Original subtitles

Oz, the name on the street

for the Oswald State Correctional Facility,

Level Four.

Yeah, it's me.

You thought I was dead, didn't you?

Well I am,

but that don't mean I can't keep jawing.

And now that I crossed over,

I got a whole new perspective on things.

And I'm seeing a lot of familiar faces.

- Fuck! - Chill the fuck out.

Yeah, this ain't so bad. Let me tell you,

dying is a lot harder on the living

than it is on the dead.

Death really only hurts those left behind.

- Tim, what are you doing? - Hey, come here.

What do you think?

What are you, Picasso?

No, it's not art, it's a maze. It's a meditative maze.

Oh, okay.

What's a meditative maze?

Well, if you got a problem

that you're trying to figure out,

you enter the maze.

And as you make your way through,

you concentrate on finding the right path,

which stimulates your powers of reason.

And by the time you reach the end,

hopefully you'll have figured the problem out.

Oh, yeah, I forgot.

You went to that New Age seminar last weekend.

Yeah, so many people have died since I set up Em City,

I was beginning to feel anesthetized, you know?

But Augustus Hill...

boy, that rocked me.

I don't know. A maze is kind of dumb,

but who's to say, right? I mean, if it works--

we gotta try it, right?

Sure, Tim, only...

you know, without real walls,

these dinks are just gonna step over the line.

I found this box.

Now, written on the lid is

"Do not open until six months after my death."

So I decided to respect his wishes.

This morning, six months exactly,

I looked inside.

And?

"l am having a premonition that today is the last day of my life.

Or maybe it is not a premonition.

In Oz, every day is potentially the last one.

Anyway, I'm taking the precaution of sealing up this box.

Inside, you-- and by that I mean McManus, Burr and Said...

...will find a manuscript which I've been writing over the past six years.

If you're perusing this letter, then my premonition was right,

and I am dead.

So consider these pages my last will and testament.

My will to survive.

My testament to all I've experienced in Oz.

I ask you to read my memories

and then do with them whatever you think is right."

- Burr. - I don't want any fucking part of this.

Hey, Baba.

Welcome back, Chucky. You look good, all healthy and shit.

I guess I was pretty close to death,

but Dr. Nathan, she pulled me through.

- What's the latest? - The tits are flowing free and easy,

especially now that the niggers are out of the game.

Augustus Hill's death really shattered them.

- Redding too? - I don't understand the man.

Frankie Urbano goes to stab Redding, kills Hill,

but Redding hasn't even tried to retaliate.

Redding's plotting something, that's for sure.

Yeah, but what?

Kill Whitey!

Fuck you, motherfucker!

Okay, let's break it up. There's nothing to see here.

It's over, move on.

Redding, are you watching this?

Redding!

While you weeping and a-wailing, your men are out of control.

They're upset over losing Augustus,

- what do you expect me to do? - I expect you to take charge.

Oh, Jeez, Kareem,

I'd have thought you'd be glad to see me sit in the back seat--

give you an opportunity to convert all my boys to lslam.

Yeah, well, there are some who will never find God,

nonetheless, they need a leader.

And you are their leader.

But right now you do not truly lead.

You sit in here mourning Augustus,

as well you should,

and you blame yourself, as well you should.

But what's the difference, unless your emotions are backed by action?

If Augustus' murder was truly due to him slinging drugs

and you say you "do not want to see any more young men die"...

fine. Drag your men away from the drugs.

- How? - I don't know.

The answer lies within you.

When you find it, it is then that you will finally

completely be a leader.

Till then you're just a waste of space.

Hey, I want to talk to you about what happens after death--

the afterlife.

See, the ancient Greeks believed when a brother died,

he just got on a boat,

crossed the river Styx and went to a place called Hades.

Now everybody went to Hades.

It didn't matter how good or how bad you were.

It's a place we all just got our groove on.

But the Greeks, they understood.

Just having lived,

just having gone through the sheer shit of getting up

and going through a whole day was enough to earn eternal reward.

Good morning, boys.

Today's the big day.

All you yokels get to whine and snivel

in front of the review boards

in hopes that we'll let you out of solitary.

Though God knows why you'd wanna leave this paradise.

My man McManus, he gonna vouch for me.

He's gonna save me, you know.

I'd say my chances are 50-50.

Glynn's a fuckhead.

That motherfucker's never gonna let me out.

You'll cast your vote for me, won't you, Officer Howell?

I'll suck your big fat hole!

Where's breakfast? Breakfast!

What the fuck you looking at, Martinez?

- You. - Step back.

Make me.

How did you know I was in the mood

for a little Mexican food?

- I'm Puerto Rican. - Same difference.

Strip.

Oh, Martinez is fucking Howell.

- He's fucking her again? - He must need to make a phone call.

Damn.

As you know, the time has come

for our biannual review of the prisoners in solitary,

which I hate to admit is S.R.O.,

so we either need to let some of these dinks back into gen pop

or ship their butts to another correctional facility.

Who's first?

Henry Stanton.

He's in solitary for stabbing Martin Montgomery in the neck.

Ain't talkin' no more!

Montgomery didn't even die.

He just can't sing anymore.

Next?

Vern Schillinger for raping Franklin Winthrop

and Adam Guenzel.

I'm telling you, the sex was consensual. Ask Winthrop.

Miguel Alvarez. He smacked a member of the parole board.

I guess I got my hopes up too high.

I'm not gonna do that again.

- Omar White, he, uh-- - Omar strangled an Aryan.

- Motherfucker! - And then he saved the guy's life.

Next.

Greg Penders,

trained his seeing-eye mutt to attack Officer Lopresti.

Lopresti's fine, not a scratch on him.

Carlos Martinez threw a cocktail in Dave Brass's face.

- Motherfucker! - Yeah, and as a result

the C.O.s beat the shit out of Martinez.

Martinez is scum. We definitely should not let him out of solitary.

He and Penders both attacked C.O.s.

I won't let either of them back into gen pop.

Any recommendations regarding the others?

Stanton and Schillinger could go.

Schillinger? No way.

If he's free, he'll do something to screw up

- Tobias Beecher's parole hearing. - Miguel Alvarez.

I want him in Em City. Leo, he's trying to change.

So is Omar White, I don't hear you begging for him.

I can help Alvarez.

I can't do any more for Omar than I've already done.

Fuck.

Hey, Omar!

You and me get to spend a little quality time together.

What-- what are you squawking about?

McManus has left you here in my warm embrace.

No no, wait. Let me talk to him, please?

If I help you, what'll you do for me in return?

- I don't know. - Shine my shoes?

No, l-l-- I ain't no Pullman porter.

- Strip. - Well, uh...

Look...

I, uh...

I ain't been feeling to good lately, you know?

Strip.

Hurry, I have lunch plans.

- Ugh! - I told you I was sick.

You know what?

Today, you are the shoeshine boy!

Ugh! Man!

I'm just coughing up all kinds of colors and shit.

My-my-- my piss is like it's on fire.

Any night sweats? Trouble sleeping?

- Huh-uh. - Mmm.

- I'd better admit him. - Why, what's wrong with him?

I'm not sure. I'll do some tests.

If it turns out you're faking, dickwad,

I'm gonna eat your balls for breakfast.

By a vote of four to three, we've decided

- to release you from solitary. - You're shitting me?

No, Miguel. You're coming back to Emerald City.

McManus put himself on the line for you, Alvarez.

Don't fuck him over with more of your nonsense.

My nonsense, no.

I got enemies, I can't control their nonsense.

Enough! Stop!

So... what was that little scuffle with Torres about?

I don't know. He's crazy.

Okay, Chico.

You know, I've been doing some sniffing around,

and I've been able to piece together some information

I thought you'd find sort of interesting.

It's about Miguel Alvarez.

Every problem he's had for the past five years or so

- is somehow tied to you. - Me? No.

So I'm telling you this: If Miguel has anymore difficulties,

I'm gonna be looking to blame you.

And now that we got a lot of free space in solitary,

my first reaction to any trouble

- will be to ship your ass there-- - Wait a minute!

--unless you become Alvarez's new best friend.

Miguel.

We were just talking about you.

Guerra's got something to say to you.

Yeah.

You know...

you and me, we started out as friends,

and even though a whole lot of shit has come down since then...

I'm thinking maybe we could-- you know.

Yeah, Chico.

Shake hands.

Lights out. Sweet dreams.

I saw you and Alvarez making nice.

- Were you serious? - The truth?

I don't know. I've hated his guts for so many years,

now I can't even remember why.

And today I almost got my throat cut.

That started me thinking.

Enrique, you ever feel like you've lost your appetite

- for all the bullshit? - Yeah,

when my sister died in that bus accident.

That's right. You were talking peace and patience back then.

- What happened? - Oz.

Oz is what happened.

Fucking Oz.

Now the ltalians, they got a whole 'nother way

of thinking about life after death.

This Dante dude describes Hell

as a series of little circles where sinners are tormented

by the punishment that reflects their crime.

Flatterers are buried up to their necks in shit.

Lawyers wear clothes that never stop itching.

Just think on it.

What would be the one thing

that would torture you for all of eternity?

Your mother-in-law?

Britney Spears' singing?

For me, it'd be a big pair of tits

just hanging out of my reach.

Damn!

Count!

Morning, Bob.

Bob? You feeling any better?

Hmm.

Redding, Burr,

♪01R289.

Rebadow, Robert,

♪65R814.

Busmalis, where's Rebadow?

Grief's like a wave. You've gotta ride it out.

And as badly as you feel now, I can tell you,

you're in better shape than you were the day your grandson died.

That's hard for me to accept

because the sadness I feel keeps morphing.

This morning-- or should I say last night since I barely sleep--

I became...

consumed with the fact that the Rebadow name will die.

I was the only son, my son is my only child,

his son was his only child.

After we're gone, the family will become extinct

Iike some species of insect destroyed by pollution.

My pollution.

I don't know why we have such a thing

about passing on our names,

as if that somehow justifies our existence.

My grandson's illness filled up so much of my time,

so much of my heart.

His death has left an emptiness.

You need to keep busy. You know, focus on your job.

You like working in the dress factory, don't you?

No, not at all.

The thought of hearing the hideous hum

of those machines day in and day out...

Okay, I'll transfer you.

Where would you prefer to punch the clock?

I'm not--

I love to read. The library?

So that's what's allocated in the current budget.

- Can you get more? - I can try.

- Leo? - Tim.

Meet the new head librarian Stella Coffo. Tim McManus.

- Hello. - Hi.

I heard you two were having a meeting.

Stella comes to us from Boston

where she worked in the public library system for 16 years.

Yeah, I gotta admit I'm a little curious as to why you're here.

You mean why leave the comfort of Boston

for the wilds of Oswald?

Well, it's simple. I love to read.

And if I can get the men in this prison to pick up a book,

maybe their lives will be changed in some small way.

Admirable goal. Tough task.

Well, I'm from the North End.

To me "no" only means "try harder."

Oh, good. Um, look--

I-- I hate to do this on your first day,

- but I need a favor. - Sure, anything.

There's a prisoner named Rebadow.

Here goes.

Well, first in line.

I guess you heard the John Grisham finally arrived.

Oh, I don't read that tripe.

Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you.

- You Mrs. Coffo? - Ms. Coffo, actually.

Name's Rebadow.

I've been assigned to work with you.

But I'm no acolyte.

I know where every decimal in the Dewey System is.

Ask me which shelf a book is on, I'll point to it.

Excellent. I should warn you though,

I'm not gonna sit on my ass and wait for the men to come to me.

I want to identify the ones who have no interest in reading,

the ones who maybe don't even know how to read.

I want to put a book in their hands,

and finding the right book is the key.

That's where I'm gonna lean on you.

You have my full support.

Do you have a first name, Mr. Rebadow?

Robert,

though most of the jokers in Oz call me Bob.

Well, I'll call you Robert then, and you can call me Stella.

I'm very pleased to have you on board.

Hey, Cyril, we're meeting with your new lawyer today,

some big hotshot that Meehan found.

- Can I come with you now? - No, not yet, but soon, all right?

You sound awful optimistic there, O'Reily.

I'm trying, Keller, but optimism isn't exactly my--

what's the word I'm looking for? Forte?

- Yo, can I get some fucking food? - Eat that, you hairy bitch.

Hey, everyone,

meet the new member of our clubhouse.

Kirk, you fucking cocksucker!

You should be dead, you little fucking prick!

Don't be angry, Jaz-man. It's not your fault that I'm alive.

The truth is, I can't die.

Bullshit. Just give me another chance.

It won't do any good. I can't die.

Yeah, why is that, pumpkin?

Because... I am Satan.

And Satan will never die.

- Good morning, Pete. - Ray.

Oh, boy. I'm so glad you're back.

Thank you. I would say I'm happy to be back,

but I'm not sure yet.

There's something you should know.

Timothy Kirk has been transferred to death row,

and he's asked to see you.

- No chance. - All right, now look--

Pete, two of the priests from my parish

were burned alive in that fire,

a fire that Kirk arranged and paid for out of spite and malice.

In a few weeks he's going to be executed.

He may need to make peace with you.

- His soul-- - His soul will rot in hell.

Ray, only God can decide that.

Uh-oh, Holy Ghost on deck.

- Say hello, Jericho. - Hello, Father.

Yo, Mukada.

Look at that fucking jizzball sitting there.

I'm gonna fucking kill you, cocksucker!

- Thank you so much for the meeting. - Don't get used to it.

I have to talk fast before he comes back.

- Who, Lopresti? - Satan.

Father, look.

I know that you hate me

and I know that I've committed all these horrible acts,

but it's not me who's done them.

I am possessed by the Devil.

- Stop. - I am possessed,

and you are the only one who can help me.

- I need an exorcism. - I said stop.

Do you think I can't see through this little performance?

What, are you trying for an insanity defense on your appeal?

No. Father, please. He's coming!

By even suggesting what you're suggesting,

you make a mockery of my religion.

Goodbye, Kirk.

I'll see you the day you die.

Mukada!

You can walk away,

but I'm not like the Reverend Cloutier.

I won't just disappear.

We work with criminals.

We try to understand the reasons

why they broke the law so we can help them.

We examine the psychological elements, the sociological.

We consider their family backgrounds,

environments, addictions, blah blah blah.

Usually there's an answer if not a cure.

But sometimes we come face to face

with a larger, more stunning reality.

We come face to face with pure evil,

and we are powerless.

I believe that Kirk has no hope for salvation.

He is pure evil.

I don't disagree that there's evil in the world.

I do disagree that we're powerless against it.

Ray, you and I have dedicated our lives

to overcoming evil through love.

God's love.

Come in.

- Hello, Ray. - Oh, Monsignor.

Sister Peter Marie, this is Monsignor Slon,

- Vicar-General of the Archdiocese. - How do you do?

Nice to meet you, Sister. I'm sorry to interrupt,

but this is a matter of some importance.

Well, I have a session. A pleasure.

Can I get you some tea or--

- No, thanks. Let's sit. - Sure.

How's Cardinal Abgott?

Troubled, and that's why I've come.

His Eminence received a letter yesterday

from a prisoner here at Oswald, Timothy Kirk.

Monsignor, you've got to understand, there's a lot of history

- between Kirk and me. - So it seems.

Ray, Kirk claims you sexually abused him.

- What? - These are dicey times,

and even though Kirk is no parochial schoolboy,

the church can't afford-- either spiritually or financially--

to have any more of our priests be suspect.

- Monsignor, Kirk is lying. - I believe you,

so does the Cardinal,

but if Kirk goes public with his accusations

we have to be ready. Which is why,

until we investigate, I'm suspending you.

We'll handle the investigation

as quickly as possible, but as of this moment

you are no longer allowed to perform

any functions as a Catholic priest.

I'm sorry, Ray.

Pure evil.

I was very happy with the variety show you put together,

and I'm hoping you'll produce another one.

Oh, thank you, Leo.

Actually, I'd really like to do more with the prisoners

than just singing and dancing, so I was thinking Shakespeare--

- "Macbeth." - Sounds great.

- Yes. - Sounds expensive.

Not necessarily, because we would do the production

in modern dress with minimal scenery,

and that way the play will be more accessible.

- Can you work up a budget? - As a matter of fact...

we have one here.

Leo, I don't want this to get bogged down in bureaucracy.

I'd like to start next week, holding auditions

and putting together a crew.

The hardest part's gonna be getting these jamokes to participate.

And that's why we are so lucky

that we have you for the motivation, Tim.

We're not looking for Denzel Washington here.

The point is to give you a place to channel your emotions

other than fighting or heroin,

and not everyone has to be in front of the footlights.

Suzanne needs a stage manager,

Iighting, props, scenery, the whole enchilada.

So I expect a strong representation from Em City.

Get involved.

- Chucky, what about you? - Plays are for fags.

Miguel, Miguel.

Come on, this is a chance to show everybody the new you.

No, I think I'd be a little embarrassed, being in front of people.

So, be a stage manager.

- What the fuck do they do? - Boss everyone else around.

Really? All right, I'm in.

Okay, good.

Hey, how about props?

"Here I have a pilot's thumb,

Wreck'd as homeward he did come."

- That's very good, Poet. - What the fuck am I saying?

You are telling your friends how you destroyed your enemy.

- Really? - Yeah.

A'ight.

So in the real play can I get a real thumb?

You got anybody in mind?

- Maybe yours, cheeseball. - What'd you say, cum stain?

- What? - Hey hey, settle the fuck down!

How goes it, Ma?

If I could keep them from killing each other.

I think I've got all my actors, except for Macbeth,

- so I was thinking, Ryan-- - Sorry.

- You'd be brilliant in the part. - I love you, Ma, but no way.

You got no balls, Whitey?

I don't see you strutting your stuff there, Pepe.

- Dick. - Oh, come on, Ryan, it could be fun.

I did the part once at the C.Y.O.

Let's see now. "Stay...

you imperfect speakers, and tell me more;

By Sinel's death I am Thane of Glamis;

But how of Cawdor?

The Thane of Cawdor lives, a prosperous gentleman;

and to be king stands not within the prospect of belief,

Say from whence you owe

this strange intelligence?

Speak, I charge you!"

Father Meehan, that was excellent!

Now how would you like to play Macbeth?

- Me? - Yeah.

Lights out.

Nighty-night, boys.

- Amen. - Well, it's about time.

Ah, the power of prayer is a wonderful thing, Ryan.

When I was a kid I'd bend my knees

and ask God to stop Dad from beating on us.

God never answered his pager.

A prayer's more than asking for something.

It centers you, gives you peace of mind.

Pray with me.

No, I figure between you, Sister Pete and Aunt Brenda, I'm covered.

It would give me profound joy

if someday you would join me in prayer.

Well, it would give me profound joy to fuck an 18-year-old virgin,

- so save your lungs, okay, Father? - Naughty.

What you have to remember is that this is about power.

You cannot let these people

take your power away from you.

Remember, Cyril,

you are the center of the universe.

What the fuck you looking at?

- So you're the new lawyer? - Arnold Zelman.

You want to explain to me why my brother's still sitting on death row?

Eight months ago, the Supreme Court ruled

that executing the mentally retarded was unconstitutional.

Each state has the right to determine for itself how retarded is defined.

Our assemblymen have been squabbling over a definition all this time.

Yesterday, they finally managed to reach an agreement.

- Which is? - Well, basically,

to qualify as retarded, a person has to have demonstrated

some sign of retardation before the age of 18.

18? But Cyril wasn't hit in the head until his late 20s.

Well, that's why he can still be executed.

Oh, fuck.

All right, so what do we do next?

Appeal Cyril's conviction. At the first trial,

the prosecution was able to make the case that Cyril's attack on Li Chen

- was premeditated. - Yeah, but it wasn't.

Well, in the appeal, we have to prove it wasn't.

I'm going to start by re-interviewing all of the witnesses.

Great.

Those fucks in Em City, they got no reason to help me.

All we need is one, Ryan.

Prisoner #99S917: Glen Shupe;

convicted April 22nd, 1999; manslaughter;

sentence: 15 years; up for parole in eight.

Hey, Shupe, you need a hand?

- Stay away from me! - Aw, why you so testy, man?

It's because of you I'm like this!

Uh-uh, no way, not me. Spics chopped you up.

On your say-so.

- Hello, Mom. - Oop--

Whether I did or didn't have anything to do with your--

what's the word I'm looking for there, Glen? "Disability."

Know this: a lawyer's gonna be coming around

asking questions about the day Li Chen got whacked

and unless you want to be dialing with your nose,

you'd best tell him what he wants to hear.

You got that, you stupid bitch?

I'm here to talk about the day Cyril O'Reily attacked Li Chen.

Now I know you've had several conversations

with various law enforcement officers,

prosecutors and defense attorneys,

and I know you've testified that you saw nothing

and know nothing of the circumstances surrounding Li's death.

But since I only recently jumped onto this case,

I'm hoping you may--

I know exactly what happened.

You do?

Ryan and Li had a scuffle. A knife fell to the floor--

probably Li's knife.

And Cyril stabbed Li spontaneously

to save his brother's life.

There was nothing premeditated about Cyril's actions, nothing.

Mr. Shupe, have you talked to anyone else recently

about these events?

I mean, has anyone prepped you?

No, sir.

It's what I saw and I want to testify to that in court.

Do you know that you can get five more years for perjury?

Mr. Zelman, I'm already serving 1 5.

I'm not afraid.

So how is it going interviewing the witnesses?

So far, not so good.

- What about Shupe? - He's not very credible.

Shupe is a compulsive liar.

The irony is that this time he's telling the truth.

- Well then use him. - If I put Shupe on the stand,

the jury won't believe a word. He'll do more damage than good.

So, you'll find a credible witness.

I hope. I'm down to my last few guys.

- What do we do next? - Turn up the heat.

The press and public have shown a keen interest in this case.

I'll use my contacts at the networks...

Hey, Petey, you out of the psych unit?

Did you work out all your inner demons?

I heard something from a very reliable source yesterday, O'Reily.

Oh, yeah? What'd you hear?

That you ground up glass and put it in my father's food,

cut his insides up slowly.

You're responsible for my father being dead.

Well, what you heard is true-- except for one little detail.

Adebisi did the deed. It wasn't me.

I was your father's friend. Hey, who's your reliable source, huh?

Some nutjob from the whack shack?

Never mind. I tell you who he is, he's dead.

Fair enough.

But what if what you say is true? Which it isn't.

What the fuck's a little prag like you

gonna do about it anyhow, huh?

Now back the fuck away from me.

You stink like anchovies.

I have to admit I'm stunned.

I've been trying for months to get to you to visit your wife,

and now all of a sudden you want to see her.

Well like I said, Sister, I'm feeling better about myself

with you and Father Meehan's help--

I had a long talk with Rosalie yesterday.

But you didn't tell her what happened to me, right?

No, I'm just gonna wait for you to find the right time to tell her.

"A drum, a drum! Macbeth doth come."

"The weird sisters, hand in hand,

Posters of the sea and land,

Thus do go about, about:

Thrice to thine and thrice to mine,

And thrice again to make up nine.

Peace!

The charm's wound up!"

"So foul and fair a day I have not seen."

"How far is't call'd to Forres?"

All right, shut up! Time's up.

But I barely got a line out.

"Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow," Agamemnon.

Here comes another volunteer: Mr. Peter Schibetta.

- Great. Hello, Peter. - Hi.

Ryan could use some help painting the scenery.

No, I don't need any help, especially his.

I've seen this play in high school. It's got all these incantations, right?

- Right. - We Sicilians, we have our own version,

our own spells: the Evil Eye.

My wife's grandmother, she can give somebody the Evil Eye from a mile away.

I'm not saying the stuff works, but who knows, right?

I thought I told you to back the fuck away.

No problem, cuz. No problem.

Ah, Ryan.

Look, I know you've done things you're not particularly proud of,

but sometimes if you talk things through--

Skip the preamble, Father, what's on your mind?

All right. Peter Schibetta.

I've seen the way you two look at each other, the hostility.

Schibetta's a cornhole.

For God's sake, Ryan, will you knock off this bravado,

this-this-- this bullshit

just for a moment?

I know you think you have to be hard to survive here,

but there are other ways.

I've seen you with your brother,

there's love, there's caring,

there's goodness in you.

Will you let that goodness rise

and be the man that God meant you to be?

- How, Father? - I'll help you.

And we'll start with your laundry.

Now you think you'd know by now

that if you don't separate your laundry,

the colors will bleed.

In the Shona Tribe in Africa,

the living communicate with Mwari--

that's God--

through their dead ancestors, the Vadzimu.

The Shona believe that all around the living

there's an invisible community of Vadzimu

watching and caring for their descendants.

But there's also Ngozi--

evil spirits, the wronged,

the neglected, the murdered--

who avenge themselves on a family

through sudden death.

Oh, Christ.

Father!

Oh God, Father!

Father, what's the matter?

Father!

Father! Shit!

Help! Help!

Help!

Come here, help!

Help!

Bring in that crash cart!

Four, five-- one, two, three, four, five.

Get the incubation tray.

- How is he? - Father Meehan's dead.

Oh, fuck.

An aneurysm. He died almost immediately.

- How did it happen? - Who knows?

I mean, we'll do an autopsy, try to figure out the cause, but...

But he'll still be dead, right?

And yet, of all the ways he could have died in Oz,

God chose the most peaceful.

Yeah, right! When I found Father Meehan lying on the floor,

he'd taken a shit in his underwear.

So what does that tell you about us human beings?

The last thing we do before we die is shit?

Ryan, have some respect for the man.

I do!

You know, a couple of Sundays ago at mass,

he read the part of the Gospel

where after Jesus was pulled off the cross

his friends took the body down and they washed it.

I'd like to do that.

I'd like to wash Father Meehan's body.

Ah, I don't know.

Please?

He wanted me to pray with him, but I never did.

Despite all that he tried to do for me and Cyril,

I owe the man this much, please.

...as we forgive those who trespass against us...

Gonna ruin your eyes reading all that small print.

They're law books.

The small print's the best part.

- Working on an appeal? - Yeah.

Not for me, for Chris Keller.

I'm trying to overturn his death sentence.

I've got my dad working on the case too.

You're a lawyer?

Used to be.

Mail Call!

What you got for me there, Winthrop?

"Newsweek" and "Field and Stream."

Where's my "Swank"?

It got a little manhandled in the mailroom.

Hey there, Beecher.

Enjoying life in Unit "J"?

It beats bobbing for apples with the Aryans.

Yo, come on! Break it up, break it up!

What'd you expect? You got Schillinger sent to solitary.

For raping you.

I told you I can take care of myself. I have plans.

What plans?

Have a nice visit with your kids.

How'd you know my kids were coming?

Winthrop!

In a vote of six to one,

we've decided to release you from solitary,

with the understanding that if you attempt another rape,

you will be sent back there permanently.

Let me guess.

Sister, you were the one dissenting vote?

Take him to Unit "B."

That was nice, prag.

May-- may I speak, sir?

Yeah well, wipe your mouth first.

I come from pure Aryan blood.

I have an education.

I can be of better use to you than this.

- You want to join the Brotherhood? - Yes.

That'd be unusual.

Usually a bitch is a bitch is a bitch.

- I have a plan. - That lvy League mind at work?

If Beecher gets hurt before his parole hearing,

you go into solitary forever, am I right?

Yeah.

Yet revenge on that scumfuck is all you can ever think about, am I right?

- Your point? - I'll kill Beecher's father.

- What? - I'll cover my tracks,

pay off the C.O.s. And if I'm caught, I'll take sole blame.

I can kill him.

I will kill him if you promise me an upgrade.

Done.

My son Harry is coming here today.

It's the first time I'll be seeing him in six years.

Six years?

Yeah. After my wife died,

my parents took the two oldest. And Genevieve's parents,

they took Harry the baby to live with them in San Diego.

Why haven't you seen Harry in so long?

Everybody figured it was for the best.

Horseshit.

A child belongs with his father

even if his father is behind bars.

- Hello, son. - Dad.

- Where are the kids? - I need to talk to you.

Guess I'll take a nap. Wake me up for shuffleboard.

Genevieve's parents have been staying with us for the past week.

Well, it was awkward at first,

but Jonah and Margaret have been working very hard to be...

well, to be a family again,

to ease Harry back into your life.

And?

Well, they're waiting in the parking lot.

Harry won't get out of the car.

Son, he's six years old.

He's terrified.

His crying is upsetting Holly.

- It's okay, don't force him. - We'll try again tomorrow.

No no, you know...

Iet's just hold off, okay?

My parole hearing's on Thursday.

If I get paroled, I can see him at home.

Are you sure?

Yes, I can wait.

- It's just a couple more days. - Right!

This time I know the parole board

is going to let you out. I know it!

In the bottom of my heart, I know that you will be free.

So... tell me, how does he look, my son?

Oh, well...

Iike his father.

He has his mother's eyes.

So you're going to see Chris to talk about the appeal, right?

Yes.

Will you give him my love?

Our current strategy is to focus on the credibility

of the prosecution's eyewitness, uh...

Jerry Heekin.

We've just discovered that he'd been arrested twice

for dealing crack cocaine.

How come my other motherfucking lawyer didn't know that?

Like the kids say, he sucked.

Gotta calm down there, Mr. Beecher.

- Gum? - No, thank you.

- You don't like me, do you? - That's beside the point.

I don't have to like you to defend you.

- And my son-- - Loves me.

That bother you?

Yes.

That he loves a man or that he loves me?

We're finished for the day.

Your Honor, please instruct the witness to answer the question.

All right.

I find you despicable.

Happy?

Just another notch in my gun.

The trial of Mayor Wilson Loewen

continued today at the Bankhead State Courthouse.

Loewen was indicted for his involvement in the 1963 murder

of two 10-year-old African-American girls.

Prosecutors allege that Loewen,

who was the Jackson County Sheriff at the time,

aided and abetted members of the Ku Klux Klan

in the brutal slayings.

I beg your pardon.

Guard!

Guard! Guard!

Guard!

No!

Don't!

These are live images from the east side of the city.

Looting and burning have continued for several hours,

sparked by Governor James Devlin's off-the-record comment

that he would pardon Wilson Loewen

if the Mayor is convicted.

First, let me announce

that we have put the National Guard on alert,

though I sincerely hope there'll be no need to activate it.

- Let me stress that violence... - We can not lose control here!

I want the prison locked down! Any questions?

...has never solved anything.

The only thing that's got me more confused

than the rioting itself is the reason for it.

I am an innocent man,

and yet you are destroying your stores, your cars,

your neighborhoods, all based on hearsay

with regards to the verdict that not only has yet to be passed,

- but that will ultimately acquit me. - Lockdown. Lockdown!

My brothers and sisters,

we must stop the violence on our streets.

By rioting, by looting, by destroying,

we are doing more to damage our community

than that murderer Loewen has.

There is no victory to be won

when we address hate with hate.

Let us take back our city...

Hmm. Rest in peace.