.
- In the criminal justice system,
sexually based offenses
are considered especially heinous.
In New York City, the dedicated detectives
who investigate these vicious felonies
are members of an elite squad
known as the Special Victims Unit.
These are their stories.
- His spotted hand jerked forward,
landing heavy on the top of my head.
Retreat or resistance was now futile.
I reminded myself to breathe--
in, out, in, out.
The fumes from a passing truck
crept through the open window of his Toyota,
snuck into my nostrils
and slithered down my esophagus like a worm,
taunting the rubber walls into syncopated contractions.
Push, push,
pull, push.
Now, the calluses on William's fingers
scratched my thighs in 20 spots at once.
Now, the stale cigar breath engulfed my tongue.
Now, his yellow incisors
nipped at my earlobes and neck.
The kraken has trapped the barracuda
and is toying with it before the feast.
The dust lifted and rose,
forming a halo above the deserted parking lot.
And for one short, illusory moment...
I was Bobbi again...
12 years old
and alone.
[applause]
[dark music]
♪
- I already read it like three times...[laughs].
- Thank you. - I don't know how you did it,
but it just keeps getting better.
- Well, um, y'all keep reading now.
And fourth time's the charm.
- You had such a hard life, Bobbi.
- Well, it's, um... the only one I know.
- To read it is one thing.
To hear you read it is-- can I say it--experiential.
- How ever did you find her, Walter?
- Believe it or not, she found me.
- Well, color me green.
- Bobbi, do you think your work will ever go mainstream?
- I'm happy being a small fry.
- Real literary advancement always comes from
the small houses like Pitch Dark Press.
We're underground and proud of it.
- Have you started your next book?
- Bobbi's always working on something.
Don't ask. She won't even tell me about it.
- I'm gonna get a refill. - Mm-hmm.
Extraordinary. - Yes, definitely.
[indistinct chatter]
[solemn music]
♪
- It's a nasty one, Sonny.
- Aren't they all? - What you got?
- A book reading in the store,
followed by a signing and cocktails.
The author, Bobbi O'Rourke, comes out here
with a glass of Chablis to grab a smoke.
Wham! A brick to the head.
Rinse, dry, repeat.
- Liv!
Was she raped? - Apparently not.
- Well, due respect, Lieu, but what are we doing here?
- She's not a she-- physically, anyway.
We may be looking at a hate crime.
[dark music]
♪
[dramatic music]
♪
- We pulled prints from the brick,
but they're not in any database.
Now, Bobbi's got a learner's permit from North Carolina.
He's 16 years old.
- Did you try reaching out his family?
- Yeah, we tried, but the address wasn't real.
- All right, so if his book is true,
he ran away at 13 years old
and he supported himself turning tricks at truck stops
as he hitched rides to New York.
- As if being transgender wasn't tough enough.
- But Bobbi's not transgender.
Robbie just figured out that
he made more money pretending to be a teenage girl.
- And once he got to New York? - That's how he paid his rent,
until the book, I guess.
- Liv, I got something.
The bookstore videoed the after-party.
Seems Bobbi was a darling of the elites on both coasts.
Here we go.
That's his third, if you're counting.
Now, keep your eye on this guy.
- Bobbi's going out back.
- And so is he.
This could be our guy.
- Okay, check in with the bookstore
and see if anyone can get a name.
- It's a tragedy.
Bobbi would've been one of the greats.
Hunter S. Thompson. William S. Burroughs.
The world as it is, not as it should be.
I...[sighs] I'm sorry.
- Let me ask you this. How do these readings work?
Do people buy tickets?
- There was a short guest list.
The rest were first come, first serve.
- We're gonna need to see that list.
- You have to go to Bobbi's publisher for that.
Pitch Dark Press.
- Pitch Dark Press. Okay.
Thank you.
- It was the first time
that anyone had ever seen him before.
- Will that help sell books? - Well, sure.
But his readers were fascinated by his story.
They were chomping at the bit to lay their eyes on him.
- Fascinated by a child prostitute, huh?
- By a being capable of living two lives.
He wouldn't even let me put his picture on the book jacket.
- Because he's shy?
- Who knows with these guys?
Thomas Pynchon. J.D. Salinger.
You know, separate the art from the artist.
This showed up unsolicited.
I read the first page,
and I didn't stop until I reached page 287.
It was perfect.
The only thing the author left out was his name,
address, phone number.
- Was that a mistake? - No, no, no.
It was intentional.
I got a call a few days later,
and this timid, tentative voice
changed my life forever.
The things that he lived through--
even though that book got him off the street,
I still drove up 12th Avenue on the way home
to make sure he wasn't tricking on some corner.
That's the animal that killed him?
- Could be. You know him?
- Never saw him before.
- All right, we're gonna need a guest list for this reading.
- Sure.
- And Bobbi's address.
- That I can't help you with.
- Where do you send his checks?
- We didn't.
They're direct deposited into his account at Metro.
- The kid's a ghost.
Till last night, nobody ever saw him but his publisher.
- Yeah, the home address he gave the bank
was the 92nd Street Y.
- And none of them recognize Bobbi or the guy in the video.
- Guys, so let's-- let's get back to basics here.
Why would somebody want Bobbi dead?
- It could be money.
He has over half a mil in his bank account.
- That's a lot of books.
- He sold his rights to Hollywood.
- Jealousy, all right?
Another writer gets mad about his success.
- Enough to kill? - Well, Norman Mailer
would've killed Gore Vidal on principle.
- All due respect to you, Professor,
but I'll go with sex. I mean,
the kid's fame and fortune all came from it.
- Hey, so, I may have something.
Somebody posted Bobbi's reading at the bookstore online.
It kinda broke my heart.
Look. [keyboard clacks]
- My tongue.
Now, his yellow incisors...
- This is-- this is our guy, right?
And look.
Look what's there on the floor beside his chair.
- He bought the book, "Absalom, Absalom!"
- He bought it with a credit card.
His name is William Glover, and he lives in Forest Hills.
[heavy music]
- William Glover.
- Just a second.
Do we have to do this here?
- I figured we go back to the station, sort this all out.
- Time to wash up for dinner.
- Hi, Mom.
- [sighs] Got a whole leg of lamb
if your friends wanna stay.
- Maybe you should just eat without me.
- Come on. - I love you.
What happens now?
- Well, you deny that you killed Bobbi O'Rourke,
and I get angry, maybe a little loud.
I threaten you, but then Lieutenant Benson
convinces you that a confession is just
in the best interest for everybody.
- I killed him.
- Why did you do it, William?
- I prefer Will.
- Kay, why don't you tell us what happened?
- I took a brick and hit him and hit him--
- I know that.
What we're interested in is why.
- You think I'm gay.
- I don't really care.
- I'm not, you know. I have a wife.
I have two beautiful children. - Okay.
- I saw her picture on a leaflet on the subway.
- Bobbi O'Rourke?
- I don't know anyone named Bobbi O'Rourke.
- The girl from the leaflet.
- She told me her name was Tammy.
- When did she tell you that?
- The first time I met her three weeks ago.
I'd pick her up near the parking lot
a block from my office on 12th.
- So, Will,
why don't you tell us what happened, okay?
- She had a little trouble unzipping my pants.
Her hair was so soft,
silky, like a butterfly's wings,
her mouth, warm and wet.
She only wanted $50.
She said 25 went to her boss.
- And you didn't know that he had written a book?
- Not until I saw the leaflet on the C train.
She lied to me.
- Is that why you killed him?
- I am not gay, Lieutenant!
[dark, heavy music]
♪
.
- Just pick one.
- What's the point?
- I don't know. You're hungry, maybe?
- Glover get a lawyer?
- He's with Stone as we speak.
I assume they'll work out a deal,
Man One, drop the Hate Crime.
- Lieutenant, Bobbi made a lot of money off that book.
Why the hell would he go back out on the street?
- Look, he's been doing it a long time.
It's all he knows. He doesn't know how to stop.
- Or somebody was forcing him to keep hooking.
Hey, Lieutenant, that publisher--
he said that he drove up 12th Avenue
looking for Bobbi, wanted to make sure
he wasn't going back to his old ways.
Never saw him, but somehow Glover finds him there,
several times in the past three weeks?
- You're saying that the publisher's lying?
- Bobbi was a kid.
He could've been pimping him out.
- Detective Carisi,
did you find the guy that killed Bobbi?
- Yeah, you know what? We did.
- Oh, that's great. Um, you want me to testify?
- Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves here.
I just-- I wanna clarify one thing.
Now, you told me that
you drove up and down 12th Avenue looking for Bobbi.
- I cared about the kid, you know?
I wanted to keep him safe.
- I'm sure you did.
The thing is that the guy who actually killed him
found Bobbi hooking several times in the past few weeks.
Do you know where he found him?
12th Avenue.
- Okay, so I lied.
I never actually met Bobbi.
- Who was that at the reading, then?
- Taffy, Teddy, Tammy--
whatever the hell he was calling himself that week.
- So this whole thing was a scam?
- No, no, no, no. Bobbi O'Rourke is real.
The whole secrecy thing was his idea.
And it worked great until we sold the rights to Hollywood.
And then these damn producers insisted he show his face,
only I didn't have a face to show.
- So you created one.
- I found Tammy on the street, you know?
I bought a forged license.
All he had to do was just read a couple of pages.
I paid him $500. It kept him in oxy.
I didn't think that anybody would get hurt.
- I guess you were wrong about that.
- Am I under arrest?
- I'll get back to you on that one.
If it weren't for this publisher's scam,
this kid would still be alive.
- Okay, well, you try convincing Stone
that there was causation.
- All right, fine. We charge him with fraud, then.
- Because he lured people into a free book reading?
Look, Carisi, I don't like it any more than you do,
but until we change the laws in Albany,
there's nothing that we can do.
- You know, this book is filled with sex
between Bobbi and scores of adult men,
who all could be charged with statutory rape.
- Fin, I'm pretty sure Bobbi didn't use any real names.
- Well, what if we could find him?
- [scoffs] Come on.
There's zero chance that this kid's gonna show his face now.
- Bobbi made a couple of online banking transactions,
so I had TARU track the IP address.
- This is not what I expected.
- He's probably renting a room.
NYPD.
- What did they do?
- Do you know who lives here? - Not really.
I tried to get them to come to a community meeting
about six months ago.
I rang the bell. Music inside stopped.
- You ever seen them?
- Lights go on at night, off in the morning.
I see delivery guys every now and then
leave stuff at the door,
but never actually saw anyone take anything in.
I know most everyone else on the block.
I figured it's New York. People are allowed to be weird.
- They certainly are.
Thank you.
- This is Sergeant Tutuola, SVU.
We're gonna need a team and a warrant.
[click]
[dark, heavy music]
♪
Bobbi O'Rourke, police!
- Do we arrest the kid?
- No, Montero. He's the victim.
We think whoever lives here might be holding him prisoner.
- Fred and Rose Edelman.
- Okay, you guys check in here.
Eddie, down here.
- Bobbi O'Rourke! NYPD.
[heavy, somber music]
♪
- [coughing]
Hey, Fin!
- Carisi. You okay?
- Yeah, we got your dried blood in the corner here.
[wood creaking]
- Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. - Hey!
- Put your hands on your head! - What the hell?
- Put your hands above your head.
Hands on your head. - Whoever the hell you are,
this is my house. I don't appreciate this.
- Where is he?
- Who? - Bobbi O'Rourke.
- Bobbi O'Rourke?
You mean the bartender from Molly Malone's?
He died maybe 50 years ago.
I went to the damn funeral.
[wood creaking]
- Hey, hey, you! [hinges squeak]
Stop right there.
Put your hand on your head.
- What the hell did you do this time?
- Come here. - He did it.
Arrest his sorry ass.
- We know he's here. - Who?
- Bobbi O'Rourke.
- Bobbi died in '75.
- '72!
Ignore my brother, Officer. He's a putz.
- Both of you guys are coming down to the station.
- I'm not getting in a car with him,
not in this lifetime.
- Hold on. This is your brother?
- You ask. You ask him who he voted for!
- Not interested.
- He voted for Gerald Ford!
I'm not gonna ride with him.
You ride with him! I'm not going to.
.
- Ah, feh! - Excuse me?
- Why should I?
- Because I'm a cop.
- Is that supposed to scare me? - No, no.
Nobody wants to scare you, Mr. Edelman.
- Yeah, well, because you can't.
I mean, you are bupkis next to Nixon's Nazis.
- Okay, how about you just answer the question,
and then you can go home-- no harm, no foul.
- [stammering] So, what question?
- We just wanna know what happened to Bobbi O'Rourke.
- Diabetes.
- Not Bobbi the bartender-- - I know, I know.
Bobbi the writer, hm? - Yes.
- I don't even know him.
Up until an hour ago, I never heard of him.
- Okay, 'cause we traced his IP address to your building.
- IP? - Yeah.
- What's an IP?
- These computers--
they tell you where they are?
- Yeah, I don't get it either, but it's cool.
- And this Bobbi boy...
- He dressed as a girl.
- Ah, a fegulah.
- Uh, yeah, but I don't think
it's okay to say that word anymore.
- Why not?
- Because it hurts people.
- It's just a word.
- Yeah, but words can hurt more than a gun.
- To who?
- People they bother.
- Well, then, everyone should say it
and nobody would get hurt.
- Okay, speaking of hurt, what about Bobbi?
- Your girls already asked me.
I don't know anything about this Mr. O'Rourke.
- What about your brother Joe?
- He's a son of a bitch.
- Is it possible Joe could've
snuck Bobbi into the house?
- He's a shmuck, not a fegulah.
- Sure, Ben. Why not?
I wouldn't put anything past that bum.
- You think Ben would hurt Bobbi?
- Hurt? [scoffs]
What do you think he did to Cherise?
- Who's Cherise?
- The shvartzah. - Whoa, whoa, whoa.
That's-- that's unacceptable, okay?
- Shvartzahs are unacceptable?
- Excuse me.
- Now, your parents are listed as the owners of this house.
- Mm.
Dad died in 1969,
Mama in '73.
- I'm sorry to hear that.
- They were good parents. Rest in peace.
Joe hasn't left the house since.
- What about you?
- I'm supposed to let him keep it all to himself?
- Yeah, she came every Tuesdays and Fridays,
Cherise. - To clean?
- She also made soup, you know. Terrible soup.
I never had the heart, but my shmuck brother--
he's always convinced she's stealing.
- Stealing what? - My meshuggana brother--
he puts quarters all around the house.
All of a sudden, one is missing.
"Ah! She's a thief!"
[scoffs] And he fires her.
Yeah. It was 1975.
- If anything happened to that boy,
it was Joe, had to be.
- [sighs]
[suspenseful music]
♪
[clattering]
[crash]
- [grunts] Man down!
Montero!
- Bailey! Rodriguez!
You okay?
- Come on. Get this thing the hell off me.
- Help me! Hurry.
[grunts]
I can call an EMT. - No, I'm fine.
Look, this was a booby trap, all right?
There's something back there. Come on.
- Keep your eyes open, Detective.
- [grunts]
- That's the kid's book, isn't it?
- This looks like the next one.
- Okay, so we know that Bobbi was there.
When was the last time the document was opened?
- Two days ago. Blood tests come back yet?
- No, not yet. So keep searching, right?
Bobbi may be hiding in there. - Yeah, if he's lucky.
- Keep looking.
- All right. - Okay. Copy.
- Hey, thanks. You take the fourth floor.
I'll take the basement.
- You know what I'd like?
A corned beef sandwich from the Carnegie Deli.
- That place closed two years ago.
- And nobody told me about the shivah.
- Get up. You're coming with me.
- You'll take me home now? - Not quite.
Let's go.
- Oh, tatellah.
- Yeah.
- Bobbi O'Rourke was in your house two days ago.
- And as far as we know, no one's seen him since.
- Yeah, including me. - Liar.
- Huh? I'm a liar?
Yeah, well, tell them about Izzie Berkowitz.
- Okay, who's Izzie Berkowitz? - He cheated him at gin rummy.
A whole summer at Kutsher's.
30 bucks he takes from this kid.
- In 1958, and he's still talking about it.
- Yeah, but this is about character,
and you don't have one.
- I won't sit here and listen to him!
- Yes, you will.
You're gonna sit here until you and your brother
tell us what happened to Bobbi O'Rourke.
Do you understand that?
- Bobbi?
[hinges creak]
[dark, suspenseful music]
♪
Jeez.
[grunts]
[soft knocking]
- Lab results are back.
DNA on the manuscript matches the laptop
and the blood on the floor.
- Well, there we go.
We're gonna search your house
from top to bottom, and we're gonna find him.
- Find what? [stammers] Who? - That's it.
You both are under arrest.
Put them in the cage. - Wait.
It was me.
- You killed Bobbi?
- There is no Bobbi.
- Okay, give them a lawyer if they want one--I'm done.
- Wait!
The book--
I wrote it.
- What? You wrote a book?
- I had to do something.
Who do you think pays for the groceries?
The real estate taxes? - Ahh, he's a meshuga.
- Not you. - He's a meshuga.
It's Mama's money that pays for--
- Mama's money is gonna run out in six months.
You don't think about the future.
I think about it. I think about everything.
- Wait a minute.
If you haven't left the house
since 1973,
how was it that you got a computer to write on?
- What? You got a computer?
- No, I drew hieroglyphics on the crapper wall.
- Ben.
[slaps table] Focus.
- I gave Carlos,
the kid who delivers from the Deli,
100 bucks to buy it and set the whole fercockt thing up.
- Ben,
so tell me about the blood on the floor.
- I cut myself when I tried to carry
Mama's sewing machine into the basement.
Like you would help.
I stepped on a piece of broken glass.
You could test my blood if you want.
Why do you think Bobbi never showed his face?
The bartender from Molly Malone's--
that, you remember.
That's where I got my hero's name.
The truth is,
we didn't kill Bobbi O'Rourke.
You people did.
- [chuckles]
- [grunts]
[metal clangs]
.
- The M.E.'s office finally got Rose Edelman thawed.
She had malignant tumors in both lungs.
- That's a painful way to die.
- Only cancer isn't what killed her.
It was asphyxiation.
- They strangled their mother?
- There was no bruising on the neck.
The M.E. thinks that they must have used a pillow,
put it over her nose and her mouth.
I mean, she could barely breathe.
It wouldn't have taken much effort.
- You've read this, right?
- Enough to get the general flavor, yeah.
- "At once,
"I felt pitiful and small,
"struck with wonder and sickened that this man,
"20 years my senior,
"could find enough pleasure in my 12-year-old body
"to turn over $50 of his hard-earned pay.
"What was he feeling? What was he thinking?
"Did he love me or hate me?
Did I love or hate him?"
Amanda, I can't tell you how many times in my career
I've heard the exact same thing
from survivors of childhood sexual abuse.
- Only that's coming from a 73-year-old hoarder--
- Who's completely rejected and alienated society.
- Do you think he was abused?
- If he was,
I think he deserves closure.
- I'm coming with you.
- Amanda? - Yeah?
Come on, there were two kids in that house.
That damn desk is driving me crazy, Liv.
- Once, out at Atlantic Beach,
Joe and I--
I was probably 10. He would've been 12--
We were riding the waves
it seemed like for hours.
Mama was on the beach, reading her book.
She loved books.
- Well, maybe that's where you got your talent.
- [scoffs]
We'd swim out to where the waves broke
and then ride them in
to see who could come closest to shore,
over and over again until
there were no waves anymore.
We tried to swim in, but the undertow--
No matter how hard we tried,
we just ended up getting further
and further from the shore.
We thought we were gonna die, Joe and I.
He put his arms around me.
And then suddenly, the lifeguard saw us,
blew his whistle, stood up out of his chair,
and swam out toward us.
And the next thing I knew, I was face down on the beach,
regurgitating salt water with every cough.
- Well, you certainly owe that lifeguard.
- No, no. I owe Mama.
She beat the lifeguard out to us
and kept us afloat until he got there.
- She sounds like an amazing woman.
- The eggs always think they're smarter than the chicken.
I'm not about to confess to something I didn't do,
Lieutenant.
- What about something that your brother did?
- Well, I really don't know. You have to ask him.
- You, uh, got a husband?
- In a manner of speaking.
- What kind of answer is that? It's either yes or no.
- No, but, um,
but there is someone... special.
- Yeah, well, until he marries you,
I don't want to hear from it. - Okay...[chuckles]
Joe, I'll--I'll keep you up to date--how about that?
- Mm.
- How about you, Joe?
You never wanted a wife?
- No--me? No.
I'm too busy.
- Yeah? "Too busy," okay.
'Cause you're pretty handsome.
You would've been quite a catch for some lucky girl.
- So, what, are you shacking up like those, uh, flower people?
- [laughs] Yeah, I'm shack--
Flower pe--I think it's "flower children,"
and [softly] they've been-- they've been gone a long time.
- Huh.
Has he confessed yet?
- Your brother? - Mm.
Who else? [sighs]
He's weak, that kid.
- He needs you to protect him?
- You're damn straight.
And sometimes...
- What, Joe?
- Sometimes it's really hard being the bigger brother.
- Well, actually, Ben, I...
I didn't come here to talk about your mother.
- What do you wanna talk about?
- I wanna talk about your book.
It was, uh,
it was powerful.
- You read it? - I did.
And it was, um,
so real.
And actually, I...
I don't understand how you could've written it
without...
- Oh, I, uh,
I don't wanna talk about that.
- I know how hard it must have been.
- [firmly] You know bubkes.
- No, Ben.
I know that anyone
who could've written a book like "Blue Barracuda"
certainly must have lived through something.
You wrote that book
so you could tell the world
how devastating, how horrifying it was.
- I wrote that book because we needed the money.
- You were ashamed.
That's why you didn't use your real name on the book.
I could only imagine what you must have felt--
hate, rage, disgust.
But shame--
shame isn't on you, Ben.
This wasn't your fault.
Who did this to you? Who hurt you?
- After school, we used to go to this play center.
There was a counselor there, Vincent.
He was about 20.
Taught me how to pick up grounders.
- Did he do something to Ben?
- No, I wouldn't let him.
What kind of a brother would I be?
- Did he hurt you?
- I was only 12 years old, damn it.
What kind of a person...
- There was a guy called Vincent.
The guy was always around.
And, um,
the first time
was in the locker room when nobody else was there.
[scoffs] He said, uh,
"This is what big boys do."
- Don't tell him. Don't tell my brother.
- Did you ever tell anyone, Ben?
- Oh, who would I tell?
- Your brother. - Oh!
He would've laughed at me.
- I mean, I was the older brother.
I was supposed to protect him. How could I tell him about...
- Your father?
- Ah, he'd get mad at me if I didn't get an A on a test.
He would always say, "It's your fault."
[sarcastic laugh]
- Your mother?
- Of course not.
- Why?
- She would've thought I was dirty.
She wouldn't have loved me anymore.
.
- They were both abused as kids, Peter.
- And conveniently, they didn't say anything
until they were charged with murdering their mother.
- I believe them.
- And I'll do my best to get it excluded at trial.
- Look, you won't have to. Neither of them will admit it.
They won't even admit it to each other.
- So that's that, then. - Look, the M.E.'s report
said that Rose's cancer cost her intolerable pain.
- You and I both know that that doesn't matter.
- Cut them a deal.
- I worked one out with their attorney.
One year jail time. Ten years probation.
- Well, that's generous.
- They turned it down.
- Look, they are sympathetic defendants.
- Until the jury hears that they kept Mom's body on ice
in the basement.
- When push comes to shove, this is a trial about love,
the love of two boys for their mother.
You know, it always struck me as odd.
The law says that
a mother has to take care of her kids when they're young.
You would think there would be a law that says
they have to take care of her when she gets old...
or sick.
Rose Edelman got sick, very sick.
Her doctor said that she had six months to live.
And then she died.
Now, Mr. Stone will stand here and tell you
that her two sons murdered her--
her two loving sons,
the boys who cooked for her, bathed her,
made sure that she took her medicine.
The boys who loved her so much that when she passed,
they couldn't bear to see her buried
in 6 feet of dirt out in Queens,
an entrée for hungry worms--
or worse yet,
shoved into a flaming hot oven,
with what's left of her kept in a jar on a mantel
in a living room.
Joe and Ben loved their mother Rose so much,
they kept her as she was
and where she wanted to be: in her home.
If you ask me, that's love.
- Call your first witness, Mr. Stone.
- No.
No, that's enough.
- Mr. Edelman-- - No, Judge.
- Mr. Edelman, sit down.
- No. No, Judge.
I did it.
I killed my mother.
I did it.
Ben had nothing to do with this.
I did it,
and I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry, Mama.
So ve-- - [gasps] Ohh--
- I need an ambulance. Part 29, Supreme Court.
Here.
Hey, hold him--hold him up.
- [grunts]
- You stupid son of a bitch!
Always the martyr. Look what you did.
You shmuck!
- Massive coronary.
- So stupid.
[emotionally] So stupid.
You're so stupid, always hogging the stage.
Stupid...
[sobs]
- Okay, Ben, your brother's still protecting you, huh?
- But what do I have left to protect?
Nothing. [machine beeping]
[beeping]
What?
- Doctor. - Out.
- Okay, come on.
Give them some room to do their job.
- No, what's happening? What's happening?
Let me know. I wanna know what's happening.
- Let them do their job.
Let's give them some room. - What's going on?
- Let's give them some room, okay?
[footsteps approaching]
- I'm sorry.
- Can I... - Sure.
- I'll go officially drop the charges against Ben.
- Okay.
- Thank you.
- Well, his name was Vincent
from the Center.
I know I should have told you...
But I just didn't have the strength.
But I--I remember it as if it was today,
the way his spotted hand
sorta jerked forward
and landed so heavily on top of my head.
Retreat or...
resistance was futile.
I just reminded myself
to breathe.
In, out,
in, out.
[heavy, solemn music]
♪
.
[wolf howling]