Life Of David Gale Script - Dialogue Transcript

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Life Of David Gale Script


   

                   

- Shit! Shit! Shit!



 

                   

- Hey! Stop, please!



 

                   

In a related story,

the high court had also refused...



 

                   

to stay Friday's execution of former

philosophy professor David Gale.



 

                   

- Oh, boy.

- Gale had sought a review

of his      conviction...



 

                   

for the rape and murder

of his University of Austin

colleague Constance Harraway.



 

                   

The case has received

nation wide media attention

because Gale and Harraway...



 

                   

were activists for DeathWatch,

a nonprofit abolitionist organization.



 

                   

Do you understand how much money the

taxpayers pay in the state of Texas...



  

                   

to put one person to death?



  

                   

- What do we want?

- No more executions!



  

                   

Governor,

can't we all just admit...



  

                   

that the capital punishment system

in this country is not working?



  

                   

They're not gonna stay Gale.

It's on TV right now. Listen.



  

                   

Defense lawyers

had hoped to argue...



  

                   

that Gale's former activism

against capital punishment...



  

                   

unduly prejudiced

the Texas judicial system.



  

                   

The deal was, Bitsey

would get the interview

if the stay was refused.



  

                   

He'll talk to her

for two hours a day...



  

                   

Tuesday, Wednesday

and Thursday.



  

                   

Can't do Friday, no.

'Cause Friday's the day

they execute him.



  

                   

- The lawyer said only Bitsey.

- Gale's going down.



  

                   

"Only Bitsey" means only Bitsey.



  

                   

I don't get to make

the rules, Joe. Please,

I'm a fat black woman.



  

                   

- Tell him I said...

- What we need is to put her

on a plane to Texas.



  

                   

Why do you get like that around legal?

Hold on. We're coming over.



  

                   

So what's this "Only Bitsey

means only Bitsey" stuff?



  

                   

- They asked for you and no substitutes.

- Who's "they" exactly?



  

                   

Gale's lawyers.

More exactly, Gale's lawyer...

some good ol' boy in Austin.



  

                   

- Why do they want me?

- You're telling me you don't

want the assignment?



  

                   

No. I just can't see why a guy

on death row about to be

executed should ask for me.



  

                   

I think they like the kiddie

porn piece you did and going

to jail and stuff.



  

                   

I don't know.

Maybe he saw your picture

and thinks you're cute.



  

                   

- So how much access do I get?

- Three interviews.

No time for any more.



  

                   

By Friday, the guy's a goner.



  

                   

- Okay. What exactly is our story?

- Rape, murder, death row.



  

                   

Very intelligent guy.

Hey, maybe he's even innocent.



  

                   

Yeah, right.



  

                   

No, no. Tell him

I'll call him back. Thanks.



  

                   

- Okay, so what's your problem?

- Hi, Barbara.



  

                   

Good morning, Bitsey.

Okay. Here's my concern.



  

                   

Setting aside the cost, although

half a million dollars...

in cash, I might add...



  

                   

for three days of interviews

is not only illegal, it's obscene.



  

                   

That's market value.

The guy's never talked.



  

                   

Aside from that, I... we... are still

uncomfortable with the arrangement.



  

                   

- Why?

- You just spent a very

public seven days in jail...



  

                   

for a very public

contempt of court citation.



  

                   

For protecting sources.

If you're so goddamn

uncomfortable with the story...



  

                   

why did you slap it

on both the domestic

and the international covers?



  

                   

Look, what makes me... us...

uncomfortable is the fact

that a rapist-slash-murderer...



  

                   

has asked to spend the last three days

of his life giving an interview...



  

                   

his very first...

to a reporter who is now famous

for protecting sexual deviants...



  

                   

a reporter who's also

a very attractive woman.



  

                   

Aw, come on!

This is disparate treatment.



  

                   

- Oh, boy.

- I could go if I were an ugly guy?



  

                   

There's an agenda issue here

which would be defused

with the presence of a man.



  

                   

I hear lawyers gleefully

saying the words "Bloom vs.

NEWS Magazine, Incorporated. "



  

                   

Your Honor, I started to notice

my assignments being determined

on the basis of my sex.



  

                   

- No.

- You've gotta let her go now.



  

                   

- That's not quite what I meant.

- He's gotta let you go.



  

                   

All right, all right. Enough.

But the intern will be

with you at all times.



  

                   

- Okay.

- What? Intern?

No. You gotta be kidding.



  

                   

- That's what he said. He's the boss.

- He's a jerk.



  

                   

Come on. Not an intern.

I always work alone.



  

                   

- Not this time, Bitsey.

- Look, I'm not baby-sitting.



  

                   

Gale's D.N.A. Was everywhere.

His semen was inside her.



  

                   

He was seen leaving her house.



  

                   

His prints were all over the kitchen,

including one on the bag.



  

                   

- Half a thumb print.

- Okay, half a thumb print.

That's enough.



  

                   

He could've touched it

before it was a murder weapon.



  

                   

Do you fondle

your friends' garbage bags?



  

                   

I get very touchy

around household plastics.

I'm particularly fond of Tupperware.



  

                   

- Tupperware?

- Look, I'm just saying...



  

                   

the bag could've been sitting

up on the counter or something.



  

                   

- Zack? He did it. Now he's gonna die.



  

                   

And you know something?

Maybe that's exactly what he deserves.



  

                   

But the murder's way too fuckin' clumsy.

This guy is a major intellectual.



  

                   

Top of his Harvard class,

Rhodes scholar, tenured at   

two books published.



  

                   

He's an academic stud.

Look at his wife,

a regular Grace Kelly...



  

                   

old money svelte,

father was ambassador to Spain.



  

                   

Shit. The light's on again.



  

                   

- Ignore it. It's a rental.

- Do you smell anything?



  

                   

No. Besides, the guy's

a flaming liberal.



  

                   

A person's politics

has nothing to do...



  

                   

- with his propensity

to commit a crime.

- Wrong.



  

                   

Aren't we supposed to smell

something if it's overheating?



  

                   

Seventy-three percent of

all serial killers vote Republican.



  

                   

Look, throw your cigarette out

so we can smell.



  

                   

- No. You'll stink up the car.

Throw it out.



  

                   

- I'm not gonna fuckin' pollute.

- Zack!



  

                   

There is definitely

something wrong with this car.



  

                   

Shit. This is so irritating.



  

                   

- How far to Huntsville?

- Look. I'm gonna pull off.



  

                   

NEWS Magazine reporters

Bitsey Bloom and Zack Stemmons...



  

                   

enter the rest area

with car troubles.



  

                   

Little did they know, it wasn't

just their car that was in trouble.



  

                   

- I'm a reporter. You're an intern.



  

                   

Whatever.



  

                   

- Is it hot?

- Ow! Jesus! Yes. Isn't it always?



   

                   

- What do I do?

- Call the office and get

the rental road service number.



   

                   

- No signal. I gotta pee.

- Goddamn it.



   

                   

Zack?



   

                   

- Zack?



   

                   

- Zack!

- Yeah!



   

                   

- Good morning.

- Hi.



   

                   

A little early for that, isn't it?



   

                   

- The nonsmoking section's over there.

- I meant the book.



   

                   

Oh. Dialogical Exhaustion

by David Gale.



   

                   

- The guy's a genius.

- What time is it?



   

                   

 :  . There are, like,

   prisons around here.



   

                   

Death row's in the Ellis unit,

but they're moving it to the

Terrell unit end of the year.



   

                   

The waitress's boyfriend works

there, but her last boyfriend

worked in the Huntsville unit.



   

                   

The two before that in Walker.

The Estelle unit has the cutest guys.



   

                   

And, I'm quoting, "My butt's too big

to get an Estelle guy."



   

                   

Ellis is    minutes out of town,

so we've got five and a half hours.



   

                   

Never eat in a place where the menus

have pictures of the food.



   

                   

Maybe we should drive into Austin

and check out the crime scene.



   

                   

That could be some great stuff

for our story, you know?



   

                   

This isn't "our story."

It's not even a story.

It's an interview.



   

                   

Most importantly for you to remember...

it's my interview.



   

                   

Okay. What do I do

for the next five hours?



   

                   

Drive around. Look for

a decent restaurant.



   

                   

You know, Bitsey,

your reputation...



   

                   

as "Mike Wallace with P.M.S"

doesn't do you justice.



   

                   

My reputation

got us invited here.



   

                   

I play by the rules

even if my colleagues don't like it.



   

                   

- It's called... Objectivity.

- Ambition?



   

                   

- So, what can I get you, ma'am?

- Coffee. Just coffee.



   

                   

- Don't push me, smart-ass.



   

                   

You know you're in

the Bible Belt when there are

more churches than Starbucks.



   

                   

When there are more prisons

than Starbucks.



   

                   

He should die, die, die.



   

                   

He's ready to see y'all now.



   

                   

Yes, I am. I'm listenin'

very patiently.



   

                   

Ma'am, I'm not gonna

debate with you...



   

                   

the rights and wrongs

of this situation.



   

                   

Our job is to run

the state prison system.



   

                   

Well, ma'am, this is not France.

This is not Germany.



   

                   

This is Texas,

and we're gonna follow Texas law.



   

                   

Well, you're very welcome, ma'am.

Good-bye now.



   

                   

Thank you, Margie.

Correspondents Bloom

and Stevens, I presume.



   

                   

- Yes. Hello.

- Stemmons.



   

                   

Stemmons. Sorry.

Won't happen again.



   

                   

I'm Duke Grover, T.D.C.J.

Community relations.



   

                   

He's usually

real good with names.



   

                   

And these days, I always like to ask,

do you prefer Miss, Mrs. Or Ms.?



   

                   

- Bitsey.

- Bitsey it is.



   

                   

- Margie, I'm stealin' your guests.

- Okeydokey.



   

                   

- Bitsey, you ever been in a prison?

- Yes.



   

                   

- On death row?

- No.



   

                   

I.D.'s again, please.

All executions in the state of Texas...



   

                   

occur over at

our Huntsville unit downtown...



   

                   

but death row is here

for the time being.



   

                   

This is home to all     offenders

prior to their date.



   

                   

Average stay on row

is nine years.



   

                   

Now, some get commuted,

but most get put to death.



   

                   

- Earl. It'll put you off your supper,



   

                   

But, then, it's supposed to.



   

                   

Carla, New York guests

for Mr. Gale.



   

                   

- Can I get your bags?

- We have three concerns here...



   

                   

- safety, safety and safety.



   

                   

Visitation area's entirely secure. We

just ask that you don't touch the glass.



   

                   

- Windex gets expensive.

- Oh, hey.



   

                   

- You're not carrying a weapon,

are you, Bitsey?



   

                   

- Bitsey?

- Sorry. No.



   

                   

- Mr. Stemmons, you packin'?

- No, sir.



   

                   

- Cell phone?

- They're not working. No service.



   

                   

Then you won't mind

leaving them here.



   

                   

We also have rules against the carryin'

of large sums of cash...



   

                   

- Thank you.

- And the wearin' of open-toed shoes.



   

                   

Those will do just fine.

You want to step on through now?



   

                   

There you go. Mm-hmm.



   

                   

- Thank you, ma'am.

- That's fine.



   

                   

- Open-toed shoes?

- Drives 'em crazy.



   

                   

Your turn, Mr. Stemmons.

Right on through there.



   

                   

Good, good. Now, should

anything unpleasant occur

in the visitation area...



   

                   

we ask you to stay put.



   

                   

And please, follow the instructions

of our fine correctional officers...



   

                   

should they see fit

to give you any.



   

                   

Bobby. Now, anything you say

can be overheard...



   

                   

and any discussion of criminal

activity on your part is admissible.



   

                   

You're not plannin' on

a jailbreak now, are you, Bitsey?



   

                   

- Uh, no.

- Well, rain seems to be holdin' off.



   

                   

You watch your step here, Bitsey girl.

This cement can get pretty slippery.



   

                   

This is our Japanese garden.

Now, we ask you not

to throw coins in the pond.



   

                   

Right this way.

Almost there.



   

                   

Here we are.

This is our visitation area right here.



   

                   

All yours, Mr. Belyeu.

Well, that's it for me.



   

                   

- You folks have a safe visit. Bye now.

- Thank you.



   

                   

- Ms. Bloom? Come right on in here

and make yourself comfortable.

- Yes.



   

                   

Did that P.R. Man

validate your parkin'?



   

                   

- He said the gift shop would do it.

- She's a smart one.



   

                   

- Braxton Belyeu, Mr. Gale's attorney.

- This is Zack Stemmons.



   

                   

My good pleasure.

And right over here,

we have the man of the hour.



   

                   

- Hello.

- Hello.



   

                   

- Hi.

- Sit down,

Gale. Prisoner will not stand.



   

                   

Now, why can't they

turn that thing down?



   

                   

My lawyer respectfully requests

that you adjust the volume

on the speaker system.



   

                   

Gale. Sit down.



   

                   

They're practicing

being cruel and unusual.



   

                   

Well, Ms. Bloom, I'm sure

you're bitin' at the bit.



   

                   

It is our understanding that you

are to have three two-hour sessions...



   

                   

- today, tomorrow and Thursday.

- Mm-hmm.



   

                   

All at  :   in the p.m.



   

                   

I'm sorry we can't

afford you more time...



   

                   

but, contrary

to popular rumor...



   

                   

we have not yet begun to fight.



   

                   

It is our understanding

that you will do this alone.



   

                   

- The magazine would

prefer that I'm here.

- Alone. Understood.



   

                   

It's also our understanding

that you will use no recording

equipment of any kind.



   

                   

- Correct.

- Excellent.



   

                   

Now, I have a few papers for which

I need your Jo Ann Hancock.



   

                   

So if you'd be kind enough

to stop by my Austin office

at your earliest convenience.



   

                   

Thursday mornin', say?

Expenses and so forth.



   

                   

Fine. Till Thursday then. Good luck,

Ms. Bloom. I'll stop by later.



   

                   

Mr. Zack, what say you and me

partake of a death-defyin' cigarette...



   

                   

in the visitors' parking lot?

Bye-bye, y'all.



   

                   

- So.

- Please pull up a seat.



   

                   

- He's quite a character.

- Yes. He's about the only

outside contact I have now.



   

                   

- And a good friend.

- Where's your ex-wife?



   

                   

I don't want you to ask me

questions about her or my son.



   

                   

What I offer you is one thing,

but questions about them

are not part of our deal.



   

                   

Okay. Anything else,

just say "Off the record."



   

                   

I'll take it to my grave.

You can trust me on that.



   

                   

- Does this count

as recording equipment?



   

                   

- How do we start?

- We start with...



   

                   

you telling me

what I'm doing here.



   

                   

No one who looks through that glass

sees a person. They see a crime.



   

                   

I'm not David Gale.

I'm a murderer and a rapist...



   

                   

four days shy of his execution.



   

                   

You're here because

I wanna be remembered

as much for how I led my life...



   

                   

and the decisions that I made

as for how my life ended.



   

                   

- Why me?

- Why not?



   

                   

- You spent some time

behind bars yourself recently.

- I certainly have.



   

                   

Because you do take things

to your grave.



   

                   

Protecting sources,

even kiddie porn scum,

is the magazine policy...



   

                   

and mine.



   

                   

I know.

That's your reputation.



   

                   

Well, I have a hard story

for you to tell, Ms. Bloom.



   

                   

It's not going to be easy.



   

                   

So where do we begin?



   

                   

Well, I suppose I should

tell you how I became

the head of philosophy...



   

                   

at the University of Austin.



   

                   

Come on. Think.



   

                   

I want you to reach back into

those minds and tell me, tell us all...



   

                   

What is it that

you fantasize about?



   

                   

World peace?

I thought so.



   

                   

- Do you fantasize about

international fame?



   

                   

Do you fantasize about

winning a Pulitzer Prize?



   

                   

Or a Nobel Peace Prize?



   

                   

- An MTV Music Award?



   

                   

Do you fantasize about meeting

some genius hunk, ostensibly bad...



   

                   

but secretly simmering

with noble passion...



   

                   

- and willing to sleep

on the wet spot?



   

                   

- I'll take two! I'll take two!

- What was that?



   

                   

Kimberly will take two.



   

                   

You get Lacan's point.

Fantasies have to be unrealistic...



   

                   

because the moment... the second...

that you get what you seek...



   

                   

you don't...

you can't want it anymore.



   

                   

In order to continue to exist...



   

                   

desire must have its objects

perpetually absent.



   

                   

It's not the "it" that you want.

It's the fantasy of"it."



   

                   

- So, desire supports crazy fantasies.



   

                   

Sorry.



   

                   

This is what Pascal means when he says

that we are only truly happy...



   

                   

when daydreaming

about future happiness.



   

                   

- It came today.

- Or why we say...



   

                   

the hunt is sweeter

than the kill.



   

                   

Or be careful what you wish for,

not because you'll get it...



   

                   

but because you're doomed

not to want it once you do.



   

                   

So the lesson of Lacan is,

living by your wants

will never make you happy.



   

                   

What it means to be fully human is

to strive to live by ideas and ideals...



   

                   

and not to measure your life

by what you've attained

in terms of your desires...



   

                   

but those small moments

of integrity, compassion...



   

                   

rationality, even self-sacrifice.



   

                   

Because in the end, the only way

that we can measure the

significance of our own lives...



   

                   

is by valuing the lives of others.



   

                   

All right.

I'll see you all on Monday.



   

                   

Sorry about being late.



   

                   

There was, you know, a thing.



   

                   

Yeah, there usually is, Berlin.



   

                   

Look, I know that

I'm not doin' too well.



   

                   

And to torture a cliché...



   

                   

I would do anything to pass.



   

                   

- Anything, huh?

- Any... thing.



   

                   

Okay, Berlin.



   

                   

I will give you a good grade...



   

                   

I will give you

a very, very good grade...



   

                   

if you would just...



   

                   

study.



   

                   

- Hey.

- Hey.



   

                   

The T.A. Finished transcribing

all the governor's radio and TV

comments. Listen to this gem.



   

                   

Journalist: Governor, don't

you think three executions

in one week is excessive?



   

                   

Governor: 'I say,

bring'em in, strap'em down

and let's rock and roll."'



   

                   

It's good to hear that

our governor's in touch

with his inner frat boy.



   

                   

- Tell me again why you're

not doing this debate.



   

                   

- Telegenics. You have a cuter butt.

- Oh, I hadn't noticed.



   

                   

- I know.

- No. I didn't mean that.



   

                   

I've highlighted stuff.



   

                   

He'll do the whole

"down home wisdom" thing...



   

                   

capital punishment is God's law,

an eye for an eye.



   

                   

Stick to arguments about rational facts.

And watch your ego.



   

                   

Don't come across as one of those

"I hate authority...



   

                   

'cause everyone around here

wears big hats and nobody

in charge reads The New Yorker."



   

                   

- Anything else?

- I'm getting new federal stats

from Amnesty tonight.



   

                   

Well, bring them by Greer's party.



   

                   

I have papers to grade.



   

                   

- And if you have

a hangover tomorrow...

- I'm walkin' away.



   

                   

-   :  ! Bright-eyed

and bushy-tailed.

- Bushy-tailed.



   

                   

Hey, Jamie. Did you

mark your calendar yet?



   

                   

Yep, I sure did.



   

                   

One, two, three, four more days

until Mom comes home.



   

                   

Only four more days?

That's great news.



   

                   

Can I ask you something?

It's really, really important.



   

                   

- Of course you can.

- Can we have pancakes for breakfast?



   

                   

Okay.



   

                   

- With syrup and strawberries?

- Well, we'll have to see.



   

                   

- And chocolate shavers?

No, no. It's chocolate shavings.



   

                   

- And whipped cream?

- Whipped cream?



   

                   

That's a lot of requests

for one little boy.



   

                   

- Why don't you go to sleep?

- Do Cloud Dog too.



   

                   

Okay. Good night,

Cloud Dog.



   

                   

There you go.

You go to sleep.



   

                   

Good night.

Don't forget to feed the fish.



   

                   

- What?

- Don't forget to feed the fish.



   

                   

- Okay.



   

                   

Jo Edna, I'll be back before midnight.

Here's the phone number to reach me.



   

                   

There's chicken and stuff in

the refrigerator if you want some.



   

                   

That's fine, Mr. Gale. Maybe I'll

fix myself something later. Bye.



   

                   

Bye.



   

                   

- Dad, did you feed the fish?

- Yes, I did. Now go to sleep.



   

                   

- Give me back

my broken night -



   

                   

- My mirrored room

my secret life -



   

                   

- He's the Immanuel Kant of the NFL.



   

                   

He's consistent,

he's accurate, he's effective.



   

                   

And let's not forget...

boring. He is boring.



   

                   

If you want boring, read

William Bennett's The Book of Virtues.



   

                   

I'm still asleep.

Someone wake me up.



   

                   

- Professor Gale.

Where's your better half?

- John, how are you?



   

                   

Better half? Oh, my wife.

Um, she's in Spain.



   

                   

Again? I am sorry.



   

                   

John, have you seen Alma?

She's been looking for you.



   

                   

So my wife's affair is

just this big open secret.



   

                   

Uh, hermeneutical bias.



   

                   

The only fun truths are

the ones someone's trying to hide.



   

                   

She's been to Barcelona four

times this year. I don't think

she's trying to hide anything.



   

                   

Well, her father

is the ambassador.



   

                   

Yeah, except the embassy's

in Madrid.



   

                   

Ah. Oh, by the way,

Berlin's here...



   

                   

and, uh, pretty livid.



   

                   

- Why?

- We've expelled her.



   

                   

She got the letter today and

took the opportunity to throw

a little fit in my office.



   

                   

- Talkin' about me?

- Why, yes, as a matter of fact,

we were.



   

                   

Did he tell you that I said,

when you were circumcised...



   

                   

they threw away the wrong part?



   

                   

Yes. I believe he mentioned it.

It's called schmuck.



   

                   

- What?

- The part of the foreskin

they throw away...



   

                   

after circumcision,

I think it's called schmuck.



   

                   

- Aren't we so fucking clever?

- I think perhaps I shall get another.



   

                   

- David?

- Black Bush.



   

                   

You were a jerk this afternoon.



   

                   

Well, for what it's worth,

I didn't know about

the expulsion till just now.



   

                   

Is that supposed to be an apology?



   

                   

No. It's more like a... conciliation.



   

                   

- I call you on the phone -



   

                   

- Every night about this time -



   

                   

- Ross.! Ross.! Ross.! Ross.!



   

                   

All right, all right. All right.



   

                   

As the poets

have mournfully sung...



   

                   

death takes

the innocent young...



   

                   

- the screamingly funny,

the rolling in money,



   

                   

- And those who are very well hung.



   

                   

Gale! Gale! Gale! Gale!



   

                   

Gale! Gale!

Gale! Gale!



   

                   

There once was a lesbian

from Cancun...



   

                   

- Oh, get dirty!

- Who took a young man up to her room...



   

                   

where they argued all night

as to who had the right...



   

                   

to do what and how much

and to whom.



   

                   

Enough. Enough.



   

                   

- Ross! Ross!

- I'm spent.



   

                   

- I have no more.!



   

                   

- Okay. I'm finished. I'm done.



   

                   

I'm not a student anymore.



   

                   

I do not think

I wanna know what that means.



   

                   

There once was a girl

named Berlin...



   

                   

who liked a bit

now and again.



   

                   

Not now and again,

but now...



   

                   

- And again...



   

                   

and again.



   

                   

- Cute, huh?

- Oh, yeah. Very cute.



   

                   

I have a secret...



   

                   

but I have to come

over there to tell you.



   

                   

Oh, no, no, no, no.

No. You s...



   

                   

- Here...

- No. No.



   

                   

- I come.

- You stay back.



   

                   

Woman, you should...



   

                   

You should...

You should stay...



   

                   

I wasn't after the grade.



   

                   

- Look, I don't think

this is... is such a...

- Shh.



   

                   

Now, we can talk, analyze...



   

                   

contemplate.



   

                   

Or you can put your mouth

on my body.



   

                   

Don't reject me.



   

                   

Please.



   

                   

- Rip them.

- What?



   

                   

Rip them off.



   

                   

- Rollin' down a mountain

Slowin' down so fast that

I could smell the brakes -



   

                   

- I got scared away -



   

                   

No. From behind.

From behind.



   

                   

Do it hard.



   

                   

Harder.



   

                   

Bite my shoulder.



   

                   

- Aw.!



   

                   

- Thanks for comin'

- More.! More.!



   

                   

- All right, you guys,

it's time to go home.



   

                   

- Get outta here.



   

                   

It's not gonna work.

That's a faulty argument.



   

                   

Let's say we found

an innocent on death row.

What would change?



   

                   

After the retrial, the governor

would simply go on TV...



   

                   

and say, "See? Thanks to the good people

at DeathWatch, the system works."



   

                   

Sure, if we had absolute proof

that he had executed an innocent...



   

                   

we could demand a moratorium,

like in Illinois.



   

                   

- Are you okay?

- Sorry. Yeah.



   

                   

But that won't happen.

The dead men can't make a case...



   

                   

- and almost-martyrs don't count.

- Got it.



   

                   

- So, keep it rational. And stop that.

- Mm-hmm.



   

                   

- What?

- Active listening.

I hate active listeners.



   

                   

I feel like they're too busy

pretending to listen to

actually hear what I'm saying.



   

                   

I can listen and actively listen

at the same time.



   

                   

- I'm good at that.

- Did you bring the Amnesty stats?



   

                   

Yes. No. Oh!

I left them at home.



   

                   

I have a copy.



   

                   

- You want to tell me what's up?

- Nothing.



   

                   

Everything.



   

                   

Something profoundly

stupid happened last night.



   

                   

I hope you used a condom.



   

                   

Oh. Jesus Christ, David.



   

                   

- Was she one of yours?

- It was Berlin.



   

                   

Oh, great!



   

                   

Oh, that's great.

I can hear the grapevine now.



   

                   

"They had to suspend her so that Gale

could dick her with a clear conscience."



   

                   

A power differential equals coercion.

That is great.



   

                   

- You're so weak.

- You're not my wife, Constance.

Thank God.



   

                   

Well, don't worry.

It's not a position

I aspire to, so fuck you.



   

                   

- I didn't mean it that way.

Are you okay?

- Let's go. Yes!



   

                   

- Really?

- Yes. Let's go.



   

                   

There are

      murders a year

in the United States.



   

                   

Ten of the    states

that have abolished

the death penalty...



   

                   

they have a murder rate that's

lower than the national average.



   

                   

And if he starts with

the religious stuff, just say that...



   

                   

nearly every denomination

in the United States

opposes the death penalty.



   

                   

- Are you listening? Okay.

- Yes.



   

                   

- All right.

Ten seconds, everybody.

- Roll tape, please.



   

                   

Count 'em in, Mack.



   

                   

Here we go.

Five, four...



   

                   

Welcome back to Batter's Box.

We continue our very special

four-part program...



   

                   

with Governor Hardin, and

arguing capital punishment with him...



   

                   

is DeathWatch regional codirector,

Professor David Gale.



   

                   

- You are up, Governor.

- You know, Alan,

I always say the same thing...



   

                   

and I'm gonna keep on sayin' it...

I hate killin'...



   

                   

and my administration

will kill to stop it.



   

                   

- How about it?

- Murderers are not deterred

by the thought of execution.



   

                   

They're just not,

and you know it.



   

                   

Every single study that's

been done on this subject...

and there's been over    ...



   

                   

and you've read them...

has reached the same conclusion.

They all say the same thing.



   

                   

Well, maybe you should

read your Bible.



   

                   

Deuteronomy   :  .

An eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.



   

                   

What did Gandhi say about that?



   

                   

"The old law of an eye for an eye

leaves us all blind."



   

                   

Well, I'm sorry...

and with respect...

that's fuzzy liberal thinking.



   

                   

- You really believe that, Governor?

- Of course.



   

                   

That's interesting. 'Cause you

said that yourself in a speech

in your first campaign.



   

                   

He got... He got you there,

Governor. How about it?



   

                   

Yes, he did.

Yes, he did.



   

                   

If you're not a liberal at   

you've got no heart.



   

                   

And if you're still a liberal at   

you've got no brain.



   

                   

- That's Winston Churchill.

- Touché.



   

                   

So what you're essentially

saying and what you feel is...



   

                   

and this is to choose another quote...

"that a healthy society...



   

                   

must stop at nothing

to cleanse itself of evil."



   

                   

Uh, yes. Uh...

I'd have to agree.



   

                   

- Did I say that too?

- Oh, no, sir. That was Hitler.



   

                   

Ooh.



   

                   

Oh!



   

                   

Can't we just admit that

the capital punishment system

in this country is not working?



   

                   

We are condemning people to death

based on phony expert testimony...



   

                   

on junk science,

on-on jail house snitches...



   

                   

Alan, did you know that Texas

has the highest per capita

incarceration rate in the world?



   

                   

- Forty-three people

that you executed...

- Alan, could I...



   

                   

were represented by lawyers who were

at one time disbarred or sanctioned.



   

                   

There are two men on death row

right now, on this day...



   

                   

- whose lawyers fell asleep

during cross-examination.

- I'm not a lawyer.



   

                   

And the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals

ruled that that was not...



   

                   

that was not a basis for a retrial.



   

                   

Governor, that's just a flawed,

insane, crazy system.



   

                   

And a flawed system

will kill innocent men.



   

                   

Okay, all right.

Let him answer.



   

                   

All right, Mr. Gale,

we'll play your game. Name one.



   

                   

Name one innocent man that Texas

has put to death during my tenure...



   

                   

of the hundred or so executions...



   

                   

It's     Governor,

in case you lost count.



   

                   

- Let him finish.

- Fine. Thank you. Whatever.



   

                   

Just give me a name...

I'm gonna write it down...



   

                   

a man that you can prove

was innocent...



   

                   

- There you go.



   

                   

And I'll call a moratorium.



   

                   

Mr. Gale.



   

                   

- Are we through here, Alan?

- You know what?

We're running out of time.



   

                   

I'd like to thank my guests,

Governor Hardin and Professor

David Gale from DeathWatch.



   

                   

- Roll credits.

- Thank you for joining me today.

Hope you will join me tomorrow.



   

                   

Your exact words were...



   

                   

"Just tell me when my ego's

getting in the way of the work. "



   

                   

I'm telling you, your ego's

getting in the way of the work.



   

                   

I didn't wanna do this

in the first place.



   

                   

You put up two seconds of

protest at the thought of

being on a televised debate.



   

                   

- What does that mean?

- It means that DeathWatch

suffers because...



   

                   

you're so anxious to finger authority,

to publicly prove that David Gale...



   

                   

is so much fucking smarter

than the powers that be!



   

                   

Learn to work without

an audience. Try squeezing

money from the donor list.



   

                   

Have you licked one single

mail-out envelope?



   

                   

- Mr. Gale?

- Hey, guys, the governor went that way.



   

                   

Ramirez... Austin Police.

This is Officer Hasermann.



   

                   

What, is debating the governor

a crime now?



   

                   

No, sir. Rape is.



   

                   

- Berlin had my bite marks.

- Gale! Time's up.



   

                   

Bruises. Her clothes were ripped.

My skin was found under her fingernails.



   

                   

I mean, it didn't look like anything

but rape. Then she drops the charges...



   

                   

and leaves town, making

it look like I was guilty...



   

                   

and she was too traumatized

to face a trial.



   

                   

My wife had to read

all about this while she was

sitting in the airport...



   

                   

wondering where I was,

why I wasn't there to pick her up.



   

                   

It took me almost two weeks

to get bailed out.



   

                   

- And the grad student Berlin?



   

                   

Why do you think

she did it?



   

                   

Poke her finger at authority,

show the powers that be

how much smarter she was.



   

                   

Grad student's revenge.

I don't really know.



   

                   

- Do you know where I can find her?

- No.



   

                   

First year I was in here,

I got a postcard from San Francisco.



   

                   

It was signed, "From the student

who would do anything. "



   

                   

Did she say anything else?



   

                   

"I'm sorrier than you can know."



   

                   

- Move it, Gale.

- I'm running out of time.



   

                   

Can you imagine his wife letting

him stew in jail for two weeks?



   

                   

Who can blame her? We'll get

an address for the Berlin girl

from the university.



   

                   

You still don't think

he's telling the truth.



   

                   

- On the Berlin rap?

- On the whole rap.



   

                   

Who knows? Anyway,

there is no truth, only perspectives.



   

                   

If you say there's no truth,

you're claiming

it's true there's no truth.



   

                   

- It's a logical contradiction.

- Working on our Philosophy

Merit Badge, are we?



   

                   

When it comes to rape,

an accusation's as good

as a conviction.



   

                   

- It sticks like shit.

- That's an appetizing metaphor.



   

                   

Technically, a simile.

I think he's telling the truth.



   

                   

This you know from sitting

in a prison lobby?



   

                   

- It's just my perspective.

- Three different courts

found him guilty, Zack.



   

                   

That's enough perspective for me.



   

                   

Okay, okay, okay.



   

                   

 -  - -what?



   

                   

Seven.



   

                   

Thirty-three... oh-three.



   

                   

    .     .

Right there.



   

                   

Geez. Look at the sign.



   

                   

- The stranger in your life -

- Hi.



   

                   

- I'm Bitsey Bloom.

This is Zack Stemmons.



   

                   

- We're... Uh, yeah.

- You want the tour?



   

                   

There's a $   mandatory

donation... apiece.



   

                   

But you get

a reenactment photo pack,

and it's got five pictures.



   

                   

- Okay.

- I gotta collect first.



   

                   

Oh, sure. I got it.



   

                   

Go sign the book.

It doesn't have to be

your real name though.



   

                   

The first page just says

you're here to do research

on violent crime.



   

                   

The state requires it

for nonprofit shit.



   

                   

Take a reenactment

photo pack.



   

                   

Uh, if you guys could share one,

it'd be really cool...



   

                   

'cause the fuckers that

do my prints jerk my chain.



   

                   

That's me.

My boyfriend took it.



   

                   

We also got a video.

It's    bucks 'cause you

can see my tits.



   

                   

There's a version

without tits. It's   .



   

                   

- Do many people take the tour?

- Not so much anymore.



   

                   

We thought this'd be, like,

a busy week with Gale getting

the prune juice and all.



   

                   

So you... you don't mind

living here?



   

                   

It's better than livin'

with my dick-wad parents.



   

                   

It starts over here.

She let him crash here sometimes.



   

                   

He was, like,

constantly wasted.



   

                   

Exhibit one.

He drank scotch religiously.



   

                   

- The rest is in the kitchen.



   

                   

Here's number two.

This is where the tripod was.



   

                   

My boyfriend borrowed the one

we usually show to folks.



   

                   

They never found a camera

or photos or video or anything.



   

                   

Gale must have buried them.



   

                   

These serial killer dudes

take photos to whack off to later.



   

                   

He-He's not exactly

a serial killer.



   

                   

Whatever.



   

                   

She was, like,

totally naked right here.



   

                   

The meter man saw her

through the door.



   

                   

Gale handcuffed her,

taped her mouth...



   

                   

and then taped a bag over

her head so she couldn't breathe.



   

                   

He used those housewife gloves

so he wouldn't leave prints.



   

                   

They found sticky stuff

from the tape on them.



   

                   

- Uh! We ask folks

not to touch the exhibit.

- Right.



   

                   

Totally sick part

is where they found

the key to the handcuffs.



   

                   

- Yeah. We know.

- Wait. What? Where was it?



   

                   

It was in her stomach, dude.

Gale made her swallow it

before he bagged her.



   

                   

That's pretty much

the highlights.



   

                   

Got questions?



   

                   

I can still smell

the cigarette smoke.



   

                   

It's the barbecue.



   

                   

Can you imagine?

The key was in her stomach.



   

                   

That's so fucking cold, man.



   

                   

- Zack?

- What?



   

                   

Isn't that the cowboy

from the rest area?



   

                   

- The same truck.

- Weird coincidence, huh?



   

                   

Well, coincidences

are always weird.



   

                   

That's why

they are coincidences.



   

                   

Off the record.



   

                   

Okay. We're off.



   

                   

Constance

was murdered...



   

                   

by what's known as

the Securitat method.



   

                   

You're handcuffed,

forced to swallow the key.



   

                   

is sealed around your head...



   

                   

and you're left there

to suffocate.



   

                   

The Securitat did it to Romanians

when they wouldn't inform or confess.



   

                   

Sometimes the bag was ripped off

your head at the last moment

to give you a second chance.



   

                   

Otherwise, you died knowing

that the key to your freedom...



   

                   

was inside of you

the entire time.



   

                   

It's a cheap

but effective method.



   

                   

The problem is...



   

                   

I once mentioned it

in an article that I wrote.



   

                   

Prosecution never knew that.



   

                   

- Someone's framing you?

- Oh, it's more than that.



   

                   

- There was a tripod.

- Right.



   

                   

Facing her body.

We back on the record?



   

                   

Yes. The tripod

had no fingerprints on it.



   

                   

That means that

somebody brought it there...



   

                   

set it up,

wiped it clean and left it.



   

                   

Why? It's as if they wanted me

to know that somewhere out there...



   

                   

is a record of exactly

what happened that afternoon...



   

                   

as if they wanted me to die knowing

that the key to my freedom...



   

                   

is out there somewhere.



   

                   

Maybe you're being paranoid.



   

                   

Miss Bloom, I used to be the state's

leading death penalty abolitionist...



   

                   

and now I'm on death row.



   

                   

Doesn't that strike you

as a little odd?



   

                   

Any idea who "they" are?



   

                   

No, but I've got someone

working on that...



   

                   

someone I'm relying on

to prove my innocence.



   

                   

Belyeu's hired a detective?



   

                   

A journalist.



   

                   

She has to help me.



   

                   

- You know I'm innocent.

- No.



   

                   

- No, I don't.



   

                   

Wear me like a fur, Daddy.

Wear me like a fur.



   

                   

Okay. Who's your hero?

Who's your... Ow! Ow!

You go get Cloud Dog.



   

                   

Hey! Cloud Dog!



   

                   

Call me when you land.



   

                   

- Has any couple ever survived

a trial separation?

- Don't.



   

                   

Isn't separating contrary

to the whole idea of trying

to work things out?



   

                   

- Don't.

- Boo!



   

                   

Jamie, get in, sweetie.



   

                   

- See ya later, alligator.

- After a while, crocodile.



   

                   

- Take it easy, "Japaneesee."

- Okeydokey, "artichokee."



   

                   

Scoot.



   

                   

- Listen...

- I sent you an E-mail.



   

                   

- An E-mail.

- Just read it.



   

                   

Jamie.



   

                   

- Come on, sweetie.



   

                   

Just read it.



   

                   

You could at least hide the bottle.



   

                   

Well?



   

                   

Officially, you're on sabbatical.



   

                   

Unofficially,

they want you out of here.



   

                   

It was  - .



   

                   

How did Ross vote?



   

                   

I'm not supposed to dis...



   

                   

Against you.



   

                   

And you?



   

                   

For you...



   

                   

and against my politics.



   

                   

- Yes. Mada...



   

                   

- No. M... Please, please.



   

                   

Madam. Atenc...

¡Atención.! Attenzione.!



   

                   

Uh, I am...

My name is David Gale.



   

                   

I have phoned before.

Yes? Yes?



   

                   

- Can...



   

                   

No. Uh... Por favor.



   

                   

What? No, never mind.

Can you please get Sharon Gale?



   

                   

- Ah.! Señora Gale.

- Ah! Yes. Miss Gale. Yes.



   

                   

- Hello? Hello?



   

                   

So I... I wanted to hear

your feedback on the idea.



   

                   

Look, Professor Gale, I could sit here...

as I'm sure others have...



   

                   

and plead departmental cutbacks,

claim you need more publications...



   

                   

I need a minority... whatever.



   

                   

All bull geschichte.



   

                   

Your record's brilliant.

You're an original voice,

worth in today's...



   

                   

"scarcity defines value capitalist

system under which we toil..."



   

                   

your weight in gold.



   

                   

Hell, it's... It's not even

your alcohol problem.



   

                   

It'd be nice to have a faculty member

whose crutch wasn't Prozac.



   

                   

But to speak plain,

if I were to hire you...



   

                   

in the eyes of the regents,

the alumni and every freshman

with an ear for gossip...



   

                   

I'd be hiring a rapist.



   

                   

- Those charges were dropped.

- People would say

you had a good lawyer.



   

                   

- I was innocent.

- You don't get it, do you?



   

                   

You're not politically correct,

Dr. Gale.



   

                   

Welcome to the club.



   

                   

- Socrates is...

is sentenced to death.



   

                   

Socrates is sentenced to death.

I bet you didn't know that.

He was sentenced to death.



   

                   

But Athenian law... Athenian law

let the condemned...



   

                   

- come up with their own

alternate punishment.



   

                   

Isn't that a great idea?

So where are the Athenians

when you really need 'em?



   

                   

So anyway, Socrates...

And he was ugly.



   

                   

- Did I mention that? Did I

mention that Socrates was ugly?



   

                   

He was ugly.

Socrates was ugly, Plato was fat...



   

                   

and, uh, and Aristotle

was a prissy dresser.



   

                   

So anyway, Socrates

comes up with this idea.



   

                   

He says... He says, "Well, what if

I pay a fine instead of death?"



   

                   

He suggests a fine.

All he has to do in order to live...



   

                   

is to come up with

an appropriately punitive figure.



   

                   

Punitive figure.



   

                   

Guess what he suggested?

Thirty bucks.



   

                   

Thirty bucks?

Does that make any sense?



   

                   

Thirty bucks. That's    mina.

That was the currency

of the day... a mina.



   

                   

Well, it's minae.

Minae. That's the plural.



   

                   

Minae.



   

                   

Thirty bucks!

Thirty pieces of silver.



   

                   

And the judges are so pissed that

more of them voted to kill him...



   

                   

than had voted him guilty

in the first place.



   

                   

That just doesn't make any sense.



   

                   

Thirty pieces of silver.



   

                   

Just like the Judas guy,

the Jesus kisser...



   

                   

who was also a prissy dresser.



   

                   

Without a successful completion

of an alcohol-treatment program...



   

                   

you can forget visitation.



   

                   

You'll be lucky

to get a Christmas card.



   

                   

That's if there even is

a custody hearing.



   

                   

- What does that mean?

- If your wife convinces

a Spanish court...



   

                   

that you're a danger to the child,

then you'll never see him again.



   

                   

He just has to come home.

He's gotta come back.



   

                   

Hey, Pete, can we have

another round here.



   

                   

I'm fine.



   

                   

- I just have to go get him then.

- Europe's not Mexico, David.



   

                   

They got real borders over there.

You might be able to get yourself

in easy enough...



   

                   

but getting out

with a six-year-old...



   

                   

That's a whole different

kettle of crawdads.



   

                   

Then you get your life together.



   

                   

- I'm fine. I'm fine.

- Pronto.



   

                   

Who wants to start?



   

                   

Hi. My name is David, and...



   

                   

I am an alcoholic.



   

                   

Hi, David.



   

                   

So, Mr. Gale...



   

                   

tell me three

personal qualities...



   

                   

that you feel you have...



   

                   

that would make you

a successful Radio Shed manager.



   

                   

- Three.

- Three.



   

                   

Okay. Well...



   

                   

No, I'm sorry.



   

                   

I'm...



   

                   

Oh, I'm sorry.



   

                   

- Welcome back.

- Thanks.



   

                   

- You look good.

- I feel good.



   

                   

Look, there's somethin'

that you gotta see.



   

                   

Betty Sue Johnson's

been rescheduled.



   

                   

Her execution date

is set for the eighth.



   

                   

I have a conference call

with Washington tonight.



   

                   

If the new national director

will commit to emergency funds...



   

                   

So Betty Sue gets commuted,

and you only prove the system works.



   

                   

But I'll save a life.



   

                   

Hey, where'd you

get that bruise?



   

                   

Oh, just... doin' chores.



   

                   

- Is your cowboy gettin' rough with you?

- Ha ha.



   

                   

Oh, there he is.

Hey, Dusty...



   

                   

does she ever invite you overand not put you to work?



   

                   

Hey, David.



   

                   

All right.

Tell me her story.



   

                   

She was sentenced at   .

I really wanna get behind this one.



   

                   

- She's so articulate.

- Who did she kill?



   

                   

- She'll put a face

on the death penalty.

- Constance, who did she kill?



   

                   

- A cop.

- Oh, you're crazy.



   

                   

Not just your medium-range

"thinks she's Roosevelt's bathrobe,"



   

                   

but I mean stark-raving, screws-loose,

in-the-belfry insane.



   

                   

Seventeen... four years before

she could legally drink a beer.



   

                   

But she killed a cop, Constance.



   

                   

- Are you gonna help?

- Of course.



   

                   

Oh. You're burnin' up.



   

                   

Jo Edna.



   

                   

- Hi, Mr. Gale.

- How are you, Jo Edna?

It's good to see...



   

                   

- Caffeine jolt. We deliver.

- Howdy, David.



   

                   

- Howdy, folks.

- Oh, my, this is service.



   

                   

- Thank you.

- Gladly. Latte on the left

there for you, Josh.



   

                   

- Mocha.

- Ooh, thanks.



   

                   

- She's on the phone to Washington.

- The new national director.



   

                   

- Uh-huh. That's right.



   

                   

I'm sure we can get some pulpit time.

Maybe some cable.



   

                   

Cable's good.

Listen, I need to run.



   

                   

For now, I agree the first

press release should focus

on the woman's youth.



   

                   

I'll have the Washington people

look into counsel competency...



   

                   

though I'm almost sure

she's exhausted this on appeal.



   

                   

- Let's see what

kind of resources these...

- Uh... John, David's gonna go...



   

                   

Oh, I almost forgot.

Gale's not around, is he?



   

                   

- No.

- Good. Keep it that way.



   

                   

His relationship

with DeathWatch is over.



   

                   

- Last thing we need is

this rape thing coming back...

- John.



   

                   

To bite us on the butt,

and these guys don't stay

on the wagon for very long.



   

                   

- John.

- I'm serious, Constance.

Ban him from the premises.



   

                   

I realize the two of you both...



   

                   

- David!



   

                   

Sharon, pick up the phone.

I'm begging you.!



   

                   

He's my son, all right?

He's my son too,

and I wanna talk to him.



   

                   

- You've not let... Hello?



   

                   

Jamie? Jamie, is that you?

Hey. Hey, little moose.

How are you?



   

                   

I miss you so much.

It's Daddy.



   

                   

Yeah. Hello. Don't...

Jamie, wait.



   

                   

- Wait, wait. Don't hang up the phone.



   

                   

Goddamn it! Damn!



   

                   

God... damn it!



   

                   

Ow! Fuck!



   

                   

- Oh, you scared me.



   

                   

My sheep needs a manager...

a manger.



   

                   

My sheep needs a manger.



   

                   

Are you okay?



   

                   

I fell off the wagon

and I hurt myself.



   

                   

Come on.

Come on inside.



   

                   

Do you know why Saint Jude

is the patron saint of lost causes?



   

                   

'Cause his real name was Judas.



   

                   

Judas. There were

two Judases...



   

                   

Judas, who was the saint guy,

and then the other one...



   

                   

Judas, who was the bad one.



   

                   

He's the one that ratted out Jesus

and tried to kiss him.



   

                   

In medieval times, they would

never pray to the good Judas...



   

                   

for fear of getting the bad Judas

on the line just by mistake.



   

                   

Ergo, they never really gave him

business unless absolutely desperate.



   

                   

That's why... And then they

changed his name.



   

                   

Your mail is blowing.



   

                   

Constance.



   

                   

Hey! Hey!



   

                   

Hey! Oh, shit!



   

                   

- Are you the doctor?

What's wrong with her?

- Yes.



   

                   

- She's gonna be fine.

- How do you know?

You haven't looked at her.



   

                   

- Just calm down.

- She just collapsed. She was

opening her mail and just fell.



   

                   

- Please have a seat

in the waiting room.

- I don't know what's wrong.



   

                   

- Please. Is there a doctor...

- She's gonna be fine.



   

                   

- Wait here. Professor!

- I have to go with her.



   

                   

You wanna get arrested again?



   

                   

- How do you know who I am?

- I watch the news.



   

                   

Now go wait.



   

                   

Ah!



   

                   

- How are we doing?

- Fine. How's Constance?



   

                   

Sleeping. Mr. Gale, a leukemia

patient's condition...



   

                   

- is highly susceptible

to external stress.

- What? What?



   

                   

Constance's illness

requires a degree of regularity.



   

                   

Constance has leukemia?



   

                   

You didn't know?



   

                   

Wait. Wait.



   

                   

No, I didn't.



   

                   

It's funny how selfish

we can be, isn't it?



   

                   

When I first heard Constance

was dying, I was so mad at her.



   

                   

I thought, "How can you

do this to me?



   

                   

You know how hard it is

for me to need other people."



   

                   

Why hadn't she told you?



   

                   

She said she was too busy.



   

                   

I guess, since death

was chasing her...



   

                   

she just wanted

to help other people avoid it.



   

                   

That's what she did with her life.



   

                   

Constance...



   

                   

left this world a better place

than she found it.





 

                   

Constance...



 

                   

left this world a better place

than she found it.



 

                   

It's a small...

but difficult thing.



 

                   

- Good shot! Good shot!



 

                   

- Geez.

- Let's go.



 

                   

- So, what'd you get?

- I talked to the Austin prosecutor.



 

                   

Belyeu's a joke. Actually,

the exact phrase he used was...



 

                   

"Big hat, no cattle."



 

                   

- He was sanctioned twice.

Fucked up the penalty phase.

- What?



  

                   

Gale could've got life

on mitigating factors.



  

                   

And despite major pro bono

offers from some of the top

lawyers in the country...



  

                   

Gale stuck with him all through

the appeals process...



  

                   

which, by the way,

Belyeu continued to screw up.



  

                   

So Belyeu's a joke.



  

                   

Great.



  

                   

- Anything else?

- Nothing on Berlin.



  

                   

Oh, we pick up the payola money

in Houston tonight.



  

                   

- Houston?

- That's what the head office said.



  

                   

- Overheat light

came on twice. Um...

- Come on.



  

                   

- Ah!



  

                   

Oh, man! I never knew a million bucks

could weigh so much.



  

                   

- Half a million.

- Well, it's still heavy.



  

                   

But a million sounds

better for our st...



  

                   

Excuse me. Your story.

A million bucks.



  

                   

No, no. Wait.

A million bucks in cash.



  

                   

Just relax, Zack.

It's only money.



  

                   

So, you comin' in?



  

                   

- Excuse me?

- You wanna come in?



  

                   

- Please.

- I thought you were

into guys with money.



  

                   

- Zack? It's open.

- What?



  

                   

- Well, maybe the maid forgot.



  

                   

- Look.



  

                   

Well...

We gotta call somebody.



  

                   

Wait.



  

                   

- What is that?

- I don't know.



  

                   

This is not good.



  

                   

- I'm gonna

check the bathroom.

- No, no. Bitsey, no.



  

                   

You wait there.



  

                   

- Bitsey!

- What? Zack,

There could've been prints.



  

                   

Look.



  

                   

The lady at reception says

that no one asked for you.

All the room keys are different.



  

                   

- Just she and her husband have masters.

- What'd you tell her?



  

                   

- That you have

a jealous boyfriend.

- Thanks. How about the V.C.R.?



  

                   

She didn't ask. I think

she assumed it had something

to do with why he was jealous.



  

                   

- You sure we shouldn't

call the cops?

- No.



  

                   

Anyway, whoever got in here

without a key in broad daylight...



  

                   

was probably smart enough

not to leave prints.



  

                   

I have the remote. Here.



  

                   

- Are you sure you wanna see

what's on here?

- No.



  

                   

- Try three.

- Three.



  

                   

I hope this isn't

what I think it is.



  

                   

Oh, my God.



  

                   

- Is it her?

- Yeah, it's her.



  

                   

- Oh, man.



  

                   

Geez.



  

                   

Belyeu said to bring the tape

first thing tomorrow.



  

                   

He also said you were right

about not calling the police.



  

                   

You gonna be all right?



  

                   

No.



  

                   

He deserves it though, probably.

There's a lot of sick people

in this world.



  

                   

And if they done wrong

and they're found guilty...



  

                   

All right. Let's just say

Gale's telling the truth.



  

                   

Maybe some right-wing fuck set him up,

arranged the perfect murder.



  

                   

Why would you send

a magazine journalist proof

a few hours before you've won?



  

                   

- It does not make sense.

- No. It's perfect.



  

                   

Whoever this is knows how

hard it is to get a retrial in Texas.



  

                   

They know the magazine can't

give this any substantial play

before the execution.



  

                   

We'd have to give it to a daily

or a network. That won't happen.



  

                   

- But mostly, they know

I'll tell Gale today.

- So?



  

                   

What if Constance's murder was

just a means of getting at Gale...



  

                   

not only to get rid of him,

but to make abolishionists look crazy?



  

                   

Of course he sympathizes

with murderers. He is one.



  

                   

They make sure he sits

six years on death row...



  

                   

for a brutal rape and murder,

then they let him die...



  

                   

die knowing everyone will

remember him with disgust.



  

                   

They destroy his life,

his work, his memory...



  

                   

- and they make him watch.

- That's a lot of hate.



  

                   

- Well, then why release it?

- Hate's no fun if you

keep it to yourself.



  

                   

Whoa. We got company.



  

                   

- The cowboy?

- Mm-hmm.



  

                   

And doing a lousy job

of hiding.



  

                   

Oh, he must think

we're idiots.



  

                   

- Is he gaining?

- No. He's just sitting back there.



  

                   

Get a license plate number.



  

                   

- Ohh. He's turned off.

- God, I'm sorry.



  

                   

What does this guy want?



  

                   

Fine. And, uh, Bobbi,

could you make a quick copy

of that videotape...



  

                   

and bring in Miss Bloom's

original when that's done?



  

                   

- I don't blame you for

not watching that twice.

- I couldn't sleep afterwards.



  

                   

I understand. I tell folks I'm no more

afraid of the Grim Reaper...



  

                   

than I am of a Presbyterian

on Mother's Day, but, uh...



  

                   

watching that tape, well, uh...



  

                   

I had to keep

telling myself that's not

Constance just to get through.



  

                   

Unfortunately,

others may argue the same.



  

                   

But it's in her kitchen,

in her house.



  

                   

Currently home to

Weirdos, Incorporated.



  

                   

Arguably, that tape could have

been made by anybody with $  

and a tolerance for vulgarity.



  

                   

- Will it get us

a postponement?

- Us?



  

                   

This ain't my first rodeo, Miss Bloom.



   

                   

Now, I got to tell you that

there's a machine a-runnin'



   

                   

And come tomorrow night at  :  

that machine gonna wanna be fed.



   

                   

- All here, Mr. Belyeu.

- Thank you, Aaron.



   

                   

Now, to add to our troubles,

your own credibility

may come into question.



   

                   

- Why?

- Well, you've been fraternizing

with the condemned.



   

                   

- I've been what?

- He's the most likely candidate

to have put you onto that tape.



   

                   

He's a persuasive man,

you an out-of-state woman.

That don't look so good.



   

                   

Mr. Belyeu, someone

put the tape in my room.



   

                   

That's a fact for which

we have no evidence.



   

                   

- Thank you, Bobbi.

- Thanks.



   

                   

Let's not throw a pity party

and sit around reading Kafka.



   

                   

Could be we find

a sympathetic judge.



   

                   

- I'll file within the hour.

You goin' over to see Gale?

- Yeah.



   

                   

Fine. I'll give you

a call over to the motel

later with an update.



   

                   

My coat. Shoot.



   

                   

- What? Who?

- Did you see him? The cowboy.



   

                   

- He was here?

- He's in the lobby.



   

                   

Go see if his truck's out front.

Tail him, get a license number.



   

                   

Find out who he is.

Don't screw this up. It's important.



   

                   

- How are you gonna get to the prison?

- Taxi.



   

                   

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!



   

                   

I don't think you're

being straight with me.

I walk out of Belyeu's office...



   

                   

- the guy's in the lobby.

- Maybe you should just calm down.



   

                   

Visitor, please stay seated.



   

                   

Maybe you should sit down.



   

                   

His name is Dusty Wright.

He's the local DeathWatch

director before Constance.



   

                   

He's a bullhorner.



   

                   

He's a zealot who thinks

that a good demonstration has

to end with riots and arrests.



   

                   

DeathWatch fired him because

he punched somebody at a rally.



   

                   

But Constance kept him in

the organization. He adored her.



   

                   

They were close.

Real close.



   

                   

He testified at my trial.



   

                   

Testified to support you

or to oppose the death penalty?



   

                   

He testified against me.



   

                   

- Against you?

- He testified about the drinking.



   

                   

Alcohol is a mitigating factor

in capital cases.



   

                   

I always told myself that

he did it in some sick way...



   

                   

to try to help me

get a reduced sentenced.



   

                   

I guess he believes

I really killed her.



   

                   

Dusty's a man easily

blinded by hatred.



   

                   

Maybe he hated you because

you were seeing Constance.



   

                   

I wasn't seeing Constance.



   

                   

She had your semen inside her.



   

                   

I know. Look, it's just... It's

a little more complicated than that.



   

                   

Respect for life means every life.!



   

                   

Respect for life

means every life.!



   

                   

Respect for life

means every life!



   

                   

Respect for life means every life!

Respect for life means every life!



   

                   

Respect for life

means every life!



   

                   

When you kill someone,

you rob their family.



   

                   

Not just of a loved one

but of their humanity.



   

                   

You harden their hearts with hate.



   

                   

You take away their capacity

for civilized dispassion.



   

                   

You condemn them

to blood lust.



   

                   

It's a cruel

and horrible thing.



   

                   

- But indulging that hate

will never help.



   

                   

The damage is done.



   

                   

And once we've had our pound of flesh,

we're still hungry.



   

                   

We leave the death house muttering...



   

                   

that lethal injection

was just too good for them.



   

                   

In the end,

a civilized society...



   

                   

must live with a hard truth.



   

                   

He who seeks revenge

digs two graves.



   

                   

They're bringing

Betty Sue's people out.



   

                   

Thank you, Dusty.



   

                   

Just look.

Look at those losers.



   

                   

Rednecks, ghetto hustlers,

drug addicts, schizophrenics.



   

                   

They're murderers,

and who cares if they die?



   

                   

Who cares if the cycle, if it just

goes on and on and on and on?



   

                   

Who cares?



   

                   

Who cares?



   

                   

Hey, did you make it

to your meeting today?



   

                   

Yeah. I think I have to

find one less guru-like.



   

                   

- Did you take your, uh, medicine?

- Mm-hmm.



   

                   

Feel better?



   

                   

- Mm-hmm.



   

                   

You know those stages

of Kubler-Ross?



   

                   

The ones the dying go through?



   

                   

Um, anger...



   

                   

denial...



   

                   

bargaining...



   

                   

uh...



   

                   

- Depression.

- Depression, acceptance.



   

                   

- Which one are you?

- Denial.



   

                   

Well, denial's good.

That's a... That's a good one.



   

                   

- The whole idea of there being

a process makes me tired.



   

                   

I'm not up to the job

of dying person...



   

                   

marveling at blades of grass...



   

                   

lecturing strangers

to relish every moment.



   

                   

- Mending bridges.

- Mending bridges.



   

                   

- Confessing regret. Ohh.



   

                   

- Oh, what, no regrets?

- Nope.



   

                   

Wow.



   

                   

I take that back.



   

                   

- I wish I'd had a child.

- Yeah, so do I.



   

                   

- I'm sorry, David.

- No.



   

                   

I guess I just wish

I had risked more.



   

                   

Oh, and not enough sex.

Should have had more sex.



   

                   

- Really?

- Mm.



   

                   

Well, how... How many

lovers did you have?



   

                   

- Including college?

- Including college.



   

                   

Well, sex is really... You know,

it's not all it's cracked up to be.



   

                   

- It's so overrated.



   

                   

- You should have had more sex.

- Mm-hmm.



   

                   

You work so hard not to be

seen as a sex object.



   

                   

Before long,

you're not seen at all.



   

                   

Hey.



   

                   

I see you.



   

                   

- You want to make it five?



   

                   

- Complete the hand.

- What, a pity lay?



   

                   

- No, thanks.

- Hey.



   

                   

It wouldn't be pity.



   

                   

- Are you okay?

- Yeah. Don't worry.



   

                   

No, it's good.



   

                   

Just talk to me.

Let me hear your voice.



   

                   

- I'm here. I'm here.

- Okay. Just hold me tight.



   

                   

Just tight. I'm so scared.



   

                   

- Okay. I'm sorry.

- No. Don't stop.



   

                   

- Just...

- Okay.



   

                   

Stay with me, please.

Please stay with me.



   

                   

- I'm not going anywhere.

- I just need to feel you inside.



   

                   

I'm right here.



   

                   

I'm so tired.



   

                   

I'm so tired

of being so afraid.



   

                   

- I'm right here.

- Help me. Help me, please. Just...



   

                   

- Just make it go away.

- Okay. Okay.



   

                   

- Make it go away.

- Okay. I'm right here.



   

                   

I'm not going anywhere.



   

                   

- Can I help you?

- Oh. No. I'm leaving.



   

                   

I-I'm sorry. Thanks.



   

                   

It was Dusty.



   

                   

He had a motive.

He knew you both.

He visited that morning.



   

                   

If I could answer that for sure...



   

                   

we wouldn't be having

this conversation.



   

                   

It's what I need you for.

That's why I chose you.



   

                   

- Now I've told you everything.

- But I still don't know.



   

                   

- I need more time.

- You'll find time.



   

                   

You should have

done this earlier.



   

                   

You're not here to save me.



   

                   

You're here to save

my son's memory of his father.



   

                   

That's all I want.



   

                   

You're gonna

let them kill you.



   

                   

Bitsey, we spend our whole lives

trying to stop death.



   

                   

Eating, inventing,

loving, praying...



   

                   

fighting, killing.



   

                   

But what do we really

know about death?



   

                   

Just that nobody comes back.



   

                   

But there comes

a point in life...



   

                   

a moment...



   

                   

when your mind

outlives its desires...



   

                   

its obsessions...



   

                   

when your habits...



   

                   

survive your dreams...



   

                   

and when your losses...



   

                   

Maybe death is a gift.



   

                   

- You wonder.

- That's it. Let's go, Gale.



   

                   

All I can tell you is that by

this time tomorrow I'll be dead.



   

                   

I know when.



   

                   

I just can't say why.



   

                   

You have    hours to find out.



   

                   

Good-bye, Bitsey.



   

                   

- Ms. Bloom?

- Yeah.



   

                   

Thought I'd return your coat.

Gettin' kinda chilly.



   

                   

- Any news from

our video intruder friend?

- No. Any word on the appeal?



   

                   

Denied. Tape went to a federal judge

two hours ago.



   

                   

Now what you got

was definitely a snippet.



   

                   

Could be your video supplier friend

has more nasty previews scheduled.



   

                   

Best you not get into too much

sightseeing right now.



   

                   

Just stick close

to your motel room.



   

                   

- How's David?

- He's holding up.

Gonna be a hard night.



   

                   

Will you tell him

I'll take care of it?

About his son, I mean.



   

                   

I'll do that.

You stayin' for the execution?



   

                   

Then I'll see you tomorrow.

Watch yourselves.



   

                   

Mr. Belyeu?



   

                   

Were Dusty Wright

and Constance close?



   

                   

Oh, yeah.

Thick as thieves, those two.



   

                   

- Lovers?

- Whoa. You plowin' a little too

close to the cotton, Bitsey.



   

                   

That was just a rumor.

Nothing more. Night-night.



   

                   

Zack, wake up.



   

                   

- Did you throw the towel on the floor?

- What?



   

                   

This towel was

on my bathroom floor.

Did you throw it there?



   

                   

Yeah, I guess.

What, it's a motel.



   

                   

- Would you do that at home?

- No.



   

                   

Jesus, Bitsey,

it's not like we're staying

in the friggin' Four Seasons.



   

                   

Come on. Get the TV.

We're taking it with us.



   

                   

Taking it with us?

What are you talking about?



   

                   

- Where we going?

- Austin.



   

                   

- Get the TV.

- All right.



   

                   

Come on.



   

                   

- Wanna make a hundred bucks?

- A hundred bucks? What do I gotta do?



   

                   

We're going over

the crime scene.



   

                   

Put the TV on the bed, Zack.



   

                   

Now, for the next hour,

I want you to do exactly

what I say when I say to do it.



   

                   

If I say jump, you jump.



   

                   

- You want me to jump?

- That's just a figure of speech.



   

                   

- Your boyfriend put the tripod back.

- He's not my boyfriend anymore.



   

                   

- Do you still have a video camera?

- Yeah.



   

                   

- Good. Get it.

- I gotta collect first.



   

                   

Zack, give her the money.



   

                   

Can you move that stuff

off the counter for me?

By the lamp? Yeah.



   

                   

Yeah. Thanks.



   

                   

- Put the gloves on the dish rack.

- I don't have a dish rack.



   

                   

- Zack, could you...

- Yeah.



   

                   

Turn them inside out.



   

                   

And put-put the duct tape

on the floor.



   

                   

By the stove.



   

                   

Okay.



   

                   

- Now. Could you...

What's your name?

- Nico's fine.



   

                   

Nico, I want you to lie down

facing the counter.



   

                   

We can imagine that part.



   

                   

- Zack, put her in position.

- Okay.



   

                   

All right. Move...

Just move this way.



   

                   

- All right.

- Yeah, forward.

Forward. There.



   

                   

Okay. On her side. Right.



   

                   

Her top leg out a little. There.



   

                   

Okay. Now, look at this.



   

                   

She moves her foot.

I noticed this back at the motel.



   

                   

She moves her foot quite deliberately,

and then she's still.



   

                   

For another    seconds she's still.



   

                   

And then she starts to struggle.

Now that doesn't make sense.



   

                   

If this was a murder, she'd just

be struggling and then be still.

She'd be dead.



   

                   

Maybe she was faking,

hoping he'd go away.



   

                   

Or...



   

                   

- We've got to bag her.

- We're going a little bit too far here.



   

                   

Okay.



   

                   

- I'll do it.

- Uh...



   

                   

Uh-huh.



   

                   

Uh-huh.



   

                   

Well, thank you, Bobbi.

Thank you.



   

                   

Supreme Court death clerk

gave the go-ahead.



   

                   

Give the keys to Zack

and stand over there by the tripod.



   

                   

I want you to wait three minutes

before you take the bag off.



   

                   

I'm really not so sure about this.

It's way too dangerous.



   

                   

Three full minutes, Zack.

Stand over there with her.



   

                   

And keep your eyes

on your watch.



   

                   

Go ahead.



   

                   

- Twenty-two seconds...

- She shouldn't be doin' this.



   

                   

Oh, my God.



   

                   

This isn't cool!



   

                   

- Bitsey?



   

                   

No more experiments, all right?

Just tell me what's going on.



   

                   

- Are you okay?

- She did it herself.



   

                   

Ohh.



   

                   

She did it herself. Ohh.



   

                   

She used the gloves to keep

her fingerprints off the tape and bag.



   

                   

Then she put them

back on the disk rack...



   

                   

but upside-down and inside-out,

a housewife's habit.



   

                   

Now, a murderer would have

just tossed them aside...



   

                   

- like you do with a towel

in a crap motel.

- Maybe. All right, maybe.



   

                   

- But why wear these?

- Well, they threw me.

But she needed them.



   

                   

She knew that she would

instinctively try to rip the bag off.



   

                   

And she swallowed the key

so she couldn't get to it.



   

                   

She made sure there

was no way out.



   

                   

Why not hang yourself

or take pills?



   

                   

- Why take your clothes off?

Why make it look like a murder?

- I don't know.



   

                   

It's so calculated.



   

                   

She's handcuffed,

taped at the mouth,

the gloves, the tripod...



   

                   

Why, Bitsey,

why fake your own murder?

It doesn't make sense.



   

                   

The woman's

a bleeding-heart abolitionist.

Why frame an innocent man?



   

                   

- Why send Gale

to the chair for what...

- What?



   

                   

She had to know some

innocent jerk would take the fall.



   

                   

Oh, my God, Zack.

That's it.



   

                   

That's why.

To prove it happens.



   

                   

- To have absolute proof that

the system convicts innocents.

- Get out of here.



   

                   

No. That's how she thought.



   

                   

Come on, think about it.

This woman lived for DeathWatch.



   

                   

If she's gonna die anyway,

why not die for it?



   

                   

That's why the tripod was here,

to record proof, undeniable proof.



   

                   

- That's why we got the video.

- So a dead woman put

the tape in your room?



   

                   

No, of course not.

I mean, she needed help.



   

                   

Someone to keep it, release it.

Someone dedicated to the cause.



   

                   

Someone she could trust.



   

                   

What a dump.

The guy's a freak.



   

                   

Come on.



   

                   

Dusty's a bullhorner, a zealot

who's O.D.'d on too many good causes.



   

                   

You know, the original plan

was probably for Dusty...



   

                   

to release the tape

after Gale's conviction.



   

                   

You know, after a year or so.



   

                   

It'd force him to dry out,

give him back his dignity.



   

                   

So Dusty Wright is sitting

on this tape, waiting.



   

                   

And he's the only one

who knows about it.



   

                   

So good ol' Dusty starts to think

that an erroneous execution...



   

                   

is a lot more politically useful

than a last-minute save.



   

                   

Because a last-minute save would

only prove the system works.



   

                   

Almost-martyrs don't count.



   

                   

Dusty's thinking, what's one murder

if it stops thousands?



   

                   

So he'll release the whole tape

only after the execution.



   

                   

Which means he must have

the original somewhere.



   

                   

- What time is it?

- It's  :  .



   

                   

Oh, Bitsey, Jesus!



   

                   

I wanna talk about your tape.



   

                   

No. Meet me down the hill

at the gas station in    minutes.



   

                   

Zack!



   

                   

Don't move from the phone.



   

                   

Call the second you see his pickup.

Let it ring just once.



   

                   

- Then get into the woods.

- I know. Go.



   

                   

- Into the woods, Zack.

- Go!



   

                   

Details of Gale's last meal

were released today.



   

                   

And they included pancakes

with maple syrup...



   

                   

All executions in the state of Texas

take place at  :   p.m.



   

                   

- Four pancakes. Maple syrup.

- Four pancakes. Maple syrup.



   

                   

- Fresh strawberries.

- After completion of last words,

the injection is administered.



   

                   

- Fresh strawberries... large.

- Fresh strawberries... large.

- Fresh strawberries.



   

                   

Sodium penthonal

for sedation purposes...



   

                   

- Reddi-wip whipped cream.

- Puts you to sleep.

- Reddi-wip whipped cream.



   

                   

- Pancuronium bromide...

- Chocolate shavings...



   

                   

- extra chocolate.

- To collapse the diaphragm and lungs.



   

                   

Potassium chloride

to stop the heart.



   

                   

- Chocolate shavings, extra chocolate.

- And chocolate shavings.



   

                   

The whole cocktail

costs the state of Texas...



   

                   

approximately $  .  

per elimination.



   

                   

- What do you miss most? Food.

- Food.



   

                   

- Talk to her in horse talk?

- No.



   

                   

Damn.



   

                   

Damn!



   

                   

Come on, cowboy,

where are you?



   

                   

 :   p.m. We checked

the next hotel on the list.



   

                   

- Come on.



   

                   

Shit!



   

                   

It's ready?



   

                   

- Fuck!

- He didn't show up! Come on!



   

                   

Please, Bitsy, come on.



   

                   

Call everyone, Zack.



   

                   

The governor, the warden,

New York, the goddamn

Supreme Court death clerk.



   

                   

- How far is it?

- You've got eight minutes, maybe more.



   

                   

- We'll make it. We'll make it.

- You can do it.



   

                   

Go! Go! Go!



   

                   

Shower. Go.



   

                   

My God.



   

                   

- Give me the time.

- On that big pile-up on I-  ...



   

                   

Give me the goddamn time.



   

                   

Oh, no. Not now.

Not fucking now.



   

                   

Shit! Shit! Shit!



   

                   

Come on. Fuck. Fuck!



   

                   

- Stop executions.



   

                   

Hey, get the fuck off

my spot, all right?



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

- How tight are you?

- I got your two buttons.



   

                   

Testing one, two...



   

                   

- How's my, uh, light?

- A little shine right there.



   

                   

- I think he's doing

Larry King Live at  :  .

- Oh. Can I smile?



   

                   

Opinion polls conducted

over the weekend show...



   

                   

that   % of all Americans are

in favor of the death penalty.



   

                   

Maybe you can get a shot

of the protesters.



   

                   

You can see over here that

the people are represented...



   

                   

- by   % pro,   % anti-death.



   

                   

Hiddee-hiddee-hiddee-ho.!

Time for David Gale to go.!



   

                   

When Caine killed Abel,

God cast him out. He didn't kill him.



   

                   

He raped and killed that poor girl.

As far as I'm concerned,

he should die for it.



   

                   

Hiddee-hiddee-hiddee-ho.!



   

                   

- Murderers!

- Time for David Gale to go.



   

                   

They said on TV that he raped

her first and then he strangled her.



   

                   

- I think he deserves to die.

- They stick that thing in

his arm and he goes to sleep.



   

                   

If you ask me, they ought to use

a goddamn pickax.



   

                   

- You're the murderer!

- He should die.



   

                   

A little-bitty pin prick.



   

                   

The state of Texas

has executed David Gale.



   

                   

He was pronounced dead

at  :   p.m.



   

                   

Strapped to the gurney at  :  .



   

                   

- David Gale was officially

pronounced dead...

- at  :   this evening.



   

                   

- Texas has executed David...

- Gale was pronounced dead at  :  .



   

                   

Death was pronounced at  :   this

evening at the prison in Huntsville.



   

                   

Since none of the victim's relatives

was in attendance...



   

                   

there will be no statement

from the victim's family.



   

                   

Here's what we know so far.

Last night, NEWS Magazine

posted on their web site...



   

                   

a video obtained

by reporter Bitsey Bloom.



   

                   

- The footage appears to show...

- Constance Harraway committing suicide.



   

                   

Bloom reports that she received

the tape Friday morning in

a motel in Huntsville...



   

                   

where she was staying while

conducting Gale's last interview.



   

                   

Apparently, the tape has

been in the possession...



   

                   

of former DeathWatch employee

Dustin Emil Wright.



   

                   

As you can see, police have been

in and out of his cabin all morning...



   

                   

looking for clues

to his whereabouts.



   

                   

- Since his      conviction...

- On death row awaiting execution.



   

                   

Blacks and Latinos are

five times more likely to face

the death penalty than whites.



   

                   

A fanatic in the movement

to stop the death penalty.



   

                   

- It's all there?

- Actively seeking a Dustin Wright.



   

                   

- A Dustin Wright.

- It appears Wright

withheld a tape to make...



   

                   

a political point

about the potential for error

in capital punishment cases.



   

                   

Passport and ticket as well.



   

                   

Dana, what

everyone here is asking...



   

                   

It's a terrible tragedy,

and there will be a full investigation.



   

                   

And I assure you this man

Dusty Wright will be caught

and shown swift justice.



   

                   

- Justice for Christ's sake!

- The people of Texas are not deterred.



   

                   

We're still solidly behind

the death penalty because it works.



   

                   

The system cannot be blamed

for the acts of one deranged

individual with an ax to grind.



   

                   

And people have been put to death

in the name of this justice.!



   

                   

Let's not throw the baby out

with the bath water, folks.



   

                   

Of course, the ultimate irony

is that David Gale...



   

                   

The man who became

an unwitting martyr...



   

                   

May achieve in death

what he worked for...



   

                   

But could not

accomplish in life.



   

                   

This is A.J. Roberts reporting

from Bastrop, Texas.



   

                   

- Gracias.

- De nada.



   

                   

This just came.



   

                   

- Is it David's?

- Sí.



   

                   

"Key to your freedom." What?



   

                   

It's over.



   

                   

- Now there is a line -



   

                   

- In Genesis nine

After the flood -



   

                   

- Kill men who

shed the blood -



   

                   

- Sharp is your needle -



   

                   

- Revenge is evil -



   

                   

- Wrong or right -



   

                   

- Blind is the justice -



   

                   

- Cool as a Judas kiss -



   

                   

- Dark as the night -



   

                   

- Dead men swollen on the bed -



   

                   

- White crosses

hangin' overhead -



   

                   

- Deep is the final breath -



   

                   

- Long is a man's death -



   

                   

- Dead men swollen on the bed -



   

                   

- White crosses

hangin' overhead -



   

                   

- Deep is the final breath -



   

                   

- Long is a man's death -



   

                   

- Thou shalt kill

Cried from Calvary's hill -



   

                   

- A soul is a soul

as we slaughter our own -



   

                   

- Locked in a cage

and guns at our heads -



   

                   

- Singin'gospel in rage -



   

                   

- Sayin'they're

better off dead -



   

                   

- One prick of the skin -



   

                   

- Wipes away sin -



   

                   

- An eye for an eye -



   

                   

- It's our hearts

we're losin' -



   

                   

- - Ohh -

- - Dead men swollen on the bed -



   

                   

- White crosses

hangin' overhead -



   

                   

- Deep is the final breath -



   

                   

- Long is a man's death -



   

                   

- Dead men swollen on the bed -



   

                   

- White crosses

hangin' overhead -



   

                   

- Deep is the final breath -



   

                   

- Long is a man's death -



   

                   

- Death, death, death, death

death, death, death, death -



   

                   

- Sharp is your needle

needle, needle -



   

                   

- Another bleeding heart -



   

                   

- Another bleeding heart -



   

                   

- Another bleeding heart -



   

                   

- Another bleeding heart -



   

                   

- Another bleeding heart -



   

                   

- Another bleeding heart -



   

                   

- Another bleeding heart -



   

                   

- Another bleeding heart -



   

                   

- Another bleeding heart -



   

                   

- Dead men swollen on the bed -



   

                   

- White crosses

hangin' overhead -



   

                   

- Deep is the final breath -



   

                   

- Long is a man's death -



   

                   

- Dead men swollen on the bed -



   

                   

- White crosses

hangin' overhead -



   

                   

- Deep is the final breath -



   

                   

- Long is a man's death -



   

                   

- Dead men swollen on the bed -



   

                   

- White crosses

hangin' overhead -



   

                   

- Deep is the final breath -



   

                   

- Long is a man's death -









 
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