Fact: 2.5 million people die in the United States each year.
This, of course, is using the dictionary definition of dead.
Toe-tagged and body-bagged.
The number one cause of death in America: heart disease.
But not all heart disease will leave you dictionary dead.
Some will kill you and still leave you living.
Yeah. We got a whole lot of walking dead in Oz.
Toby, there you are. I've been looking everywhere for you.
Get the fuck away from me.
I heard what you've been telling people.
You honestly believe I would fuck you over just to get you back?
Don't play the wounded puppy. I know who you are.
Toby, I love you. I need you.
You're only making it worse.
You've gotta believe me, I'm innocent.
Okay. Let's say I give you the benefit of the doubt.
Let's say you didn't do it on purpose.
The bottom line is, I believe you would.
That you're capable of it.
That's the kind of man I think you are,
and I wish to God I'd left you on death row.
- How's it going there, Chris? - Go away.
I can understand you being a little testy.
Heard about what went on in the gym. It's a heart breaker.
- I'll survive. - I know you will.
You always do.
I remember when we first served time together back in Lardner.
Christ, you were what, 17?
You came walking into that cell block.
Strutting, really.
"I said, 'There is one tough little motherfucker."
What is this, Vern? Why the sprint down memory lane?
Been thinking about how close we were.
You protected me, I sucked your cock. That was it. I didn't love you.
I never loved you either.
But you gotta admit, what we had was more than nothing.
So what? Too much shit's happened between us since Lardner.
Yeah, because of Beecher.
Now that he's done, I'm saying let's be friends again.
No cocksucking, just two guys looking out for each other.
What do you say?
Okay.
The scariest fucking word in the English language,
and the second-leading cause of death.
It might be a zodiac sign, but more likely
cancer will eat your insides up.
Do you know why it's so fucking scary?
Because the word itself is a cancer.
Just the idea of it can infect you.
The stress of it can spread through your spirit.
The fear can turn into the disease.
Yo, Rebadow, over here.
What do you want today, Pablo?
I wanna know what the fuck your problem is, man.
I mean, why are you treating Miss C. like a bitch?
- She's not a bitch. - That's right, she's a nice lady.
She's helping me ride out my time and yet you're bringing her the fuck down.
And the cancer? It ain't that big a deal.
That's right, she told me yesterday.
I guess she needed someone to talk to
since you were acting like my younger fucking sister.
Maria freaked when my ma got breast cancer.
Of course, she was 8. And mi madre?
She squashed that disease like it was a cockroach.
I'll bet that's something you can identify with.
REBADOW: Stella?
Could you sit a minute?
I've dealt with a lot of death in my life.
We all have.
But for me, this place was never more a prison
than when Alex Jr. was dying.
I'm not dying, Robert.
You don't know that for certain.
I'm sure as hell more certain than you are.
And you may want to bone up on your apologies,
because this one sucks.
I've been insensitive, self-absorbed. I'm sorry.
I just couldn't deal with the prospect of losing someone else.
Someone I love.
You don't love me, Robert.
Yes, I do.
And I promise to be here for you.
I don't want you here.
Listen, I'm glad you understand what I'm going through,
but your worries, your concerns,
don't dissipate simply because you fess up to them.
My lumpectomy is in a couple of days.
As much as I appreciate your feelings for me,
right now, you are just not good to have around.
Yes.
You're right, of course.
But let me say one thing before I go.
What, are you nuts?
Requesting a transfer into Gen Pop? Emerald City, especially?
That's where Said lived. People there loved him.
Not everybody.
I'm telling you, Idzik, this is suicide.
The worst thing about being in prison,
the thing I didn't factor into my equation-
We're in lock-down so early, I never get to see the night sky.
I used to go to the planetarium every single evening.
Yeah, I'd peer through the telescope and
search the universe.
Hm.
Looking for a sign.
But there never was one.
Everything out there is so still.
I didn't even see a shooting star.
You have got a lot of nerve.
I mean, bringing that scumbag to Em City.
Omar, all we've got in Em City are scumbags, including you.
I mean, given everything you've done,
starting with the cold-blooded murder of Felicia Brown,
I don't exactly see why you are so self-righteous.
McManus, the man killed Said.
All right, all right, you and the minister didn't always get along-
That's true, but we respected each other, most of the time.
It's an insult to Kareem's memory, you bringing him here.
Just a few days ago you were begging me to let you see him.
Yeah, yeah, see him, see him,
but not to have to breathe the same foul air with him
- on a continuous basis and shit. - Oh, man, Omar-Omar.
I want your promise no harm will come to Idzik.
- Now swear to me. - No.
Don't give me a reason to stick your ass
back in solitary permanently.
Yeah, okay. Okay, okay, okay.
I won't hurt Idzik.
Good. Now, I want you to meet him.
Huh?
McMANUS: Lemuel Idzik, Omar White.
Omar's gonna be your sponsor.
McManus only put us together to fuck with my head,
- and maybe yours too. - Why would he do that?
He's looking to kick my ass back to solitary, right?
So he buddies us up and shit, man, you know,
knowing there's gonna be motherfucking trouble.
Between us? Why?
Because I'm looking to whack you, man, for whacking Said.
Ah, I see.
Perfect.
As the clock runs out, the hands of fate are applauding.
What the fuck's that supposed to mean?
I asked to be placed in Em city for one purpose and one purpose only.
Yeah, what's that?
To find someone to kill me.
- Detective Tarnowski. - Hello, warden, it's a pleasure.
What can I do for you?
I'm from Homicide, here replacing Detective McGorry
- on the Wilson Loewen case. - Replacing McGorry? Why?
She was rotated out of the unit. Happens all the time.
Not in the middle of a major case.
A major case that, for all intents and purposes, is over.
Let's go to my office.
Willy Brandt confessed to the murder. What more do you need?
Brandt had no motive to assassinate Loewen, except money.
Now, he admitted he was paid to do the crime
- by a C.O., Adrian Johnson. - Did you interrogate him yet?
Not formally, but I talked to him. And he's guilty.
I wanna find out why Johnson ordered the hit.
Come on, warden, the reasons are racial.
Loewen conspired to kill two little black girls back in the '60s.
That would make any man angry.
McGorry thought something else was going on. Didn't you read her report?
Sure, sure. Between you and the doorpost,
my lieutenant wants me to wrap this stinker up fast
and that's what I intend to do.
- So let's find this C.O... - Johnson.
Yeah, and put this baby to bed. Now, which way?
TARNOWSKI: Do you know a prisoner named William Brandt?
I know who he is. I don't know him personally.
You never had any contact with him?
Maybe once or twice. You know the way shit flies around here.
TARNOWSKI: How about Lionel Kelsch?
Same thing.
Did you ever meet Mayor Wilson Loewen,
either before or after he was incarcerated in Oswald?
Nope.
Where were you the night he was killed?
Home, in bed with my wife.
All right, officer, thank you very much.
JOHNSON: I'll get back to work.
I'd hardly call that a comprehensive interview.
You got a problem with this guy, warden?
No. Until now, I considered him one of my top C.O.'s.
Then why would you be willing to take the word of a convicted felon over his?
I'd say Johnson is innocent.
- Hello, Leo. - Ah, Perry, thanks for coming by. Sit.
You know, I'm just starting to use the Internet,
starting to really see its potential.
Leo, you said this was urgent. I'm a busy fellow.
I know you are.
Taking care of the governor, that's a big job.
Let's face it, Devlin is a needy man.
But you have been amazing.
Cleaning up all of his messes, his indiscretions.
What's this about?
Well, I was just reviewing Officer Adrian Johnson's file.
I noticed he attended the Middlesex Academy for boys.
Out of curiosity,
I went to their website where they list the alumni.
You and he graduated the same year?
Actually, he was a senior when I was a freshman.
Ah.
We suspect Johnson paid Brandt to whack the mayor.
What?
When the truth comes out, it could do real damage to you,
to your career.
Guilt by association.
I don't believe that Adrian's connected to Loewen's murder,
but I appreciate your concern.
Hm.
Well, I'd just hate to see a fine man like you
take an unnecessary fall.
What's up, Perry?
There's something I need you to do.
- Kill Willie Brandt? - Yes.
And Leo Glynn.
The third leading cause of death in America is stroke,
or as they like to call it these days, brain attack.
Serious. It's a real medical term.
But who the fuck among us ain't had their brain attacked?
And had some part of themselves shut down, paralyzed,
which forces us to keep on attacking back?
After Cutler died, I started...
from my old ways.
You know, bullying people and waving my dick around.
I've crossed a lot of lines in my life, Sister.
But hurting my wife,
that was one line I never thought I'd cross.
I always said I would never lay a hand on Liesel.
You know, being in the hole
gave me time to really think about who I am and who I wanna be.
All right.
Let's imagine that you could do it over, the visit with Liesel.
What would you do differently?
I'd talk.
Hug her. Yeah.
Stroke her hair.
But not put her hand inside my pants.
What the fuck was I thinking?
And you would talk about what?
I don't know. Life.
Life without her, how much it sucks.
And?
And that stuff with Cutler, I guess.
What stuff?
You know what stuff.
Yes, James, but by articulating what happened,
you accept it.
[SOBBING]
It's the first step in healing.
I would tell my wife that I was raped
and that's why I didn't call her for so long.
And I would tell her that I'm sorry
that I turned into such a fucking fuck-up.
I- I came to Oz nine months ago.
I- I was a virgin, so right away I was targeted.
So I kept breaking the rules.
Refusing to go to work or take a shower, shit like that.
They put me on Special Restrictions.
I figured I'd be safe, locked in my cell all day.
But then...
they put this lowlife in my cell, and he-
He beat me till I said yes.
As he was doing it, I could hear the TV in the C.O.'s office.
They were watching I Love Lucy.
Thanksgiving day.
Six guys come into my cell while I'm asleep.
They held me down and they put a razor to my throat.
I asked for a kit to collect evidence to prove what happened.
The C.O. waited two days to take me to the infirmary.
He said he bought me for two cartons of Kools.
By the time the nurse examined me, there was nothing left to find.
I- I tried to ride, but I ran out of money.
They took turns orally and anally penetrating me.
Someone wrote my mother. She wrote the warden.
- I was rented out. - "Please help my son."
- Three dollars for a blow job. - The hack told me...
Five for anal sex.
Quit whining, to stand up and fight.
I saved the sleeping medication the sister was giving me.
Ten days' worth, 1000 milligrams.
One night after,
I took them all.
- I had no choice. - I had no choice.
- You want any of Morales' stuff? - No.
I feel bad.
Enrique was really angry at me when he died.
Well, then it's probably best he's dead. He would've made your life miserable.
That's true. But he's got no family left.
They're gonna stick his body in Potter's Field.
He ain't gonna know the difference.
More and more, compadre, I'm tired of all this shit.
I hear you, man.
Pancamo asked me who was gonna lead El Norte.
What'd you say?
- You. - Fuck that.
I told you, man, I'm keeping my head down till the next parole hearing.
- Miguel... No.
- Alvarez, you got a surprise visitor. - My girlfriend Maritza?
No. One Cathy Jo Cutler.
- She's the... - Wolfgang Cutler's grieving widow.
Right. Well, that's good, you know?
I can figure out why he left me all his shit.
Yeah, good luck.
Hey.
- Hi. Cathy Jo, right? - Yes.
Thank you for seeing me.
Sure, of course.
Mr. Alvarez, I'm here to ask you-
- Beg you... Wait, wait, wait.
Okay, first of all, Miguel, all right?
Let me just save you a little speech or whatever.
I don't want your husband's crap.
Oh.
- I didn't know you decided that. - Yeah, no, I just did.
I didn't sleep a wink last night thinking what to say to you,
the new owner of the bed I was lying in.
You gotta do something for me first, okay?
You gotta tell me why he did this.
Believe me, I've been wracking my brains.
He did like to fuck with me when it came to the purse strings.
Serves me right, maybe, you know?
Why did I marry him if I never loved him?
- You're not married? - No, no.
Girlfriend.
She don't come around now.
[CHUCKLES]
Uh...
Well, I guess that's all, then.
Thank you for being a better husband than my husband,
if that makes sense.
Anytime.
Maybe I'll see you again?
You know, if I gotta sign papers, whatever.
Okay, Miguel.
Cathy, all right.
- Say your prayers, Enrique. - No, don't.
You're just like Martinez, a nasty man who deserves to die.
Thy kingdom come,
thy will be done on Earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread,
and forgive us our trespasses
as we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil. Amen.
You know, someday, maybe soon,
these guys are gonna be carrying my body out.
No. You're gonna get paroled.
I've been thinking.
We should set up a meeting between you and Luis Ruiz.
I hit the motherfucker in the face.
He's not gonna come by for afternoon tea.
Steve Dawkins is retiring from the parole board,
and the rumor is that Ruiz is gonna get the job.
You're gonna need him to be on your side.
Fine. I'll do whatever you two guys say.
I just don't want to end up like Enrique Morales.
You know, I don't wanna end up as a landfill.
The autopsy report shows
that Enrique Morales was suffocated, same as Martinez.
What, do you think Dave Brass did the job?
I'm betting both murders were done by the same man.
I need a list of all the patients who were in the ward both nights.
I already checked. There wasn't one.
Well, Morales had a lot of enemies, could be two killers.
What about your staff? Didn't they see anything?
Oh, you know the night shift is skeletal at best.
- Who was on duty? - Uh, Carol Grace, Gerald Lesowski.
Carol Grace. You know, Morales said something to me about her,
that I should check her background. Where's she from?
Well, I don't know. She was hired before I got here.
Pull her file.
DINO: Breathtaking.
That's a nice way to describe someone or something, right?
What the fuck's so good about having your breath taken?
Respiratory disease clocks in at number four
on our little hit parade, and for good reason.
Because regardless of who takes your breath away,
be it four packs a day or just one chick,
you're dead just the same.
GLORIA: Carol. Would you step into my office for a minute, please?
All right, doctor.
Oh, hello, warden.
We looked at your employment record, Carol.
Before coming to Oswald, you worked at Millard Fillmore Hospital in Buffalo
and St. Eligius in Boston.
What is this about?
You were fired from both institutions. Why?
Jealousy. The patients always liked me the best.
We checked with the head of nursing at both places.
A combined total of eight men died on your watch.
GLORIA: And I checked our own death certificates.
Three prisoners coded while you were on duty.
What are you implying?
The police will take you downtown to the Homicide Unit.
All right, just let me get my things.
Get out of my way, you.
Leave me alone, you fucking bastard! Leave me alone.
You Spanish cunt! You fucking bitch!
Spanish cunt! Let me go!
Accidents are the fifth-leading cause of death.
But you know as well as me,
there's no such thing as an accident.
That's just some bullshit word we use instead of blaming ourselves.
Because no matter what damn lie you've been told,
we're the leading cause of death. Mankind.
And there's no cure for us.
It's the wages. We cannot compete with Arif.
I'm not worried, Burr.
Yeah, well, I can see that. Explain why.
This is a prison.
There are 28,000 men sitting around with nothing to do.
In economic terms, the labor supply dwarfs its demand.
Yeah, but what makes a prison is the pride inside.
Knowing that the other inmates
are making 20 times as much as you are?
I'll say it again, supply and demand.
You, my good friend, are gonna do some more recruiting.
I already tapped all of my soldiers.
They've gone AWOL on me.
Then you're gonna have to branch out.
We can manage half-staffed a couple of days, but that's it.
"Life is about wherever you gonna get to..."
REDDING: Suppose you wouldn't wanna trade that service spoon
for a telephone, O'Reily? Come on over and join our company.
Yeah, that'd be a dream come true, pissing off strangers at dinnertime.
Ain't no money in the kitchen.
That's why my middle name is "subsidize."
Hello, boys.
You fellas are new here in Oz, right?
Haven't really had a chance to settle in yet.
Well, rather than get involved in all the tribal shit
that goes on around here,
you need to know that these days, Oz has a better place to turn. Hm?
It's called employment.
I heard about that. You with that guy, Arif?
No. I'm with me, Burr Redding. Telemarketing.
I'm gonna try and get seconds before they shut down.
For all the flak it gets,
a sales position in telemarketing is a fine way to keep yourself active.
I just remembered, I got an appointment with Sister Pete.
What about you? You gotta go jerk off or something?
- No, I mean, I'd take the job. - Oh, good boy.
But I'm dyslexic.
Here, clear my tray, you squirmy little maggot.
Yo, boss man, this be payday.
- Yeah, I-I know. - Where's my money?
You're gonna have to wait till the end of next week.
- What? - I'm waiting on a check
from one of the publishers, and when it clears, I'll have your money.
- Just trust me. - Trust you?
Fuck.
Excuse me.
I'm telling you, Poet, except for the money I've been stealing,
I'm stone-cold broke.
We cannot wait any longer, man. We gotta get back to selling tits.
I'm way ahead of you, Reggie, way ahead of you.
Got a little contact on the outside, my nigga Sky Bar.
Shipment coming in today.
- All right, my dogs. - All right?
Yes.
Hey, Poet, it's too bad about your friend Sky Bar.
- What about him? - Oh, you didn't hear?
Got run over by a Chevy.
Thirty-seven times.
HILL: Prisoner number 97G141, Samuel Gougeon.
Convicted August 5th, 1997, manslaughter.
Sentence, 19 years. Up for parole in 10.
But let me tell you about the greatest political campaign of all,
Jesus' love, and God himself is running for office.
Put that phone down, choirboy.
That's just straight-up fucking dumb,
using my workplace as a front for your gospel-mongering.
- I'm sorry, I... Oh, yeah, no shit.
And now you're gonna repent.
I got a special job for you.
I guess this is one of those times you don't ask, ' "What would Jesus do?"'
Make it fast.
For I acknowledge my transgressions and my sin
[COUGHING]
Is ever before me.
Bless me, oh Father, according to thy loving kindness
and according to the multitude of thy tender mercies.
[CLATTERING]
It was you, wasn't it?
Come inside, Arif.
You're a pathetic, corrupt man, Redding, you know that?
The corrupt part, I do. I wouldn't say pathetic, though.
Vandalizing my business to repopulate yours? What do you call that?
Downsizing for the overall good.
This is your chance to go to Glynn and tell the truth before I do.
Nobody's going to anyone, son.
Business wasn't very good, was it?
How would you know that?
On Wall Street, we call it reconnaissance.
And you ought to be grateful to me.
Now you can collect your insurance
and get all that money back your Muslim brothers have lost.
And you can put all that aggravation behind you.
Hm?
Don't mention it.
- Did he confess? - I need time to think.
What's there to think about? He's guilty, right?
No.
What happened to our machinery was an accident.
[CHUCKLING]
Thirteen years after banging the opposite side of the gavel,
the Supreme Court did an about-face
and decided last June to bar the death penalty
on retarded defendants.
'The large number of states
prohibiting the execution of mentally retarded persons
provides powerful evidence that today,
our society views mentally retarded offenders
"as categorically less culpable than the average criminal."
So how's Cyril doing?
He hasn't defecated on himself again and he's sleeping a lot.
- How much is a lot? - In and out, all day long.
Well, maybe that's a good thing, you know?
I mean, we're still waiting to hear about the stay
from the State Supreme Court, but-
I don't know, I mean, if we don't get one,
maybe he can just nap up until the time
when they put him to sleep for good.
Ryan, lethal injection isn't just falling asleep.
What do you mean?
It definitely makes execution easier on the public,
easier on the staff,
but we don't really know how painful lethal injection is.
What I can tell you is a little-known fact
- that it was invented by the Nazis. - What?
Hitler's personal physician devised the procedure
as a means to kill off children
and eventually used it on adults as well.
Hitler?
Given the concern those bastards had for mercy-
No, I just-I just want what's best for Cyril, that's all.
Well...
I was wondering if maybe
the electric chair wouldn't be the better way to go.
The chair? Why not just feed him to the fucking lions?
Think about it.
I mean, he's had electroshock therapy,
which isn't such a far cry from electrocution.
I mean, at least in his mind it wouldn't have to be.
By now, he's used to the straps and the electrodes.
Just tell him he's going in for a special session.
He might never know the difference.
Fuck.
Hey.
Psst. Come on, Cyril, wake up.
Hm.
So, um... [CLEARS THROAT]
You want the good news first or the bad news?
- The good news. - Good news? All right.
The good news is
you're gonna have your last ECT session in a couple of days.
Why is this the last session?
Well, because you've been such a champ so far, you know?
And because you've been so great, they're gonna move you back upstairs.
They're gonna fix up your cell all special-like
and they're gonna give you a TV.
Hm?
- Really? - Yeah.
I can watch what I want?
What we want, bro. I'm gonna be there with you.
- You are? - Yeah.
And, um...
they're gonna make you this big dinner
where you can eat whatever you like.
I can have a Fluffernutter?
You can have two Fluffernutters.
I can have two Fluffernutters.
So, you wanna hear the bad news?
All right.
They got to, um-They gotta cut your hair.
Why? I like my hair.
I know you do, buddy,
but for this last session, they've gotta cut it, I'm sorry.
Will it grow back?
Homey, you put Rapunzel to shame.
It's gonna grow back, right, Ryan?
Yeah, right.
Fingernails gonna grow down there too.
Gonna go from Rapunzel to Elvira.
Yo, homey, come on, man. Just focus on the hair, all right?
We don't need a color commentary, okay?
Actually, you know what? Let me get a few snips in.
I've been wanting to do this for years.
Holy shit.
Goddamn it, Cyril, I can see your face again,
you handsome fuck.
[RAZOR BUZZING]
Ryan, look.
Listen, uh.
I haven't been very friendly since I got to Oz,
but now I've talked to Suzanne
and I'm aware of how hard you've tried to stop your brother's execution.
I admire your efforts.
I want you to know at the hour of his death...
everyone in Em City will be with him.
Oh, yeah? How?
You'll see.
Let's go, O'Reily.
Any word yet from the State Supreme Court?
No. You'll stay in your brother's cell tonight
and when they take him downstairs, we'll bring you back here.
Look, I was wondering if at the time of his death,
- you know, I could be alone? - Stay in your pod.
I- I was thinking maybe I could walk in your meditation maze.
All right.
Following a particularly heated trial, which seems to have only magnified
the disagreement on the execution of the mentally challenged.
So this afternoon at Oswald penitentiary-
- What was that about Oz? - Nothing.
Why does that man keep watching me and taking notes?
It's part of the last ECT session. They always do that.
I think I have a stomachache.
It's all that fluff and stuff, you big freak.
Hey.
What do you say we lie down for a little while, you know?
Get a snooze in?
I forgot to ask for Rolaids.
Are you okay, Ryan?
Yeah. As long as you are, buddy.
Each individual state has to decide if a person is retarded or not,
meaning a murderer could get a life sentence in Maine,
where he's considered retarded,
but the gas chamber in Iowa, where he's normal enough to die.
Same guy, same problems, same crime,
two opposite fates depending on which invisible state line he crosses.
Guilt and innocence, hell, one's entire identity
is now a matter of geography.
Um, one thing I didn't tell you, Cyril,
there's going to be other people there today to watch.
- Who? - Oh, let's see. The warden,
Um, Sister Pete, Ma, Dr. Nathan,
and a few other people you probably won't recognise.
Oh.
Are you gonna be there?
No. I want to, but I can't.
Why?
[CRYING]
Daddy said
it's not good for big boys to cry.
Yeah, well, you know what? Dad was wrong, and I was wrong.
We were all so fucking wrong, Cyril. Man, I'm so sorry.
Did I do something?
No.
Um, Dr. Nathan, she said I got this condition, right?
And the only way for me to cure myself is to cry.
You know, it's got nothing to do with you. I'm sorry. Don't be scared, okay?
[CYRIL FARTING]
[LAUGHING]
Whoops. I think I got gas from dinner.
[GATE OPENING]
- CYRIL: Mom. - Hey.
[CLEARS THROAT]
- Any word from Zelman? - No.
SUZANNE: Hey, hello.
[COUGHING]
You look pretty.
Sit down.
I wanna teach you this little prayer that I know.
It goes something like this, it goes:
Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.
Hey. There's probably not a chance
I can get a copy of that journal you're writing in, can I?
Afraid not.
No, just a-You know,
one quick stop by the copy machine, you know.
No one's got to know. I swear to God, I won't show it to anyone, I promise.
Your time is up.
SUZANNE & CYRIL: Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.
Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.
[RYAN CLEARS THROAT]
- RYAN: Hey, come on, we have to go. - Amen.
Hey.
Who loves you, man?
- You do. - That's right.
More than you'll ever fucking know.
Listen, I just need you to relax, okay?
- You know how you get scared. - Uh-huh.
[CHUCKLES]
You just think about me, all right? Okay.
My boy.
What?
Nothing.
These are the clothes you asked for.
I didn't ask for any clothes.
Is that Ryan's shirt?
He said I could wear it?
HILL: There's widespread agreement that retarded people
are less accountable for their crimes
than those of average intelligence.
But if so,
something or someone has to be held accountable,
has to pick up the slack and take the rest of the blame, right?
After all, these victims still die heinous deaths
and families still grieve.
If the retarded person is not fully at fault,
then who or what shares the responsibility?
God? Human nature? Society?
Maybe the question is, who isn't to blame?
Why do I have to wear these? Where are my shoes?
- Hello, Cyril. - Hi.
Don't I need my shoes?
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me.
Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.
Thou anointest my head with oil.
My cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
What the fuck is going on?
[KNOCKING ON GLASS]
Now is your opportunity to make a last statement.
Huh?
Dick? Hi.
No, no reason not to go forward. We're all set here.
[PHONE RINGS]
Yes, this is Warden Glynn.
Uh-huh.
Right.
Okay.
By the order of the State Supreme Court,
Cyril O'Reily has been granted a stay,
based on newfound merit in his appeal.
MAN: Yeah.
GLYNN [OVER SPEAKERS]: His sentence has been postponed
until further notice.
What happened?
What about the special session?
Flashback to 1989
when the Supreme Court first weighed in on this issue.
"Based on evolving standards of decency
that mark the progress of a maturing society,
there is not sufficient evidence present
of a national consensus against such executions."
Well, supposedly today there is.
Polls show most Americans agree
that an adult with the mind of a third-grader
should not be on death row.
But are we a maturing society with evolving standards of decency?
Who's to say we're any further along
than some cosmic equivalent of third grade?
Who's to say we, as a whole, aren't retarded?
Thank you.