(Night. We see a cruise ship, its lights blazing into the night. Passengers and crew are on deck.)
FROHIKE (VO): Langly. You in position?
(LANGLY is dressed in a very colourful shirt and white trousers. He's standing against the ship's rail. He has a tall glass with fruit, umbrella, drinking straw.)
LANGLY: You kidding? I've been waiting half my life for this.
(Dancers are leaving a stage. FROHIKE is in the wings, wearing blue coveralls and black beret. He's distracted by the dancers.)
BYERS: Frohike. Frohike.
(One of the dancers turns, smiles and winks at FROHIKE.)
BYERS: Frohike. Are you there?
FROHIKE: Man, oh man. If I was working.
(LANGLY sees a MAN come out of a room onto the deck. He's wearing a white spangly suit.)
LANGLY: Forget the chicks, Frohike. The King has left the throne.
(FROHIKE takes off his beret.)
(BYERS, wearing blue coveralls and a baseball hat backwards, nods.)
(We see, from the back, the MAN in the spangly suit - looks like Elvis, walking down a corridor.)
(We hear an MC saying: ' - the greatest rock and roll star of all time - his gyrating hips changed the course of music. - known and loved the world over.' The MAN walks past FROHIKE and passes a mirror. He stops, goes back, looks at himself, checks his dark glasses then his collar, looks left and right, dips down to his left, stands up, peers closely. We have been watching the mirror image - a young man - then we see a direct view of the man - much older. The Mirror-Man raises his glasses and we see it's JIMMY.)
JIMMY: Sorry, Mr. Presley.
(Elvis's LOOK-A-LIKE is injected with a dart gun. He falls to the ground and JIMMY steps out of the false mirror. BYERS and FROHIKE go to lift the unconscious MAN.)
MC: (VO) Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Elvis Presley!
(JIMMY/Elvis runs on to the stage to cheers and applause. He starts singing: 'You ain't nothing but a hound dog.' The audience is clapping along. LANGLY is in the audience, still holding his drink.)
LANGLY: (to radio) Is it him? Is it really him?
(BYERS and FROHIKE have moved the unconscious man behind some curtains.)
FROHIKE: We're running his prints now.
(As JIMMY'S singing continues in the background, FROHIKE presses the man's fingers on to a scanner. FROHIKE then raises his hand, rubbing his fingers against this thumb, looking puzzled.)
LANGLY: (into radio) Frohike, what's going on?
(BYERS is wiping make-up off the MAN'S face - underneath his skin is dark.)
FROHIKE: I hate to tell you this, bud. Ain't no way this is the King.
(BYERS lifts the glasses off the MAN who appears to be of African origin.)
LANGLY: (into radio) How can you be sure?
FROHIKE: Well, other people might have reason to go on the lam as Elvis, other than the real Elvis.
LANGLY: Then who the hell is he?
(Scanner shows the ID of an African American with white hair.)
FROHIKE: Thomas Aimes, wanted for wire fraud embezzlement.
(FROHIKE and BYERS look at each other in alarm.)
(The rush off. JIMMY is still singing. Two MEN sitting at a table next to the stage look very suspicious. JIMMY finishes his song. The two MEN get up, one holding an ID, the other holding handcuffs.)
MAN 1: US Marshall.
(They take JIMMY off in handcuffs.)
JIMMY: (to audience) Thank you, thank you very much.
(Fade to black.)
(The Lone Gunman offices. Wee see the latest copy of 'The Lone Gunman', the headline is 'MARSHALS NAB 'ELVIS' EMBEZZLER'. The picture is of the African American.)
JIMMY: I gotta say, it might not have turned out as we hoped, but the King would have been proud.)
(JIMMY'S still wearing his Elvis wig.)
LANGLY: Take that stupid thing off.
JIMMY: I kinda like it.
LANGLY: You're rubbing my nose in defeat. Take it off.
BYERS: Langly. We all thought we were on to something. On paper this man Aimes looks like the real Elvis.
FROHIKE: Same birthday. Same birthplace. Same height and blood type. It could have been him. Hiding in plain sight, doing what he does best.
LANGLY: You know, call me crazy, but I'm starting to think that maybe Elvis is really dead.
(Door buzzer sounds.)
FROHIKE: Seriously, man.
(Points to JIMMY.)
FROHIKE: Take it off.
(JIMMY looks disappointed. FROHIKE goes to the door and opens it. A MAN and a WOMAN are standing there.)
FROHIKE: Can I help you?
WOMAN: Melvin, it's Alberta Pfeiffer.
FROHIKE: Do I know you?
MRS PFEIFFER: (walking in aided by a walking stick) It's just like I pictured it. Aaah. And there is Richard. Ringo. Though I wish you'd cut your hair. And you must be the new one, Jimmy. I love your smile. But John (BYERS stands and shakes her hand) your words have stirred my soul, so principled, so strong.
LANGLY: You're one of our readers?
MRS PFEIFFER: From the first issue. Twelve years ago. Haven't missed one since. Which is why I've come to you.
MAN: As a last resort, believe me. Mrs Pfeiffer's son Douglas is on death row in Texas, awaiting execution. I'm his attorney, Jeremy Wash.
MRS PFEIFFER: He stands convicted of murder. He's not guilty. I know every mother says that about her outlaw son but in this case it's true.
FROHIKE: And you want us to prove it.
MRS PFEIFFER: I want you to talk to him but that's asking a lot. Lately Douglas refuses to talk to anyone, even me. I can't get in, the only person he'll have a visit with is Jeremy here.
WASH: We have several steps left in the appeals process but, uh, Doug wants to streamline things. He won't say why but he's pushing for an execution date. One could be set as early as next week.
MRS PFEIFFER: Eighteen months ago he pleaded not guilty. He fought his conviction tooth and nail and now he says he wants to die. And he won't explain it to anybody. (to BYERS) There's some sort of conspiracy here. Some sort of, I don't know what. (crying) but John if anybody can figure it out, it's you four.
(Weeping she walks to the door, accompanied by WASH. FROHIKE lets them out.)
JIMMY: What are we gonna do?
FROHIKE: Not a whole heck of a lot.
FROHIKE: Hey! We can hack into the police record. We can read the trial transcripts, but we're not talking to Mr. Pfeiffer if he doesn't want to talk to us.
JIMMY: Guys. His Mom. Come on.
FROHIKE: Jimmy, I'm not confident you're aware of this but you can't just walk into a penitentiary.
JIMMY: The A-Team did.
LANGLY: Oh god, here we go!
JIMMY: The A-Team snuck into this prison dressed up like inmates and then busted the guy out who was wrongfully accused.
(BYERS is looking serious.)
JIMMY: I mean, yeah, I know it's a TV show, but the theory is sound.
LANGLY: Jimmy, every half-baked TV series that runs out of ideas in the fourth or fifth season does their (makes airquotes) 'sneak into prison dressed as an inmate' show. And what does that have to do with what we're talking about here?
FROHIKE: Not one of us would last ten seconds inside a prison.
BYERS: Jefferson said: Better one hundred guilty men go free than one innocent man be condemned.
JIMMY: 'The Jeffersons'. I think they did it on that show too.
BYERS: I think... maybe... we could do it. I think it's worth a try.
BYERS: We defend the defenceless, I don't see any other way.
(FROHIKE and LANGLY exchange looks.)
(Outside is a prison bus. PRISONERS dressed in orange once-piece outfits are boarding the bus under the supervision of GUARDS.)
(BYERS is lurking around the corner of the Courthouse, watching the scene. Then he moves back and starts undoing his tie. Next to him stands JIMMY.)
BYERS: You ready for this?
(JIMMY nods seriously.)
JIMMY: Are you?
(BYERS pulls out of his jacket pocket a length of chain. JIMMY takes off his jacket revealing an orange outfit.)
(Cut to VW. FROHIKE is watching the prison bus.)
FROHIKE: (to LANGLY in the VW) We're running out of time. Can you get them in or not?
LANGLY: I can get them in. Ask me if I can get them out.
(LANGLY'S laptop shows 'Generating Password from c:/Admin/sys/log.bin' then shows 'Access Granted' then web page of Texas Department of Corrections.)
(Cut to below-waist shot of two men in orange outfits, chains round their wrists to their ankles. It's BYERS and JIMMY. They approach the bus.)
GUARD: Where'd y'all come from?
(The GUARD checks down a list on names on a hand-held computer device. As he traces down the list, two further names appear at the bottom: J Wesley and J Dillinger.)
GUARD: Wesley and Dillinger. Well, Dillinger, you've got the right name for where you're going.
(JIMMY and BYERS climb into the van. Music: Jailhouse Rock. The GUARD nods to DRIVER who closes the door.)
(Orange-suited inmates walk in, including BYERS and JIMMY. Then we see an above-waist bare-chested shot of JIMMY and BYERS. A GUARD is shining a light into BYERS' open mouth. The camera pans back to show all the inmates in a line. The GUARD signals BYERS to turn round.)
(Cut to showers. While JIMMY is soaping himself, BYERS is looking around. Suddenly the shower head above BYERS starts up.)
(Cut to inmates again in a line, being sprayed by one of the guards, presumably with disinfectant.)
(Cut to inmates collecting prison clothing.)
(Cut to cell block. INMATES stand outside single cells. All have 'DR' on their white outfits. The cell doors slide open. GUARDS are facing them.)
RUNSELHOFF: I am Sergeant Runselhoff. You are on G Wing, AdSeg, Administration Segregation.
(Another GUARD is handing a booklet to each INMATE.)
RUNSELHOFF: Here you will spend your first six months. This is your Inmate Orientation Handbook. Do not lose it. Do not trade it. Read it cover to cover. It spells out all the rules. Follow the rules and there will be privileges. Break the rules and I promise you, it only gets worse from here.
GUARD: Step back!
(They all move back into their cell.)
GUARD: Lock 'em down.
(A buzzer sounds and the cell doors close. GUARDS approach each cell. One says 'Give me your hands' and they remove the INMATES' handcuffs. The GUARDS walk away and we see BYERS looking dejected. He looks around his cell.)
JIMMY: You okay?
(JIMMY is standing, holding the bars of his cell.)
JIMMY: It's not like on TV.
(BYERS walks up to the bars of his cell. The wall between the cells is solid so BYERS and JIMMY can only see the cells on the opposite side of the block. Across from them is another inmate, SPIKE. He is searching his cell then outside by means of a mirror.)
SPIKE: Jiminy. Jiminy. Jiminy. Where'd you go? I've got you. Jiminy. You come back here, Jiminy Cricket.
JIMMY: Excuse me. Cell ten. Excuse me.
(Cell ten is occupied by an inmate, LOWRY, who is sitting on his bed, smoking.)
JIMMY: That man next to you is trying to get his cricket back. It's right in front of your cell.
BYERS: Jimmy, it's a cockroach.
(LOWRY kills the cockroach with his cigarette, and SPIKE sees this via his mirror.)
BYERS: Jimmy. Don't lose sight of why we're here.
JIMMY: I know... Douglas Pfeiffer. No innocent man should be in this place.
LANGLY: Ah, this is pointless. This place is obviously gutted.
FROHIKE: How was I supposed to know it's out of business? We're here so let's check it out.
(The door is padlocked. The VW is parked outside. As FROHIKE fiddles with the lock, a MAN walks into view.)
SHOPKEEPER: What are you doing there?
FROHIKE: We're -
LANGLY: Well, we came for some burgers. But obviously, the restaurant's closed, -
SHOPKEEPER: I'm calling the police.
FROHIKE: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on a minute. We're investigative reporters. This place is the scene of a murder a couple of years ago.
LANGLY: The man who was convicted is on death row. We think he might be innocent.
SHOPKEEPER: The hell he is! Pfeiffer, wasn't that his name?
FROHIKE: You're familiar with the case?
SHOPKEEPER: Oh yeah. I run the glass shop two doors down. Old Wally was a sweetheart. I guarantee you he gave that guy, Pfeiffer, every dollar in the drawer without a peep. Bastard shot him anyway.
LANGLY: Still, how do you know it was Pfeiffer?
SHOPKEEPER: Because I saw him. Thank god for Wally's silent alarm. Because we hear the cops coming and he runs off. But I saw his face, as plain as day. You take my word for it, Pfeiffer is absolutely a murderer. And he killed a good man. You guys are barking up the wrong tree.
(The MAN walks off.)
(Fade to BYERS on his bed.)
SPIKE: (VO) Here you go, Jiminy. Yeah, take it. Yeah, yeah.
(BYERS gets off his bed and goes over to the bars.)
SPIKE: Yeah, good Jiminy. Good, good Jiminy Cricket.
(JIMMY is also watching SPIKE.)
SPIKE: Come on, eat it up. Eat it up Jiminy. OK.
(BYERS sees LOWRY watching him and Jimmy and nods carefully at him.)
BYERS: (to LOWRY.) There's a man in here named Douglas Pfeiffer. Do you know him?
(LOWRY doesn't answer. A TRUSTEE walks up with food trays.)
TRUSTEE: Lowry ain't going to say jack, man. He don't talk.
BYERS: He don't - he's doesn't?
TRUSTEE: Yeah, sissy-assed lisp. Sounds like a little bitch when he talks. Thound like thith. Don't you never mention it.
BYERS: Wait. Douglas Pfeiffer. Do you know where he is?
TRUSTEE: Infirmary. Goon squad called, kicked him good. Patching him up now so they can send him back to the death house.
(TRUSTEE walks away.)
(The VW is parked outside. Inside a motel room are YVES, LANGLY and FROHIKE.)
YVES: Byers and Jimmy on death row?
LANGLY: It's their idea. Jimmy's, sort of.
FROHIKE: Yeah, it's not like we're in love with it.
YVES: And here I thought Byers was the smart one. Did it even occur to any of you to pose as prison guards or attorneys or official visitors from the Governor's office?
(LANGLY and FROHIKE exchange glances. Obviously, it didn't occur to them.)
LANGLY: That's not how they did it on 'The A Team'.
FROHIKE: We need you to go in there, Yves. As a visitor.
YVES: Oh please.
FROHIKE: We need you to slip something to Byers so we can talk to him.
YVES: You can talk to him yourselves.
LANGLY: We tried that. We went in posing as Byers' brothers.
FROHIKE: Yeah, and the dumb brother there, got caught in the pat down with this.
(LANGLY holds up a Firewire card.)
LANGLY: I forgot I had it on me. As soon as I mentioned the word 'Firewire', they think it's like explosives or something, the Philistines.
FROHIKE: Needless to say, we're on the doo-doo list. Plus now they're going to keep an eye on anyone coming to see Byers.
LANGLY: But not Jimmy. Plus you got you're... you know... you're..
FROHIKE: Feminine wiles.
FROHIKE: As it were.
(Cut to cell block.)
JIMMY: Can't you just fake an injury?
BYERS: The doctors would know.
JIMMY: Well... then... can't you just fall down, or kick the bars really hard, or...?
BYERS: If I injure myself, they may just send me for psychological counseling. Jimmy, I'll be the first to admit, this isn't the world's smartest plan. But I have to get into that infirmary. Any fight I get myself into, I'll make sure there's a guard nearby who can stop it.
JIMMY: Let me do it instead. No offence, Byers, but you're not the fighting type.
BYERS: I won't have to be.
(GUARDS enter the block. One walks up to LOWRY'S cell.)
GUARD: Give me your hands.
(Another GUARD walks up to BYERS' cell. Both inmates are then handcuffed.)
GUARD: Fall out.
(The two cell doors open.)
(BYERS and LOWRY are escorted down the cell block.)
JIMMY: HE'S MY BITCH, LOWRY. MESS WITH HIM AND YOU'VE GOT TO GO THROUGH ME.
BYERS: Okay. Thanks, Jimmy.
(Cut to outside the cell block. BYERS and LOWRY are escorted to separate chain-link enclosures where their handcuffs are removed. The GUARDS close and lock the enclosure gates. LOWRY is doing press ups. BYERS goes over to the mesh separating the two enclosures.)
BYERS: Tho, Lowry. Think it'll thnow.
(LOWRY gets up.)
BYERS: I thaid, think it'll thnow. What'th your betht gueth?
LOWRY: You laughing at me?
(LOWRY slams his hands against the mesh.)
(Cut to inside where a GUARD standing next to a large notice 'Visitation Rules'. The camera pans over to YVES, entering the room. She walks up to a GUARD who has a clipboard, gives him a wave and smiles at him: 'Hi!' He smiles back. She signs the clipboard while the GUARD grins at a couple of other GUARDS and YVES blows a chewing gum bubble. She then sashays over to a seat where she sits and crosses her legs.)
(Cut to recreation enclosure. A GUARD handcuffs BYERS. Both BYERS and LOWRY are standing outside their enclosures. The GUARD goes over to the door for a clipboard. BYERS looks at LOWRY.)
BYERS: Thtill mad?
LOWRY: I'm going to mess you up good.
BYERS: Tho thenthitive. Hey, here'th your chanthe.
(The GUARDS have gone inside. LOWRY beats the crap out of BYERS.)
(Cut to two GUARDS.)
GUARD 1: Some moron gets himself locked up in here with that waiting on the outside.
(They are looking at a security monitor showing YVES in the waiting area.)
(Cut back to BYERS, still getting beaten up. The GUARDS see this from the window and run out. They pull LOWRY off BYERS.)
(Cut cell block, JIMMY anxiously waiting. A GUARD comes up to his cell.)
GUARD: Give me your hands.
JIMMY: Where's John?
(JIMMY looks downcast. The GUARD smiles at him.)
GUARD: You got a visitor.
(Cut to visiting room. JIMMY is led in and sees YVES who smiles broadly at him.)
YVES: Hey, baby. You got a kiss for your wife?
(YVES kisses her fingers then holds them to the barrier. JIMMY is somewhat dumbfounded so she indicates he should do the same, which he does.)
YVES: How you holding up in here?
JIMMY: Well, you know, can't complain.
YVES: I miss you baby.
(JIMMY smiles. YVES raises her eyebrows.)
JIMMY: Oh... yeah. I miss you too. 'Cause you're my wife and all. I mean, why wouldn't I miss my wife? God. I miss when we make love like for hours and hours, and I miss your secret touch. I miss your... well of course I miss your -
(The GUARD, listening in on the conversation, is grinning; YVES is grimacing.)
YVES: Cheetos? How about I buy you some Cheetos?
(She walks over to a vending machine and buys a pack and swaps them for a pack she brought with her. She speaks to a GUARD.)
YVES: Sir, can you please give these to my husband?
JIMMY: So... how are the kids? Little Jimmy Jr. and Peabo? Does Peabo still have that weird thing with his nose?
(JIMMY does a weird thing with his nose.)
YVES: No, Peabo is well.
JIMMY: Thanks, baby. (The GUARD hands JIMMY the Cheetos.) Oh, I Like the puffy kind, not the crunchy. But, you know, whatever. Maybe I can trade it for something.
YVES: No. Honey, you keep those yourself. You keep those and you think of me.
JIMMY: (to GUARD.) Hey, what are the chances of us getting a conjugal visit?
(Cut to infirmary. BYERS is in bed, his right arm in a sling. He painfully gets out of bed, and walks over to another bed. His face and neck are bruised.)
BYERS: Douglas Pfeiffer. I recognize you from your mugshots. The guards really worked you over, huh? Douglas, I'm here at the request of your mother. She says you've been wrongly convicted and yet you're pressing for an execution date. To me that doesn't make sense. It sounds like you're doing it against your will. I'm an investigative reporter. I want to help you, if you'll let me. Your mother wanted me to know about your request to stop your appeals, about wanting to die. I know you love her very much, Douglas. I know you don't want to go out like this. You'll break her heart.
PFEIFFER: If you ever say anything about this again, to me or anyone else, I'll cut your throat.
(Cut to JIMMY'S cell. He pulls a communication device out of the bag of Cheetos. This is a standard radio set as we've seen before, but also has a rectangle of perspex, about the size of a postcard, linked to it. JIMMY looks through the perspex - it shows a rather fuzzy view of his cell. SPIKE sees JIMMY playing with the communication device.)
JIMMY: Toy surprise.
(SPIKE holds out his hand and shows JIMMY a cockroach.)
JIMMY: That's Jiminy, huh? I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but if the first one is Jiminy, how is it that that one is Jiminy too?
SPIKE: Maybe it is the same Jiminy. Looks like him to me.
JIMMY: But the first one is dead.
SPIKE: That's if you believe things really die. I don't. I think we just take a trip and come back. Maybe we learn something and move on, maybe we don't. Old Jiminy here, he don't learn a damn thing. Maybe next time.
JIMMY: Hey, Spike. What are you in for?
(Cut to motel room. FROHIKE and LANGLY are looking at laptop monitors. YVES enters.)
YVES: Have you contacted Jimmy?
FROHIKE: No, we were just about to do that when we got side-tracked.
YVES: Mark my words, if Texas doesn't execute him, I will. What's so interesting?
FROHIKE: Mr. Pfeiffer's finances.
YVES: 26 thousand in savings.
LANGLY: And yet he robs a two bit hamburger joint for 138 bucks in cash. Why bother?
FROHIKE: Unless it wasn't a robbery, just meant to look like one.
YVES: A contract killing?
YVES: Who paid for it?
LANGLY: That's where it gets a little tricky. I backtraced the deposits through three separate shells to arrive at one - Brazos Holding.
FROHIKE: The same Brazos Holding that now owns the restaurant that Pfeiffer robbed. They've been buying up most of that downtown area, which tells me that someone is making an old-fashioned Texas land grab and isn't above killing to do it.
YVES: So who is behind Brazos Holding?
LANGLY: Well, drum roll please.
(He runs a personnel search script.)
FROHIKE: Jeremy Wash. Pfeiffer's lawyer.
(Fade to view of cell through the perspex panel of the comms device. This crackles into life and shows a blurred image of LANGLY and FROHIKE.)
FROHIKE: (on radio.) Jimmy. Jimmy, are you receiving?
JIMMY: (on radio.) Reading you loud and clear. This thing rocks.
FROHIKE: (on radio.) Yeah, yeah. Now Yves said that you told her that Byers got into a fight.
JIMMY: (on radio.) Yeah, but on purpose. Byers had to get into the infirmary where Pfeiffer is, so that he could talk to him.
LANGLY: (on radio.) Oh man. You've got to get word to him, Jimmy. He's barking up the wrong tree.
FROHIKE: (on radio.) You two are trying to save the wrong man. Pfeiffer is guilty. No matter what his mother says, he's a killer for hire.
JIMMY: (on radio.) No. No way. Come on.
LANGLY: (on radio.) It's true, Jimmy. And his own lawyer's behind it all.
JIMMY: (on radio.) Mr. Wash?
LANGLY: (on radio.) Yeah, he's got plans for a big high-rise development. A key landowner wouldn't sell, so he paid Pfeiffer to have him murdered.
JIMMY: (on radio.) Wait... So why would Wash want us talking to Pfeiffer?
FROHIKE: (on radio.) I'm sure he doesn't, but he's got to go through the motions. He's supposed to be defending his client, right?
LANGLY: (on radio.) I'm sure he never dreamed we'd actually get you guys in there.
FROHIKE: (on radio.) Now, here's the thing, man. Pfeiffer may not be innocent, but there's a guy in there who is. A prisoner by the name of Wallace Crendell Atherton.
JIMMY: (on radio.) Yeah.
FROHIKE: (on radio.) We think Wash framed Atherton for the murder of another shopkeeper who wouldn't sell. A mechanic by the name of Michael Culey.
LANGLY: (on radio.) But Atherton is innocent.
JIMMY: (on radio.) Which cell's he in?
(Officer Tollin is walking behind JIMMY.)
SPIKE: Tollin. Your shadow's in my house. Get your shadow out of my house.
OFFICER TOLLIN: Shut the hell up, Atherton. Go play with your bugs.
(OFFICER TOLLIN continues on his rounds.)
JIMMY: (to SPIKE/WALLACE) Thanks.
(SPIKE/WALLACE smiles and winks.)
JIMMY: (to himself) Wallace Crendell Atherton.
(Cut to infirmary. BYERS is back in bed. PFEIFFER softly calls over to him.)
DOUGLAS PFEIFFER: Fellow.
(BYERS gets out of bed and goes over to him.)
PFEIFFER: I'm healing up good. Tomorrow they'll put me on Death Watch and 36 hours after that..
BYERS: It doesn't have to be that way, Mr. Pfeiffer. My friends and I want to help you.
BYERS: Like I said before, your mother told us all about you.
PFEIFFER: Yeah... I'd do anything for my mom, you're right about that.
BYERS: Mr. Pfeiffer, about the murder you were convicted of..
PFEIFFER: I still got nothing to say.
(Cut back to motel room.)
LANGLY: This Atherton guy was at the wrong place, at the wrong time, that's for sure. And Wash destroyed any piece of evidence that might prove his innocence. We got squat they'll save him.
FROHIKE: Byers has to get a confession out of Pfeiffer, it's the only way.
(There is a knock at the door.)
LANGLY: That's Yves.
FROHIKE: What I want to know, what does Wash have over Pfeiffer, that Pfeiffer won't rat him out?
(FROHIKE opens the door on JEREMY WASH.)
FROHIKE: Mr. Wash. Langly, Wash is here.
(LANGLY hurriedly closes the laptop.)
WASH: Have you learned anything?
LANGLY: Learned anything? No.
FROHIKE: We're sorry.
WASH: Where are your two friends?
LANGLY: He's out, getting his beard trimmed. The one with the beard, and then the other one is helping him.
(There is an insistent knocking at the back door that LANGLY and FROHIKE ignore.)
WASH: Aren't you going to get that?
FROHIKE: What? Oh, the door. Yeah, sure, why not.
(FROHIKE walks to the door. There's a piece of paper stuck to his butt. He lets a furious YVES in.)
YVES: You know how you owed me before? Now you really, really owe me. I'm taking these clothes off and burning them.
WASH: Hi. I'm Jeremy Wash. Sorry to interrupt, you were saying... They owe you...?
FROHIKE: Oh, I owe her. She's agreed to marry me. I mean, can you believe it?
(FROHIKE puts his arm around YVES' waist. YVES smiles sweetly.)
WASH: Well, no.
FROHIKE: Yeah, we're going to Vegas tonight. Give us a kiss, Sweet Cheeks.
YVES: Of course, Toad Boy.
(She kisses him on the forehead.)
WASH: Well, happy nuptials. I just wanted you to know that Doug's execution is going forward the day after tomorrow. I have to break the news to Mrs Pfeiffer, unless you can offer us any hope. (They shake their heads.) Well, thanks for your efforts.
LANGLY: Yeah. Yeah, you bet.
(JEREMY WASH leaves.)
FROHIKE: Toad Boy.
YVES: Sweet Cheeks.
LANGLY: So, what did you get?
YVES: I convinced this lonely credit union manager to let me peruse through his stone age, non-computerised files. Wash has been making deposits to Mrs Pfeiffer's account ever since her son's conviction.
(YVES hands over several pieces of paper.)
LANGLY: Explains why Pfeiffer won't talk.
FROHIKE: Yeah, he gets the death penalty whether he rats out Wash or not.
YVES: Wash can help his mother or harm her. If Pfeiffer goes quietly she'll be taken care of.
LANGLY: And meanwhile, this Atherton guy..
FROHIKE: Yeah, an innocent man. He's going to die.
LANGLY: We can't let this happen. We've got to get the proof on this lawyer, Wash.
FROHIKE: The key is Pfeiffer. Jimmy's got to get a message to Byers.
(JEREMY WASH has been listening at the door since he left.)
(Cut back to cell block. JIMMY is talking to the trustee.)
JIMMY: His name is John. He's in the infirmary. You'll get it to him?
TRUSTEE: Yeah, sure.
SPIKE/WALLACE: You sure you can trust him?
JIMMY: I got to trust people, 'til they prove to me I can't. Spike.
JIMMY: What if somebody knew you were innocent? 'Cause you are innocent, right?
SPIKE/WALLACE: You, me and god know it.
JIMMY: Right. Let's say this somebody, and his friends, find a way to prove it and get you out.
SPIKE/WALLACE: That ain't going happen.
JIMMY: But what would you do? I mean, if you were a free man.
SPIKE/WALLACE: Well, Sir. First, I would shake the hands of the man that set me free and thank him with all of my heart. And never again would I squander... a moment of precious time on earth that god has given us. And I would devote myself to realising... my lifelong dream.
JIMMY: And what's that dream?
SPIKE/WALLACE: Caring for those that can't care for themselves. To end the mistreatment of the most mistreated of all god's creatures.
JIMMY: You mean the poor?
SPIKE/WALLACE: I mean cockroaches.
(Cut to visiting room. LOWRY sits down. His visitor is WASH.)
LOWRY: Tho. Talk.
WASH: Pfeiffer's being transferred to Death Watch tomorrow morning.
WASH: You're going to make sure he never gets there.
(Fade to black.)
(Fade to JIMMY'S cell. FROHIKE and LANGLY are talking to him via the comms device.)
FROHIKE: (on radio.) Well?
JIMMY: (on radio.) Nothing. Gave the guy the note, like, six hours ago.
FROHIKE: (on radio.) What guy?
JIMMY: (on radio.) The trustee. He promised he'd give it to Byers.
LANGLY: (on radio.) Oh yeah. Like that's going to work. Now, we've got less than eight hours before Pfeiffer gets transferred out of there.
FROHIKE: (on radio.) Eight hours and we'll never talk to him again.
JIMMY: (on radio.) I'm sorry guys. What are we going to do?
FROHIKE: (on radio.) We're going to save your butt. Later.
(Cut to infirmary. A DOCTOR is shining a light in PFEIFFER'S eyes.)
PFEIFFER: (to DOCTOR.) So, how am I looking there Doc? Healthy enough to kill?
(The DOCTOR leaves.)
BYERS: Please, Mr. Pfeiffer. You're running out of time. They're about to transfer you out of here.
TRUSTEE: Prisoner. Got any smokes?
(He's holding JIMMY'S note.)
TRUSTEE: Take it anyway.
OFFICER TOLLIN: Pfeiffer, it's time to go.
(He's brought PFEIFFER his prison clothes.)
PFEIFFER: Not through talking.
(OFFICER TOLLIN leaves.)
(BYERS reads the note: 'He's guilty. The lawyer is, too. He needs to confess to save an innocent man. Sorry, John.'.)
BYERS: You did it.
PFEIFFER: Yeah, I did it. I'm not who my mom thinks I am.
BYERS: No, but you could still be. Tell the truth. Tell the truth, before it's too late.
(PFEIFFER has finished dressing. LOWRY is in another bed. He pulls out a knife from under the bedclothes, then attacks PFEIFFER and tackles him to the ground, trying to stab him.. BYERS belts LOWRY in the head with a bedpan. GUARDS rush up and pull PFEIFFER to his feet.)
GUARD 1: Get Pfeiffer out of here.
GUARD 2: Wesley, you come with me.
(Cut to cell block.)
SERGEANT RUNSELHOFF: Inmate 9990962.
JIMMY: Yeah, I think so.
OFFICER TOLLIN: Hands.
(JIMMY hold his hands up to be handcuffed for transport.)
SERGEANT RUNSELHOFF: There was a problem with your transfer order. I think you and I both know what it was.
OFFICER TOLLIN: Open number seven. (JIMMY'S cell door is buzzed open.) Step out.
JIMMY: Sergeant Runselhoff, that man (he indicates WALLACE ATHERTON) is innocent. He's not a murderer.
SERGEANT RUNSELHOFF: Go on.
JIMMY: He didn't do it. Don't make me leave without my friends.
SERGEANT RUNSELHOFF: Son, this isn't the place for you. You should have spoken up a long time ago. Officers, sign for the prisoner.
(The 'officers' are FROHIKE and LANGLY who escort JIMMY away.)
JIMMY: What did you tell them?
FROHIKE: Computers told them. Not us.
LANGLY: You were sent to the wrong prison. You're a peeping tom, not a killer.
JIMMY: A peeping tom? What about Byers?
BYERS: Right here, Jimmy.
(BYERS shakes his head.)
FROHIKE: Let's go home, boys.
(Outside, FROHIKE and LANGLY escort BYERS and JIMMY into a prison van. JIMMY looks sadly back at the prison.)
(Cut to inside the prison.)
WASH: Sergeant, I've been waiting 40 minutes and I feel like you people have been giving me the run around. Did something happen to my client?
SERGEANT RUNSELHOFF: Yes, Sir. An inmate attacked him in the infirmary.
WASH: Oh god. He's... he's not...?
SERGEANT RUNSELHOFF: Dead? Oh no, Sir. He's fine.
WASH: Good. So the transfer's going to proceed?
SERGEANT RUNSELHOFF: Your client's not being transferred anywhere. Not yet.
JEREMY WASH: What are you talking about?
(DOUGLAS PFEIFFER is brought in. WASH goes over to him.)
PFEIFFER: You're fired.
SERGEANT RUNSELHOFF: Mr. Pfeiffer just implicated you in the murders of Wally Spinelli and Michael Culey.
PFEIFFER: You sent Lowry after me. Couldn't wait another 36 hours for me to die. Son of a bitch.
SERGEANT RUNSELHOFF: There's a couple of gentlemen here, who are going to want to talk to you. Rangers.
(Two RANGERS handcuff WASH.)
(Music: Jailhouse Rock.)
(A Lone Gunman paper spins and then stops showing headline: 'Lying Lawyer Convicted'.)
(At the Lone Gunman HQ, JIMMY happily picks up another edition, headline' 'Death Row Inmate Freed. State Awards Multimillion Dollar Settlement'.)
(JIMMY and SPIKE/WALLACE are in a park area, smiling, shaking hands. SPIKE/WALLACE over-enthusiastically shakes BYERS' hand, then YVES, then LANGLY, then bear-hugs FROHIKE. A sign says: 'Roach Rescue Clinic.')
(Another Lone Gunman paper spins into view, then stops, headline: 'Pfeiffer Execution Set For Midnight'.)
(Cut to cell block. Buzzer sounds. Cell door slides open. PFEIFFER is slowly escorted down the cell block, passing WASH in a cell.)
(Cut to outside, night, it's raining. A CROWD is gathered outside the prison. A prison van drives up. BYERS and JIMMY are there. A GUARD addresses the crowd.)
GUARD: As of 12:01 AM Douglas Robert Pfeiffer is dead.
(MRS PFEIFFER is escorted through the crowd. BYERS stops her.)
BYERS: Mrs Pfeiffer.
(She slaps his face and walks off.)
JIMMY: I know how you feel. But I got to figure it's like Spike and his cockroaches.
(BYERS closes his eyes in exasperation.)
JIMMY: Maybe we don't so much die, as learn something and then move on.
(BYERS looks at JIMMY who puts his arm around him and they walk away.)
(Fade to black.)