[bright tone]
[tense jazzy music]
- There are three kinds of laws which govern us all.
First and foremost are the laws of God,
followed closely by the laws of nature,
and running a distant third,
the laws created by man.
You see, in order for man to create a law,
a group of people have to get together and decide
that they have come up with "the ultimate truth."
A basic, inherent truth by which every citizen
must conduct himself or be punished.
The only problem is, the group of people
who decides on "the ultimate truth"
is a bunch of politicians.
Given the choice,
would you rather be judged by a whim of the Almighty,
or a vote by congress?
- Here comes the dead man.
- Make your move, bro.
- Later, bro, but I'm keeping an eye on you.
- Truer words have never been spoke, man.
- What the hell's that mean?
- Being only that you got one good eye,
droopy-eyed motherfucker.
- Cocksucker!
- Get him! Kill him!
- Kill that motherfucker!
Kill that fucking brown-ass motherfucker!
- Fascinating, you in the cafeteria.
- What do you mean?
- Throwing caution to the wind.
- Think it'll work?
Will I survive?
- I don't know.
- But you gotta know.
You been in Oz, like, 36 years.
Been through the same shit that I've been through,
and more.
And I know you know all the tricks.
- No, no tricks.
- Well, then what?
- I've just been myself.
Like I said, it's fascinating the difference in generations.
You young people growin' up with
so much choice and possibility.
On the one hand, that's a marvelous thing.
On the other, so many of you battle with who you are.
For us, it was simpler.
There was none of this "finding yourself" jazz.
You just concentrated on what you had to do.
You were 18...
19 years old going off to war.
So that's who you were.
That's who we all were.
- So you guys are heroes?
Is what you're telling me?
You guys are he-men?
- Lord, no, we were scared to death.
But when the landing boats carried you to shore
and the metal doors came down, you charged the beach,
took the blow, that's just how it was.
It had to be done.
I've faced many hurdles and...
Moments of great fear in my life.
But coming from an age when men took the blow,
I've always felt comfortable in my own skin.
- Sounds good.
That's good.
- Oh, raider baby.
Whoo, mmm.
Oh, shit. Oh, hoochie mama.
- I want you to stab me.
- What?
- I want you to shank me.
I won't retaliate.
- Yeah, are you gonna let me kill you?
- Not kill, stab in the shoulder.
Proposition's this...
I'll give you a free shot at me,
and in return, I don't die.
- What the fuck you talking about?
- I'm willing to take the blow.
Wouldn't it be satisfying just to stick me?
- Immensely fucking satisfying.
- Okay, make sure you hold up your part of the bargain.
I want witnesses.
I want a lot of them.
- I get this.
You let me take a swipe at you,
and the hacks throw me in Solitary for the next 10 years.
- No.
We do it when the guards aren't around.
You'll control that.
I just want the inmates to see,
so in case you do decide to kill me,
one of the inmates will go to Glynn,
give you up.
You end up on death row.
[buzzing]
- Deal.
What that loco motherfucker don't know
is I am gonna kill him.
After he's down, I slip the shank in his hand,
and it's self-defense.
- Fuck.
- What's the matter?
- My sister's dead,
and ever since I heard the news I've felt nothing.
And now you tell me you're going to kill Alvarez,
and I feel this little charge in my belly.
Jesus, what the hell is that?
- It's nothing.
- My little sister worshipped me.
You can't kill Alvarez.
- What?!
- I haven't shed a tear for a sister
who thought that much of me.
And at the same time,
this Alvarez thing is revving me up.
It's not right, there's something wrong.
And out of respect for Annette,
I gotta take a look at that.
We both do.
- What's happening is you're on a delayed reaction.
You're in shock.
In a week, you'll be crying like a baby over your sister.
Thing is, we don't got a week.
Our best chance to kill Alvarez is here,
right now.
- Chico.
- You ready?
- Ready.
- Yo!
Yo, my man, look over here!
Over here!
Guys, over here! Watch this!
Ready.
[moaning]
[shouting]
- We got a 29 in the gym.
[bell ringing] We got a 29 in the gym.
Hang on, hang on, hang on.
Repeat, I have a 29 in the gym.
This is 14.
- There you are, you look right smart.
- I wish they'd let you come with me to the funeral.
- Me, too, but I wasn't really a relative or nothing.
- I still can't believe this, man.
How can my moms be dead?
- I remember when I first met your mother.
We were none of us no more than 14.
I was with your dad, doing some kind of nonsense
when all of a sudden,
I saw her coming across Friedmont Street.
Mmm, she had the sweetest pair of eyes.
Your dad didn't even notice her
until I tapped him on the shoulder.
He looked at her, she looked at him,
and that was that.
They got married; they had you.
- Burr, you always loved my moms, didn't you?
- Of course.
- No, no.
No, I mean, you loved her.
- I loved your father, too.
But life works out the way life works out.
I want you to put that on her grave for me.
- What is this?
- My high school graduation ring.
- Yo, Busmalis.
Any word from your fiancée since she left you at the altar?
- Ah, yeah sure, like, "Don't try and track me down,
I done skipped town."
- No, I watched the show yesterday.
Norma's still working on "Miss Sally,"
her name's still in the credits.
- Those are repeats.
In fact, I read in the newspaper
they may even cancel "Miss Sally's Schoolyard."
- What?
- Jeez, you are a sad fuck, no wonder she ditched you.
- What the hell do you know about it?
- Know about what, motherfucker, what?
- Loss, being left.
You have no damn idea, you stupid fool.
all: Ooh!
[buzzing]
- Hey, I appreciate your sticking up for me,
but you're gonna get your butt whupped.
- Okay, whatever you say.
- What's eating you?
- My son came to see me today.
Alex Jr.'s condition has gotten worse.
He's developed nonlymphocytic leukemia.
- Oh, Bob, that's terrible.
- He's in desperate need of a bone marrow transplant.
- They need you to be the donor?
- No, I'm no good to him, nobody in our family is.
Alex Jr.'s mother is of West Indian
and Guatemalan descent.
My grandson's unique mixed-race heritage makes
for the most beautiful skin you'll ever lay eyes on.
It also makes finding a suitable donor
extremely difficult.
- But there's gotta be a match out there somewhere.
- Oh, sure, somewhere.
But there's a great shortage of donors,
and an even greater shortage of minority donors.
- Then doctors should get the word out,
sign more people up.
- [chuckles] I wish it were that easy.
But like with so many other diseases,
there's never enough money to go around.
- Where you going?
- To see Dr. Nathan. I don't feel so hot.
- The umbilical cord, like bone marrow,
contains cells capable of fighting leukemia.
But unfortunately, that procedure's still
very much in the experimental stages.
Oh, thanks.
Here you go.
Take these, you'll be fine.
I know how helpless you feel, Bob.
I hear a story like your grandson's
and it frustrates me, too.
My Latina heritage kicks in and starts kicking me
for being so American.
- I don't follow.
- In Central America, South America,
there's wide belief that certain herbal medicines
hold great promise in regards to treating cancer
and other diseases.
- But you think that's a bunch of baloney?
- Like I said,
the A.M.A. got the best of me.
- Pamphlets, magazines, medical journals,
anything to do with herbal medicine,
particularly material dealing with research
and treatment of leukemia.
- Lights out!
- [whistling]
- I've found the cure for cancer.
- You what?
- Lapacho.
- Lapa-who?
- An herb from the rain forests of Paraguay.
Some doctors claim they've effectively used the herb
to treat cancer, leukemia in particular.
- Wow, this is great news.
- No, no, no, it's not, it's maddening.
- Maddening?
- Lapacho is an evergreen.
There are more than 100 species of lapacho trees.
Identifying which ones yield the necessary
medicinal material is very expensive.
- Oh, here we go again.
Always money, money, money.
Only way for a man to get ahead in the world
is to be some kind of goddamn millionaire.
- I'll raise the cash.
- In Oz? How?
- I don't know, but I'll find a way.
[gate buzzes]
- Good luck.
- Here are some laws,
real laws currently on the books,
laws that if you broke, you'd end up in jail.
The state of Rhode Island says
it's illegal to throw pickle juice on a trolley.
In the state of Washington, all lollipops are banned.
Down in Indiana, baths may not be taken
between the months of October and March.
Over in San Francisco,
you cannot pick up and throw used confetti.
And in North Carolina,
the law forbids dogs and cats to fight.
But you see, that goes against the laws of nature.
Dogs and cats are born enemies.
- Okay, all done, wheel him into the ward.
- Dr. Nathan, we've got trauma to the head.
- What happened?
- I was releasing this joker from the Hole,
and he took a swing at me.
- I ain't no pussy.
- Yeah, so I gave him one of these.
- Faggot! - Prep him for sutures!
Doesn't look too bad, you'll need a couple of stitches.
What's your name?
- Stanton, Henry Stanton,
and I don't love you.
- What? - Glynn sent me to the Hole
'cause he said I was obsessed with your tits,
but I'm not.
You gotta tell the Warden I'm an innocent man.
You gotta--get the fuck--
You gotta tell the Warden I'm an innocent man!
- Get off me! - Hey, hey!
- Ow!
- You all right?
- Yeah, I was handling this, Ryan.
- Yeah, well, it didn't look like it.
- Well, I don't need you in my life!
- Okay.
- Just get the fuck away from me!
- Okay! - Keep moving, O'Reily!
- I need those sutures! Where the fuck are they?
I need another pair of gloves, and prep him for sutures.
Can you hold him, please?
- There you go, Enrique.
- Yo, Ryan, save me some extra beets?
- All of a sudden you got quite the appetite there, Marty.
- Oh, yeah, I never seem to get enough,
which is why we gotta talk.
- About what?
- My compensation for lying to Glynn.
- Wait, shut the fuck up!
- That's what I'm talking about.
For me to keep my lips zipped,
you gotta come up with a lot more moola.
- Come on, Marty, man, we had a deal, right?
- Well, I'm renegotiating.
- All right, I'll tell you what.
What do you say we meet in the library at 4:00?
- Bring your checkbook.
- I had Montgomery lie to the Warden and say
that Henry Stanton killed Patrick Keenan,
and Montgomery says if I don't pay more,
he's gonna rat me out.
- If he does, Glynn will know for sure that you killed Keenan.
He'll fry your ass.
- Which is why I'm not gonna make
my 4:00 appointment with Montgomery.
- No?
- No, I'll have Stanton show up instead.
Yo, Stanton.
- O'Reily, I ain't bothering your brother
or Nathan or nobody.
So just leave me alone.
- Look, I know that, man.
You know, I think you and me,
I think we got off on the wrong foot.
But I just want to let you know that I got no beef with you.
- That's good.
- In fact, actually, you and me,
we got something in common.
We're both suspects in the murder of Patrick Keenan.
- I know.
- You know, we both got eyewitnesses
who say they saw us do the deed.
And I don't know who's accusing me,
but as luck would have it,
I found out who's lying about you.
- Who?
- Well, you know, I'm hesitant to tell you there, Henry,
for fear that you're gonna do something crazy.
- Motherfucker lies about me, that does make me crazy.
- Well, see then, I'm not gonna tell you, man.
- Tell me, God damn it.
- No, I don't think I should. - Tell me!
Please tell me. - I'm not gonna tell you.
- Tell me! Tell me! - I'm not gonna fucking--
I'm not gonna fucking tell you!
- God damn it please, tell me.
- Martin Montgomery.
- Martin Montgomery?
I'm gonna kill that fucking cunt!
I guess you won't be talking no more,
will you, motherfucker? - Get off him!
Oh, shit!
I got him, you got a neck wound!
Neck wound!
- Stanton's in Solitary.
Montgomery's at Benchley Memorial in critical condition.
People at the gym say they overheard
you telling Stanton that Montgomery squealed on him.
- Oh, no, Stanton asked me if I knew anything about it,
and I told him I just heard a rumor, that's all.
- We found this in Montgomery's footlocker.
- What's that?
- Keenan's shamrock.
- Oh, yeah, right, I recognize that now.
What the fuck was Montgomery doing with it?
- I was hoping maybe you could tell me.
- Oh, no, jeez, Warden, I don't know.
- Suzanne Fitzgerald, the '60s radical
who turned herself in to federal authorities
after 32 years on the run, was released today
from the Parker Correctional Facility for women.
- No fucking way.
- Governor James Devlin has commuted Fitzgerald's
sentence to two years of community service.
- Yes!
- The governor's decision, while widely expected,
remains controversial.
- Yes!
Come on, Cyril.
- We're so glad you decided
to do your community service in Oz.
- And the idea of starting a performing arts program
is great.
- Oh, thank you.
I taught music for 20 years in St. Albans.
And when I heard that you didn't have
any kind of arts education program here,
it seemed like a good fit.
- But you know the hardest part
is gonna be convincing these guys to sign up.
- You know, I don't know about that, Pete.
I think they'll sign up out of the novelty of it,
but the tough thing will be getting them to stick with it.
- Well, if I could motivate 10-year-olds,
I think I can handle your prisoners.
- So what do you need to get started?
- Well, I would love to see where I'm gonna work.
- The stage is over in the cafeteria.
I'll take you right over.
- Oh, and then I'd like to see my son.
- Oh, sure.
[piano playing]
- Psst.
- Ryan!
- Hey.
Oh, man.
Oh, Christ, I thought I'd lost you forever.
- Oh, no, baby, you're stuck with me.
- I know he's not your son, and he's only my half-brother,
but I kind of want you to meet Cyril.
- Oh, yeah, I'd love to.
- Yeah? Okay. Hey, Cyril?
Cyril?
- Hello.
- I made this for you.
- Oh, thank you, it's so sweet.
It's beautiful.
Can I give you a hug and kiss?
- Sure.
- Okay.
So, are you two gonna be my first pupils?
- Oh, jeez, you know, Mom, I can't sing.
- Me, neither.
- You can't?
Oh, guess you take after your father.
That man had the voice of a warthog.
- [laughs] - She's funny, right?
- She's funny.
- I'm glad you think so.
Well, will you have some of your friends sign up?
- Our friends? - Uh-huh.
- Oh, yeah, of course.
- All right, all right, I'll do it.
In fact, I've been told I have a pretty good voice.
- Yeah?
- Yeah, in high school,
I had the lead in "The Pirates of Penzance."
♪ I am the very model of the modern major general ♪
♪ I have information... ♪
- As far as my mother's concerned,
you never sang a note, you got it?
- Okay, not a problem.
- Okay.
- Hey, O'Reily, your mama's looking fine.
Does she fuck younger guys?
- What was that, Hoyt? What the fuck did you say?
Fuck you, bitch! I'm gonna kill you!
Come on, man.
- Get the fuck away, you cocksucker!
- Bring it, Hoyt! Bring it!
- Slowly, slowly roll up.
Roll up, wait, slowly, slowly, slowly.
Wait, Matt, hold on.
Okay, relax your jaw, relax your shoulders.
both: ♪ Ah ah ah ♪
Relax your arms.
- ♪ Ah ah ah ♪
- We gotta talk.
- I'm in the middle of a class.
- Oh, that's okay, I've got work to do.
- Well, I'll see you Thursday?
- Um...
Definitely.
- Come here, come here, come here, come here.
- What?
- Quit? - I want you to quit.
- On my first day?
- I've ticked off a lot of the assholes in this place.
Okay, and I don't want to put you in any jeopardy.
- Jeopardy?
- Yeah.
- There's a C.O. standing nearby.
- Yeah, well, trust me, the hacks aren't that reliable.
- I'm not worried.
- Yeah, but I am.
- Well, that's sweet.
- Look, I'm not being sweet, okay?
Christ, you could get hurt.
- Ryan, I'm a big girl and I made my choice.
Look, this is where I'm needed, this is where I belong.
Nothing you can say is gonna make me change my mind.
- Hey, O'Reily, you working today?
- Go.
- Yeah, but...
- Go.
- Move your fucking ass, O'Reily.
[shouting]
- Dave, you're back.
- Yeah.
- How are you?
- All right.
- Look, I meant to get over to the hospital, but...
- That's okay.
- How are you?
Oh, I already asked that, didn't I?
But you're good, though, huh?
- I'm working.
- So, you're staying at Oz?
- I'm not sure.
Warden's got me stationed here,
I'm gonna have to think about my next move.
- I feel fucking terrible that this happened.
- Say, you never did find out who cut me, did you?
- No.
- Truthfully, I think that's why I'm here.
I want to know.
I fucking want to know.
I'd fucking hurt the guy, Tim, I'm serious.
I'd hurt him for keeps.
- Your injury was the result of someone not wanting you
to play in that final basketball game.
- But how?
- Well, after we decided not to play,
I told Morales that you were gonna play.
- Oh.
- I'm so goddamned sorry.
- I'll buzz you in.
[sighs]
Goddamn, motherfucking thing!
- Tim, the warden wanted me to tell you
special staff meeting at 11:00.
- Is there an emergency?
- Oh, Governor Devlin's coming, got some kind of announcement.
- Can't wait.
- 11:00 on the dot, don't be late!
- Yeah, yeah, yeah.
- And even though I think Commissioner Douglas
does an outstanding job,
we've had an ongoing lack of communication
between my office and you people here in the trenches.
- We want to open the lines of dialogue--
- Don't interrupt me, Martin.
- Yes, sir.
- And so I've decided to create a liaison between
you and the governor's mansion, someone you can go to...
- Sorry I'm late.
- Someone experienced in the field
who you can talk to about any problems that arise,
who can clear up any changes
in my administration's prison policies.
And so I'd like to present Eleanor O'Connor.
[cheers and applause]
- Thank you governor, and commissioner.
Well, I'm the new kid in town,
fresh off the boat from New York City,
where I worked in a similar capacity for the mayor.
I won't pretend to grasp all the needs of Oswald,
or all of your needs.
But I can promise you that my door will always be unlocked.
I intend to help cut through the bureaucracy,
the bullshit.
[man chuckles] Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
- Okay, get yourselves some cookies and some lemonade.
Ms. O'Connor--
- Ellie.
- Ellie will be hanging around to meet and greet.
- I have to go.
- Me, too.
- Ellie, welcome. I love what you said.
- This is the first smart thing the governor's done in years.
- I get the impression Devlin's not well liked.
- Really? Some of us love him.
- Hello.
- Best of luck.
- Thank you.
- Tim, wait up, I'll head back to Em City with you.
She seems nice, genuine.
- Yeah.
- Do me a favor, don't try to fuck her.
- What?
- Every skirt that crosses the threshold here, you jump on.
- Oh, that is simply not true.
- Wittlesey, Nathan, Howell,
that broad from the state department.
- All right, I'm not gonna be fucking Eleanor O'Connor.
- Oh, no? - No, 'cause I already did.
- What?
- She's my ex-wife.
- You got-- jeez, man.
- In Arkansas,
a man can legally beat his wife once a month.
In Los Angeles, pay attention now,
a man can legally beat his wife with a leather strap
as long as the strap is less than two inches wide.
Or if the woman gives her husband permission,
he can use any size strap he wants.
- I don't care, this is not right!
- Leo free?
- No.
- God damn it!
- Who's that? - Officer Brass.
- This is bullshit! - Brass!
- You know, if I could get
another fucking job somewhere else,
I'd quit in a second.
But I'm a gimp, nobody's hiring gimps these days.
- Dave, what's wrong?
- Wall-to-wall bullshit.
- Leo?
- Well, he's pissed because I've assigned him to reception,
and that I won't let him deal with the prisoners.
You know, put him back in Unit B.
- Well, why won't you?
- Tim, if there's trouble, I need my C.O.s to be agile,
to be able to move, not hobble.
- All the same, he was cut on the job.
- Hey, and I feel badly for him.
But I'm not running a funhouse.
Brass' desires fall on the far side of the overall good.
What did you want to see me about?
- It'll keep.
Dave, I think you should sue.
- Sue? Sue who?
- Oz, the whole prison system,
the fucking state, if need be.
- How can I sue?
- Look, I checked this out for you.
In 1990, Congress passed
the Americans with Disabilities Act,
which protects the disabled from being
discriminated against in the workplace.
- Yeah, but that's like for wheelchair access and stuff.
- No, no, no, not only,
it covers people like you who, because of their injuries,
are demoted.
- Well, I'd have to get a lawyer.
- Well, yeah, but maybe you should try talking
to this state liaison person, this Eleanor O'Connor.
Tell O'Connor how you feel.
- Okay, I will.
- All right, and, uh,
don't take any shit from her.
[gate buzzing]
- Still work late, huh?
- Yeah, well, you know.
- I stopped by earlier, but you weren't around.
Took a tour of Emerald City.
It is quite something you've built here.
Guess it was worth walking out on me after all.
- Ellie...
- No recriminations, Tim.
You made your choices; I made mine.
- Good to see you. Want to grab some dinner?
- No, thanks.
I'm still up to my chest in cardboard boxes.
- Oh, well,
another time then.
- Had a chat with your friend Dave Brass.
Sad tale, his...
Promising basketball career, nipped in the Achilles.
Had a chat with the Warden too.
He's reassigning him to the cafeteria.
- Good.
- Yeah, it'll free up his hours for physical therapy too.
- See, I knew you could turn the situation around.
- You told him to sue the state? - Well...
- Were you serious, or were you just testing me?
- Both.
- You son of a bitch. - You know what?
That's the nicest thing you ever said to me.
- Wait, I'm sure the name calling will get much worse.
- Looking forward to it.
- Likewise, I'm sure.
[tense percussive music]
♪ ♪
- Nice try.
[bell ringing]
Hey, you want to play some pool?
You still torn up about that bus accident?
- Yeah.
I just talked to Carrie's parents.
They're in town for the funeral.
They said they're taking Jewel back to Montana with them.
I might never see my granddaughter again.
- Yeah, that sucks, Vern, but what can you do?
- You never had kids, did you?
- Nah.
My wife didn't want to mess with her figure.
- Well,
then you don't have a fucking clue
what I'm talking about.
[tires squeal]
[tense music]
♪ ♪
[woman moaning]
- Bitch! [unintelligible]
[harsh note playing]
Bye, baby.
[woman moaning]
- Prisoner #97P468,
Charles Pancamo, AKA Chucky The Enforcer.
Convicted June 4th, 1997,
sentence, 35 years,
up for parole in 15.
- Get your feet off my desk.
All right, I wanted to see all of you
because I've got some news.
Peter Schibetta's returning to Em City today.
- Schibetta? I thought he was in the loony bin.
- Well, not anymore.
He's undergone long-term therapy,
and I'm happy to say he's recovered.
- You mean, he got over being raped by Adebisi?
- I don't want to minimize his trauma
or pretend that he's exactly the way he was before,
but he's learned to accept and deal with the situation.
- Be good to see Petey.
He and me, we came up together.
And his father...
- Yeah, his father was a legend here.
- Yeah, well, um,
it's gonna be rough on him for a few days.
So all I ask is that you...
tread lightly.
- Don't you worry about it, McManus.
If there's one thing, we know how to take care of our own.
- It's all different, huh?
- Yeah, the gas explosion
pretty much obliterated the place.
- Good.
- Come on!
- There you go.
- Come with me. - Where?
- The FBI wants to talk to you.
- FBI?
Fuckin' want talk to me?
- Just move it, Pancamo.
[bell ringing]
- [laughing]
[speaking indistinctly, grunting]
- [screaming] - [vocalizing softly]
[bell ringing]
- Do you know a man named Gaetano Cincetta?
- Not that I recall.
- You don't know him?
- Not that I recall.
- You never met him?
- Not that I recall.
- That's odd.
Mr. Cincetta,
who just blabbed his way into the Witness Protection Program,
says you hired him to kill someone.
Hank Schillinger.
Do you know Hank Schillinger?
- Not that I recall.
- He's the son of Vernon Schillinger.
Do you know Vernon Schillinger?
- Not that I recall.
- He's a fellow resident here at Oswald.
You remember him now?
- To the best of my recoglection--
- Recollection.
- I don't know the fucking guy.
- Chris Keller confessed to hiring a hit man
to kill Hank Schillinger,
only he never identified who.
Mr. Cincetta says he's never heard of Keller.
We gave Keller a lie detector test.
Turns out he lied about his part in the murder.
Now, why do you think Keller would do that?
- Nice tie.
- [exhales sharply]
Okay, Officer,
take this weasel back
to whatever hole he crawled out of.
I guess my next conversation's with Vern Schillinger.
I wonder if he'll remember you.
[tense percussive music]
♪ ♪
- He's gonna tell Schillinger that I ordered the hit.
Then Schillinger's gonna come searching for details.
- Fuck!
You know, when I asked you to hire somebody
to kill Hank Schillinger,
you said nobody would find the body,
not in a million years; you guaranteed it.
Well, it only took six fucking months.
Seems like you did a really half-assed job.
- Hey, you be careful.
To be honest, Gaetano Cincetta was a big disappointment.
- Schillinger's gonna cut off my balls
if he finds out the truth.
- He won't!
Look, it was my screw-up,
so I'm gonna cover for you.
- Yeah, well, I'll sleep well tonight.
- That's the thing about Oz, you know?
You try to put the shit behind you,
make a real effort.
And just when you're thinking, "Maybe I have,"
more shit comes flying.
You sure it was Pancamo put the mark on Hank?
- Absolutely sure.
- Hey, you, you fucking dago!
You killed my son.
[tense percussive music]
♪ ♪
[all shouting]
- Ahh!
[indistinct shouting]
[shouting continues, fence rattling]
- [snarling]
[buzzer blaring]
- [groaning]
I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine.
Just give me a fucking Band-Aid.
- Oh, let's see.
- [groaning]
- Okay--whoop. - [groans]
♪ ♪
- Jimmy?
- Sister Pete, what's going on?
- The Aryans attacked the Sicilians.
Pancamo hired the hit man to kill Hank Schillinger.
- Oh, I see.
- Keller wasn't involved in Hank's death,
so Massachusetts has no reason to hold him.
- Wait, that means...
- Chris Keller is coming back to Oz.
♪ ♪
[buzzer blaring]
- McManus, hold up, hold up.
Can I--can I have a word with you?
- Sorry, I'm on the run.
- Oh, please don't do me like this, man.
Heartless motherfucker.
- Ooh...
- What the fuck did you say to me?
I got a big heart a few days ago.
Now I'm fucking heartless?
- I didn't mean it, okay?
- Well, I'm here, what do you want?
- I know that you done everything you can to help me.
But sitting here,
I've come up with a whole new solution.
If I could just, you know,
hang with you a bit, you know.
No, no, no, no, not like before.
No, just--if I could just, you know, chill in your office,
you know, just from time to time.
- No! Jesus Christ!
- Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do?
I mean, yo,
you're the only friend I got here.
I mean, just anything, just to have somebody to talk to.
- All right, vacation's over, come on, White.
Out.
- Look, uh...
Help me, please.
- I'll try to think of something, okay?
- What am I supposed to be doing while you thinking?
- Well, if it takes staying in your cell 24/7
to steer clear of trouble...
- That's worse than the cage.
That'd be like being back in Solitary.
Damn.
- [speaking foreign language]
- Take that bread out your mouth.
- Sorry, Minister.
- Oh, you sorry?
- Yes, Minister, forgive me.
- Get up.
Walk away. - What?
- You can't quell your desire for even a moment
in order to give thanks and praise to Allah?
Grab your tray.
Take off your kufi.
- Imam, you're being too severe.
- Oh, you-- you're testing me, Arif?
- Brother Lalar is new to the fold.
Scold him, take away his food, but don't cast him out.
- You'll sit down?
You sit down? Did I tell you to sit down?
You cannot sit down!
- Hey! Hey!
- Did I tell you you can sit down?
Did I?
[grunting]
- So what was all that about?
Why'd you attack Ahmad Lalar?
- You keep me from going to the Hole,
so now in return, I got to answer your questions?
- Yeah.
Although part of me thinks
I'm not gonna get any answers from you.
I mean, a man who used to fight with words
is now not only using his fists, he's choking Muslims.
Give you 10 to 1 odds you don't have the slightest clue
why you're doing the things you're doing.
- And you would lose the bet.
The day Adebisi died, I changed,
and I took his life to save my own.
That was the Adebisi side of me coming to the surface.
Only now, I realize it hasn't just come to the surface.
It's at the very center of who I am.
- Bullshit.
Everybody's got demons.
But you've given all the weight of who you are
over to this horrible shit
you're discovering about yourself.
Yet, you're more equipped than any other prisoner in Oz
to straighten yourself out, and you know it.
And knowing that and having failed to do so
has fucked you up even more.
- Just put me in the Hole, McManus.
- I'm not putting you in the Hole.
- Please.
- I'm giving you a job instead.
- A job?
- You want to save yourself, Kareem?
- Yes.
- Well, I want you to save somebody else.
- What you looking at?
What's he doing here?
What--what the fuck is he looking at me like that for?
- I'm the one who's gonna help you.
- I don't need no motherfucking help,
especially from him.
Man, what--what you gonna do for me?
- Kareem's gonna be your new sponsor.
- Sponsor?
- Starting today, you and I will share the same pod.
We will exercise together, we will eat together,
we will work alongside of each other.
- You still need to meet with Sister Pete for counseling,
and your attendance is mandatory at all drug rehab sessions.
Plus, the Warden wants you tested for drugs once a week.
Now, Omar,
this is your last play, and it's fourth and long.
You miss one meeting, you get in one fight,
you piss Said off one time,
it's back to Solitary permanently.
You understand me?
- [sighs] All right.
Hey, yeah.
Yeah.
[indistinct chatter and laughter]
♪ ♪
[chuckles] Yeah, boy!
My boy is something else, ain't he?
McManus, jack... [chuckles]
That motherfucker's like a straight-up brainiac,
you know, genius motherfucker and shit, boy.
[laughs] Shit.
Well, he be coming up with all kind of little ways,
you know, and shit, you know, to help me try to lick my--
uh, what's it called? Shortcomings.
[laughs]
Yeah, and I done fucked with him a couple of times too
and shit, you know?
You know what? Having me, you know,
all up in your draft and shit, picking up all of them,
you know, Said-ian vibrations--
- First of all, don't hustle me.
- [chuckling] Wait, hold up, baby.
Yo, you got to chill, baby.
- Second of all, I am not your baby.
My name is Minister Said,
and you will address me as such.
- No, no, no, fuck that shit, all right.
I mean, I told you, man, about that shit, you know.
You ain't coming up here,
converting my ass up in here, man.
That shit is out, forget it.
- I am not converting you.
Also, I am not gonna argue with you.
This thing is over.
Get out.
- What?
- Out!
- Whoa.
Look, shut the door, all right?
I'm sorry, shut it, please.
- Make your bed.
Make your bed.
[inhales deeply and sighs]
I will not fight.
- You talking to me?
- Say it,
"I will not fight."
- I will not fight. [scoffs]
- Again.
- I will not fight.
- From now on, that will be your mantra.
Every time another inmate gets in your face,
you will say, "I will not fight."
You will say it over and over,
out loud if you have to.
- I will not fight.
- Yeah.
- I will not fight, I will not fight.
If I could just conquer not fighting,
shit, I'm home free, boy.
I mean, there's nothing in the world
I hate more than motherfucking Solitary.
If I go back in there, fucking worms...
- Worms? - Yeah, man, motherfucking...
- What are you talking about, worms?
- In my head!
Every time I go back, it's the worms.
Fat ones, big ones, long ones.
I can't survive the fucking worms!
I think about spending the rest of my life
in this Em City joint.
18,000 days,
23,000 days.
That's a lot of days.
Lot of days not to fight, not to get high.
Think about it like that.
My chances don't look too good.
♪ ♪
- In Nogales, Arizona,
it's illegal to wear suspenders.
You gotta wonder what happened.
What cataclysmic event occurred
which caused the city fathers to decree that,
"In our town, no one, under any circumstances,
can wear suspenders"?
And are there radical fringe groups in Nogales
who meet at night in secret, who slip off their belts
and, in defiance of the law, put these suckers on, huh?
- How's Cloutier?
- Oh, his vital signs are stable,
but he still can't move very much.
- Is he talking yet?
- Um, no, only guttural sounds.
- Could I see him?
- Ray, he's pretty disfigured.
- I was an assistant chaplain at Benchley Memorial
when I was a seminarian.
I've seen burn victims.
Oh, sweet Jesus.
Jeremiah?
If you don't mind, I'd like to say a prayer.
Our Father, who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come... - [breathing gurgles]
- Thy will be done,
on Earth as it is in heaven.
- [wheezing]
- Give us this day our daily bread
and forgive us our trespasses...
[knocking]
It's open.
- Mukada?
- Come in, leave the door open.
What did you need to see me about?
- I heard that you're planning a memorial service
to honor the victims and the families
who were killed in the bus crash.
- Yes, I've asked Arif and Rabbi Gold
and Reverend Taylor
from the First Baptist to participate.
- But not me.
- You?
- Ever since Jeremiah Cloutier's unfortunate accident...
- I would hardly call being bricked up into a wall
accidental.
- I meant the third-degree burns
he suffered from the gas explosion.
- Oh.
- Since then, I've been ministering
to many of the Christians in Oz.
- Getting up on stage and reading from a Bible
doesn't constitute a ministry.
- You're still holding a grudge because I rejected Romanism.
- No, as a matter of fact, I'm glad
you're no longer part of my congregation.
- I demand to be included in the ecumenical service.
- You're not qualified.
- I'm an ordained priest.
- [laughs] Since when?
- I signed up by mail.
50 bucks, see?
- Get out of my office.
- [inhales sharply]
I'll go over your head, to the Warden.
- Yeah, and he'll ignore you.
- Then I'll go over his head to God.
- Listen, you little punk.
We know that you were involved in Cloutier's accident.
And as soon as he's able to talk, to testify,
you're going to Solitary for the rest of your goddamn life!
[eerie music]
- We have to kill Cloutier, right now.
His throat's still sore from the burns,
but when he's well, he's gonna sing
and we'll all be up shit's creek.
- Look, I'm already up the creek, pal, okay?
- Look, Jaz, I know that because you were the one
in charge of the work detail that day,
you've taken the heat for the rest of us.
But that's no reason that Cloutier should live.
- Look, he dies, the hacks blame me.
- Right, right. - Okay?
- So the person who kills him has to be above reproach.
Jim?
- No, I can't.
Cloutier brought me to Jesus.
- Jim, if you're not part of the solution,
you're Satan's tool.
- Yeah.
Do the deed or die.
♪ ♪
- Jim? Jim Burns?
Those men want you to kill me, Jim,
but you know that what they ask is wrong.
- Yes.
- So I say unto you, kill them.
Kill Hoyt and Kirk.
- The Reverend Cloutier was in my cell last night.
- For what, a blow job?
[laughter] - This ain't funny.
- You had a dream.
- It was no dream.
- Chickenshit.
- You're trying to get out of the job.
Go kill the cocksucker.
- No! - No?
- He told me to kill you!
[clanging, men shouting]
[all shouting]
- [screams]
[bones crunching]
[man shouting indistinctly]
- Son of a bitch...
- It's self-defense. It's...
It's motherfucking self-defense.
I got witnesses.
You got nothing on me,
There was fuckin' 10 guys there.
- Put him in the Hole.
- Self-defense!
- Will we be having a service for Jim?
- Yes, of course.
We must pray for his immortal soul.
[gate buzzes]
- Lights out!
- Man-made laws are arbitrary, transitory.
What was perfectly legal yesterday
suddenly becomes a felony today
with the stroke of some president's pen.
The laws of God, however, are carved in stone.
They do not change.
And when you break God's law,
you don't go to prison; you go to hell.
And you burn.
[eerie music]
♪ ♪
[metal clangs]
♪ ♪
- Hoyt...
- [screaming]
[wails] - Don't be afraid.
- [screaming]