Original subtitles

♪ What good is sitting alone in your room? ♪

♪ Come hear the music play ♪

♪ Life is a cabaret, old chum ♪

♪ Come to the cabaret ♪

♪ Put down the knitting, the book and the broom ♪

♪ Time for a holiday ♪

♪ Life is a cabaret, old chum ♪

♪ Come to the cabaret ♪

♪ Come taste the wine ♪

♪ Come hear the band ♪

♪ Come blow the horn, start celebrating ♪

♪ Right this way, your table's waiting ♪

♪ No use permitting some prophet of doom ♪

♪ To wipe every smile away ♪

♪ Life is a cabaret, old chum ♪

♪ Come to the cabaret... ♪

Hey. You guys are never going to believe

what's going on outside.

Man, this town floods at the drop of a hat.

Water's almost up to the street.

We're lucky he got tangled up in the bars.

Kid could be spilled out in the desert by now.

Yeah, but we could still lose him

if the water starts to drop.

Cuff his wrist to the gate.

I'll go down below when it's safe

and get him out of there.

Good call.

Hey, Catherine.

Didn't expect to see you out here.

You like the rain?

I was in the area.

He was obviously trying to claw his way out.

Any I.D.?

No, no I.D., but I can't exactly check his pockets right now.

Now, this is technically off school property,

but he looks young enough to be a student.

We're still trying to contact the principal now.

Phil Anderson.

He's certainly had his hands full

- this semester. - Oh, yeah, that's right.

Lindsey goes to school here, doesn't she?

Yeah, she had a late rehearsal.

Actually, I was here to pick her up.

Hey.

Lindsey, honey.

Are you okay?

Do you know that boy?

Yeah. Uh, Sean Becker.

He goes to school here.

Was he a friend?

No.

Look, Mom, I know this is going to sound bad,

but... he's not going to be missed.

♪ Who... are you? ♪

♪ Who, who, who, who? ♪

♪ Who... are you? ♪

♪ Who, who, who, who? ♪

♪ I really wanna know ♪

♪ Who... are you? ♪

♪ Oh-oh-oh ♪ ♪ Who... ♪

♪ Come on, tell me who are you, you, you ♪

♪ Are you! ♪

I think I've bumped into every piece of dog poop

and used condom in the city of Las Vegas.

Aw, David, suck it up.

There he is.

Yep, he's dead.

David, you think you have a hard job?

Well, Officer, I am the one

who has to haul him out of here.

Unlock the cuffs.

Got it.

Okay, get under his pit.

Gently. Gently.

All right.

Got him? Good. Okay.

Well, the only way to get something as big as a body

into the drain system

is through an access point on the line.

This is the first one upstream.

Looks like there's a service platform down there.

Mm-hmm.

You feeling lucky?

Well, it is Vegas.

After you.

You know, the city's got,

like, 350 miles of storm drain running under it.

I've heard there's probably

a thousand homeless living down here.

You know, high ground spots

like this must be prime real estate.

This is the same design that kid had

tattooed on his hand.

Maybe this was his hangout.

It's close to the school.

Good place to catch a buzz between classes.

Could have been huffing out the storm

and huffing up a storm.

Passed out and rolled into the drink.

Yeah, that's possible.

You know, this spot's beginning to look

more like a Klan house than a clubhouse.

Numerous perimortem abrasions, small puncture wounds.

All consistent with tumbling through debris-filled water.

That...

is a white supremacist tattoo.

Knuckles thickened,

discolored.

This boy was no stranger

to using his fists.

Dr. Langston, I think you should take a look.

There's no writing on the back

and nothing to indicate who or where...

At least, not as far as I can tell.

A racist carrying a picture of two young black girls.

Could be targets.

Assuming they're not already victims.

So Lindsey has told me a little bit

about Sean Becker.

What can you tell me?

Ah, same crap, different iteration.

Abusive father... used to, uh,

disappear for long periods of time,

until he finally came out of the closet,

left Sean's mother for another man.

The mother was already unstable, so the father's departure

just knocked her into a psychiatric institution.

That kid was filled with hate.

Blacks, Jews, gays.

Well, I'm going to need his disciplinary files,

and I'll need to talk to his friends.

That would be Daryl Johnson and Karl Hart.

But good luck finding them.

I suspended them both when I kicked Sean out.

Well, just give me their info.

We'll find them. Oh, man.

Billy Tinker... that's the boy that was killed

in the hit-and-run two months ago.

The gay student. There isn't a kid in this school

who thinks his death was an accident.

Half of them think Sean did it.

Do you?

You're the cop, you tell me.

As far as I know, it's still an open case.

Well...

After Billy was killed, a bunch of students formed

a gay and lesbian defense league.

Fights broke out all over the place,

so I organized Tolerance Week to help defuse things.

Sean and his pals always seemed to be around the action, so...

Just one more thing.

Do you recognize these girls?

They're not students here.

I've never seen them before.

Okay, let me get this straight.

You'd rather do the legwork on a next-of-kin notification...

You'd rather do that than slog around in the sewer

looking for evidence?

I mean, that-that is not the down and dirty Sara Sidle

I used to know.

I like to know where haters come from.

Maybe you'll get your chance.

May I help you?

Uh, can I get you some tea?

No, thank you.

No, no, no, thank you.

Um, so you're

Sean Becker's guardian, is that right?

Yes, it is.

Mrs. Becker, please sit down.

Sit down.

I have some bad news.

Sean's dead.

His body was found

in a storm drain near the high school.

I'm sorry to tell you this.

Oh, no.

Oh, my God.

We're sorry for your loss.

Ma'am...

we need to take a look around Sean's room.

Would that be okay with you?

Oh, of course, of course.

It's...

It's the first room on the right.

When Sean comes back,

I'm sure he'll be happy to show you around.

Now, now, now, Mrs. Becker... Huh?

You understand what I'm telling you, right?

You know?

Sean's not coming back.

You know, he's... he's dead.

He's, uh...

he's with Jesus.

He's with Jesus.

Oh.

How did that happen?

That's what we're here to find out.

Oh, well, then, we'll just have to wait for Sean to get back.

He'll certainly be able

to shed some light on, uh, on, um...

Uh... It's okay.

It's okay.

Can I get you some tea?

That'd be great.

Yeah.

The grandmother's non compos mentis.

She has serious short-term memory loss...

Probably Alzheimer's.

I... I called up, uh, Social Services.

They're coming out here to do an evaluation.

What do you got?

Well, it's not at all what I expected.

Heidegger, Nietzsche.

Seems like he was whip-smart.

And fascinated with killing.

The mural that the guys found in the storm drain...

It's definitely this kid's work.

Well, Hitler started as a painter, too.

Bones fractured and never properly reset.

This young man's body was a road map of violence

inflicted and meted out.

Live fast, die young

and leave a not-so-good-looking corpse.

Prelim tox is in.

Sean Becker was clean.

If he was into drugs,

he wasn't high the night he drowned.

He didn't drown.

No foam cone.

Perinasal sinuses

are negative for water.

Then what killed him?

I knew you would ask that.

Take a look.

One of the exterior

puncture wounds extended into the lung.

Size of the clot suggests

roughly two liters of blood loss.

That's definitely the C.O.D.

Wound is cylindrical,

roughly three inches deep

and about an eighth of an inch wide.

X marks the spot.

My guess would be Phillips-head screwdriver?

Mine, too.

A racist gets stabbed

before he can drown.

A lot of people would call that justice.

We still have to call it murder.

Didn't you say we were going to

keep checking these access points

until we found something?

Till we found something useful, yeah.

Well, I think this qualifies.

Same color fibers as the vic's jacket.

I think this might be the dump site.

My turn, right?

Yeah, your turn.

Okay.

Well, what do you know?

Langston said we might be

looking for one of these.

Killer must have dropped it in with the body.

Kid washes downstream,

weapon sinks and gets caught up.

I think we got lucky here, buddy.

Yeah, kinda.

That thing's been sitting in rushing storm water.

We'll be lucky if we get DNA or prints.

Ah, I'm an optimist.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

That's quite a road map.

It's a lot of violence for such a short life.

Some people turn their anger inward...

Depression, self-mutilation, suicide.

Sean Becker tended to turn his outward.

Now, based on the bruise coloration,

the most recently sustained injuries

before the night of the murder, are these: displaced knee,

torso and facial bruising

approximately three days earlier.

The high school sent us his disciplinary files.

Something stood out.

Hmm, fight at school three days ago

with another student, Ian Wentworth.

So you think what started there

ended with a screwdriver to Sean Becker's lung?

Catherine's at the school now.

♪ The sun on the meadow is summery warm ♪

♪ The stag in the forest runs free ♪

♪ But gathered together to greet the storm ♪

♪ Tomorrow belongs to me ♪

♪ The branch of the linden ♪

♪ Is leafy and green ♪

♪ The Rhine gives its gold to the sea ♪

♪ But somewhere a glory awaits unseen ♪

♪ Tomorrow belongs to me. ♪

No, no, no, stop!

This is a play about the last days

before the end of the world!

The song is a romantic dream

of a pure and orderly future

purged of the filth and decadence represented

by the cabaret life.

It is a song sung by beautiful children

who will soon turn into monsters,

leaving corpses spread across the length

and breadth of Europe!

Next time,

you're going to do it

like you got genocide on your minds.

Take five.

Ben.

Catherine, nice to see you.

Lindsey, your, uh, mother's here.

Oh, actually, I'm here

in an official capacity.

I need to see Ian Wentworth.

It's about Sean Becker.

Why am I not surprised?

I'll get him.

Mom, what's going on?

Ian couldn't have had anything to do

with Sean's death. Linds...

I know Ian.

Are you giving me information or your opinion?

This is business.

Stay out of it.

Fine.

Three days ago, you got into a fight

with Sean Becker.

What happened?

Wasn't much of a fight.

Okay. I'm sure he was there

planning some kind of mayhem to ruin the play...

Tomatoes or hand grenades.

With someone like that, who knows?

I just wanted to put him on notice.

What are you doing here?

Nothing.

Just checking out the play.

Yeah, right.

Get the hell out of my way.

What are you looking for, fear?

Like what you saw in Billy Tinker

when you got him in your headlights?

Screw you!

You like bashing gays?!

Well, I fight back!

In other words, you started it.

Sean threw the first punch.

I defended myself

in a way I'm sure he thought I couldn't.

I... I'm not gonna lie to you, Miss Willows.

I'm glad he's dead.

It's like someone finally gave him

the lifetime achievement award he so richly deserved.

But I didn't kill him.

I was in dress rehearsal that night with about 50 other people

who'll swear to it...

including Lindsey.

A common Phillips-head screwdriver

with a cracked wooden handle.

Available at over a hundred hardware stores in town.

It's consistent with the shape of the wound.

Yeah, but unfortunately, we didn't recover

any blood or prints off of it.

I swabbed for epithelials.

We're still waiting for DNA.

Take a look at these bruises on his torso and his face.

They're more than three days old.

Yellowish brown.

That's seven to ten days old.

Maybe they were from the same altercation.

That's what I'm thinking.

Well, this fracture of the ulna would've hurt like hell.

You'd think he would've at least gone to an ER,

had it checked out.

There's nothing in his medical records.

There's nothing in the school file.

Someone did this to him.

Phil?

Hey, Catherine.

What are you doing here?

Uh, just something I realized

I probably should have mentioned before.

What's on your mind, Phil?

Well, uh...

I guess this is what it feels like

when I call someone into my office.

Phil, this is a homicide investigation.

If you know something...

Uh... someone roughed up the school janitor last week.

He came in one morning bruised and limping.

Did he say it was Sean Becker?

I asked him. He wouldn't say.

But I... I knew it in my gut.

Sean and his crew had been on a real tear.

Well, why didn't this janitor file a police report?

Laurent Senyabou's a very private man.

He didn't want to invite any more trouble.

Lord knows, he's seen enough of it to last several lifetimes.

Excuse me.

Laurent Senyabou?

Y-Yes?

I'm Detective Jim Brass, Las Vegas Police.

I'd like to ask you some questions about

the alleged assault last week.

Please, I-I'd rather not.

You seem nervous. Are you okay?

Where I come from, the government and the police

are not forces with whom one wishes to get involved.

Please, I am okay.

Now, if you don't mind, I have a lot of work to finish.

No, no, wait, wait, wait, wait. Laurent...

Look, in this country,

the police protect their citizens.

So I can't do my job unless you help me.

Did Sean Becker assault you?

No.

You don't understand.

When I heard about his death, it saddened me.

Well, that's a first.

So far, you're the only one.

It is true. Sean was there when I was attacked.

Oh, no!

But he was not the one who attacked me.

S'up, homie?

How you doing, huh?!

Oh, come on, you little monkey.

Hey, hey, hey.

Come on, boy!

Sean Becker was a stone-cold racist

with a history of violence.

I mean, why would a kid like that

put himself on the line for you?

We had become friends.

That's a tough one for me to understand, you know.

It's no secret I survived the genocide

in my home country of Rwanda.

An event as meaningless to most students here

as... Latin is to a bush hog.

But one day, Sean showed up at my door.

Hey.

What do you want?

I want to know more.

About what?

You.

Your life.

I admit,

he frightened me at first.

He had a reputation for cruelty.

But I soon realized Sean Becker

was a truly intelligent young man.

He could see that the future

which awaited him would be bleak

unless he learned to contain the anger which consumed him.

So I told him about what I had experienced.

In my town of Gitambo,

the entire village took refuge in a church,

because we knew the next morning we would be killed.

So we sent an envoy with a letter to our priest,

begging him to intercede with the authorities,

to spare our lives.

The envoy returned with the letter, stating only,

"Get your spiritual affairs in order.

God wants you to die."

What did you do?

We prayed and awaited the end.

Why didn't you pick up a knife or a club and strike back?

We had no weapons... Then you should have

gouged out their eyes with your fingers!

You should have ripped out their throats with your teeth.

It would've made no difference.

I told him about how hatred begets only hatred,

and that, in the end, all one is left with

is loss, diminishment and death.

The next morning, the Hutu militia

tossed grenades into the church.

Those who could fled outside,

but only to be hacked with machetes and left to die slowly.

Some... myself included...

Slipped into a forest and escaped.

But I never saw my family again.

He came around often after that, always in secret.

And we discussed many things.

Is that a picture of you and your family?

You know, God works

in mysterious ways, Detective Brass.

In Rwanda, he took everything from me.

But in my new country, granted me a new family.

Do you recognize them?

They were my sisters.

This is Eliane.

She was studying to become a nurse.

And this is Grace, the baby.

Silly girl.

She was always laughing for reasons

known only to herself.

I think perhaps he had fallen a bit

in love with them.

He asked me if he could copy the photo.

I didn't see why not.

Do you think Sean's friends knew about your friendship with him?

I don't know.

But if so, it would have been very dangerous for Sean.

The big dumb one's Daryl Johnson.

Little dumb one's Karl Hart.

They look wasted.

Found them huffing spray paint,

Green Valley Park,

with the girl.

Well, my guys are waiting in the rooms for them.

Let's go, big boy.

Okay. Don't have to talk if you don't want to.

But if you're smart,

you will write down everything that happened that night.

In your own words.

So at least we have your side of the story.

You want a layer?

It says "lawyer," dude.

Don't you know how to read?

So I hear that gold gives you the best buzz.

Is that right?

Yeah, nothing but the best for us, bro.

So why don't you tell me about the altercation that you

and Karl and Sean Becker got into

with the, uh, school janitor last week.

Oh, right.

That.

Uh... Sean and Karl...

They were gonna kick this, um,

uh...

African-American dude's ass.

But then I stepped in and said, you know,

"Seeing as this is Tolerance Week and all,

why don't we try a little tolerance for a change?"

You know?

"Try and see things from the point of view of the brother."

Right?

But they just kept on wailing on him.

So, I mean...

The janitor says that you were the one that attacked him.

Those banana-eaters can't tell white people apart.

I'm gonna kick his ass when I get out of here.

Well, you're not going anywhere just yet, tough guy.

When I cut your friends a deal

and they flip on you, which they will,

you're gonna find yourself locked up

in the county jail for assault.

But you know what, I'm gonna do you a favor,

since you like to whup so much ass.

I'm gonna have the warden put you in

with some African-Americans, so that they can give you

an up-close and personal lesson on race relations.

I saw you there that night outside the storm drain, Molly.

If you know anything about what happened to Sean,

you need to tell me.

I killed Sean.

What do you mean?

Sean had been acting weird lately.

He was pulling away from me,

disappearing a lot.

I thought he was cheating on me.

So I followed him.

Ten years ago,

in the small East African country of Rwanda,

800,000 people were slaughtered by their own government.

Virtually the entire world turned away...

It was so weird.

He was being so secretive.

So I followed him again the next day.

And it got even weirder.

That janitor was, like, touching him.

I had this just sick feeling

that Sean was, like, getting it on with the colored guy.

I told Daryl and Karl,

and they didn't believe me.

So they decided to test Sean's loyalty.

What's going on, little man?

How you doing, huh?! Hey, hey, hey, hey.

Let's blow, man. This guy ain't worth it.

Hey, chillax, bro. We're just trying

to have a good time, all right? Aren't we?

All right? Hey, hey.

I said cut it out, bro.

This guy mops the floors, cleans the toilets.

He's one Negro who knows his place.

Let's go.

Get off!

Don't think, Daryl!

It's not your gift!

You just do what I tell you to do!

Daryl called Sean a race traitor.

He said he was gonna kill him.

The only thing we have on Karl and/or Daryl

is Molly's statement.

But then she eventually told me

that she didn't actually witness the murder.

Well, even if the two dummies

ended up killing Sean in retribution,

we're not getting anything out of them.

They both "layered up."

They all had access to the storm drain

where the body was found. A-And no surprise,

the murder weapon came back negative for epithelials.

So much for optimism.

I do believe that the body evidence

corroborates the janitor's statement.

Sean was protecting him.

The facial bruising is consistent

with Daryl's blow to Sean's mouth.

The ulnar fracture is a classic defensive wound.

Sean warding off Daryl's attack.

Sounds like Sean was really trying to change his life.

Probably what got him killed.

It's always easier to, uh, embrace hatred

than it is to leave it behind.

And we still don't have a shred of evidence

to prove who killed him.

Those files are confidential, Lindsey; you know that.

You're lucky your mother

didn't catch you.

I know. Sorry.

Something wrong?

Not really.

Not really what?

It's just...

it seems like Sean had a really rough life.

I was thinking I could've been a little nicer to him.

A couple days ago, he tried to talk to me.

Hey, Lindsey.

Your mom is, like, a cop

or a CSI or something like that, right?

So?

I was just curious.

Um, how exactly does one go about

accessing fingerprint databases?

Why? You want to know if you're already in the system?

Why would Sean be interested in fingerprints?

He was hitting on me.

Obviously.

I think he even had a little crush on me.

♪ ♪

Matthew Babajide.

Born in 1968.

Believed to have risen to a position of leadership

in the Hutu Power Movement.

Wanted for crimes against humanity

related to the 1994 Rwanda genocide.

Fugitive since 1995.

Whereabouts unknown.

Until now.

In the spring of 1994,

800,000 Rwandans were murdered

by their neighbors and friends.

4,000 of those souls lived in a village called Gitambo.

When the killing was over, only 22 of them had survived.

Laurent Senyabou does not exist.

His real name is Matthew Babajide.

He was not only a participant,

but one of the chief architects of the massacre at Gitambo.

This is from testimony given

to the Rwandan Commission on High Crimes.

"Babajide threw the first grenades

into the church,

"and for the next three days, his machete

"and those of his men rose and fell

"with monotonous regularity.

"He performed his task in a way

"that would prolong the suffering

"of his victims.

"At night, his men would play music on the radio

"and drink themselves into a stupor,

"as hyenas, emboldened by the smell of blood,

"wandered into the village

"and ate the flesh not only of the dead,

but also of the dying."

Captain Brass.

I need you to come to the station with me...

Mr. Babajide.

Wait a minute, that's... that's not his name.

- You have the wrong man. - Daddy...

Laurent, tell him. Daddy!

Stay with your mother.

Daddy!

Papa will be back, yeah?

Daddy! Wait, baby, shh.

If that's true, Matthew Babajide has killed more people

than all the murderers

this team has ever brought to justice combined.

We, uh, notified the State Department,

which coordinates with

the International War Crimes Tribunal in The Hague.

They confirmed Babajide's identity,

and they're arranging for extradition.

It'd be nice if we could add Sean Becker to his tally.

You like him for it?

Yes. Yes.

Just speculation for now,

but...

we believe that Sean Becker

inadvertently discovered

the janitor's true identity.

Sean couldn't be certain it was him,

so he tried to prove it by lifting

one of Laurent's fingerprints.

Unfortunately, he had no way of running the print.

He decides to confront Laurent nonetheless,

assuming that the truth will reveal itself

based on the reaction.

And Laurent stabs Sean with a screwdriver in a panic

to protect his secret.

In other words,

we've got the murder weapon,

we just can't put it in his hands.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

You stabbed Sean Becker with a screwdriver.

So what happened? You get in a fight?

Sean found out who you really were and confronted you?

You lied to me.

Preached peace, but your entire life is a lie.

You're no better than anybody else.

Sean, what are you talking about?

You think that is me?

What about them?

Huh?

Did you simply kill them, too, or did you rape them first?

Sean...

How about I take these to the cops?

We'll see what's true and what's not.

That's not what happened.

What, he didn't find out who you were?

No.

I-I-I-I mean...

Yes.

But I never meant to hurt him.

It was an accident.

That's really semantics.

You threw his body in a storm drain,

and Sean Becker was probably still alive when you did it.

Who are they?

I have no idea.

I knew when I fled Rwanda to create my new future,

I would have to create a new past as well.

I found the photo

in a pile of bones

picked clean by scavengers,

bleached in the sun.

Sean was going to track them down,

wasn't he?

For you... his friend.

Out of love.

For once in his life to do something good.

For the past 15 years,

I've tried to make amends for what I've done.

I never expected God to forgive me,

but I thought, if I could save this one boy,

this one soul,

I could save a part of myself as well.

I never meant to hurt him.

You're just a criminal on the run.

So what's it to you to kill another kid?

Oh, I tell you...

Lucky is the man who never has to confront

what he is truly capable of.

♪ What good is sitting alone in your room? ♪

♪ Come hear the music play ♪

♪ Life is a cabaret, old chum ♪

♪ Come to the cabaret ♪

♪ Put down the knitting, the book and the broom ♪

♪ Time for a holiday ♪

♪ Life is a cabaret, old chum ♪

♪ Come to the cabaret ♪

♪ And as for me, as for me ♪

♪ I made my mind up back in Chelsea ♪

♪ When I go, I'm going like Elsie ♪

♪ Start by admitting from cradle to tomb ♪

♪ Isn't that long a stay ♪

♪ Life is a cabaret, old chum ♪

♪ Only a cabaret, old chum ♪

♪ And I love a cabaret! ♪