All language subtitles for MILLENNIUM - S02 E11 - Goodbye, Charlie (576p - DVDRip)

(man) The choice is
yours, and yours alone.

No one else can make it for you.

Not the government. Not a
doctor. Not even your family.

It's a journey you
can only travel alone.

Now, Preston, what an amazing
adventure you've courageously chosen.

What an amazing adventure.

And I am only here to help,

to point you towards your
very own yellow brick road.

You can stop this at any time.

I'm about to insert a saline IV.

When you flick the switch in your
hand, Pentothal will flow into your veins

and send you into a
deep, sweet, restful sleep.

Soon after, potassium chloride will
induce a painless, massive coronary,

while you're dreaming
of a better place.

So, here we go.

♪ Goodbye to you,
my trusted friend

♪ We've known each other
since we were nine or ten

♪ Together we've
climbed hills and trees

♪ Learned of love and ABCs Skinned
our hearts and skinned our knees

♪ Goodbye, my
friend It's hard to die

- ♪ When all the birds are
singing in the sky - (click)

♪ Now that spring is in the air

♪ Pretty girls are everywhere

♪ Think of me and I'll be there

♪ We had joy, we had fun,
we had seasons in the sun

♪ But the hills that we climbed
were just seasons out of time

(been)

Open the pod bay
door, please, HAL.

Let me get hit by a freight train.
Evaporated in a nuclear blast.

Or a massive coronary after the touchdown
when the Hawks win the Super Bowl.

Anything so I don't ever have
to face making this decision.

Yeah, I'd make
it a thing. Poetic.

Go down Niagara Falls or
leap into the Grand Canyon.

With my luck I'd survive the fall. I'd lie
in pain while prairie dogs ran over me.

I don't believe in it.
Doctor-assisted or otherwise.

Life is too interesting, no
matter what the problem.

I can't wait to
see what happens.

This guy's life was getting
blown out in the fourth quarter.

He didn't want to see
the end of the game.

Preston Williams, aged 48.

Union card. Local
153. Cement finisher.

The writing on the
suicide note matches the

signatures on the licence
and the credit cards.

This wasn't an assisted suicide.

- It was a murder.
- No. We've been getting two a month.

The last one is having a
funeral today or tomorrow.

The scenes are all set up the
same. Same motel, different room.

The victim's the one that always
checks in. He always leaves a note.

"Hoo-yahy-

- Ex-Marine.
- No such thing as an ex-Marine.

This might be under the guise of
assisted suicide, but it's a murder.

The autopsies
confirm terminal illness.

Frank, are you seeing this?

Only the evidence.

Contusions on the wrists. Adhesive
particles around the mouth and the wrist.

If his wrists were tied, how
could he give himself a shot?

Maybe the victim
asked for restraints.

I've got plain-clothes
watching the motel.

The lady that runs
it, and the cleaner,

they know to alert us if they
see anybody with a medical bag.

Can I get a pair of haemostats?

- Here.
- Thanks.

They say you can't eat just one.

Seattle Crisis Centre.
This is Del, may I help you?

Sir, you should call 911
for that. I can connect you.

You're not alone, Mrs Hadden. Many
people get depressed during the holidays.

Different things work for different people,
but the 12-step programme worked for me.

Linda. Linda, listen to me.

This is some tough love, Linda.

He may say he's sorry, but
he will do it again. Won't he?

The only way to help
him, to help yourself, Linda,

is to never allow
this to happen again.

Your life is too precious, too
sacred to waste it in this vicious cycle.

All right. Good.
Good for you, Linda.

Now, my name is Steven and
you can call for me any time.

Good.

God bless you, Linda.

Bye-bye.

Seattle Crisis Centre. This is
Steven. How may I help you?

(laboured breathing)

OK, look, I'm going to help you
through this, but we have to talk.

Who am I listening to?

My name's Eleanor. And...

You're afraid.

(she hangs UP)

- (man) Tattle Tale Lounge.
- Yes. May I ask, where are you located?

(Lara) Here's my
thing. I don't know why

anyone would be in
such a rush to get to this.

I can't even get my own hair right.
Just imagine what an undertaker will do.

They'll have me
looking like one of the

3-525, and I won't be
alive to bitch about it.

(Frank) All I ask is that I
go before my daughter.

Frank, would you?

If you were diagnosed as terminal and in
pain, would you have a doctor assist you?

You have to be there before you
can answer that question, Lara.

In this case, I'm
convinced it's a homicide.

The subject may believe
that he's helping, that he cares.

That's why he
might be here today.

He is, however, excited by the fact
that he's present at the moment of death,

that he has control over
another person's life.

That's one thing I don't believe in, one
person controlling another person's life.

- And you work with Millennium?
- Right now.

Because they present
cases like these.

I don't think that they're presenting
us with cases, but with lessons.

Excuse me. Who are you?
How do you know my mother?

My name is Lara Means.
This is Frank Black.

Our sincere condolences
to you and your family.

We are consultants to the
Seattle Police Department,

regarding the circumstances
of your mother's passing.

We're here only to observe the possible
attendance of any potential suspects.

We've told the police. My mother
died of complications from Alzheimer's.

An autopsy indicates a massive coronary
due to potassium chloride injection.

My mother died of complications from
Alzheimer's. There'll be no suspects here.

Now, please.

Please leave. Your presence
is upsetting my father.

We beg your pardon.

Steven Kiley. Does
that name ring a bell?

What can I get for you?

Come on, buddy, my shift's
almost over. The clock's ticking.

The clock is
ticking for all of us.

I'd love a hot sake.

- A what?
- Sake.

It's a Japanese drink mistakenly
called rice wine, but it's really a beer.

It's brewed, after the kneading
of steamed rice called koji,

with a cultivated
mould and water.

It can be served hot
or cold, but I like it hot.

Did you serve in
Vietnam or something?

Oh, I've been...

and can take you, everywhere.

Is that right?

Where are you from?

This is Officer Nello. Get
me Detective Geibelhouse.

May I?

Should we go out for some beers?

- Some saki?
- You don't need that to remove any pain.

And you are in pain.

Aren't you, Eleanor?

Because that is what we
are all really afraid of, isn't it?

Not dying. But living with pain.

Which, I'm so sorry...
will happen to you.

No, no, no. Not me. I
would never hurt you.

You're such a beautiful person.

There's been weight loss, jaundice,
stomach pain, altered bowel habits.

And you can feel, if you
press deeply, a hard lump.

- I haven't told anyone.
- I know.

You're afraid to even
go to your own doctor.

But I can tell you,
Eleanor, it is inoperable.

(Subs)

Don't be afraid. I will
take the pain away.

And I will keep the promise to
send you anywhere you want to go.

On a wonderful journey.

I've been sent here.

No. No doctors
found by that name.

Must be an alias. But...

- I know I've heard it before.
- (phone rings)

- Hello?
- Frank? We got a possible at the motel.

Thanks.

Geibs says there's a
suspect at the motel.

♪ Goodbye, Charlie
♪ Hate to see you go

♪ Goodbye, Charlie
♪ Gee, I'm feeling low

♪ But I'm cluin' you in

♪ Someone's doin' you in, pal

♪ Now don't you know
lechery leads you to treachery?

♪ Things boomer... (phone rings)

(karaoke music continues)

It's him.

- He's gone.
- She's not.

- (Geibelhouse) Check the perimeter.
- (Lara) Get an ambulance.

(Lara) The medical examiner's
report is back on Preston Williams.

Although the cause of death was
a coronary from potassium chloride,

it was discovered that the
victim had secondary diabetes.

Cholelithiasis had caused the
onset of gangrene in the gall bladder.

Apparently he sought treatment,

but lacking sufficient insurance he
basically had to let it go untreated.

He was ashamed and hid the
disease from his family and his friends.

No one knew but
his one-time doctor.

The physicians attending Eleanor
Norris in ICU felt a tumour in her abdomen.

But they wouldn't run any tests
unless she came out of her coma.

She hadn't seen her doctor
about the problem, either.

"To my Mom, my brother Tim, and
anyone else who needs to know 'why'."

"Please don't be mad or sad, but why
put off tomorrow what you can do today?"

"I love you all and will see
you again in heaven. Love, El."

She must have been
aware of the problem.

I have been all over the world and I
have seen some ugly motel-room paintings

of clowns, wheat fields,
waterfalls, clowns in wheat fields.

But even in Athens I never saw a
painting of Greeks eating walnuts.

In Greek mythology, walnuts
symbolise the gift of prophecy.

That may be the
reason for the restraints.

Maybe the patients
don't know they're sick.

- Then it is murder.
- Is it? I mean, he's somehow been right.

Is it murder if he is saving them
from years... years of pain, indignity?

If they haven't had the choice
for themselves, yes, it is murder.

- And this is his murder weapon.
- Glass IV bottles.

Doctors and hospitals haven't used those
in nearly 10 years. It's all plastic now.

- A medical supply store?
- Don't carry 'em.

I even went to those antique stores
that carry old medical supplies. Nothing.

Is there such a thing as a
medical dumping ground?

My father. But he
lives in St Louis.

Are there any old
hospitals in Seattle

that have been shut down
but haven't been torn down yet?

(water trickling)

(Frank) Whoa.

What?

This is where I brought Catherine
when she was in labour with my daughter.

They closed this
wing six months before

they closed the entire
place two months ago.

It's like seeing a loved one dying
in a hospital or laying in a coffin.

It's not the memory
I wanna be left with.

Private supply.

(Lara coughs)

Frank? Man... Oh...

Eugh.

He's been dead
at least six months.

Normal decomposition,
partial skeletonisation.

Surgical scars, but in a pattern that
a pathologist uses during an autopsy.

- This one's more recent.
- Could they have been forgotten?

There's a cut on her
throat, a tracheotomy.

Ground zero.

Advanced liver cancer.

If this is our subject's work,
that's three women, two men.

Most serial killers don't
cross gender lines like this.

It's not about gender. To him, this
is about the quality of a human life.

- Hey, me, good book, a long autumn walk.
- Here's the subject.

There's a distinct possibility
he was a doctor in this hospital.

He had theories and ideas about sustaining
life that were considered unorthodox.

So he's rejected by his peers. He
opened this body in secret. An experiment.

Here was his epiphany. He
made an incision to save her life.

Then he realised that's
not what she wanted.

So from this victim forward,
he tried to save lives...

by taking them.

(Frank) He's still in
this neighbourhood.

Aside from a hospital, where would
you have access to terminally ill patients?

- (Lara) He's possible, he's very possible.
- (Frank) I could see it.

(Lara) No, it's not her.

(Frank) Can't count him out.

Move the conversation toward
terminal illness. That'll be the tell.

You should have no
trouble acting depressed.

I'm not depressed.
I'm just quiet.

(woman) Anger, denial, depression.
We expect them. It's grief control.

You have to give in to these feelings in
order to be healed, in order to move on.

It's very important. So
if you're feeling as if...

- May I help you?
- Yeah, I need to talk to someone. I...

Of course. Russ.

I'm sorry, sir. I'm
off to my second job.

This is Russ Ketteringham.
And he is wonderful with people.

Thank you.

- What's your name?
- Frank.

Hi, Russ.

- Russ, I'm not feeling too good.
- In what way, Frank?

My wife and I are separated,
and my daughter's living with her.

I have these nightmarish visions
that are the manifestation of pure evil.

Uh-huh.

- What did you do?
- (Lara) Dropped him like a bad habit.

Now I'm alone, no prospects.
My life is just my work.

- I have a brain tumour.
- Is it operable?

- There's nothing the doctors can do.
- Have you considered alternative medicine?

What do you mean? Like
acupuncture or coffee enemas?

- I was thinking more of...
- "visualisation, prayer."

This is going to sound silly, but this
guy that was at that desk... Steve?

- Right. Kiley. Yeah.
- Where else does he work?

(hums “Goodbye, Charlie“)

Hold it... please.

ALS.

Lou Gehrig Disease.

You know, I was kinda curious.

Lou Gehrig died of
an incurable disease.

Babe Ruth died of
an incurable disease.

Mickey Mantle.

Sometimes I wonder if it's
really the Red Sox that are cursed.

(Lara) If Eleanor Norris and Preston
Williams were patients at County,

Kiley could have had access to their
history, which would explain his prophecy.

- Pretty good.
- Yeah.

I can only imagine the
pain you must have endured.

From waking up one morning,
muscles stiff and aching,

to eventual paralysis to the point
where you couldn't even swallow.

All that time your brain
remained alert, lucid,

trapped in a nightmare
you couldn't wake up from.

You didn't have the publicity and
press agents of a Stephen Hawking.

You didn't have his fancy-shmancy
voice modulator and his PBS specials. No.

You suffered in anonymity.
And it was all for nothing, Gary.

I could have relieved
your unrelenting pain,

and propelled your
soul on to the other side.

If God in his infinite wisdom wouldn't
come for you, you could have gone to God.

We're looking for a
nurse, Steven Kiley.

- He should be in the morgue.
- Great. Thanks.

Geibs.

(footsteps)

Steven Kiley? Three guesses who
I am. The first ain't Marcus Welby.

That's where I heard the name.
James Brolin on Marcus Welby.

If you are here to arrest me,
may I ask that you please do so?

I've diagnosed myself as having developed
a haematopoietic malignancy from leukaemia.

There is so much to do
and I haven't much time.

Graduate of Harvard Med School... barely.
Interned at Chicago County Hospital.

Pursued an unsuccessful career in
"theoretical and experimental medicine".

Seven papers were rejected by
The New England Journal of Medicine.

- I was a published researcher.
- Ladies' Home Journal?

You did your residency
here in Seattle at Memorial.

Resigned suddenly and
without warning five months ago.

Were they about to
catch you at something?

Why would you go from being
a doctor to a nurse, Ellsworth?

I don't like doctors any more.
Nurses are fine. They help people.

- Who?
- Your real name is Ellsworth Beedle.

I didn't name myself that.

My choice was to name
myself Steven Kiley.

Steven Kiley is a fictional name
on a fictional television show.

- Is that how you see yourself?
- No, I just liked the name.

- It was a good show, though.
- Do you know why you're here?

I am told that they believe I murdered
several people. It's rather fantastical.

- Why do you think you're under suspicion?
- I have no idea.

I was just doing my job, and
bang, zoom, goodbye, Charlie.

"Good bye, Charlie"?

It's an expression
when you're leaving.

"It's been a slice."

"Happy trails." "Auf
Wiedersehen." "Goodbye, Charlie."

"Goodbye, Charlie" was the song playing
in the room when we found Eleanor Norris.

Bobby Darin was
one swingin' cat.

Either of you into Bobby?

I knew it.

But, you know, Bobby
Darin changed his name.

He was born Walden Cassotto.

He was sick his entire
life. Had rheumatic

fever. They didn't
expect him to live past 16.

If he had called it quits when he was 16,
there'd have been no "Mack The Knife",

or "Somewhere Beyond
The Sea". You know that one?

There would have been no
Academy Award nomination for...

- Captain Newman.
- Captain Newman MD.

But he developed
congestive heart disease.

He had multiple heart surgeries,
which really had no effect.

So he made a choice
to stop having them,

knowing that he would not live
much longer after making that choice.

He died, dignified and
remembered, at the age of 37.

Would you perhaps be indicating
your belief in doctor-assisted suicide?

I don't think we need doctors.

With a little education, we could all
help each other out when the time comes.

Then perhaps you'd be willing to
explain how you assisted Eleanor Norris?

- Preston Williams?
- I don't know anyone alive by that name.

Do you know anyone
dead by that name?

See, I don't even subscribe
to the notion of "dead".

There's only alive.
Or elsewhere.

- Where's "elsewhere"?
- Isn't that what you both are looking for?

Isn't that really
why you're here?

This other plane that you go to -
is that how you know people are ill?

Other cultures understand what
I'm telling you. They know that plane.

The Tibetan Book of the Dead
speaks of a calm preparation for death

as a glorious part of life.

In West Africa, several years are
spent planning their own funerals.

Mexico has a day of
the dead. But in America,

death is fought with
healthcare dollars,

spent mostly in the last months of life,
and not for the benefit of dying patients.

It's for the doctors. Their
convenience and their wallets.

What if everything you're saying could
be proved beyond the shadow of a doubt?

There is still the law.
Without the law, there's chaos.

The end of order is
the end of the world.

Obeying immoral laws
is the end of the world.

But at least you're
getting warmer, Frank.

Lara?

Tell me, Steven, so I can know, so
that I can grow closer, so that I can grow.

How did you get
to that other plane?

One night on call, making
my rounds, eager to get home,

a patient, in her
80s, she was...

Her body was
racked with arthritis.

She had congestive heart
disease, pneumonia had set in.

Her entire body was jaundiced,

skin stretched paper-thin
over a fluid-filled

abdomen, swollen
five times normal size.

I entered her room. I could
hear her gasping for air.

I remember thinking... You know how
clear your mind can be in an emergency?

I thought "Why didn't she push
the call button? She's done it before."

I moved to her.

She couldn't breathe.

Without even considering her, I inserted
a surgical tool and began a tracheotomy.

Then... Then I saw
her. Her teeth yellowed,

surrounded by
chapped, parched lips.

She stared up at me with
eyeballs sunken in their sockets.

And those eyes
spoke. Her eyes did.

Begging "Let me go."

And did you?

She found the other
plane. And so did I.

(knock at door)

His fingerprints aren't anywhere.
Not in any of the motel rooms.

There is no evidence in
his apartment or his car.

Not a hypodermic, an IV bottle, a piece
of tubing. There's nothing out of place.

None of the victims' family
members will come forward.

We nearly had him on
the woman in the hospital.

- He won't confess.
- We've got nothing to hold Kiley on.

We're gonna have to let him
go. His record's cleaner than mine.

His employers love him.
He's an exemplary employee.

He's working two jobs. He's
never been late to either one.

He's never taken a sick
day. Although he is sick.

Terminal. Our
physicians confirmed it.

The guy's a damn saint.

Or worse.

(oar door opens and closes)

- We were worried.
- I'm so sorry. I was detained.

- Better late than never.
- Oh, well...

As Henry James
said on his deathbed:

"Here it is at last, the
distinguished thing."

In the old days, nobody would leave a
note. Few people knew how to read or write.

Besides, if someone confessed
to having taken their own life,

they'd be dragged through the
streets, their bodies pitched on a stake

and their family's possessions taken
away. Imagine that. How far we've come.

Now, in my humble opinion,

I think it's polite and only fair to your
family and friends, and fair to yourself,

to leave a few last
thoughts before you go.

Anne Sexton, Pulitzer prizewinning
author, did not leave a note,

but... in a poem she wrote:

"Death's a sad bone;
bruised, you'd say,

and yet she waits for
me, year after year,

to so delicately
undo an old wound,

to empty my breath
from its bad prison."

Here's my thing. If a pack of predators
can detect the weak or sick of the herd,

couldn't Steven Kiley be functioning
on the same primal instinct?

We've seen serial killers
pick their victims this way.

It is difficult to fit him into the
psychological profile of a serial killer.

His killings are organised, yet he
crosses gender lines. It doesn't fit.

This thrill ride does
not discriminate.

It can be taken by
the old, by the young,

black, white, people with heart
problems or back problems.

All you need is a ticket.

It's the gift of prophecy.

Like a map, to help guide you on
your path when you reach the other side.

He believes his acts were
altruistic. Yet his victims are bound.

This is a matter of control.

Under the guise of
helping other people to die,

he holds their
lives in his hands.

The body has a reflex which can cause
you to remove your finger from the switch.

Now he's been
diagnosed terminal, he

doesn't even have
control over his own body.

Or time.

Interrupting the solution flow
would make you lapse into coma.

You'd be back where you started.

We had control over him today.

To relieve that anxiety, that helplessness,
he'll have to help others his way.

If you think you'll have some
difficulty pushing the switch,

let me know beforehand.

I'll give you a little push.

None of the surveillance
officers have seen him.

Not at the hospital,
crisis centre, not at home.

Let's get more aggressive.

We do a close-up inspection of the
rooms, in case he slipped into one of them.

Now, your emotions at this time are
entirely your own, and no one else's.

You learn so much about
yourself at a time like this.

I've seen Marines cry and
waitresses accepting and peaceful.

Everyone is different.

Isn't that beautiful?

Hello? Anybody around?

The last few weeks at this
time are marked "encounter".

They have terminal encounter
groups at the crisis centre.

- She's his assessor.
- Yeah.

- Seattle Crisis Centre. How may I...
- Is Mabel Shiva at the encounter group?

She was supposed to be. It was
cancelled. None of them showed up.

(phone rings and
answering machine beeps)

Hello, this is Mabel Shiva.

I'm not home at the moment...

or will I ever be again.

You little devil, you.

Call Geibs. They're there.

We haven't much time.

Request paramedics
for six, possibly seven

individuals injected
with potassium chloride.

♪ Goodbye to you,
my trusted friend

♪ We've known each other
since we were nine or ten

♪ Together, we've
climbed hills and trees

♪ Learned of love and ABCs ♪
Skinned our hearts and skinned our knees

♪ Goodbye, my
friend, it's hard to die

♪ When all the birds
are singing in the sky

♪ Now that spring is in the air

♪ Pretty girls are everywhere

♪ Think of me and I'll be there

♪ We had joy, we had fun

♪ We had seasons in the sun

♪ But the hills that we climbed

♪ Were just seasons out of time

Let's go!

(officer) Seattle PD!

(paramedic) No pulse here.

Alert the officers
arriving on the scene.

We are looking for an
African-American male, 48, strong build,

driving a grey '78 LeBaron, Washington
plates, John Indigo Oscar 157.

I thought for sure he
would have gone with them.

Look at this.

Frank, how would you
answer the question?

- What question?
- The Millennium Group's question.

Should we have
arrested or assisted?

I don't think that that's a question
they really want answered.

"(oar stereo) I'" you're out

♪ Goodbye, Charlie, goodbye...

How else are you gonna
get to know a guy like this?

Besides, it's a cool song.

All right.

So what's the question
they really want answered?

Was he from heaven... or hell?

♪ Cashin' in your chips

♪ Wild-eyed Charlie

♪ Time you came to grips

♪ And there ain't no doubt

♪ Strike three, you're out

♪ Goodbye, Charlie ♪ Goodbye

Visiontext Subtitles:
Paul Webster

(child) I made this!

ENGLISH SDH