Danbury Correctional Facility Danbury, CT
(indistinct radio transmission)
(buzzer sounds)
(speaking Hebrew)
Shalom, jackass.
Got a package for you.
(sighs)
The Torah.
Whatever.
Boss? Boss?! (groaning)
What's the problem? Too much matzo?
My gut's torn up real bad, boss.
Think it's food poisoning.
You know the drill, dummy.
Step forward.
(wind whipping)
(gasping)
(keys jangling)
(indistinct radio transmission)
(keys jangling)
(grunts)
(alarm blaring)
(man speaks indistinctly over P.A.)
(dogs snarling)
Woods are too big.
And it's dark. Don't matter.
Jesse Owens couldn't outrun them dogs.
(barking)
Move, move, move!
(men shouting in distance)
(dogs barking)
(speaks Hebrew)
(speaking Hebrew)
(men shouting in distance)
(siren sounding)
Eggs over easy. Bacon, sausage, toast.
Egg white omelet, spinach, no oil please.
Heart smart breakfast. I like it.
That was a concern of the guys at HQ.
Is DuChamp's health up to the task?
Inspector Renner, I'd be happy to take any one
of those 44-inch waist desk-monkeys to the gym with me.
See who drops first.
That's why you're perfect for the promotion.
Yeah, whoever the new Chief of Domestic Investigation is,
he's going to have to deal with a lot of bureaucratic shitheads who need to be challenged.
Whoever? I thought I was the front-runner?
Okay, I'm not supposed to say this,
but the bigwigs at USMS Headquarters
have verbally signed off on you getting the job.
Just needs to go through the standard
approval process, a formality.
This is great. This is really good.
I mean, I love D.C. It's a great city.
I got family there, a big Skins fan.
But...
as I expressed earlier, I still have some concerns,
and before I can commit to the job,
I need some reassurances.
(phone rings)
Excuse me one second.
DuChamp.
ERICA: Lloyd, stop bouncing around.
LLOYD: I'm just so excited, okay?
It's been what, a month since we had a runner?
Starting to think people hated freedom.
(inhales deeply through nose)
Oh, the sweet nectar of un-institutionalized air.
I am so happy to be out!
I feel like Ricky Martin. Stop lying. That ain't why you're excited.
You just want to see Julianne.
Okay, that is poppycock.
No, Poppycock's your prison nickname.
That's true. There ain't no shame in your game
if you like Weezy, George.
I'm not following.
You know, The Jeffersons.
They were like the Cosbys, but black.
Perhaps, at some point,
I was appreciative of Julianne's genteel,
feminine demeanor,
as opposed to Joan Jett over here,
but that does not mean that I have feelings for her.
- What are you doing? - Math.
We've caught 17 fugitives so far...
Actually, me and Dr. Poppycock got to the party before you.
We got an extra month in our pocket.
Okay, whatever. So, I've caught 17 fugitives so far,
so that's 17 months off, two back on for bad conduct time...
What you get a BCT for?
ERICA: I shouldn't even have gotten it.
I was minding my own business,
and some chick made a move on me.
Hair was pulled, punches were thrown.
Oh, yeah.
She won't make a move on me again.
Mmm. Catfight.
Hey. We got a bad one today.
This guy's gonna be a handful.
Yeah, so I've heard. When were you gonna tell me?
You know, I still have friends at the Marshals office.
Nothing's set in stone yet.
So, you're not denying it.
No, I'm not denying it. In fact, I don't need to discuss it with you, either.
Apparently. All right, look,
it's first thing in the morning.
Let's try this whole thing all over again.
How you doing, Ray? How's it going?
Look... this team was my idea,
but you're the one getting promoted,
the cons get their months off, and I'm still the schmuck
living in a halfway house with no badge.
Can you see my concern here?
Hey, guys! Welcome back to Chez Breakout Kings.
On the menu today is
a runner from Danbury, Connecticut.
He's freshly hatched,
and gone to the dogs, you might say.
But on purpose.
You'll understand when you read the file, okay?
Ah... what the hell was that?
Never mind her.
Something's going down in there.
Oh, I can translate that one.
(with Italian accent): I once ate a cannoli this big.
Do you know how handsome I am?
I am very handsome.
You, not so much.
Me? I'm still handsome.
(feigns laughter) Joke all you want,
but when Mom and Dad fight, it's the kids who suffer.
All right, let's get to work.
Damien Fontleroy was imprisoned ten years ago along with his
lapdog partner, Brent Howson.
Damien Fontleroy?
ZANCANELLI: You know him?
Like beans know ris-ice. He and Brent
were a team. They targeted pretty coeds.
Brent provided the audience,
because it heightened.
Damien's pleasure, being watched.
Notify campus police at every college in the tristate area.
Lloyd, what's your history with this guy?
Well, I was a few months
out of med school– Harvard, summa cum laude,
by the way– and
I took part in a government study of the criminal mind.
Root causes of their pathology, how narcissism affects their crime patterns, their lives–.
Why do you keep saying "their" like you ain't a criminal yourself?
Hold comments to the end of the lecture.
What do you know about this psycho?
Okay, well, his father
was a very wealthy business man,
and studies show that the neurological makeup
of successful CEOs is often nearly an exact match
to those of serial killers.
Both are calculating, methodical,
capable of separating themselves from emotion.
Basically, one tweak in a brain fold,
and you go from Gordon Gecko to Charlie Manson.
Damien fell into the latter category, obviously.
Did you help lock his ass up?
Since when do you swear like that?
But no. I recommended they put him into a loony bin,
because the only way you could stop someone
with a drive to kill like Damien is to dope his ass silly.
And when I said that on the stand, it took, like, two bailiffs to hold him back.
ZANCANELLI: This guy used Hebrew
override commands because he'd learned
that the prison K9 unit had been trained in Israel.
He's a smart bastard.
All right, Lloyd, you know his guy.
I want you front and center on this case.
Oh, actually, I was hoping for more of, like,
a back and off to the side position, Charlie. This guy hates me,
and not like you hate me. He hates me hates me. I don't want to cross his path.
You can't be scared forever, all right?
His partner, Howson, is locked up in Jersey. Go see him.
If Brent knows I'm working with the Marshals, he's gonna...
ZANCANELLI: We'll present you
as a doc on a government assignment, just like
the last time he saw you.
So, stop making excuses, 'cause you're going.
If you send just me, you will get no information.
Okay, if you want a kid to tell you who broke the lamp,
you wave a little candy in front of his nose.
You are said candy.
And by the looks of you, I'd say you are
some... gummy... boobs.
(engine starter whirring)
You stupid bitch!
(sighs)
Ramapo Prison Ramapo, NJ.
GUARD: I'm right over here, if you need me.
Mm-hmm. Shake the hair.
Pop the button.
And put 'em on the glass.
Mr. Howson,
I'm Jayne Francis with the U.S. Marshals.
Nice to meet you.
As soon as we heard about Damien's escape through the grapevine,
I knew it would allow me to meet new people.
It's a nice perk,
but I'd trade that all away to have him back behind bars.
- You want your friend caught? - No, Damien Fontleroy's no friend of mine.
So, you go on killing sprees with people you're not fond of?
Since I've been incarcerated, Ms. Francis,
God is the only friend I need.
I've begged forgiveness for my sins.
Damien is hell-bent on spreading evil like a fever.
Speaking of fevers, it is beyond hot in here. Just...
Okay, Ray, I think I might need a minute
alone. Get a grip.
I will if you give me that minute.
ERICA: We, uh...
We're gonna need any information you have on Damien.
Ms. Francis, I know nothing of his plans.
We're in different prisons, haven't spoken in a decade.
You've obviously been sent
in here to disarm me, to make me slip up,
but I can't do that if I don't know anything.
Either that, or you've been sent here
by Satan to tempt me towards evil thoughts,
and I no longer let that happen.
Has the Devil brought you here?
No, Ray Zancanelli.
But close enough.
Cute.
I'm not certain he's not telling the truth.
His body language shows no subliminal signs of aggression.
He's kept constant eye contact with her, not even a peek
at her fun bags.
Charlotte Ray could've worn that outfit
and gotten a con to at least notice.
Maybe he's being honest.
Get in there.
LLOYD: Okay, take five, Mansfield.
(clears throat)
Hi.
You're that kid doc that studied Damien and me.
And all the other lovely gentlemen awaiting trials
for heinous sex crimes.
I see you haven't changed.
I see you have.
Quick. No one can serve two masters.
"For he will hate the one and love the other,"
"or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other."
"You cannot serve both God and money."
I'm surprised you know your Bible, Doc.
Well, I'm a genius, I know lots of stuff.
My point is, replace "money" with "Damien."
You can't serve both God and Damien.
How do I know where your true devotion lies?
The same way I do.
Faith.
This is my cell.
News of a breakout spreads from prison to prison like the clap.
If you hear anything, please call me.
I swear to God I will.
Ladue, Connecticut.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, you don't need that thing.
I'm just in a bit of a pickle.
What do you want?
Look, I'm really sorry to bother you, sir, but it was
my older brother's bachelor party this weekend.
I planned it– fishing, camping.
Except he and his friends think I'm still in junior high, so they got me drunk
and I woke up in the woods with my shoes tied together.
No wallet, no money.
I was hoping I could use your phone to call my wife.
Please. I've been walking all day and I have no idea where I am.
Looks like them boys did more than just tie your shoes together.
They wrote turd on your forehead.
(sighs) Great.
I had two older brothers myself.
The older one, I tell you what,
he thought it was the funniest damn thing
that they would take my head, and they would just shove...
(grunts)
Please, don't.
(indistinct radio transmissions)
We got an alarm out on the farmer's truck.
An abandoned vehicle found several miles
from here with a dead battery.
Thought the driver may have walked off
into the woods, to cut across to the state route,
so we checked it out. We found this.
CHARLIE: Well, he's definitely got help. Somebody left this for him.
Find any info on the vehicle?
Yeah, rented to a Susie G. Brown.
Ran the address; It's fake.
The entire license used to get the car was bogus.
Someone went through a lot to help this guy.
Who? I mean, his entire family disowned him.
Didn't even show up at the trial– I doubt they'd
stick their necks out for him. Twisted serial killers
would have all kinds of tail parading in for conjugals,
sending panties, dirty Polaroids.
This happy face here was drawn by a woman.
A woman who cared enough to get a fake I.D.,
rent a car, go out to the woods, leave food.
Personal effects should be in from the prison by now.
Think he kept any of his fan mail?
A narcissist like Damien? I'd be shocked if he didn't.
Uh...
can I help you?
Yeah. Uh...
Hi. My name's Pete Gillies.
I just moved onto the second floor,
and I'm embarrassed to say, in all the packing,
I can't find any paper, and I was expecting a fax.
There's an office supply store three blocks west, money.
Cool.
No, I think we can spare a ream, Shea.
Think of it as a housewarming gift.
Okay. (Laughs): Thank you.
- Uh, I promise to get you back as soon as I get settled. - Don't worry about it.
If there's anything else you need,
we're just an elevator ride away.
Okay.
I'll see you around.
My goodness, I feel like Jane Goodall
watching a primate mating ritual.
I could smell your pheromones from here.
Wonder what his story is.
JULIANNE: Pete Gillies.
Public urination in college.
Other than that, he's clean.
Seriously, d-did...
you just... search him?
He's a civilian who just popped into a Marshals office.
Yeah, I ran the guy.
(Zancanelli and Charlie arguing in other room)
So, how long have you known?
Excuse me?
That's messed up, Julianne; Don't play dumb.
(argument continues in other room)
Ray already filled me in about Renner.
Oh. Um... he did.
Yeah, he thought we should know– but I get the feeling
he's a bit worked up about it, you know?
Um, well, he's worried
about what's gonna happen to him.
Once Charlie gets promoted,
Ray is gonna have to answer to a new boss.
It's... complicated.
Yeah, it is.
Psst.
Check it out, Charlie's getting promoted out of here.
That means a new boss that could dump every one of us, or no boss at all.
I mean, how many Marshals want to head up a group of convicts?
I mean, why else would the brother and the eye-tie be arguing all day?
Ray's worried his white ass is gonna be flapping in the breeze.
What about my sweet, sweet ass?
It's gonna be left flapping right beside Ray's.
Right beside all of ours.
Fairleigh Dickinson University Teaneck, NJ
♪ ♪
MAN: It's hard when you outgrow your friends.
Last year of college was the hardest, because
all my buddies wanted to do was keg stands and beer bongs,
and I just wanted to catch a good film or eat someplace
other than the food court, you know what I'm saying?
Totally. (Laughs)
Hi. Roger Kortko.
Adjunct professor in the psychology department.
I just started.
Alexa Berger. Annoyed senior
in the "Why am I at a rush week mixer" department.
How do you think I feel?
I'm 32. Oh.
I don't know anyone in town. Decided to check out campus, saw free beer.
Now I'm the creepy old guy.
(laughs)
I don't think you're creepy.
Well, this old man is heading downtown
for an espresso, and, uh, hopefully a game of backgammon if I can find one.
(laughs)
It was nice to meet you, Ms. Berger.
Hey.
Do you mind if I join?
(indistinct radio transmission)
You know what?
Now's not a good time. Maybe later.
What? I said later!
Um...
Okay. (Awkward chuckle)
Okay, so, a bunch of letters written to Damien
over the past couple of years from a John Brooks.
Problem is, envelopes look like
they were written by a woman,
letters by a dude.
You got a problem, Shea?
- Nah. - Would you like one?
- I'm good. - ERICA: Shea and I.
Were thinking that one explanation for this
is that it was written by a convict.
See, we can't write letters to other convicts at other penitentiaries,
so convict "A" writes a letter
to his accomplice on the outside–
quite possibly a female–
who sends his letter to convict "B" –.
Damien– using her own envelope and a P.O. box,
which is registered to a bogus name–
John Brooks does not exist; Jules checked.
We're thinking it could be Brent Howson,
- Damien's old partner. - CHARLIE: Yeah, but the contents.
Of these letters are benign– all they're doing
is just going back and forth about sports,
movies...
Well, that's what's visible.
You want to send a coded message on the inside,
you write it with urine.
It gets past the C.O.'s eyes,
but when you hold it to the light,
you see everything.
Problem is, it fades over time.
But that many letters?
They was planning something.
Jules, (over intercom): Yeah?
Get me on the phone with the warden for Brent Howson's prison. Now.
MAN: Thanks for cleaning up,
but you better get back now. Come on.
Seriously, Brent, I'll finish up.
You need to get back before you miss count, or it'll be my keister.
(whispers): Leave.
Brent?
(loud grunt)
(grunting)
(blow lands) (Brent grunts)
(panting)
(buzzer sounds)
GUARD: Hold up.
(indistinct radio transmission)
- (taps on door) - Good to go, ma'am.
Okeydoke.
(phone beeps)
- (woman laughs) - Hey, sugar.
DAMIEN: So?
WOMAN: Someone wants to say hi.
We did it, brother.
You get here safe. I will.
And you're never gonna believe who's working with the Marshals.
Dr. Lloyd Lowery.
CHARLIE: Janet Mason– operates a bookmobile.
It was the only vehicle that left the prison
before they locked it down, after the escape.
How do you know she was involved?
'Cause her name ain't Janet Mason.
It was a bogus I.D.
Anything off facial recognition?
Nothing yet.
Anyway, we got the prison officials isolating
any materials she may have touched
for fingerprint processing.
Here's something.
The bookmobile's plates–
they're legit, registered to the state,
but they've never been assigned a VIN number.
Clean plates, perfect fake I.D. to run the car by the farmhouse
and get access to the prison– we're dealing with someone
that has an in at the DMV, or works there.
State employees have to have their photos on file by law.
Yeah, I-I can pull it up.
- How can you eat at a time like this? - Let me see.
If me not enjoying this tasty burger makes the computer go faster.
Jules?
Nope. Same speed.
JULIANNE: Here we go.
Marge Lubetsky.
Worked at a DMV branch in Hoboken for 15 years.
Okay. We split up, we take two rigs, we go to Hoboken.
Get me every known address on this chick and call it into us on the road.
All right, get your gear. We're getting out of here.
Whoo, whoo.
Yeah.
Mm-hmm, coffee is super-duper yummy.
Mm-hmm. Um, are you still taking your meds?
Yes. When I feel that I need them.
Okay, so you're self-medicating now?
I'm fine.
You want to talk about something?
You're so sweet, Lloyd.
You care so much for me.
All right, you see...
normally, you wouldn't stand this close to me.
Fine.
Then I won't.
How you doing, Lloyd?
Um...
(clears throat)
Hmm?
J-Julianne is off.
Really? Mm-hmm.
Could've swore I thought I saw her crack the case about 30 seconds ago.
Oh, come on, you can't tell?
Temporary euphoria rises after somebody ceases medication.
She's masking something, and I'm concerned. Concerned?
Or horny?
Oh, you... lunkhead.
You serious? You can't see how she's acting?
- Come on, we're rolling out. - Ouch, that pinches.
Womack, Connecticut
(bird squawking)
(wings flapping)
Oh, man.
Any other properties under Marge's name?
JULIANNE: Just the one that you're in, and it wasn't in her name.
She leased it– cash– using the fifth fake I.D. that I've traced back to her so far.
- But I'll keep looking. - All right.
They're coming back here. What makes you so sure?
Their third victim–Erin Ng– after Damien and Brent raped and killed her
they left her in a tub for 24 hours while they went out,
had a steak dinner, and then caught an 8:00 showing of Corky Romano.
Then they came back and dismembered her.
The good news, relatively speaking,
is that they are probably sated,
at least temporarily.
What was the shortest amount of time between abductions
- for them before they were caught? - Three months.
So all indications point to them coming back to finish this job.
So we're guessing Marge was raped.
She's naked in the tub. Do we have to do a pap smear?
- Lloyd. - I just thought they were only into coed types.
You sound disappointed. Let's focus.
I'm just hoping they got what they needed from Marge
to hold them over for three months.
Listen, maybe they just changed their M.O.– I mean,
they certainly had enough time to come up with a new one.
We secure this location in case they come back,
and we keep looking for them.
(phone ringing)
It's blocked.
Answer on speaker.
Hello?
DAMIEN: Dr. Lowery?
Yes.
It's been a long time. Remember me?
Of course I do.
Not very well, though, huh, Doc?
You stood on that stand and said I was insane.
And I actually felt like you understood me.
Could you give me another chance, please?
I would, but I think that you've lost a step.
Sending in that whore to try to trick Brent?
You actually thought that would work?
Keep it up, though, Doc.
Practice makes perfect.
You okay?
(sniffs)
CHARLIE: I'll have Julianne trace the call, all right?
I want to be armed.
If we are going any further after Damien,
I want to be armed!
No cons get weapons, Lloyd.
Just... stand behind me and Erica.
ERICA: No, Lloyd.
No.
Sleep Title Inn Womack, CT.
CHARLIE: Right. All right, Jules, thanks.
Well, Damien had a scrambling device on his cell phone.
No luck on the trace.
(phone rings)
DuChamp.
Oh, hey, Craig.
Uh, let me, uh...
let me get someplace a little more private.
You hear that? You hear how his voice got all white?
"Oh, hey, Craig."
That's the boss man calling.
His new boss man. ZANCANELLI: All right, all roads
into the cabin are covered by the Sheriff's Department.
As soon as they try and access it, they're snagged.
Meantime, we'll keep working on other leads.
All right, we'll take shifts.
Get some sleep while you can.
Long night ahead of us.
(knocking on door)
Listen, we all got to talk in private– we only got a minute
- till Charlie and Ray come back, girl. Open up. - Piss off!
(knocking) Open up.
What do you want?
Listen.
(closes door) Come on.
Where-where did you get the vanilla body lotion?
I don't have vanilla body lotion. My God,
that is your natural scent? Woman, you smell like cake.
What-what do you want?
Charlie's getting a promotion and leaving us eating his dust–
all 'cause we've been killing it
to make him look good. So...
how about we make him look a little less good
and give his prospective new bosses
a little seed of doubt to chomp on.
Y-You want us to actively throw this investigation?
You make it sound bad, but yeah.
Yeah, we can't do that, Shea, not-not for Damien and Brent.
Listen, Charlie gets the promotion, new guy comes in–
coaching changes means roster change.
Y'all want to help some people?
How about ourselves?
(knocking on door)
(whispers): Say-say something.
(high-pitched): Who is it? BOTH: Who is it?
Look, nothing's set in stone.
I'm just entertaining offers
and exploring opportunities, that's it.
Okay, Charlie, I think we're entitled
to a little more than a bunch of half-baked cliches
and platitudes.
Actually, as a convict, you're not entitled to dick.
You know what I'm seeing right now?
I'm seeing a group of people
that's more concerned with themselves than
those two crazies that are out there murdering women.
That's the fastest track back to maximum security.
Now, do your jobs.
And I know that the success of this team
is exactly why I'm getting all these offers.
Don't think I don't know that.
(door opens)
(door closes)
He's looking out for himself.
Same thing we all been doing.
He doesn't owe us anything.
(door opens)
Adelphi University Garden City, NY
(brief beeping)
Oh, my God!
(coughs)
Oh, my God, are you okay?
I think I broke my arm.
Oh.
(groans)
No, no, it's okay, it's okay.
Is he all right?
I think he's actually really hurt.
Let's get you to the hospital. Could you get that door, please?
DAMIEN: I'm so sorry.
Wait! Oh, my God!
Wait!
(muffled shout)
(tires squealing)
CHARLIE: Yeah.
6:32 am.
Understood.
All right. Thanks.
Oh, thank you.
So, they, uh...
they want an answer.
Today.
Well, you do what's best for you.
You know, good or bad.
That's always been my policy.
(indistinct radio transmission)
I mean, that's how I've been approaching it.
But I'm realizing that,
you know, a title bump, pay hike...
isn't what's best.
It's doing what I've always dreamed of, man,
what I've always wanted to do, which was be in the action.
Right here.
So...
so I'm gonna tell them, "No, thanks."
Guess you're stuck with me for a little while longer, right?
(chuckling quietly) You were about to cry.
- (laughs) You wish, man. - Your lip's quivering,
Your eyes are all glazed over.
Come on, man.
All right.
(phone ringing)
(clears throat)
Hello?
WOMAN (sobbing): Why did you do this to me?
Who is this?
They said this is your fault.
Why did you do this?
Ma'am, can you put Damien on the phone, please?
Hey, Dr. Lowery.
I may be a little bit rusty,
but it appears that your anger is directed at me.
Please let this woman go, and we can deal with this...
I want an apology...
for slandering my name in court.
I am sorry.
(laughs)
This one's for you, Doc.
WOMAN: Help me!
(phone line clicks)
JULIANNE: Rebecca Nicks.
Didn't show up to her boyfriend's last night.
He called campus police, and then the sheriff.
The boyfriend confirmed that it was Becky on the recording
of, um, the phone call from earlier.
Campus police got an image of Becky running
last night– I'm sending it to you now.
CHARLIE: There's no vehicle in this photo. Do they have anything else?
That's all they have.
Well, contact Becky's boyfriend– find out if she had
a regular route that she ran,
and check all the traffic cameras
in that area. We need to find a vehicle
- that she might have been abducted in. - Same cargo van
Marge used to break out Brent.
Maybe. Maybe they switched it up on us.
We don't know.
No sign of them.
LLOYD: They didn't rape Marge. They were just eliminating an accomplice.
You can say it– you told me so.
It's not like that.
No shot they take Becky back to Marge's cabin?
Probably not. Who knows?
I don't, clearly.
Hey, snap out of it; We need you now.
Okay, so they abducted a coed; They went back
to their old habits, right?
LLOYD: Okay, agreed, but we don't know
where they are, and that girl
doesn't have much time left.
Bridgeport, Connecticut
(woman grunts)
(sobs) Shh, shh.
BECKY: Why are you doing this to me?!
Please don't do this.
Shh, shh. Please don't!
Please!
Oh, my God, please don't do this.
(unrolls tape)
Please don't do it.
Don't...
Please!
Get her ready.
Shh. (Sobbing)
Why are you doing this?
I'll Eric and Lloyd back to the cabin.
They're not gonna go back there. Then we'll search it.
We'll see if they left anything behind.
It's better than just sitting here.
Just heard from Becky's boyfriend.
He said that she would always mix up her route
and that she downloaded the data from each run onto her computer,
but he doesn't have her password.
Not... that she would have downloaded her last one.
How do you download a run?
If you have a runner's watch.
Julianne, can you blow up the image of Becky?
I need to see what kind of watch she was wearing.
That's as far as I can go before the resolution bottoms out.
CHARLIE: That's a runner's watch.
It has a GPS function that tracks your route and time.
We can use that to find her.
I hope Damien and Brent didn't figure that out.
They've been locked up for ten years– they wouldn't know GPS from UPS. You didn't.
(Becky sobbing quietly)
(Brent speaks indistinctly)
Shh... You're so beautiful.
(Becky cries out)
(exhales)
CHARLIE: Signal's hot when we got one.
It's going in and out.
How long before recon overflights?
ZANCANELLI: Half hour.
CHARLIE: I'm not waiting.
Let's do it. Let's split up.
Want to hear a secret?
You know why Damien loves glitter lotion?
Please just let me go.
CHARLIE: Freeze! Drop it!
BRENT: I-I'll blow her brains out!
- Seriously, I don't care! - Please help!
How about I'll blow yours out first?
Put the gun down, Brent! I can make this right!
(Becky screams)
(grunts)
(Becky screams) Oh, my God!
Somebody help! I think the chair is slipping.
Please help! Please!
CHARLIE: Hold on!
Hold on. Grab my legs, Lowery.
That steam will burn right through you, Charlie!
Just grab my legs; Don't let me fall!
BECKY: Oh, my God! (Becky whimpers)
Please! Please hurry!
(hissing, Charlie groans)
(Becky cries out)
(Charlie grunting)
(Becky yells)
The chair's slipping!
(Charlie grunting)
Oh, my God! Oh!
I got her on the ledge! Please help!
Pull her up, Lloyd!
(grunting)
BECKY: Oh, my God. Thank you.
BECKY: Oh, my God.
CHARLIE: Stop right there!
Put the weapon down, Brent!
That weapon needs to go one place and that's to the ground,
or I promise you, I'll...
(gunshot)
Ray!
Brent's down. We're locat...
(gunshot)
(labored breathing)
Uh, uh, uh.
(panting)
Believe it.
Dr. Lowery.
What was your recommendation again?
Life in a psychiatric facility with daily mandatory doses
of tranquilizers and antipsychotics?
You know...
I'm actually beginning to think you were on to something.
Get...
on your knees. (Panting)
My diagnosis was wrong on every account.
I should have snuck a scalpel into one of our interviews and cut your throat myself.
(chuckles): Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho!
Tough talk from the pussy quack.
I love it.
I have been waiting
for this.
(gasping breaths)
ZANCANELLI: Charlie! Where are you?
(yells)
(gunshots)
(groaning)
(grunts)
(labored breathing)
ERICA (echoes): Charlie? ZANCANELLI (distant): Charlie? Charlie?
Charlie! Charlie.
ZANCANELLI: Charlie's shot.
Get emergency personnel here now!
(coughs weakly)
Hey, you're gonna be okay, brother. Hold on.
Help's on its way. Just hang in there.
(Charlie coughs)
(coughs, pants)
Erica...
(coughing, panting)
Hey.
Hey, handsome.
(coughs, pants) I didn't want...
I didn't want Lloyd... and Shea's ugly mugs...
to be the last thing I s... I saw.
Okay. I'm... I'm gonna make you a promise, okay?
When you get out of the hospital,
I'm gonna...
Charlie?
Charlie?!
ZANCANELLI: Do something, Lowery.
Charlie?
ZANCANELLI: Well, don't stop! I said do something! Now!
There's nothing else to do.
SHEA: He's gone.
(sniffles)
(distant siren wailing)
(Erica sobbing)
(turns off water)
I'm very sorry for your loss.
It's never easy.
You may or may not know, Charlie was being recruited
for Chief of Domestic Investigation.
He'd only do so if his two requirements were met.
The first being that this task force remain intact.
The second requirement was...
that in the event he did take the post,
Ray Zancanelli would be reinstated to full Marshal
and take over the task force.
We agreed.
You three... are headed back to Maybelle.
And a grief counselor will be made available to you, discreetly, of course.
Zancanelli, you and your civilian aide
need to stay here and give us a full account of today's events.
Damien's still out there.
Don't take us back to Maybelle.
Let us hunt this guy down.
I'm sorry.
Sir...
nobody believed me when I said Damien should be institutionalized.
Please believe me now.
He's gonna contact me again. I'm your best option of finding this guy.
I sympathize with how you feel...
but this case has been reassigned to another team.
I assure you, capturing
Damien Fontleroy is our top priority.
Again, I'm sorry.
Let me be clear about something right now.
I refuse to dishonor Deputy Charlie DuChamp
by letting what happened today divert us from our goal.
We will leave here tonight, we will mourn our friend,
and we'll be back here tomorrow to track down runners,
because that's what we do.
Because that's what Charlie would want us to do.
But know this truth:
Our paths will cross with this son of a bitch again...
and when they do, we will be the ones to take him down.
No one else.
(train passing by)
The foregoing story was fictional and did not depict any actual person or event.