don't have many
visitors anymore.

We'd like to
very much, ma'am,

but it's very important
we talk to b.J.

Could you just tell us
where he works?

Oh, if you're
looking for a worker,

he's a fine one.

He's a good
provider.

We couldn't
do better.

Ma'am, it's really important

that we get
in touch with him.

Could you
tell us where he works?

Oh, he works
all over the place.

My grandson don't
let no grass
grow under his feet.

He says he's going
to buy us a home,

where I can
have a garden
and flowers.

Of course, I tend to
these window boxes,
but ain't the same.

We understand,
ma'am.

If you could just
think of a name,

where he works. It's awfully
important we talk to him.

I don't rightly
know a place.

But there's a...

A Mr. Drum--
Drummond,

that he's
terribly fond of.

He says he's
the best worker he
ever had.

Drummond construction?

That's it!
That's it!

Yes, drummond
construction,
as I recall.

Thank you, ma'am,
you've been a big help.

Bessie Jane: Oh,
if you see my b.J.,

you tell him
to get home early.

'Cause we're going
to have butter beans
for supper.

You gentlemen are
welcome to join us.

We just may
do that, ma'am.

-Thank you.
-Thank you.

Charles.

That's got to be him.

Just take it easy.

Yeah, I'll
take it easy.

Excuse me.
Your name Jackson?

We're talking
to you. Is your
name Jackson?

No, sir, Thomas.

William Thomas.

You sure?

Well, same
as my daddy

and his daddy
before him.

We're looking for
a man named Jackson.

We were told
he worked here.

Jackson.

Oh, y'all must
mean b.J.

Yeah. That's right.

Yeah, well,
he's a good man,
all right.

He always butters
the bucket.

-What?
-The beer pail.

He butters the top
so we don't pay
for half foam.

Where do we find him?

He went out
for sandwiches
a while ago.

I reckon he'll
be back
anytime now.

Man: Hey, b.J.,
this is liverwurst.

I asked for Bologna.

All they had
left, sir.

I got you
double slices.

That's
your man.

Hey, you! Jackson!

You cut him off! There!

Let me go!
Let me go!

Charles:
Just take it easy!

B.].: Let me go!

I don't
know nothing!

Don't know nothing
about anything!

Do you know
about this watch?

Answer me!

You ain't coppers.
I don't have to say.

I don't know
nothing
about a watch!

All right. We're not police.
We could take you home.

Maybe you'd like to answer
some of these questions

in front of your grandma.

You leave grandma
Bessie out of this!

Listen, this was
my son's watch.

We know you sold it.

Where did you get it?

Charles: Look, b. Jones
sold a lot of other
things to Mr. Golden.

Maybe you'd like
to tell your grandma
about those things, too.

It was just lying
there in the rain.

He didn't have
no use for it.

You mean, you picked it up
after the accident?

Don't know about
no accident.

But somebody hit him
awful hard.

Somebody? You didn't see
the brewery wagon?

The alley by O’Brien
street is

too narrow for
a brewery wagon, mister.

Charles: Alley?

John, Jr. was killed
in the street.

Well, he
didn't walk there.

He was dead when
I took the watch.

It was dark and rainy,
and I couldn't see.

Come on. There's somebody
else I want you to tell
this story to.

Isaiah: What I'm saying,
Mr. Callahan, is there

was witnesses
to that accident.

He swore to it.

You showed us
the police reports.

Now, what I'm saying
is, either them
witnesses are lying

or this boy is.

The boy's telling
you the truth.

Can't you see that?

OK, what about
the witnesses, then?

Callahan:
I don't know.

I mean, you talked
to the brewery driver.

You think he
was lying to you?

No, sir. But he
never saw John,

he said so.
Not till after.

Son, this man
you saw...

Big, you say?

Yes, sir.

But you couldn't
see his face?

No, sir.

But you must seen
something.

I mean, you knew
it was a man,
not a cow.

Just a man
in the rain.

In the rain?

Did he have a hat?

A rain hat.

And a coat,

sort of like his?

B.].: Longer.

Callahan:
Like a slicker?

Maybe boots?

Yes, sir.

Mr. Jackson, for
a young man who

only got one quick
look at somebody
in the rain,

I'd say you're
very observant.

Hand me my pants,
if you would,
please, Mr. Edwards,

and my coat.

Mr. Callahan, what do you
think you're doing?

I'm going back
to work, my love.

Oh, you can't just
walk out of here.

You're my
responsibility.

And I'll be holding
you to that, Molly.

Your days off
are next Tuesday
and Wednesday.

I think a nice
picnic in the park

with a cold bottle
of wine

will be just what
the doctor ordered.

-Mr. Callahan.
-T., my darling.

Now, if you
don't wish to be
embarrassed,

I think you
should be turning
your back.

Copy...

Go tell Mrs. Harris down
at the morgue I want
to see her immediately.

Yes, sir.

-Did you see that?
-Yes, sir!

Good. I'm going to make
an honest man out of you.

Now, this $5.00 is
your first week's pay.

Now, to earn it,
you're going to place
your behind

on that bench
over there,

and if you hear
anyone yell "copy,"

you're going to come
a-running, and you're
going to do

exactly as they
tell you, OK?

Yes, sir!

If I ever so much as
ever hear you steal
anything again,

even a broken pencil,

your britches
won't hold spit.

You got my meaning?

Yes, sir!
Thank you, sir.

Anything that fires
my Irish is not
so much acting stupid,

as allowing myself
to be played for a fool!

What do you mean,
letting them fellas
jump you?

Callahan: No, no.
It's not the first time

I've taken a lump
on the head in the dark.

It's for not realizing
it's for the same reason
poor Johnny died.

I don't
understand.

Mr. Callahan!

It is not customary
that I be summoned

from my files
by a copy boy.

Ah, Mrs. Harris, my
apologies by the thousands.

Now, get this clearly.

I'm a tired man, and
I'm losing my Patience.

I want everything
from the morgue,

every low bid
on contracts

put out by
alderman Hendricks
to the seventh ward.

Alderman Hendricks
has been in office
since I was a little girl.

A long time, yes.

I particularly
want the notices
on the low bid

awarded to Mr. Drummond of
the drummond construction.

How far back
do you want to go?

If you reach the extra
we put out

on the landing
of the "mayflower,"
that would be fine.

Now go!

And send them up
as you get them!

What does it
mean, all this?

If my suspicions
are correct,

I think your boy Johnny
was in a man's job,

a newspaperman's job.

He died for it.

What are you
talking about?

I gave Johnny
an assignment.

Nothing important,
just human interest.

I wanted him to find out
how the residents along
O’Brien street felt

about having their
pavements ripped up
every other week.

I guess Johnny checked
around and stumbled on more
than just human interest.

I think he stumbled
on graft.

And they'd kill
him for that?

If there was enough money
involved, they would.

Who's they?

My guess is
drummond construction.

[Telephone rings]

Annie, hold all calls.

Why would they
kill John? He
was just a boy.

For the same reason
I got my lumps

when I started
asking questions down
on O’Brien street.

I should have known
something was wrong

when they didn't find
Johnny's notebook
in his effects.

That boy was a demon
for notes.

Can you be certain
of this?

Callahan:
Well, I can be
certain of one thing.

Johnny died in that alley.

Somebody dragged his body
out into the street.

There has to be a reason.

This is the
first batch.

The notices
are marked.

Oh, and Mrs. Harris
says there'll be
lots more coming.

The reason's in here.

Names are drummond
and Hendricks.

Let's go to work.

Mr. Drummond!

[Cat screeches]

Ah, t. Callahan.

What brings you back
down our way?

Callahan:
Need the answers
to a few questions.

I read where you
were stove in a bit.

That's what I wanted
to ask you about.

Was it you or some of
your lads waylaid me
evening before last?

Surely you're joking.

Charles: Over $200,000
a year in construction
contracts

doesn't sound
like a joke,

especially for
digging ditches.

T., who is
this gentleman?

Perhaps you should
explain to him.

No, you're the one
that's got some
explaining to do.

Callahan:
You see, drummond,

this gentleman
is the boy's father.

The boy that stayed up
nights watching what you
were doing down here

and asking questions
why you were
laying sewer pipes

and fixing streets
that didn't need fixing.

Callahan, I don't have
to explain to you

that all I have to do
is call downtown--

Callahan: Oh,
alderman Hendricks, yes.

I have a few questions
for him also.

Why did you have to go
and kill such
a fine boy as Johnny?

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

Well, I do.

I've got a witness.

B.].!

This is the man
you saw kill Johnny?

Same coat, same size.

Come on, Callahan.

"Same coat,
same size."

That won't hold
up in court
and you know it.

But this will.

That's the ring
you described, son.

Lion's head
with Ruby eyes.

Callahan:
That's it, ain't it?

Don't be afraid, son.
That's it, ain't it?

Yeah, that's it.

Go to the alley.
Cut him off!

B.].: Mr. Callahan.

I ain't seen no ring.

You did fine.

Aah!

[Crash]

Worker: I think
his neck's broke.

He's dead.

Come on. Let's go.

Mr. Callahan,

I want to thank you
for the help.

Callahan: No need.
My condolences to your wife.

Thank you.

Thank you, too, b.J.

It's me who
should be doing
the thanking.

I'm earning
an honest living.

It's not much,

but it's the first
copy off the press.

Grace will
like that.

John, Jr.'s name on it.

Callahan:
Johnny deserved
the byline.

It was his story.

Thank you.

Driver.

Boy: Read all about it!

Alderman Hendricks
charged with fraud.

Contractor killed
in attempted escape.
Read all about it.

Alderman Hendricks
charged with fraud.

Contractor killed
in attempted escape.

Paper!

Read all about it!

Alderman Hendricks
charged with fraud.