We've all heard that thing
about the butterfly flapping its wings in Africa,
and months later there's a hurricane in Miami.
Well, if you haven't, look it up.
It means things you don't think are connected actually are.
I never knew this girl.
Never met her.
This is the life she knew.
And this is the life I knew.
There I am. There's the kid.
Did you just call yourself "the kid"?
Wait, isn't this the game you fumbled three times in one quarter?
This is also the game where I did this, motherfucker.
You wouldn't think so, but it is all connected.
These knuckleheads. That girl on the bike.
Wait. Who's that streaking down the sideline?
Kankakee's favorite son.
Me, with my million-dollar smile.
Owner of grad school records that still stand.
Given not one, not two, but three fucking scholarship offers.
Hey, it was four, actually.
Christ, Jimmy, you really were something.
What about me?
Well, he made even you look good.
Pride and joy of Kankakee.
- See? - Okay.
Try not to burn the place down,
and remember to lock up this time.
- Yeah. - Wait, what's with the pillow?
Anybody heard from Danny?
Here's the real play. Watch this shit.
Right here. Right there.
You fucking has-been pretty boy.
You know those times where you think something's gonna go one way,
but it goes sideways?
If I had to pick the moment,
here's where it all started to go sideways for me.
Like, for fucking ever.
Hiya, Jimmy.
- Hi, Rog. - Hop in.
What's with the pillow?
Well, last time I saw you, you said you kept getting cricks in your neck.
I used to get 'em too.
Discovered this pillow.
Never got 'em again.
You are the most profoundly considerate motherfucker I've ever met.
I thank you, my good man.
Put it in the back.
What's with the orange shotgun?
I got a shipment of bean bags.
You know the kind cops fire at riots and shit?
They trick the guns out with weird colors
so they don't load live rounds during protests,
kill some poor fucker
who's just asking to be treated like a human being.
So appreciative you came in person to deal with this. That it--
Touches me in a deep place.
I'm so sorry about that last shipment.
Mistakes happen.
Not a whole kilo, man. I've--
It's fucking embarrassing.
I mean, I've never been light before.
Not so much as a gram with anyone, ever.
Why would I claim I got shorted?
Hard to know a man's heart.
Come on now.
How did you know the shortage was on my end?
I know because my guy told me. And I trust my guy, Danny.
And why do you trust Danny, man?
We grew up together.
That's adorable.
Jimmy. I'm sorry, Jim.
- Danny. - Jimmy, I'm so sorry.
What did you do?
Tell him.
I stole your key, man.
I needed to get right with Bern's people.
We knew it wasn't us.
I had no idea.
He told me that.
No, Rog, no!
- Okay. - Bean bag.
Okay, he clipped the key.
Okay? Here's a key.
And a second.
For your trouble.
No!
Fuck, man!
Okay.
Not a bean bag.
And a third for our friendship.
You know, this isn't just about the money.
Come on. Nothing's just about money, but they mostly are.
He stole from me.
No, he stole from me. I'd already paid you.
I came here today to be compensated if there had been some kind of mistake,
but there wasn't.
Just this asshole stealing from me.
- But blaming me. - No, I never blamed you.
- I didn't-- - Shut the fuck up!
Rog. This guy, I've known him since first grade. He's like family.
Be like if you were asked to give up your own brother.
No matter what, could you do it?
You still have half the bag.
My family would be worth the whole bag.
I think we come from different types of family.
So, you're saying his life is only worth three kilos?
His life is worth three times what you lost,
because you lost nothing!
He's only worth three kilos?
Yes! Okay, his life is only worth three kilos to me!
All I ask of the people I do business with is their authentic self.
Nice to see you, Jimmy.
You can use the cart to transport that young rascal to the car.
Have you had a look at the menu, sir?
Jesus. No. I'm sorry…
Rochelle.
Could I get a water, please?
And I'll have an answer for you by the time you're back?
Of course, sir.
Jimmy.
Of course, Jimmy.
Yeah.
Hands, motherfucker! Hands!
You smiling now, bitch?
Can I get up now, please?
You just lie there and take it.
We're clear.
Turn it off.
Damn, Jimbo. What you get up to last night?
You even know her name?
Rochelle.
Her last name?
Planning to shoot up a local middle school?
That's federal.
Fuck is this, Jimbo?
Jimmy. It's an AK-47.
It's a "no possibility of reduced sentence."
I got great lawyers.
They turn water into wine?
Hey! You got a visitor.
Window one!
They tried that last time…
Keene. Next up, window two.
Window three, you're up.
You okay?
Did your mother come visit you yet?
She's still pissed I got Tim mixed up in that thing a while back.
Well… at least your brother's gonna walk.
I'm not?
I talked to some of the guys.
They said the prosecutor, Beaumont, he's trying to prove something with you.
Prove what?
That he's not part of the machine.
I'm not part of the machine.
I was.
My family.
Your mother's family.
Tell me there's a way out of this.
Not a quick one.
Window four, that's it.
You'll get five years.
Five--
Four with good behavior.
The low end of the sentencing guidelines is
if you take the plea, you get two years.
They're not gonna give you two years.
Why not?
The guns.
You're not some homey who's running around capping grandmothers, doing a drive-by.
You didn't sell crack, right?
You're a good kid who strayed off the path.
You'll have to do the midrange.
How do you know?
I was a cop for 23 years.
And I asked around, and they all said the same thing.
Midrange of the guidelines.
Five.
Out in four.
I…
I never wanted this for you.
I wanted a totally different deal.
Like what?
Like I said.
No.
What?
For you to have,
you know…
No, I don't.
A wife. Kids.
A fucking dog to play Frisbee with.
And a steady paycheck.
Pension at the end.
I do--
I couldn't have…
What?
…helped you if I lived that life.
I still wanted it for you.
I know.
I know you did, Dad.
You just never mentioned it before.
Four! Window four, all done.
Take the deal. Okay? Plea out.
Okay. In the case of the United States versus James Keene…
Mr. Beaumont, am I to understand
that the defendant has entered into a plea agreement with your office?
He has, Your Honor.
And Mr. Steinbeck,
is your client fully aware of what he's pleading to today?
He is, Your Honor.
Mr. Keene.
Police officer's son, correct?
Yes, sir.
Star athlete at Kankakee High.
I see you're quite generous with a few local charities.
But what you're pleading guilty to today is the sale and trafficking of narcotics,
the possession of paraphernalia associated with the same,
and possession of multiple illegal firearms.
So, how plead you?
Guilty.
The sheer amount of narcotics that you trafficked in, Mr. Keene,
is enough to push your sentence to 25 years.
Which you most certainly would have gotten at minimum
if your case had gone to trial.
But you did the smart thing today. You pled.
Still, there are the weapons, which one presumes
you were prepared to use against other human beings
to protect your narcotics.
Therefore,
it is the judgment of the court the defendant be committed
to the custody of the attorney general of the United States,
or her authorized representative,
for the minimum guideline term of 120 months.
Bailiff.
Ten years?
Ten fucking years? Are you kidding me?
You lied to me, Beaumont! You fucking lied to me!
You know what this is about?
On or off?
Off.
I'm Special Agent Lauren McCauley.
You can call me that or Lauren.
I remember you don't like "Jimbo."
Jimmy, please.
And you know Mr. Beaumont.
Mr. Beaumont sandbagged me into accepting a five-year plea
when he knew I'd get ten.
So you remember it?
No possibility of parole.
Who takes that deal?
You.
You're a drug dealer.
And you played chicken with us, and you lost.
Embrace that concept.
Now, sit down.
I hear you're making a real go of prison.
No major beefs.
Seem to get along with most of the dominant gangs
and successfully avoid the ones you don't know yet.
And… you've developed a sideline in here?
No shit.
That's in there?
You use your profits to buy
fresh vegetables and lean cuts of meat?
Prison food sucks.
So does prison life,
but you seem to have grabbed it by the balls.
What is this sideline, by the way?
Just a service.
He's so modest.
You rent porno mags, right?
Hustler. Penthouse. Barely Legal.
How's that work?
They pay for half-hour blocks.
Must be a lot of-- What do they call it in retail? Breakage?
I turn my inventory over a lot.
That's what you called drugs too. Your "inventory."
At least on the tapes I heard.
I'm not surprised you're thriving in here, Jimmy.
I'm not thriving.
Because you're a charming guy. Everyone likes you.
I've heard you talk to Mexican cartel guys,
Cabrini-Green bangers,
Outfit goombahs in their tracksuits at the Elmwood Park Social Club.
You get along with everyone.
I've noticed something else.
After a certain point,
they do most of the talking.
I'm sorry?
You've got your patter, your funny story or two,
but then you settle back and just let them run their mouths.
Take me.
Something in those soulful eyes of yours.
The way you sit so still, so at peace with yourself.
It makes me want to babble, man. Unlock myself.
You mentioned a point a while back?
You in a rush? 'Cause we can let you get back to it.
No. I'm fine.
You got porn to sell, veggies to procure,
and only
nine years, three months left on your sentence?
- Just tell me what you want. - I don't wanna hold you up.
Just fucking tell me why I'm here.
Temper.
Not as cool as he thinks.
We would like you to transfer to another prison
and befriend someone to elicit a confession.
We need the precise location of a dead body.
You need it?
We suspect that the man that you'll read about in that file
has killed 14 women, maybe more.
But we only tied him to two. And we only have one of the bodies.
We'd like to find the other one. And maybe 12 more.
And this prison where the guy is?
It's in Springfield, Missouri.
Maximum security, specializing in the criminally insane.
So… you want me to check in to hell,
cozy up to a fucking demon,
and ask him all casual, "Hey, so where'd you bury 13 bodies?"
Is that right?
Not for all the fucking money in the world.
How about freedom?
A complete commutation of your sentence.
If I transfer?
If you transfer.
And if you get the location of Patricia Reitler's body.
No body, no release.
No.
No?
No.
His conviction's on appeal. He could win and walk.
If he walks, he'll kill again and again until he fucks up and gets caught.
The last time, he killed 14 girls before he got caught.
And it won't have anything to do with me.
It will.
You had the chance to stop him, and you didn't take it.
Look, I'm sorry about these women, but I don't know them.
And if he gets out, I won't know the next ones he kills.
I might be sad about it, but…
This kind of deal won't walk through the door twice.
So, before you spend the next ten years wondering why you didn't take it…
look at the file.
At the very least, it'll make unique reading material.
Your attorney has our contact info.
Come on, Brooke!
Come on, Brookie!
- She hung onto it. - Holy shit. She did!
Okay.
- Honey, you're going the wrong direction! - Honey, the other way!
- Wrong direction! - The other way!
Well, she runs pretty fast.
Yeah. Not bad, right?
Will he be home for dinner?
Not likely.
We found Jessica Roach.
Line it up. Here we go. First down.
Over there. Yeah.
He stepped out right about here.
What did he look like?
He was white. That's about all I saw.
Was he short? Tall? Bald? Not bald?
I didn't get a good look at him. He hopped in a van and drove off.
What color van?
It was like a gray or brown--
It was night. It could have been green too, or black.
I know it was a Dodge, for sure.
You don't know the color of the van, but you know…
I'm a mechanic. I know a Dodge when I see one.
Vermilion County Sheriff's Department. Can I help you?
He sure is.
Hey, Len. You filed a report a couple of weeks ago
on a possible 647 over at Whittier?
Yep. Two 14-year-old girls riding their bikes.
Said this perv in a van kept passing them.
Told them he liked their boobies.
- He said "boobies"? -Yep.
He also asked if they wanted to take a ride with him.
Uh-huh.
Yeah, well, they said the van…
the van's gray?
Yep, they got a plate.
- They got what? - Indiana plate number.
Check the notes at the end of the report.
Okay. Did you run it?
No. The guy drove off. They never saw him again.
And the girl struck me as a little dramatic.
You know girls, man.
But be my guest, Brian.
Okay. Thanks, Len.
That van that followed the two girls in Whittier,
it's been called in three other times in the last year.
Once in Indianola, once in Olivet, once near the Dauphin Reserve.
The same complaint every time. Harassment.
And said van is registered to--
Larry D. Hall. Wabash, Indiana.
Your sister told me your mother actually visited.
She did. She's pissed you brought your girlfriend to my sentencing.
I've been with Sammy longer than I was with your mother.
She's pissed Sammy makes me happy.
I just wish you liked her more.
Sam? I like her fine. She just ain't my mother.
Uh-huh.
I've been thinking about that deal.
What? You think this place is bad?
Springfield is the kind of prison that they send subhumans to.
The fucking freaks with no souls.
Lifers with nothing to lose.
They'll commute my whole sentence.
What happens if you don't get them what they want?
Then what?
What happens if you have to defend yourself,
and they tack on another ten fucking years to your sentence?
That'd be a death sentence.
We'll find a way. We'll figure something out.
- How? - I don't know.
But we're going to find a way.
You've got a call from Wabash PD.
Yeah? Put it through, please.
Detective Miller? Chris Drysdale.
Hey, Chris.
Got a question about a van
registered to a resident of yours, a Lawrence D. Hall?
Sure. Larry.
You know him?
I grew up with him.
You know him well?
Well enough. It's a small town.
You looking at him for something?
Well, we're just trying to figure out why a van registered to him
passed through our area a couple of times in the last year.
You're in Illinois, the girl said.
Georgetown, about 130 miles down the road.
So, he wasn't picking up a gallon of milk.
Nope.
Or doing Civil War shit?
What's that?
Larry's into Civil War reenactments. You know, they dress up in the uniforms.
Larry has these funky muttonchop sideburns, and they play at the battles.
They do it all over the place.
You should check if they had any at the times he was around your town.
I bet that will explain it.
Okay.
Thank you, Chris. I'll look into it.
Yeah, sure enough. Take care.
Vermilion County Parks Department.
Hey, this is Brian Miller over at the Sheriff's Department,
trying to ascertain whether or not
any Civil War reenactors have filed for permits in the last year?
That could take a bit. Can you wait?
Yes, ma'am, I can. Thank you.
Okay, hold on.
Okay. Are you still there?
Yes, ma'am.
Sorry, we have no record of a Civil War reenactment
over the last three years.
Okay.
Well, thank you for your time. Appreciate it.
However, there was a Revolutionary War.
What is that?
I said there was a Revolutionary War reenactment though.
When?
Last summer, Forest Glen Park.
The exact date was,
let me see, July 19th.
Hello?
Hello, are you still there?
Detective?
Okay. Thank you.
Sammy?
Great.
Where's Dad?
He came in from the yard last week talking funny, you know,
like he was drunk, but he wasn't.
He said that he had a headache.
You know, he--
He went to sit down, but he missed the chair.
And the side of his face went all droopy--
- He had a stroke? - Yeah.
- Is he alive? - Yeah. He's alive.
He was in the hospital for a few days, but now he's out.
Is he okay?
Told me to say he was…
but he's not.
He can't talk all the way right, and he walks kinda to the side.
He's really weak, and he tires.
He's not good at all, no.
When did it happen?
Last week. Wednesday.
- Why didn't anybody tell me? - I am telling you.
Before. Someone should have called me. I'm his son.
Well, he is like a baby right now.
I had to have my sister drive two hours to watch him so I could come and tell you.
What do you want? A fucking parade?
You know, the doctor said it was stress that did it.
Know what caused that stress? You. In here.
It is all he ever fucking talks about.
His poor Jimmy doing time because he was a bad father.
He was a bad father. Didn't do his job.
Well, listen to me. He did his job.
Nobody made you sell that shit.
Nobody put a gun to your head.
And now you're in here, and it is killing him.
You through?
He told me you got some way of getting out of here earlier than the ten years.
He don't got ten years.
And if you stay in here, he don't got three.
Detective Drysdale, this is Brian Miller from Georgetown again.
Hey, Brian.
Yeah, well, that Civil War tip you gave us really paid off. Thank you for that.
You said you grew up with Larry.
Well, what's he like?
A harmless weirdo.
Sorry, I got "harmless."
I said, he's a harmless weirdo.
Uh-huh. Why weirdo?
Well, the sideburns, like I said.
He grew up with a mom and dad who were odd.
And the cemetery, you know.
The cemetery?
A what?
A gravedigger. Larry grew up on a graveyard.
But he's harmless.
Why would you say that?
He just is. He's a twerpy kinda guy.
He got beat up a bunch in school.
Uh-huh.
The thing is, there's a girl that went missing--
The college girl?
He confessed to that, but he didn't do it.
Marion PD cleared him.
Said he was a serial confessor.
But no, I--
He confessed in a missing persons case?
In Marion, yeah.
They ascertained he was full of shit. That--
But that's Larry. He's always trying to make himself look bigger than he is.
Let me call you from my landline.
Hey.
I'm back.
Yeah. So, Chris, the thing is,
we got a girl, went missing, turned up dead.
And you think Larry Hall could have something to do with it?
Well, we don't know.
What we do know is a van was seen driving around the area
and, you know, he was creeping out girls in the area on more than one occasion.
So, with your help, we'd like to talk to him.
Well, I mean…
I have to disagree with you here.
On which part?
Where Larry Hall could have anything to do with a dead girl.
He just likes to talk.
Like in Marion.
They got the guy who did it, and it sure wasn't Larry.
Fair enough.
I'll call him in here, and I'll get us a room.
I'll set it up.
10:00 tomorrow work for you?
Yes. Sure. Yes.
You think you can get him there without a hitch?
If I can't, I'll call you.
Else, I'll see you at 10:00.
Okay.
- I said, okay. - I heard the word.
Why don't you elaborate?
I'll accept the transfer
and befriend this sick fucking puppy and get you what you want.
So, let's get to it.
I'm glad you've made yourself available.
But I never said the job was yours.
I asked if you were interested.
- Now I know you are. - Wait a second.
We're looking at more than one applicant for the position.
Fuck are you talking about?
I just told you.
I'll let my bosses know you're amenable to a transfer
and put your name in the hat for the job.
And we'll go from there.
Keep doing your homework.
You're not going to want to blow the job interview, believe me.
Hi. Detective Miller. I have a 10:00 a.m. with Drysdale.
- Brian? - Chris!
Hey, it's good to meet you.
Likewise.
- He in a box? - Larry?
No, he's across the street.
We got him in a conference room with the Marion guys.
The detectives?
Yeah. They want to question him on the Reitler case.
We wanted to observe.
But I was hoping that he would be at ease.
Not think anything was up.
Well, he spent a whole day with the Marion guys once, driving around.
He's pretty relaxed with them.
Why were they driving around?
He claimed he could take them to a body. Patricia Reitler's.
- But he didn't, because, like I said-- - Yeah, no.
He's "full of shit." I know.
Detective Russ Aborn, Brian Miller, with the Vermilion Sheriffs.
Hey.
Derek's in with him now, shooting the shit.
I know you like him for some dead girl in your town,
but we wasted a day with this guy on the Reitler case.
And he dragged us all around, one cornfield to the next,
and he didn't do it.
So, I doubt he did yours.
He just likes confessing to cops.
Good to know.
Derek Johansen.
Now, those are some exquisite burnsides.
Named after General Ambrose Burnside,
a civil war general from around these parts, right?
A lot of people call them sideburns, but the proper term is burnsides, yeah.
Well, yours are impressive, no matter what they're called.
You leave them in place year-round?
Yeah, it's easier than having to regrow them before every reenactment.
You do both the Civil War and Revolutionary War reenactments, right?
Sorry, I'm Brian.
I'm with the Vermilion County Sheriffs in Georgetown.
Indiana?
Illinois.
Never heard of it.
We had a Revolutionary War reenactment.
I guess it was one town over. The same county.
You didn't attend a Revolutionary War reenactment in Illinois last summer?
I don't know, maybe.
Well, yeah, he did a lot of this when he was leading us to Tricia Reitler.
"I don't know, maybe."
Didn't you, Larry?
C'mon, tell him, Larry.
Tell him how you, I don't know, maybe.
And, I can't quite remember--
If you want to question Mr. Hall in your case,
why don't you go ahead and arrange a time.
Right now, I'd like to chat with him about mine.
By all means, chat.
All right, Larry, this is Georgetown right here, okay?
And this is Forest Glen Park.
And…
McHenry Township, right up here.
And this would have been where the reenactment take place.
McHenry. Yeah, I've been there.
Last summer?
I mean, I think so, yeah. Like around there.
I know that there's a Hardee's--
Sorry.
No, it's okay.
I remember there was a Hardee's right around here.
That's right. They do, Larry. It's right here.
Yep. I had a sandwich and some french fries
when I was driving around trying to find a guy who had a Charger.
A Dodge?
Yeah. I have a '82 Dodge van, and some of the parts are interchangeable.
Did you ever find the guy?
No, I don't think that I did.
- But you drove around looking? - Yep.
Larry loves Dodges. Heard all about them that day we drove him around.
Yeah, well, I like Mopar parts.
I'll find these little junkers that are rusted underneath a tree
or behind some of these people's houses.
They're not doing nothing with them.
So… maybe I know a body shop
that… needs a tailpipe
or… filter housing,
and then I'll just buy it for 20 and resell it for 35.
Must be a lot of driving around.
Oh, yeah. A lot of miles.
But I like to drive.
And when you were driving around, do you remember talking to two girls?
I asked for directions. They were very rude.
How were they rude?
They told me to--
Sorry, what?
Told me to go fuck myself.
Did you exchange words with them?
I did. It was all in fun.
Like the misunderstanding with the jogger, Larry?
Yeah.
- Yeah. - Misunderstanding?
Larry had some words with a jogger in town a few times.
She accused him of stalking her.
I didn't stalk anyone.
Yeah, I can't help it if I drive home
past where some girl runs the same time every day. I mean--
Come on, Larry. Was a little more to it than that.
And she smiled at me.
- She smiled at you? - Yeah.
Abby, the--
The jogger.
And you know her name?
Yeah, it's a small town.
Larry, these two girls in my town--
You know, I was just goofing around with them.
If they said that there was more to it,
then they just didn't get the joke, I'm sorry.
I would never dream of hurting two girls.
Well, you might dream of it.
All right. What are you guys talking about?
Larry has vivid dreams.
Tell Brian here about your dreams, Larry.
They're just dreams.
Just tell me about 'em.
In my dreams, I--
In my dreams, I, like… kill women… you know?
Sure.
They're just dreams.
Tell me more.