[bright tones]
[tense jazzy music]
♪ ♪
- I used to be a runner.
Uh-huh.
Not a marathoner. A runner.
Marathons are bullshit. They're all hype.
Some official picks a random day and rain or cold
you're out pounding the pavement
alongside 50,000 other dumb fucks.
No, there's some things
it's better to do all by yourself.
[soft dramatic music]
- O'Brien.
♪ ♪
Bevilacqua.
Alvarez.
Holy shit.
[dramatic music]
♪ ♪
- Alvarez.
♪ ♪
Alvarez.
Alvarez, can you hear me?
♪ ♪
I told you this would happen.
- Yes, you're very smart.
We'll miss you when you're gone.
- The question is will Alvarez live?
- Yes.
- Then let's all relax. - Relax?
- Leo, just because Alvarez is going to be okay
doesn't mean we're gonna be so lucky next time.
Dr. Garvey, the next inmate you deprive of medication,
simply because it's expensive,
may die.
- The Weigert Corporation was contracted
to provide health care to the state prison system
for the purpose of keeping costs down.
My job is to make judgment calls.
According to the deal Weigert made with the governor,
I have complete autonomy,
and I will not have that autonomy broached,
under any circumstances.
- [sighs]
[door slams]
- Well. - Leo, this is bullshit.
- He's right. I have no authority over him.
- So what do we do?
[tense music]
- Go public.
♪ ♪
If there's anything else I can do, please let me know.
- I will. - Thank you.
- Who's that?
- Rick Donn, Channel 2 News.
He wants an interview about Alvarez.
- You didn't tell him anything about--
- Yes, I did.
I figure since you gave me two weeks notice,
I got nothing to lose.
- I'll tell them you're nothing but a disgruntled employee.
- You can do that, sure.
Maybe they'll believe you, maybe this'll all blow over.
But after I'm gone and the next screw-up happens,
maybe this time someone dies,
you won't have anyone to blame then, Garvey.
If I were you, I'd switch to a red tie.
You'll look better on camera.
♪ ♪
- Hello.
Is he in?
This is an emergency.
[knocking] - Come in.
Ah, Dr. Nathan.
[door closes]
I have a problem, Gloria.
This situation with an inmate, Miguel Alvarez.
Rick Donn called my office wanting an interview,
wanting to ask how I thought things were going with Weigert.
I then received a call from Ross Davoli,
the CEO of Medmore,
which is the parent company of Weigert.
Ross is an old friend,
a very generous friend. - Governor--
- You haven't gone on camera yet, have you, Gloria?
- No, I haven't. - Good.
Here's what I propose, you keep your job,
Alvarez goes back on the medication
and Weigert agrees to loosen up the purse strings.
♪ ♪
- And Garvey?
- Oh, he's gone.
Turns out in the early '70s he was a back-alley abortionist.
A woman he was servicing died on the table.
He moved here,
sued to have his license restored
and won. Don't ask me how.
In any case, I'm sure Rick Donn will be more than satisfied
with that exclusive and allow the rest of the story
to die a natural death.
People tell me you're a reasonable person.
Be reasonable now.
Give me your cooperation.
- [sighs] I wanna stay,
but I need to know that things are really gonna be different.
♪ ♪
- You have my solemn word.
♪ ♪
- Garvey resigned today amidst the controversy.
Governor Devlin said he would hold the Weigert Corporation
accountable for its actions.
A spokesman for the company said that they had no knowledge
of Garvey's prior record
and have promised a re-evaluation of their policy
for correctional facilities nationwide.
♪ ♪
- Miguel?
- Am I dead?
♪ ♪
Am I in heaven?
- Not quite.
- Shit.
Shoulda let me die.
♪ ♪
- Prisoner number 9-9-S-2-3-3,
Nikolai Stanislofsky.
Convicted February 14th, '99,
possession of stolen goods with intent to sell.
Sentence: 15 years.
Up for parole in five.
♪ ♪
- You're Russian? - Yes.
- From Russia?
- Yes.
- You were born in Russia? - Yes.
- Wow.
First time in Oz?
- Only time.
- Hmm, you'll get used to it.
- I was seven years in a Soviet Gulag.
This place is cake.
Who's the girl? - Pearl necklace time, man.
[overlapping chatter and laughter]
- That's miss sally.
- Look at those fucking tits.
Goddamn.
[tense percussive tones]
- Tell me,
are we anywhere close to death row?
- Yeah, why?
You know somebody on death row?
- A man I knew,
Alexander Vogel, was killed.
I would like to shake the hand of the man who murdered him.
- That'd be Richie Hanlon.
- Richie Hanlon.
Prekrasno.
♪ ♪
- Richie.
Hon...
hold up your arm, will you?
- Hmm?
- For the sweater.
What do you think, about four bars?
- Three.
[gate scraping]
- Mail.
- Long time no see, Vern.
- Mm-hmm. - [laughs softly]
- Did you miss me? - Breathlessly.
- I got that tea pot you ordered.
- [inhales slowly] Thanks, darling.
- My, you are turning this cell into quite the little nest.
- My new lawyer's taking my appeal
to the State Supreme Court.
Figure I'd be here a while longer.
- Well, that is good news. - [laughs softly]
[taps] Yeah.
- Hello, Richie.
Nothing for you today.
Guess all your little fag friends
are too busy getting their legs waxed.
- Fuck you, Schillin-jer.
- Schillinger, asshole.
- Richie.
- Mmm.
- What's this thing between you and Vern?
Every time he comes around here you boys snarl at each other.
- Long story.
- Well, I've got no other appointments today.
- That bastard is the reason I'm on death row.
He and another Aryan creep killed a Russian,
hung him by his ankles in the gym,
carved "Jew" on his chest.
[dramatic tone]
Then they told me if I didn't confess to the murder
they'd kill me. - Mmm.
Death sentence either way.
- Mm-hmm.
- But if you know you're gonna die,
why not tell the truth?
The other one, Mark Mack,
is already dead.
Besides, why should the hacks listen to me now?
I tell 'em Schillinger did it, they say "prove it."
I have no proof.
- Unless you say you did it together.
[tense music]
- What? - Lie.
Tell them you and Vern both killed the Russian.
♪ ♪
- How does that save me? - It doesn't, honey.
But it does mean his ass will be sitting up here
in the cell next to yours.
- Huh.
- Something to consider, Richie.
Just something to consider.
[indistinct chatter]
- Coyle.
How you doing? You comfortable?
- What the fuck you care?
- Why'd you tell Hill you murdered that family?
Why didn't you just keep your fuckin' mouth shut?
- You might as well be asking me
why I had Frankie go videotape me do the deed.
Then you might as well ask me why I even do the deed at all.
If you can't figure none of that shit out,
you don't belong here, McManus.
- Fine. I don't belong here.
Why'd you tell Hill?
- Hill.
I mean...[scoffs]
he different than the other niggers in this place.
I wanted his respect.
- Respect.
- Now I want him dead.
You happy, McManus?
You got everything you came for?
You see, I wanted his respect, now I want him dead.
It's a thin line between love and hate.
You got that, McManus, you bastard.
[chuckles softly]
♪ ♪
- Channel 2 News brings you shocking evidence
presented as testimony against suspect Malcolm Coyle.
Brutal home videos of the Ciancimino family
murdered one by one. Two young men's twisted...
- Jesus Christ, why do they gotta show that?
- Don't be a vag, O'Reily.
- Hey, pal, I'm no vag,
but why they gotta put that stuff on TV?
- It's evidence in Coyle's trial.
- Evidence fine, show it in the goddamn courtroom,
but not on the fuckin' local news.
Hey, how would you like it if you came home,
you put the tube on, there's your grandmother
with her guts spilling out for everyone to fuckin' see?
- I wanna put on "Miss Sally's Schoolyard."
- Yeah.
Miss Sally's got big bazooms.
- Big bazooms.
- Settle down, Cyril.
- There go the jabber right there.
- They put Hill in protective custody.
- That ain't gonna save his rat ass.
He gonna pay for what he did to Snake.
- The grand jury had me going around in circles.
- You did great.
Besides, they saw the videotape.
Coyle's gonna get indicted, then convicted.
- Hey, you know the best thing about this whole thing?
- Hmm? - Being outside.
Getting driven through the city.
The energy. The ladies.
City's got two new skyscrapers too.
- Mm-hmm. - But mostly,
mostly the sense of freedom,
you know, like, being out of harm's way.
Like Wangler and those guys,
they gonna kill me.
You know, I don't blame them.
I'm still not sure rattin' out Coyle was the right thing to do.
I mean, those people are dead.
This trial won't bring 'em back.
Meanwhile, I'm in some deep shit.
- We'll take care of you.
- [laughing] Okay.
- [sighs]
- [coughing]
- You all right?
- Yeah. I think I got the flu.
Go on with what you were saying about Hill.
- Nobody likes a snitch. - That's true,
but we gonna put that aside for the moment.
Now, what I'm doing is I am appealing
to your sense of conscience.
Now all of you here.
you have committed murder,
but only in the course of conducting business.
- That's true. This is different.
- You're all family men.
Coyle's murdering of an innocent family
threatens your families on the outside too.
- What do you want, Said?
- Help me protect Hill.
All of us together,
we make it clear to Wangler
we will not tolerate any harm coming to him.
- You know, I knew the Ciancimino family a little.
Nice people. Never hurt a soul.
And the father,
he died in 'Nam.
- 'Nam, huh?
Count the brotherhood in.
- You?
- Sure.
- Nappa?
- Not only will no one touch Hill,
but, uh...
I'll do you one better.
[dramatic music]
♪ ♪
- Yo, Nappa airholed Snake, man,
and we've got to airhole Nappa.
And that cripple, snitch, bitch-ass, nigga Hill,
we got to whack his ass, too.
- [scoffs] Chill, yo.
We can't fuck with either one of them right now.
We have the fuckin' Sicilians,
the Muslims, the Aryan motherfuckers,
and the Spics all over our dicks.
We gotta chill, yo.
- So what we gonna do?
Let 'em disrespect us like that?
- [scoffs] Disrespect.
Fuck that.
We just got to wait for the right time,
and then we'll nail both they asses to the fucking wall.
You heard?
- Word.
[soft dramatic music]
- Momma, Momma...
[crying]
[lock clicks, door opens]
- Okay, Ricardo,
you think you could behave yourself now?
[tense music]
♪ ♪
- Where's Isabella?
- The baby's keeping her pretty busy.
- Yeah, she thought maybe he was coming down with the flu.
- The flu? - [speaking Spanish]
- Poppa, you told me you'd never lie to me.
- Ah, the baby has been sick.
It's nothing serious.
But Juan told her she had to stay home.
- Juan, Juan. That cocksucker never liked me.
Ever since I fucked his cousin at the wedding.
- You fucked his cousin?
- She gave me a little head in the men's room.
Juan walked in. - Jesus.
- Look, they've been arguing a lot...
- Yeah, well, I told her not to marry him.
- About her coming here.
She said for now she won't be visiting you anymore.
She doesn't want to end up divorced
and with a baby. - Oh, yeah?
Oh , yeah?
Well, fuck her then. - Carlos.
- No, fuck her and that cabron she married.
Fuck them both. - I'll ask her--
- No, no, Pop, no. I'm dead to them?
Okay, she's dead to me. You tell her that.
You tell that bitch that she's fuckin' dead to me.
I never wanna hear her fuckin' name again.
♪ ♪
- [breathing heavily] "Hitting the wall",
that's what they call it.
The moment when you can't take it anymore.
When you've pushed yourself and strained every muscle.
When you think if you go one more step
your body will implode.
- [groans]
- What do you want?
- Sometimes it's good to pray.
When you're unhappy, ask God for his help.
We could pray together. - Oh, yeah?
♪ ♪
What you should be praying for
is that I don't cut you right now.
- Drop the knife. - Oh-ho.
Why don't you come and take it?
Huh? Huh?
- I got a code 19.
- Gimme it, gimme it!
- [grunting]
- You got it? Get him out.
- Get the fuck out.
- You've got no balls.
You've got no fuckin' balls.
♪ ♪
- Hey, bitch boy.
- You writing poetry?
- Man, I don't do that shit no more.
- Why?
- 'Cause I don't feel like it, all right?
I just don't feel like it.
- Too bad. You wrote good.
- Yo, Adebisi, man, leave me the fuck alone, man, please?
[clicks tongue]
- Here you go, brother Minister.
- Thank you.
- You've been on this hunger strike for four days now.
We've had no reaction from McManus or Glynn.
- That's because they think I'm bluffing.
But soon they will see.
Don't worry, brother.
This hunger strike won't last much longer.
- The judge has accepted our class-action suit.
- That is excellent.
So when does the trial begin?
- Two months.
- That long?
- Justice moves slowly.
- If it moves at all.
Wait.
There is one more thing.
I want you to pay a visit to the warden.
- This hunger strike started because you wouldn't allow Said
to have food in his cell at night
so that he could fast during the day.
- I won't grant him special status.
- As of tomorrow, two more Muslims will stop eating.
The day after that, three more will stop
and so on and so on until every Muslim in Oz,
until every Muslim in every prison in this state
is on a hunger strike.
I'm not the state's attorney, but my guess is he'd say that
the last thing you need right now
on top of the class-action suit
is a prison system full of men dying for their faith.
Bad press, bad karma, gentlemen.
[door opens and closes]
- I say we let Said have his way.
- Leo, you give in now, what's to stop him
from using a hunger strike the next time he makes demands?
- We'll deal with the next time the next time.
Hopefully, this lawsuit will be settled.
- You let him win, his stature only grows.
We lose. - [chuckles softly]
- Sometimes the only way to win is to lose.
- [groans]
♪ ♪
[apple crunching]
- What I don't get are these treadmills.
These people that just want to run, run, run on a machine.
I mean, sure, you drop a few pounds,
you tighten some sinews,
but you still haven't gone anywhere.
It's like being a hamster in one of them circley things
in a cage.
Me?
I don't wanna be a hamster no more.
- Hi.
[sighs] Look, Tim, about the other day--
- You don't-- - Let me.
I completely overreacted.
Diane Whittlesey's mother dies, you comfort her,
and I make it into this big thing
like you're still in love with her or something.
I'm cloying bitch, is that it?
- [grunts] Fuck!
- Let go of me! - Stop!
Stop! Calm down!
- I was wrong.
I'm an idiot.
I'm sorry.
All I want is for us to be back to where we were.
- [exhales]
Don't you see? We weren't anywhere.
Look, I'm sorry if I misled you,
but you--you came on to me like gangbusters.
I didn't think the sex would mean that much.
I--I'm not looking for a serious relationship.
The truth is, I'm shit at commitment,
except to my job.
If I wanted to be married, I would still be married.
- Walk away.
I'm not asking you to marry me.
- I know. - I just wanna be friends.
- Okay, friends.
- And the sex will just be the sex.
- No, I don't think that we should fuck anymore.
- Why not?
- Because fucking just complicates things.
- It doesn't have to. - Yes, it does.
It always does.
- I promise it won't.
- That's not a promise you can make.
It's not a promise you can keep.
- I can. - No.
- What? What?
You don't think I'm any good in bed?
Ah, shit.
- Claire-- - Ah, no, shit!
- Claire-- - Oh, don't, don't!
You know, you're not so amazing yourself.
Maybe the reason you can't commit is
because you'd rather be sucking off one of these guys.
- [sighs] - Oh, I'm sorry.
Am I hitting a nerve? - No, you're boring me.
- Cocksucker!
Cocksucker!
♪ ♪
Giles.
Bevilacqua.
What are you doing?
- Conjo, Howell. Nice tits.
[screaming]
- Twice in one week, Leo, on her watch.
Alvarez almost offs himself and now this.
- [sighs] She's new.
- She's dangerous.
Bevilacqua may have permanent brain damage.
- I'll transfer her to another unit.
- No, Leo. Fire her now.
Fucking fire her.
♪ ♪
- [exhales]
♪ ♪
[indistinct chatter]
Can I have your attention please?
[chatter continues]
Can I have your attention please?
Gentlemen.
Okay, this is Officer Sean Murphy,
the new supervisor in Emerald City.
- I've read the files on each of you.
I know you're tough.
Life in Oz sucks.
This I also know.
Don't force me to make the days even worse.
That's all for now. - Sean Murphy.
He's a mick like us.
- That's good?
- Little brother, things are definitely looking up.
[indistinct chatter]
- Well, hello, buttercup.
- That's fuckin' it. You're fuckin' dead, man!
You're fuckin' dead, Schillinger!
You are fucking dead! You fuckin' bitch!
You're fucking dead, you fuckin' bald bitch!
You are fucking mine, motherfucker!
You are fuckin' mine!
[overlapping shouting]
You are fucking mine!
[overlapping cheers and laughter]
- I'm going to need a refill there, sweet cheeks.
- You send me to the hole,
my brother's fair game for Schillinger.
- Boo-fuckin'-hoo. You should have thought of that
before you lost your temper.
- Okay.
I'm sorry. - [laughs]
- Tim, you mind if I handle this?
- No, go ahead. I can't reach him.
- All right. Let's go.
Okay, O'Reily, I'm gonna to let this pass,
once.
You fuck up again... [clicks tongue]
I'll personally stomp your ass.
- Why are you being so nice?
- Your file.
I know all about you and your brother.
I got brothers.
I know what it's like.
Besides, you and me, we're both Black Irish, right?
- [chuckles] Black as they come.
- You were golden gloves. - How'd you hear that?
- You read my file, I read yours.
I bet you pack quite a punch. - Yeah, I had my day, sure.
But my face hit the canvas just as often.
You know, my brother, Cyril, he's a boxer,
and I entered him into this competition
that McManus is organizing.
- I thought your brother was slow.
- Yeah, day to day, but in the ring, it's like...
[exhales quickly] Man, he's so fast.
It's like his instincts just--
just come right back, you know.
But the problem is I don't know dick about boxing.
So I was just kind of wondering, you know,
maybe you might wanna coach Cyril.
- Me? - Yeah.
- No way, O'Reily. That'd be showing favoritism.
- I don't mean full on coach, but, I mean, just maybe
kind of watch from a distance, you know.
Give me some pointers.
For Ireland?
- [chuckles softly] We'll see, kid.
We'll see.
[cheers and applause]
- Quiet!
Quiet!
Everybody, shut up, please.
Quiet down so we can get started.
I said quiet.
Shut up so we can get started.
This is the first Oswald boxing championships.
We've eliminated weight classes.
In this corner in the blue trunks,
Chucky "The Enforcer" Pancamo.
[cheers, applause, and booing]
And in this--
and in this corner, "Throttlin'" Steve Pasquin.
[cheers, applause, and booing]
Come on. Come on.
Come on, let's go.
Okay, I want you to keep it clean.
No punches below the belt, no rabbit punches.
You obey me at all times.
Protect yourselves, go to your corners.
Shake hands, touch gloves.
[overlapping shouting and cheering]
Ring the bell. [bell dings]
[cheers and applause]
- Come on, Steven!
[bell dinging]
- Hey, Ryan.
How's Cyril?
- Officer...
get these two fucks away from me.
- He is so touchy. - Mm.
I was just coming over to tell you how excited I am
that Cyril's first fight is gonna be against James here.
- That's right.
Cyril and me.
And you can't do a fuckin' thing about it.
- Beecher bit off the tip of your dick.
How'd you like to lose the rest?
- Oooh! Owww!
[chuckles] - Move along, O'Reily.
♪ ♪
C.O.'s?
Odds are five to one, your favor.
♪ ♪
- Ryan.
- Aunt Brenda.
- Cyril.
- What'd you bring?
- Your favorites.
- No, no, no, no. - Ryan!
- No.
You're in training. - In training?
For what? - A fight.
They organized a boxing match.
- Oh, Ryan, no.
You can't have the boy boxing.
- Why not?
- His brain's rattled enough.
Sweetheart, do you wanna box?
- Hey, what are you asking him that for?
- 'Cause I know how you bully him
into doing the things you want.
- Fuck you.
- Ryan... - No, fuck you.
What, all of a sudden now you're worried about Cyril?
- I've always been worried about him.
Worried about the both of you. - Oh, yeah?
Well, then where the fuck were you when we were growing up?
Where were you when that shithead was beating on us?
On Ma?
You were off with your goddamned mass
while I protected Cyril. Me!
- Oh, you took care of him all right.
You took care of him good.
'Cause of you his mind is muddled.
'Cause of you he's in this hell-hole.
- Listen, do us a favor, you old bitch,
and drop fuckin' dead, all right?
Come on, Cyril.
- You got the devil in you, Ryan.
Just like your father.
♪ ♪
- Come on, Cyril.
Move it!
- [quietly] Bye.
♪ ♪
- Cyril's got the next fight.
- Mm, who's he up against?
- Robson. - Oh.
I watched Robson train. He's tough.
But he keeps his left real low.
Tell your brother to hook him.
- Yeah, but is that gonna be enough?
I mean, I don't want Cyril getting any more damaged.
- Pull him out.
- No fuckin' way.
There's got to be something else I can do to give him an edge.
- You know the story of the Black Irish, don't ya?
- No. - Mm.
- Back in the 1600s after the Armada was defeated,
the Spanish sailors washed up on the shores of Ireland.
Couldn't speak a word of English.
But they figured out how to survive.
Survival.
It's in your blood, O'Reily.
You'll figure out something.
- [mumbles]
[knocks lightly] Hey.
So...
how come you Christians don't got nobody boxing?
- We made a decision not to participate.
It's morally wrong. - Right.
You still working bedpan duty in the hospital ward?
- Yeah. - Yeah.
You wanna make a little extra cash?
- Maybe. - Yeah.
♪ ♪
[whistling]
[indistinct shouting]
- Come on, Cyril.
- Hey, what're you doing? What're you doing?
Break! - Get that fag back.
Shut the fuck up.
Fuck him up, fuck him up.
[bell dinging]
Let's go, come on. Relax.
Breathe, breathe, breathe.
- Get him water. Give him water.
- How you feel, kid? You feeling good?
You feeling good?
- It's a good round.
You gotta keep jabbing, keep jabbing.
Don't rely on that right all the time.
Work the body, work the jab.
- It's all good, man. Come on, it's all good, man.
All right, come on. You feeling good?
Feeling good? - Yeah, yeah, I'm good.
- All right, you watch that fuckin' body, okay?
- Seconds out. Seconds out.
[indistinct shouting]
[bell dings]
[cheers and applause]
That's it, that's it! Be smart.
Be smart!
[bell dings]
- Sit down. What the fuck is wrong with you?
You've got 15 pounds on this guy
and he's treating you like a rag doll.
Take a drink.
He's treating you like a rag doll.
Take a drink. James, one more drink.
Spit, spit. Where's the bucket?
Wake up, wake up. Work the body on this guy.
Now you got your ass kicked that round.
Hey, what the fuck are you looking at?
Get your eyes off the ring bitch.
Take a drink. - Nice, man.
You're fucking kicking the shit out of him.
- Three more minutes. One more round
for the brotherhood, let's go. [bell dings]
Let's go.
[overlapping shouting and applause]
[distorted shouting]
[cheers and applause]
- when you're in a race, you want to win.
You gonna win no matter what it takes.
Win at all costs.
- We fuckin' won! We fuckin' won, baby!
Fuck you! Fuck you!
- I was a sprinter.
Yeah, I was great with the short distance.
Man, you shoot that starting gun off,
and I would go, fast. [chuckles]
Man, I could travel the 50-yard dash in 6.5 seconds.
No shit. I came at it natural.
In my hood, you had to learn to run
before you learned to walk. [chuckles]
- Officer Murphy?
I'm supposed to have a dialysis treatment now.
- Uh...
Well, you're wrong, Rebadow.
It's not listed on today's sheet.
- When I had my last appointment,
Dr. Nathan told the medical assistant
to schedule another one for this morning.
- Maybe Nathan changed her mind.
- I'll call, check it out.
- No, all I've got down here is
uh, you having visiting hours at 3:00.
- My mother's coming.
- Your mother?
- Are you sick?
- No, Momma.
- You were never a very good liar.
- I have diabetes.
- We seem to be getting our share
of bad diagnosis these days,
what with little Alex's leukemia.
- I got the picture you sent of him in Sea World.
- Oh, Bobby! That trip.
I can't tell you, it did him so much good.
After Sea World, he was glowing.
Now, he's starting to falter again.
- I wish there was more I could do.
- There is.
Meet him.
- No.
- He's your grandchild.
- Momma, no.
- I told them the truth about you.
- What? - I know.
I know.
I broke my word, but for Christ's sake,
you've never seen your own son, your own grandson.
God, all of these years,
all the lies,
telling them you died years ago.
I don't wanna go to my grave knowing that some promise
I made 30 years ago kept you from your family.
- Meeting them won't do any good.
- Not meeting them hasn't done any good either.
[indistinct chatter]
- Here you go, Rebadow, the diabetes diet delight.
- Hurry, Rebadow. - I'm going as fast as I can.
- Hurry before Schillinger shows.
Every day, every meal,
he spits in my food and makes me eat it.
- So spit in Schillinger's food. - Are you kidding?
He'd yank out my salivary glands.
- Busmalis.
- Uh-oh. Too late.
[spitting]
[hocks, spits]
Wanna trade?
[dramatic music]
Bob! Bob!
- Get a line started.
♪ ♪
He's in shock. IV bolus of Df 50.
Did he go to dialysis today?
- He...
- What, didn't I tell you to schedule him?
- I forgot. - You forgot?
He could have died, you asshole.
♪ ♪
[machines beeping]
- Hmm.
You feeling better?
Quite a scare, huh?
Is there anything else I can do for you?
- May I use the phone?
Yeah.
- Momma...
I've changed my mind.
[rattling]
[soft dramatic music]
♪ ♪
[tense music]
- Ow, Adebisi, you just pinch me?
- No, boss.
- I know what you did.
- You said Dr. Nathan wanted to take my blood,
but I know you used it to infect someone.
[grunts]
You know it's true.
You pricked some prick with the needle hoping to give 'em AIDS.
Who is it?
Come on, Adebisi. Tell me.
Who?
- [chuckles] You are delirious.
- Adebisi...
I don't get it.
Why would you wanna transfer out of the cafeteria
to take care of a bunch of fags, huh?
- You don't like fags? - Well, what do you think?
- Well, out there, I hated them.
But here...
sometimes you need your dick sucked.
- Oh, yeah, well, that's one of the many differences
between you and me.
See, I got self control.
- Yeah, I wish I was more like you.
- Mm-hmm. To me...
a fag is a fag,
a perverted sick animal.
I can't stand having one of them near me.
- [chuckles softly]
But you Sicilians,
you kiss each other on the cheek.
- That's respect, not sex.
- Respect.
I got you, boss.
♪ ♪
- Antonio...
I got the results back from your tests.
[sighs] I'm...
I don't know how to tell you this.
- Be straight.
- You're HIV positive.
- What?
- I'm sorry.
- Doctor, that is not possible.
Correct me if I'm wrong, the only way to get AIDS
is by having sex or sharing a needle.
Well, I haven't done either, and I'm not Haitian.
- You don't have AIDS.
You're HIV positive. - The tests are wrong.
- I double checked. - Triple check.
- I know this is hard for you to accept.
- It's impossible.
- Antonio, I'm going to schedule you for counseling
and make the arrangements for your transfer.
- Transfer? - State policy.
- All inmates who test positive for HIV are to be isolated
in one place: Unit E.
- I wanna talk to the warden.
- All right.
- [scoffs]
This isn't happening to me.
♪ ♪
- Skipper, I don't get it.
- Somebody must have monkeyed with the tests.
All I know for sure is Glynn says I've gotta move to E.
- You mean, we're not going to see you?
- That's what isolated means, Chucky.
The inmates in E, they don't mingle with Gen Pop.
[sighs] Until I get back,
you're in charge, okay? - Okay.
♪ ♪
- See you, boss.
[indistinct shouting and laughter]
- Fuck.
- Lights out!
- [grunts]
[stabbing, both grunt]
[dramatic tones]
[footsteps approaching]
- So Dr. Nathan says you'll be back in Em City
by the end of the day. - Good.
My bed sores got bed sores.
- You know, given the fact that
you had two stab wounds in the back,
I'd say your recovery is miraculous.
- They'll need a lot more than some shank to take me out.
- Still have no idea who they are.
- Ah.
It was dark.
Came at me from behind.
They're chicken-shits.
- See, the problem is...
We know Schillinger stabbed you
or had somebody do it, but we have no proof.
- Don't you just hate that?
- You don't seem very torn up by this.
- You got shot in that riot, right?
That little handshake with death
kinda changes your perspective on things, huh?
I had every right to snitch out Schillinger,
he's got every right to come after me.
[door opens]
- Mail. - Idn't that right, Vern?
- Nothing for you today, Keller.
No get well cards, no floral bouquets.
Not even a funeral wreath.
- We know you're responsible, Schillinger.
- Me?
Well, I'll admit metaphorically it fits.
He stabbed me in the back, so I stabbed him.
But I didn't.
I wish to Christ I had.
Course, if it'd been me,
you'd be dead.
Godspeed.
[knocks on door]
- Thanks for seeing me, Sister.
- That's why God made office hours.
- Beecher's not around? - No.
Why? Is this about him?
- Uh-huh.
You know, um...
You know what went on between us, right?
- I know that Tobias was in love with you
and that you broke his arms and his legs.
- Well, Jesus Christ, you put it that way,
it makes me sound so cold.
So why don't you rephrase it so you come out the hero?
- [laughs softly]
I am sorry.
What I did was wrong.
And I want to make it up to him.
Now, I hear that you got this
victim/offender interaction program starting up.
I wanna sign up.
- Well, it takes two to swing dance.
Tobias has to be willing to participate.
- I know that. That's why I'm here.
He likes you. He respects you.
If you suggest it to him...
he'll come along.
- Do you really care about him?
- You got no reason to believe me, but yeah.
- [inhales]
Okay.
I'll see what I can do.
- Keller, I don't know what your scam is,
but I'm not buying it.
- What? - Seeing sister Pete today,
asking her if we can be in her program.
- No scam.
It's like I've been saying,
I wanna make this right between us.
- How?
I can't trust you.
I can't trust myself anymore.
My fucking feelings are...
[sighs]
The only thing I know for sure is this,
I'm gonna get Schillinger.
- I can help you with that.
- I don't need your help.
- Oh, yeah? What are you gonna do?
You going to get that jizzbag all by yourself?
- Ask Metzger.
Go ask M--oh yeah?
What, you kill Metzger?
- You know, when I hit Cathy Rockwell,
when I realized I had taken her life,
I was full of remorse, full of self-loathing
because I hadn't intended to kill her.
But, uh...
Metzger... [sighs]
Oh... [laughs softly]
That was sweet.
You know what else was sweet?
sticking that shank in your back.
[soft dramatic music]
- It was you?
- Never considered that, huh?
That it could have been me standing in the dark
in that storage room watching you stack copying paper.
And then boom, boom, baby.
♪ ♪
- Tell me it wasn't you.
- No.
But for a second
you believed it could have been.
It could have been good old Toby.
- You didn't kill Metzger?
- Nah.
How could a little pussy bitch like me hurt anyone?
- Hey, Beecher, if you weren't in the storage room,
how'd you know I shelving copying paper?
- Mmm.
I don't know.
Shit, maybe it was me. [chuckles softly]
Now, I gotta pray...
Pray that God shows me the way to fuck Schillinger.
[tense music]
♪ ♪
- Number.
Number.
- 9-9-S...
3-3-3.
- Hmm.
That boy's last name,
know what it was?
Schillinger.
♪ ♪
- Yeah!
- Prisoner number 9-9-S-3-3-3,
Andrew Peter Schillinger.
[all laughing and cheering]
Convicted February 16th, '99.
Murder in the second degree,
possession of narcotics.
Sentence, 50 years.
Up for parole in 20.
[laughing]
♪ ♪
- [laughs softly]
[sighs]
[tense jazzy music]
♪ ♪
[bright tones]