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[Tobias Beecher sits on a chair between two beds in a hotel room, watching a black and white movie on TV. His phone rings and he mutes the TV to answer it]
Beecher: Hello?
O'Reily: Hey.
Beecher: Jesus.
O'Reily: Surprised?
Beecher: How'd you find me? H-how'd you get my number?
O'Reily: Ah, c'mon. You know me.
Beecher: Yes, you...have your ways.
O'Reily: Yep. Hell, I even know where you live.
Beecher: So, uh, how are things in there? Is the warden still trying -
[cut to Ryan O'Reily walking down the street in a long black duster]
O'Reily: I'm out. I'm as free as can be.
Beecher: Oh. Since when?
O'Reily: Since yesterday.
Beecher: How'd that happen?
O'Reily: Oh, you mean, did I get a pardon from the governor like you did? No. My family doesn't have the same connections that your family does.
Beecher: So what happened?
O'Reily: Funny thing about the law is, you know, it usually fucks guys like me up the ass but every once in a while, eeevery once in a while the truth just works in a guy's favor.
Beecher: Meaning?
O'Reily: Meaning that the cop who testified against me, he turned out to be bad. Like handcuff bad.
Beecher: He was...taking bribes?
O'Reily: Yeah, but that wasn't even his worst sin, I mean he ended up shooting a ten year old kid in the back, murder one. Cold-blooded.
Beecher: I suppose the cop's guilt has put all his cases in doubt, uh...the verdicts, including yours.
O'Reily: Yeah, it's ironic, huh? He goes in, as I come out.
Beecher: Are they gonna retry the case?
O'Reily: No. DA said it'd just be a waste of taxpayers' time and money.
Beecher: T-that's great.
O'Reily: Gotta admit though, I was a little bit insulted by the word "waste", it's like...what I did didn't matter.
Beecher: Uhh...I'm sure with a thousand, or whatever cases overturned, he's overwhelmed.
O'Reily: Yeah, but still, like...you commit a crime, you want it to matter to someone other than yourself. You know?
Beecher: Be grateful. If they did go after you, you'd end up back inside.
O'Reily: The DA? This guy apologized to me for the years that I've lost. This fucking idiot.
Beecher: I'm glad you're out.
O'Reily: [laughs] Are you?
Beecher: [after a pause] So, uh, what are you gonna do?
O'Reily: I dunno. Depends.
Beecher: On?
O'Reily: Doctors. Behaviors. My mood.
Beecher: Uh-huh.
O'Reily: Yeah, I mean, I only know how to do what I did before I went in.
Beecher: Uh, be careful. I mean, you go down that road, you're gonna end up arrested again.
O'Reily: [laughs] I'm not worried. I bought a gun. So um, how long you been out now?
Beecher: 31 days.
O'Reily: 31 days, huh? How's that going?
Beecher: Good. I guess. I'm doing okay. I'm looking for a job.
O'Reily: Yeah, that's gotta be tough with ex-con sitting at the top of your resume.
Beecher: Uhhh-huh.
O'Reily: You know what? Rule number one, don't tell 'em where you've been.
Beecher: How do I explain a 20 year gap?
O'Reily: Eh, just tell 'em you were in a coma.
Beecher: Which...isn't too far from the truth.
O'Reily: Well, the truth, my friend, is no friend of yours. How's your family? You seen them? You have a touching family reunion?
Beecher: Uh, I haven't seen them yet.
O'Reily: What? You haven't - you haven't gone to see your mom yet?
Beecher: Ah...I want to get settled, you know? Really settled, first.
O'Reily: [unintelligible] You've been out for a month and you haven't gone to see your mother?
Beecher: Like I said, not yet.
O'Reily: What, you, uh...you afraid that, uh...you won't be welcome? No warm motherly hug?
Beecher: No. Not at all.
O'Reily: Your mom, she uh...she stopped writing you when you were in prison, right?
Beecher: Yes.
O'Reily: Stopped coming to visit you on visiting days? Huh. It's understandable.
Beecher: Yes.
O'Reily: Yeah, but it's harsh though, right?
Beecher: And deserved.
O'Reily: Yeah, but still, she did go to the governor, right? She got you a pardon? I mean, she must still love you.
Beecher: Maybe.
O'Reily: Yeah, I'ma take a guess here, I'ma take a wild fucking guess and that is that you did go over to the house.
Beecher: Yes.
O'Reily: And you rang the bell.
Beecher: Yes.
O'Reily: But she didn't come at the door. Maybe she wasn't home, right?
Beecher: I saw her in the upstairs window.
O'Reily: That's fucked up, man, you know? A guy spends 20 years on the inside, least he expects from his mother is a, "hello".
Beecher: I doubt I'll even get that much.
O'Reily: Hell, you never know. She could always turn around.
Beecher: True.
O'Reily: Or maybe you were talking about your daughter. Yeah, I remember you showing me a photo of her, back in the day. She was cute. Boy, she's gotta be about, what? 20, or something, now? Right? Wow. What, she, uh...she in college? Wow, 20 year old daughter in college, man, that just spells a whole world of trouble. I mean, it's not like I was ever in college, but I did kick the crap out of my fair share of frat boys.
Beecher: I wasn't in a fraternity. I thought those guys were jerks.
O'Reily: Wow, 20 year old daughter, gee, man. Time...it just moves so much quicker, out here than it does in there. Right?
Beecher: Yes.
O'Reily: Your daughter, she lives, uh, she lives with your mom, right?
Beecher: I don't know. You know, kids reach a certain age, you know, they want to be on their own.
O'Reily: Hey, your daughter, she was just a child when her mother died, right?
Beecher: Yes.
O'Reily: And your wife, she killed herself, right? Suicide? What, your little daughter find her like that? I mean, that's gotta be a hard thing for a girl to carry around, and then, her brother? Dying too? Mutilated? And then her grandfather? Stabbed to death, all because of you?
Beecher: Why'd you call me?
O'Reily: That's the difference between you coming from your part of town and me coming from mine.
Beecher: I don't follow.
O'Reily: You grew up in a mansion. You went to Ivy League schools, Phi Beta Kappa and all that fuckin' nonsense.
Beecher: I still don't follow.
O'Reily: You were drunk, you know, which isn't unusual. For you uptown types, you know, it's part of your routine, getting tanked on martinis.
Beecher: I don't, not anymore.
O'Reily: And then one day, you're driving home after work, blurry-eyed, you know, and, after having a few to, you know, release the stress -
Beecher: That was a long time ago.
O'Reily: And then, bam! And you know, you just rolled over some little girl, some random child, riding her bicycle.
Beecher: Why are you bringing this up?
O'Reily: I'm making a point, you know, that is, that uh...your picture was in the paper. You know, your family name was on the front page.
Beecher: I remember.
O'Reily: Man, that's gotta be tough on your folks, right? Church the next day, you know, friends...looking away, neighbors stepping away, your parents walking around, hanging their heads low, mortified, ashamed.
Beecher: If you're making a point, make the goddamn point.
O'Reily: The point is, my family, they didn't turn on me. They didn't abandon me. You wanna know why? Because I grew up in a shitty little fuckin' apartment. I went to shitty dumbass schools, and when I got sent away, it was no big shock to my father or to my brother, you wanna know why? Because I was living the same kinda life as them.
Beecher: [after a pause] I understand.
O'Reily: Do you? Do you?
Beecher: Yes. I understand perfectly. I liked your brother. I'm...pretty sure he liked me too, he - he used to draw me pictures. With crayons. Craaazy pictures. His dreams. He loved to draw. I still have one of them. One of his pictures. Do you want it?
O'Reily: No.
Beecher: Oh. I understand. You don't want to be reminded of the way he died. The electric chair. The horrible pain he must've felt. State doesn't use the chair as punishment anymore. People protested the cruelty. The state stopped. In fact, there hasn't been an execution of any kind in years. Too late for your brother, though. You ever wish you could go back and change three things? Aladdin's lamp. Three wishes. Change three things you did. Or just one. I mean, if you could, he might still be alive. Mmm. Your brother...mmmhm, he had a greeeat smile. How's your family? Your dad.
O'Reily: He, uh, died. Two weeks before I got out.
Beecher: And your aunt?
O'Reily: She's dead. A year - year ago.
Beecher: What about your mom? She doin' alright?
O'Reily: Fuck her. I don't know. She's - she's in Europe. Who the fuck knows when she'll ever come back.
Beecher: You're alone. Like me.
O'Reily: Yes.
Beecher: Gives you time to think, bein' alone. Time to think about all the shit we slogged through back then. Time to reflect. To regret.
O'Reily: Regrets? I got no regrets, homeboy.
Beecher: Is that so?
O'Reily: Yeah. Everything I did, they forced me to do.
Beecher: Everything?
O'Reily: Everything I did, I did because I had to do it.
Beecher: You can say that, but -
O'Reily: But what?
Beecher: Never mind.
O'Reily: No, why don't you go fuck yourself? What?
Beecher: Some of the things you did went above and beyond.
O'Reily: Yeah? What?
Beecher: Beyond the rules.
O'Reily: [scoffs] Rules? What, wh-what rules? The, uh...the fucking prison rules?
Beecher: The rules of decency. Humanity.
O'Reily: Decency? Humanity? Wh-what are you fuckin' talking about? They-they stuck us in there to suck the fuckin' humanity right out of us.
Beecher: Maybe. Or maybe we were already foul.
O'Reily: No. It made me worse.
Beecher: You hurt some asshole who hurt you, that's justified. You went too far.
O'Reily: Too far? Wh-wh-what are you talkin' about? I-I did what was necessary.
Beecher: You had her husband killed. You arranged for him to die.
O'Reily: Well, I loved her.
Beecher: That gave you the right to kill the man she loved?
O'Reily: She didn't love him. She loved me.
Beecher: Oh? Have you called her, let her know you're as free as can be? Oh, what's wrong. You afraid you won't be welcomed? No waaarm hug?
O'Reily: Why don't you go fuck yourself? You're no choir boy. Takin' it up the ass day after fuckin' day, biting the tip off a motherfucker's dick? What's wrong with you?
Beecher: I'm not saying I was better than you!
O'Reily: Then shut the fuck up.
Beecher: But at least I take responsibility for what I did!
O'Reily: Do you? Do you really?
Beecher: Yes. With you, nothing's ever your fault. You're never to blame.
O'Reily: A-are-are you tryin' to tell me, that what happened between us, between you and me, are you tryin' to tell me that was my fuckin' fault?
Beecher: Why did you call me?
O'Reily: You know exactly why the fuck I'm calling you.
Beecher: [sighs] It's funny, you know, after the anthrax, once we arrived at Forrestburg, I thought, you know, maybe...given our history, given the years, that maybe we'd still be -
O'Reily: What, friends? You and I were never friends.
Beecher: [sighs] No, but in a way, we were blood brothers. Saw a lot of blood, you and me. Caused a lot of that blood, too. Too much.
O'Reily: Yeah, too much of mine, because of you.
Beecher: Christ, I'm sorry. Look, is that what you wanna hear? I'm sorry?
O'Reily: You're sorry? What - what, you want me to forgive you, is that it?
Beecher: Yes.
O'Reily: How can you still be so naive? I mean, didn't you learn anything on the inside? There's no such thing as forgiveness. There's only revenge.
Beecher: We're not in prison anymore. We don't have to be that way anymore.
O'Reily: I am who they made me to be.
Beecher: Alright. Let's say I'm solely to blame for what happened between us. What can I do to make things right?
O'Reily: You can die.
Beecher: You're gonna kill me?
O'Reily: I'm gonna make you bleed first. Then I'm gonna make your family bleed.
Beecher: [watching a fire truck out the window] My family has nothing to do with this. And I will do anything I can to keep them safe.
O'Reily: You know, it's like your boyfriend said. Once a prag, always a prag. [he stops below Beecher's window and looks up at him] I'm gonna make you wish you never got out.
Beecher: I'm not afraid of you.
O'Reily: Yeah, I think you are.
Beecher: Have you forgotten? I am what they made me, too.
O'Reily: Bring it on.
Beecher: Bring it on. [he walks away from the window]