All language subtitles for Alfred.Hitchcock.Presents.S06E25.Museum.Piece.1080p.PCOK.WEBRip.AAC.2.0.H.265.-EDGE2020_track3_[eng]

Good evening.

This object, which looks
like a gentleman

who innocently wandered into
a Red Cross bandaging class,

is a mummy.

This particular one
is an Egyptian pharaoh

and was buried
with all his wives.

A rather extreme example
of togetherness.

A few of his more
progressive colleagues

subscribed to this custom

but with a difference--

they buried
their wives first,

promising to follow
at their earliest convenience.

Appropriately enough,

the title of tonight’s
theater piece is

"Museum Piece."

First, however, we have
an item with no title

but, perhaps
after watching it,

you can think
of a name to call it.

[man] As near as we can tell,
this skull belonged
to a civilization

here in the Southwest
that we call Proto-Pueblo.

Now, one of its marks,
as you see, is a flattening
of the head at the rear,

caused by strapping the baby
onto a cradle board

before the skull
was completely calcified.

Let’s compare him
with a modern male Caucasian.

You see, his head is not
flattened in the back at all.

Now, this is, essentially,
a present-day American

-very much like you and I.
-[laughter]

-Grim thought, isn’t it?
-[laughs]

Well, that concludes the tour,
ladies and gentlemen.

It’s about time to close
anyway.

[chattering]

-[guide] You’re welcome.
-[man] Thank you, very much.

Do come again, we’re getting
in new things all the time.

-[man] Excellent.
-[guide] Good day.

-[visitor] Thank you very much.
-[guide] Thank you for coming.

-Don’t let me keep you.
-Not at all!

-I’ll be leaving in a minute.
-Take your time.

These knives fascinate me.
Obsidian, aren’t they?

That’s right.
Purely utilitarian,
for skinning hides,

fleshing hides, so on,
that kind of thing.

But made by totally
different men.

This man was
down-to-earth, practical.

But this fellow
was sensitive, an artist.

But the two men are
about a thousand years apart
in time.

[chuckles]
Makes no difference.

Men haven’t changed.

In my field, we try to diagnose
the psyche of ancient man

from his possessions.

You see,

the thing you fellows
overlook in your collecting

is the internal chemistry

of the men
who made these things.

[rattle]

What is your field, Mr...

Clovis, Newton B. Clovis.

I’m an archeo-psychologist.

Dear me.

Even a man’s bones have
something to say.

What, for instance?

Well, from the shape
of this skull...

rather intelligent man,

athletic at one time.

-Athletic?
-A skier.

Break in the leg
just above the ankle.

Typical ski injury.

[tap]

-You too?
-Double spiral fracture.

Made my leg an inch
and a half shorter.

Oh, but this man was
a football player.

Just a guess, of course.

You mean you knew him?

Yes, I did. Very well.

Died not too old.

Many years ago?

Many years ago.

Modern medicine
might have saved him.

No.

No medicine
would have saved this man.

Mr. Clovis,

how’d you like to join me
in a drink before dinner?

Delighted.

After you.

Thank you.

You say you can diagnose
ancient man from his
possessions, Mr. Clovis,

how about modern man?

Who would that be?

The man all these things
belonged to.

There’s a bucket more of these
in this pitcher.

-Cheers.
-Cheers.

Falco mexicanus,
Prairie Falcon.

He tried to gentle him,
kept him in a cage.

Wouldn’t do.

Some things you can’t keep
in a cage.

Everything in this room
was his?

Just about.

Boy Scouts?

Merit badges.

Over 30 of them.

Birds nests.

But no eggs!

He didn’t believe
in collecting eggs.

No heart for it.

He could take the nests
after the little ones
were gone.

Fox?

Urocyon cinereoargenteus,

Grey Fox.

I call her Circe.

Why Circe?

You’re supposed to divine
these things, aren’t you?

Drink up.

Yes, Circe.

Circe the Temptress.

What do you make of the man?

Gentle.

Probably full of idealism.

Obviously loved the outdoors.

-Compassionate.
-Bravo!

-You were close to him?
-Yes.

He was my son.

Was?

That’s where Circe comes in.

Circe the Temptress.

I call her Circe
because she led him
to his doom.

Worked her wiles on him,
brazenly let him track her.

Almost as if she knew
what lay in wait for him.

He never hunted for sport,

but once in a while
he collected an animal.

In this case, he had
his heart set on Circe.

She’d been raiding hen houses
in the neighborhood.

Sooner or later
some farmer would trap her
or shoot her anyway,

so Ben decided to take her
for his collection.

He spent several days
and nights learning
her habits.

He discovered her latest port
of call was an old barn

just over the property line.

He’d invented a foolproof
gadget for night shooting,

a spotlight mounted
on his .22 in such a way

that his shot would strike
the exact center
of the circle of light.

-[barn door opens]
-[whispers] What was that?

-Mice.
-It’s your father.

Don’t be silly, you know
he’s at a lodge meeting.

[noises]

-[whispering] See that?
-I told you.

[gunshot]

What do you think
you’re doing here?

-Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t...
-Hollister!

[chuckles]
Nature boy Hollister.

I didn’t know anybody else
was around here.

You saw the sign outside.

Yeah, but I didn’t think
your father would mind.

You’re a liar!

Stealing pigeons!
That’s what he’s up to.

I wasn’t stealing anything,
all I wanted was--

You’re a liar!

I’m sorry, Tim.

Now, if you’ll excuse me.

You’re a coward, too.

If you wanna step outside,
I’d be very happy

to soak your head
in the watering trough.

That’s not a bad deal, Tim.

I’ll be giving away
15 pounds.

-[gunshot]
-[scream]

Tim.

-Tim!
-Murderer.

Murderer!

You don’t have to explain
my duties to me, Mr. Hollister.

They’re spelled out very clearly
in the oath of office

a district attorney takes.

It wouldn’t hurt you
to look it over

once in a while, Mr. Henshaw.

There’s no need
to be impertinent.

You’ll have to excuse me, sir,
but my boy’s life is at stake.

He’ll have his day in court.

The law guarantees him
a fair and impartial trial.

That’s just the point!

He’s being tried right now
in the papers!

You call that fair
and impartial?

I didn’t give out
that interview.

The reporters checked
it with you!

You didn’t deny it,
you let them print it!

Take it up with the publisher!
I’m not responsible--

A statement from you
could’ve stopped it!

They’re saying he killed
the McCaffrey boy on purpose!

Like he’d kill a specimen
for his collection!

You know that isn’t true!

Look, Mr. Henshaw,
this town is ready to lynch him.

-They won’t lynch him.
-He is innocent
and you know it.

All right, if he’s innocent,
he’ll go free.
It’s up to the jury.

But what chance has he
with this sort of trash

setting the town on fire?
And with your approval.

You probably thought it up.

You want to kill him.

Old man McCaffrey
put you in office,

and now you’re gonna
deliver for him.

-That’s right, isn’t it?
-Mr. Hollister.

I happen to take my
responsibilities very seriously.

They are not primarily
to convict, but to see
justice is done.

I intend to do everything
in my power to achieve that end

in this and every other case
in which I am involved.

And that is all I intend
to say on this subject.

Good day, sir.

Would you try to reach
the Major again, please?

Thank you.

You’ll excuse me,
Mr. Hollister.

Good day!

[Henshaw]
The badger, the coyote,

the bobcat, the fox.

Shot in the eye.

In each case,
finesse, precision.

A mathematically
calculated shot

in a spot where
it would kill immediately,

yet do no harm whatsoever
to the specimen.

I ask you,
ladies and gentlemen,

do you think this man’s act
was unintentional?

Stop it.

I tell you it was
an accident.

He threw the pitchfork--

Ben! That won’t do any good.

But he’s lying!
I’m not a murderer.

I’m not a killer, I--

I didn’t mean it.

[chattering]

[pounding gavel]

[judge] Order. Order.
Or I’ll clear the courtroom.

A man is on trial
for his life.

Please conduct yourselves
accordingly.

Proceed, Mr. Henshaw.

I don’t have to repeat
the medical testimony.

Five brain shots.

Each of them precisely
in the middle
of an eye socket.

The last one, a human being.

I ask you,
ladies and gentlemen,

to reflect on the odds against
the defendant’s contention

that this last shot
was accidental.

He threw up the riffle
in self-defense, he says.

The shot struck
the precise center
of Tim McCaffrey’s left eye.

What are the odds?

One in a million?
A billion?

Think about that.

Isn’t the other explanation
far more plausible?

That Tim McCaffrey
caught him trespassing?

Ordered him off the property?

That he walked off
into the darkness,

thought about it.

That a cold rage took
possession of him?

That he hefted
the riffle in his hand,

and then,
with calculating precision,

he turned, and aimed, and--

I didn’t. I didn’t do it.

-[chattering]
-[pounding gavel]

I’m demanding that you do
your duty as citizens
of this state.

I demand the death penalty
in the case of the People
versus Benjamin Hollister.

Benjamin Hollister,
would you please rise?

Benjamin Hollister,
you have been found guilty
of murder in the first degree.

Therefore you will,
on the 22nd day of this month,

be removed to
the Penitentiary of Glenville

and there be incarcerated for
the rest of your natural life.

[pounds gavel once]

[sobs]

[Hollister] It’s an old
pioneer ranch on Alamo Creek.

Big adobe ranch house,

Apache bullet pocks
in the walls,

even has its own well
in the courtyard.

Fourteen rooms.

Fourteen rooms?

I’m going to turn it
into a private museum,

put a sign on the highway,
charge admission,

make this collecting bug
pay off after all these years.

I wish...

I could help you.

Well, you can.

I’ve got room plotted out
for your things.

Now, here,

here’s an east window
and there’s the door.

Now, you do the rest.

Do what?

Design the inside.

Cases for your books,

drawers for your mounted
specimens, display cases...

I’ll fix it any way
you want it.

You do it.

I want it to be yours, Ben.

You kidding?

I know what you’re gonna say,
Dad.

You gotta have hope.

Something to hang on to.

-I’m sorry.
-But...

It’s no good, Dad.

But we’ve got 15 minutes.

Goodbye, Dad.

Goodbye, Boy.

I’ll see you next month.

He don’t belong here.

If he’d only eat.

That’s the trouble,
he won’t eat.

[Henshaw] It’s out
of the question.

He’s been examined
by a board of psychiatrists
and found perfectly normal.

Medically, he’s a 100%.

Except that he’ll die
inside of a year

if you leave him
where he is.

Mr. Hollister, would you care
to read the medical report?

I’m not talking
about his blood pressure

or his respiration
or his metabolism, Mr. Henshaw.

I’m talking about his soul.
That boy is dying right now.

Mr. Hollister,
I understand your concern--

But it’s out of your hands,
that I know.

I’m only telling you that
your signature on a petition

would probably get him
a parole.

-Mr. Hollister...
-Please.

Please, hear me out,
Mr. Henshaw.

The election’s come and gone.

You’re secure in your job.
You’ve got nothing to lose.

Old man McCaffrey
can’t touch you now.

Please.

Please, look into your heart,
Mr. Henshaw

and ask yourself
if you really believe
that boy belongs in prison,

if he really is
a menace to society.

I’ll forgive you everything,
Mr. Henshaw.

I-I know you’re under
enormous political pressures

and have to give
in to them sometimes.

I’ll forgive you everything

if only you will try
to do that boy justice now.

He can’t live in prison.

He’s like a hawk in a cage.

[sobbing] He won’t eat.

He’s just withering away.

Calm now, Mr. Hollister,
get hold of yourself.

Two months later he was dead.

He’d lost interest in life.

That was years ago.

It’s all here,

all in this room.

What he had,

what he did,

what he was.

How many years?

I don’t like to count them.

I doesn’t matter, anyway.

I have him here with me.

I can feel his presence
in this room

from his books,
from his things.

Nothing on this earth
is permanent, Mr. Clovis.

We aren’t given title
to anything, you know?

Just a lease.

His was short, mine’s longer.

At least he was not the one
to be left behind to grieve.

That’s some consolation,
isn’t it?

I suppose so.

So perhaps
you can understand now

why I was a little amused
at your archeo-psychology.

There’s only so much of a man
imprisoned in his possessions

and the things he makes with
his hands. So much and no more.

Ben’s spirit hangs
above this room,

but you can’t sense it
from these cold,
inanimate things.

Not unless you knew Ben.

Well, I better lock
the back door.

-If you’ll excuse me.
-Of course.

Satisfied, Mr. Clovis?

Now I am, yes.

I ought to tell you that
I’m not an archeo-psychologist.

I sort of invented that.

You’re from
the district attorney’s office.

That’s right. A murder case
never goes out of date.

You know, it took almost
a year to put him there.

I remember the excitement
of the manhunt,

the most dangerous game.

Not a game, murder.

Disagree.

It was neither.

It was an execution.

The execution of Henshaw,

the man who murdered my son.

I don’t think the law
will look at it
in quite that light.

Tell me, how did you do it?

Did you lie and wait
for him outside his house?

Or did you--

[grunts]

[gasps]

[Hollister]
As near as we can tell,
this skull belonged

to a civilization
here in the Southwest
that we call Proto-Pueblo.

One of its marks, as you see,
is a flattening in the rear
of the head,

caused by strapping the baby
onto a cradle board

before the skull was
completely calcified.

Let’s compare him
with a modern male Caucasian.

You see, his head is not
flattened in the back at all.

Notice...

how an injury left a mark
on the bone.

The same thing here,

another male Caucasian
about 45 years old,

I’d say from the degree of
calcification in certain areas.

Athletic type,

double spiral fracture.

Typical ski injury,

leaving one leg about
an inch and a half shorter
than the other.

Unfortunately, the police took
a dim view of the old curator,

personally adding a new exhibit
for the museum.

Sometimes I find the attitude
of the authorities puzzling.

They seem bent
on stifling initiative.

But enough of that.

Now we shall watch
while my sponsor

makes an exhibition
of himself.

That is all until next week

when we return
with another story.

Perhaps we shall put
our gift-wrapped friend

back in his box.

His last will?

No.

"Listen for dial tone

before depositing money."

Goodnight.