Original subtitles

What can you tell us about him?

His name is Dylan Oates. He's 22 years old.

- We heard he confessed. - No comment.

Why'd he do it, Mr. Stone?

Pyromaniacs don't need a reason.

The fact is, Mr. Oates has asserted

his Fifth Amendment rights,

so I haven't spoken to him as of yet.

But he's the guy?

Yes, he is.

- Does he have an attorney? - Is he from Chicago?

Officer Stone, does he have a record?

We don't usually get to see you

at a bond hearing, Mr. Stone.

But this isn't your garden variety homicide.

Where's your attorney, son?

I don't have one.

Excuse me, judge, but this is just about

whether or not I get bail, right?

That is correct.

Then it doesn't really matter, does it?

- I waive counsel. - Hang him!

- Burn him! - You killed my boy!

No bail it is.

Next case.

See you in hell!

- Synced and corrected by VitoSilans - -- www.Addic7ed.com --

You don't want to know how many cases

with confessions I've seen crash and burn.

You may want to add this to the pile.

Voight says he confessed.

But you have your doubts.

Haven't heard from Dawson yet,

but Olinsky's kid died in the fire.

But a girl did ID the suspect.

- She saw him set the fire? - Yes.

And she picked him out of a lineup?

She's having trouble with her vision.

But she described his ring and his coat.

He was wearing both when he was arrested.

- Why? - Because he's a monster.

Someone kills 39 kids

and injures God knows how many more,

you're damn right he's a monster.

The problem is juries can't accept it.

It's out of their comfort zone.

But you give them a big, fat, juicy "why"

and they'll crawl into their beds, close their eyes,

and drift off, thinking they're actually safe.

I'll put Dawson and Nagel on it.

Oh, and, Peter...

Enormous tragedies make career cases.

You win this one, it could make your career.

But you lose, it could destroy mine.

Hey.

Hey, man. I'm so sorry.

Yeah.

I loved Lexi. We all did.

Domestic monitors. Can you believe this crap?

Like I'm gonna hurt my own kid.

I'm sorry for your loss, Al.

Walk with me for a second.

You know, the thing is, sometimes guys in your position

might get hit by a bout of ethics

and then there's some pain-in-the-ass defense attorney

crying coercion.

Good.

Did he confess, Al?

That son of a bitch...

he killed Lexi.

Jesus.

How bad am I, complaining about my kid issues?

I honestly don't know

how he's gonna make it through the day.

All I know is I couldn't.

So was that the sound of the vice squeezing?

You wanna ask me something, go ahead.

On a good day, a confession from your old crew

smells a little hinky.

With Olinsky's kid a victim...

I don't know, okay?

I wasn't there so I didn't hear anything.

Hey, I'm a team player, is all.

I'd just like to know which team I'm on before the game starts.

Uh-uh, back up.

No comment.

Come on.

This is all a shock. I'm sorry.

James!

I just can't get those poor children out of my head.

What you must think of us...

Dylan couldn't have done this.

- Why do you say that? - We're good people.

James, these people are investigators

from the State's Attorney's office.

You can't talk to us. We have rights.

Actually, you don't

until someone accuses you of something.

Yeah, we'll see about that.

Did Dylan go to the party with anyone?

I don't really know who his friends are.

I doubt he would even go to a rave.

When are these pricks gonna leave us alone?

Unfortunately, they have rights.

Why did you say

that Dylan wouldn't go to a rave, Mrs. Oates?

He kept to himself, mostly.

His head was always in his computer.

Eight hours a day wasn't enough for him.

He was a programmer?

Data processing. Whatever that is.

Hey.

What'd you find?

He's snooty. He's weird. He's shy.

He'd "never go dancing."

Nobody seems to know a lot about him.

But he spends a lot of time online.

Unfortunately, none of that is an element of murder.

Right.

You don't have kids, do you?

No.

I remember when I could hold Diego in the palm of my hand.

I'd look at him and think,

"There's a surgeon,

a one guard for the Bulls."

I want to grab Olinsky

and tell him it's gonna be okay...

but it's not, never will be.

The confession... I didn't actually hear it.

Who did?

Voight and Olinsky.

You know, truth be told,

I was waiting for you to come to me.

I just didn't expect it would take you 24 hours.

Olinsky's daughter died in that fire.

I figured maybe he's entitled...

- To what? Revenge? - Yeah.

One lie like this can destroy my entire case.

Your case? It's his kid.

Fine.

Albert Forest made a motion to suppress the confession.

Albert Forest is representing Dylan?

Today's just brimming with good news.

Excuse me.

Fancy seeing you here.

I knew a guy... Ate a hot dog a day,

lived to be 98.

I doubt it was the hot dog.

He swears it was. I trust him.

You should trust me.

We'll see.

Peter, let me do this.

I got a right to take the stand

and tell my story, whatever it is.

Having a right and doing what is right,

they're two completely different things.

For what it's worth, Hank,

I'm truly sorry for your loss.

It's your show, Mr. Forest.

That won't be necessary.

The People will not oppose Mr. Forest's motion

to suppress the defendant's confession to the police.

It's nice Mr. Stone recognizes the weaknesses in his case.

Perhaps he'd consider...

The People intend to proceed to trial, Your Honor.

So be it.

Peter, I found something odd.

It was in with Forest's response for discovery.

And the documents his office sent over.

Looks like a list of Internet articles

about the Kimball Factory.

It was probably sent to us by mistake.

A big one. Look closer. The one that's circled.

"Kimball Factory: A Kiddie Sex Den"?

The article was posted a few weeks ago

on "The Anders Report."

I printed it out.

The Anders website claims

the factory was a haven for pedophiles.

They threw the raves to attract underage teens.

I spoke to a shrink,

and apparently, one of the possible consequences

of child abuse is pyromania.

You wanted a motive. Now we have one.

I don't know.

Dylan Oates was a victim of sexual abuse.

He read the article, it brought back memories,

and he lost it.

This could be considered attorney work product.

What do you want me to do? I can't un-see it.

This is a good thing, Mark.

At least we know what Forest is thinking.

You'd be handing Forest a sympathy defense

on a silver platter with that.

If he was going to assert an affirmative defense,

he would have done it already

and I would get to cross-examine Dylan

about every second of that night,

about every innocent person that died because of him.

The last thing Forest wants is for the sympathy pendulum

to swing back to me.

No. No, no, no, no.

We've got 39 grieving families out there.

This case is too damned important

to risk playing lawyer games.

Now you've got real facts on your side.

Use them.

We found the remains of the incendiary device

inside the warehouse.

What kind of incendiary device?

It was a light bulb filled with gasoline

and a mixture of quartz and diatomaceous silica.

It's kitty litter.

- Sounds simple. - It is.

You can learn everything you need to know

just by going online.

What else did you find in the warehouse?

We found metal wedges

that had been jammed into the doorways of the warehouse.

What did that tell you?

Somebody didn't want the people inside to get out.

Tell me about Barry Kimball.

He was the owner of the factory that burned.

Was Mr. Kimball's factory in violation of the Fire Code?

There weren't fire doors.

And four years ago, he was ordered

to retrofit the wiring,

and he ignored the order.

Did you speak to him about these violations?

He came to the Firehouse the day after the fire.

I wasn't there, but my crew spoke with him.

Right after Mr. Kimball spoke with your crew,

he went into the men's room and he shot himself,

isn't that right?

Yes.

Is that because he felt guilty?

- Objection. - Sustained.

Mr. Forest.

I-I saw a guy drop a paper bag on the floor.

What did he do after he dropped the paper bag?

He stepped on it hard,

and then he kicked it under the couch.

And then he just left. I thought it was weird.

What's the next thing you remember?

I looked to go see what it was.

And then there was this... This flash of light.

And then I went down.

Can you describe him?

He was 5'8". Blonde, blue eyes.

Could you describe what he was wearing?

He was wearing a...

a brown cargo jacket with a ForeRange logo on it.

- Was there anything else? - Yeah, he was...

He was wearing a ring.

Can you describe the ring?

It was silver.

It was like a skull made of silver.

Thank you.

Tamra, were you drinking that night?

I had... I had two beers.

Did you consume any drugs?

You have to answer the question, Tamra.

- Yes. - What kind of drugs?

I had a half tab of Molly.

But I saw what I saw.

Was there music playing?

- Yes. - Any kind of light show?

They had... They had strobe lights.

And how long did you see this person,

the one who stepped on the paper bag?

Maybe three seconds.

So in a crowded room, after you'd been drinking

and popping pills with music pumping

and lights pulsating, you were really able

to see and identify a ring on the finger of a stranger?

I saw it.

And his face.

I'll never forget it.

But, unfortunately, you're not able to identify my client

as the man you saw that night, are you?

No, I can't.

I can't see anything because of him.

We found metal wedges in the defendant's apartment.

Were they manufactured by Elliston Industries?

Yes. Stainless steel. 1 5/8 inch slot width.

Like this?

Exactly.

Can you describe the wedges shoved under the door

at the factory where the rave took place?

Stainless steel. 1 5/8 inch slot width.

Manufactured by Elliston Industries.

- Like this? - Yes, sir.

People use these wedges to hold doors open,

isn't that right?

Or closed, as the case may be.

Say you wanted to keep your terrace door open

so you could enjoy the summer breeze while you ate dinner.

You'd use one?

Well, I don't have a terrace, so I wouldn't know.

One of the victims in this case

is the daughter of one of your colleagues,

- isn't that right? - Alvin Olinsky.

His daughter Lexi was killed by the fire.

And getting someone, anyone, convicted

for what happened to Detective Olinsky's daughter

would bring him some sort of closure, wouldn't it?

- Objection. - Withdrawn.

I show you what is marked Defense Exhibit 12.

Do you recognize that?

It's my arrest report.

Would you read the highlighted part?

"After advising suspect of his Miranda rights,

he stated of his own free will,

It was me, okay. I started the damn fire."

It's curious, don't you think, that the People haven't

entered that statement into evidence?

- Objection! - I'm curious too, Mr. Stone.

Overruled.

Why haven't the People entered Mr. Oates' statement

- into evidence, Detective? - You'd have to ask the People.

Could it be that they didn't trust you?

And if the Assistant State's Attorney doesn't trust you

with something as simple as a confession,

why should we trust anything you say now?

Exactly.

In person, Forest is a lot better than his book.

We read it in law school.

- The Third Edition? - Thank you.

No, the Fifth.

Could you do it?

Defend someone like Dylan Oates.

I won't ever have to make that decision.

So you are a lifer?

I was thrilled when I was drafted by the Cubs, Anna.

Back when they were the "lovable losers."

An underdog always needs someone on his side.

Representing the State doesn't exactly make you the underdog.

When I'm in that courtroom,

I'm not thinking about the State of Illinois.

I'm thinking about the victims.

And right now, I'm letting 39 of them down.

Forest is well on his way to establishing reasonable doubt.

I don't have a choice.

I can't win this without offering a motive.

If you put Anders on the stand to testify

about the raves being used for underage sex,

Forest will go ballistic.

Let him.

Ah, Mr. Anders, thank you for coming in on a Saturday.

This won't take long.

I'm sure you don't need much prep.

I don't think I'll need any.

Mainly 'cause I'm not gonna testify.

You have a subpoena in your hand.

And the First Amendment and the shield law at my back.

I am a journalist, after all.

I don't know what it is you do exactly,

but I wouldn't call it journalism.

Be that as it may, I'm not getting on the stand.

We could have you arrested for contempt.

Speaking of which, I was just thinking recently

of a weekend you spent at the Huntington Hotel in Grand Beach.

When was that, four years ago?

Why are you doing this?

What are you so scared of?

Do you have any idea what it would cost me

to defend the lawsuits brought by the 39 families

who lost their kids?

They'd have to prove your story wasn't true.

Then I'd be forced to name my sources.

Give my best to Joan.

Damn it, Peter. We had a deal.

No calls, no texts. And definitely no lunches.

Like I said, this is important.

How bad is it?

You heard of Todd Anders?

- The sleazy website guy? - Yeah.

He threatened to publish something about our weekend

at Grand Beach if I put him on the stand.

Well, then don't put him on the stand.

This is on the rave trial, Joan.

His testimony will help me establish motive.

I said no.

- Thirty-nine kids died. - And I'm married.

You were separated at the time.

I doubt that Sam or the girls will split those hairs.

You're not asking my permission, are you?

I'm sorry.

No, you're not.

You only care about your damn case.

Joan, please.

You're gonna ruin my life, Peter.

Pardon me if I don't want to break bread with you.

Mr. Anders.

I direct your attention to what is being offered

as People's Exhibit 53.

Do you recognize this document, Mr. Anders?

It is an article that was published on my website.

Please read the headline.

"Kimball Factory: A Kiddie Sex Den."

And the essence of the story is what?

That people threw parties at the abandoned factory

to lure underage teens to engage in sexual acts.

They'd get them drunk and high?

That's right.

If someone read this,

might they do something drastic about it?

- I'm not gonna answer that. - Nor should you have to.

I have nothing more, Your Honor.

- Mr. Forest? - No questions.

No questions, Your Honor.

Mr. Stone?

The People rest.

Fine, gentlemen.

The defense can present in the morning.

Are you okay?

I've been better.

Forest didn't object to the document

or my question to Anders.

He didn't cross Anders about his sources.

Why?

Maybe Anders has something on him.

It's a little late for Forest's book.

Read the title of chapter three.

"Trials: It's All A Con."

And I think I'm his mark.

I never thought Dylan could do something like this.

But you do now?

No. Of course not.

He was always such a sweet boy.

That's what I called him, my Sweet Boy.

I know it's silly.

Was there a time when he stopped being sweet?

Dylan was five.

My brother Frank was taking him fishing.

He was so excited, you know, like little boys get.

When he got home... he was different.

- You're lying. - Watch it, young man.

I know what he did to you.

From the time he was five until Frank died.

She's lying! She knows nothing about me!

Mr. Oates, one more outburst and I will have you removed.

Did Dylan say anything about it to you?

No.

Then how can you be so sure it happened, Mrs. Oates?

I'm his mother.

Are you aware that you just confessed

to endangering the welfare of a child?

That fire, all those kids...

If Dylan did it, it is my fault.

Not his.

Let's break for lunch, shall we?

I assume this isn't a coincidence.

It's all a con.

Well, at least somebody pays attention to what I write.

"In the courtroom, reality is irrelevant.

The appearance of reality is all that matters."

I do have a way with words.

That wasn't a mistake,

you sending me that list of articles.

Why would I do that intentionally?

So I would introduce your defense for you.

And you'd never have to put your client on the stand

to be cross-examined.

Wow. That would be very clever.

And dishonest.

Or the appearance thereof.

Was Dylan really abused?

His mother certainly thinks so.

No. I read the transcript of her testimony.

She never actually said it.

So you never actually suborned perjury.

Jeez, I'm getting smarter by the minute.

Is the Anders story true?

I have no idea. For me it was merely fortuitous.

This isn't a game. Thirty-nine kids are dead.

And my concern is the one who's still living.

You got a little of your dad in you, you know that?

You think a criminal trial is all about

some sort of ineffable morality.

There's something out there that's permanent and infinite.

I've got news for you, son: ain't no such thing.

What happens in that courtroom is a zero sum game.

There's winners and losers, period.

So why concern yourself with using a fake news story

as long as it puts a W in your column?

Or at least an M for mistrial.

Odds are, out of the 12 ordinary citizens in the jury box,

child sexual abuse will hit home for one of them.

And that, my friend, spells hung jury.

I'll retry him.

And I'll find another reality.

Maybe even one that's more acceptable to my client.

The People have no questions for Mrs. Oates.

You may go. Thank you.

In that case, the defense rests, Your Honor.

I think counsel is jumping the gun.

The People certainly have the right to examine Mr. Oates.

This is still America.

We still have a constitution and a Fifth Amendment...

Your Honor, let me remind you how the defendant reacted

when his mother was on the stand.

Your Honor, may we approach?

Yes. Come.

Your Honor, my client was upset.

He spoke. The jury heard him. That's testimony.

He waived his rights against self-incrimination.

- Your Honor... - Clever, Mr. Stone.

Very clever.

I'll probably be reversed on appeal,

but I'm gonna let you cross-examine him,

but only as to the matters that he testified to on direct.

I assume you're gonna need time

to prepare your client, Mr. Forest.

I'll give you 24 hours.

All you can cross Dylan on is whether his mom was lying

or whether she actually knew anything about his life.

So, we need to find out something she didn't know.

Somebody at the rave must have known him.

CPD spoke to everybody who came forward.

Have Dawson and Nagel find someone who didn't.

- Hey. - Hey.

Did you tell Stone about the confession?

I didn't have to.

You know, I should have whacked that little bastard

when I had the chance.

Hey, Dawson.

Look what I found on this teddy.

"Dear Arnie, I'm so sorry. It's all my fault.

Love always, Chloe."

There's no Chloe on the survivors list.

Who's Arnie?

There was an Arnold Phillips.

He died in the fire.

Okay.

Hey, Chloe.

- Who are you? - I'm Laura.

I'm investigating the fire.

Your mom said I could come up. She's talking to my partner.

It's important, Chloe.

This could help us convict the guy responsible.

I wasn't there. I don't know anything.

I have a daughter. She's eight.

And I know in a few years, she's gonna start

keeping secrets from me.

Can you leave me alone?

I know you were there.

And I know how difficult it must be to lose a brother.

Arnie didn't want to go.

I was a jerk. I kept begging him.

And then when I saw the guy they arrested on the news,

I didn't know what to do.

You recognized him?

Yeah.

When I went outside to have a cigarette,

he was out there, pacing back and forth.

And then when I went in,

he was arguing with some girl.

I want you to tell me if you recognize her.

No.

Yeah. That's her.

Yeah.

Thank you.

I don't know a Dylan Oates.

He seems to know you.

Our tech people found that Dylan had a Facebook account

under the fake name Kurt Holden.

I have over a thousand "friends."

I don't know all of them.

Dylan only friended one person, Tamra... you.

We know you saw him do more than just step on the paper bag.

Oh, God...

He came up to me at the rave.

He said he knew me,

that we'd met on the L, like, three months ago.

But I had no idea.

He said that he asked me to have a cup of coffee back then.

- Did you go out with him? - No.

I had to study.

That's what he said I told him.

But I swear, I don't remember this at all.

What else did he tell you, Tamra?

He said that I went to a party instead of going out with him.

But how could he possibly know that?

You posted it on Facebook.

Oh, God...

All those people are dead because of me, aren't they?

I'm sorry, Tamra, but you'll have to testify...

Only if we need you.

We'll show ourselves out.

Why did you call your mother a liar?

That story about my uncle,

it's a total lie.

He never did anything weird to me.

So why would your mom say it under oath?

'Cause she's stupid.

Did you think boys were being molested

- at the Kimball Warehouse? - Objection.

- Beyond the scope. - Sustained.

Did you ever read an article about it in "The Anders Report"?

- Same objection. - Sustained.

Mr. Stone, you're limited to questions

relating to the defendant's prior outburst.

Tell me, Dylan, why did you say that

your mom doesn't know anything about your life?

Because she doesn't.

Did she know you were on Facebook?

I'm not. I mean, it's lame.

So why did you start an account

under the fake name "Kurt Holden"?

I have no idea what you're talking about.

Did your mom know you were obsessed

with a girl on social media?

Even if I were, I wouldn't tell her.

Do you know who this girl is?

No.

How about this one?

No.

Who is that, Dylan?

She's the blind one who said she knows me.

Her name is Tamra Collins.

And her face was all over the newsfeed on your phony account.

These were photos that you liked.

Looks like she's having a great time.

Whatever.

- Did this make you a little jealous?

- Objection. - Withdrawn.

Did your mom know that you asked Tamra out three months ago?

No. Because I didn't.

Did she know that Tamra made up some lame excuse

to dump you while she went to a rave?

No. Because that never happened.

Did you ever tell your mom how humiliated you felt?

Why would I care if some bimbo preferred

to be with garbage instead of me?

So you'd just as soon sit at home

alone on your computer?

As a matter of fact, I would.

To hell with Tamra and her friends, right?

That's right. They're all irrelevant to me.

So it's no big deal that they're all dead?

- Objection. - Withdrawn.

I have nothing further, Your Honor.

Why did he do it?

I don't know either.

Mr. Stone told you a hell of story

about light bulbs and kitty litter,

door wedges, brown cargo jackets,

but, unless I missed it, he never quite told you

why Dylan Oates started a fire

at a party filled with people he didn't know.

But the truth is,

is that a lot of people have light bulbs

and kitty litter, door wedges, brown cargo jackets.

But only one had the motive

to cause such unutterable devastation.

Was it Dylan Oates?

Or did Mr. Stone merely pull a patsy out of a hat?

A patsy who happened to have a brown cargo jacket?

A patsy whose childhood was tormented

by such unspeakable indignities

he would risk going to prison

rather than admit what really happened.

Now if it was Dylan Oates who started that fire,

surely Mr. Stone would have answered

that one simple, crucial question.

Why?

Thirty-nine children dead.

Mr. Forest is correct.

I didn't tell you why Dylan Oates set that fire

and killed these 39 innocents.

I didn't have to because Dylan told you himself.

He said it here.

And here.

And here.

He said it the way people say most things today...

Digitally, by text or Twitter or Tumblr or Facebook.

He told you he was obsessed with Tamra Collins,

a woman he met only briefly

but still wanted nothing to do with him.

He stalked her,

not by following her home or to work,

but on social media. Why?

Because that's the world Dylan Oates inhabits.

The rectangular bordered landscape of his desktop,

laptop, iPad, smartphone.

A world where someone, with a couple of keystrokes,

can express anger, love, hate

to anyone anywhere without risk of reprisal.

It's a world where deceit flourishes

and voyeurism thrives.

Where real human contact and discourse

is replaced by bits and bytes and logarithms.

Where Tamra Collins is always smiling,

always at a party, and always having a great time.

Mr. Oates, that's enough.

Continue, counselor.

See, in Dylan's head, Tamra had...

a perfect life.

And Dylan wasn't invited.

How dare she exclude you from her perfect world?

How dare she embarrass you by announcing to the world

on Facebook that you weren't part of it?

See, Dylan couldn't let her get away with that,

so he set fire to the world that didn't want him.

And then he watched it burn.

Now I wonder, are those tears for the 39 dead?

Or are they for your own sad and lonely life?

Officers!

- Dylan! Dylan! - Restrain him.

Dylan!

Order in this court.

Mr. Oates.

Mr. Oates, that's enough.

Officers, remove him from this courtroom.

In the matter of the People versus Dylan Oates,

on the First Count, Aggravated Arson,

the jury finds the defendant guilty.

On the Second Count,

First Degree Murder of Isabel Acuna, guilty.

On the Third Count,

First Degree Murder of Dana Altamore, guilty.

On the Fourth Count,

First Degree Murder of Lexi Olinksy, guilty.

On the fifth count,

First Degree murder of Alexis Atkinson, guilty.

On the sixth count, First Degree murder of Sam Avilo, guilty.

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