06x08 - Red John

[bunniefuu]

Previously on "The Mentalist"...

Ten years ago, the serial k*ller known as Red John k*lled my wife and daughter.

(Door creaking)

We've been hunting for him ever since.

(Camera shutters clicking)

We call ourselves the Blake association.

Lisbon: Well, who else is in the association?

Cops, judges, F.B.I. agents— anyone in law enforcement that needs a secret covered up.

A secret society of dirty cops.

And Red John's a member.

Kira Tinsley told me something before she passed.

She told me that her k*ller— Red John— has a tattoo— three dots on his left arm.

So who's Red John?

Today we're pleased to announce that we—we finally have a name, a face.

The director of the division of law enforcement, Gail Bertram, is Red John.

I am holding in my hand a writ from a federal judge.

The F.B.I. is closing down your organization right now.

We're done. There's nothing more to do here.

Lisbon: You're not quitting. I don't believe it.

Patrick: It's out of our hands for now.

I'll be in touch. Okay?

(Elevator bell dings)

I'm sorry. For everything.

(Elevator bell dings)

(Indistinct conversations)

(Elevator bell dings, doors open)

(Speaking inaudibly)

Lisbon.

Glad you can join us.

Traffic. Hmm. Where's Jane?

He'll be in to see you as soon as he's able.

This way.

(Sighs)

(Sighs)

Abbott: Please, take a seat.

Boy, this is a mess, huh?

A big mess.

Look, I think we all— you can talk later.

Now I understand...

You must all feel scared, nervous.

Don't know what in the hell is gonna happen next, right?

Agent— So let me explain what's next.

Over the next few days, we will be talking to each of you... individually.

You are entitled to bring along an attorney or a union rep, should you so choose.

Why would we need an attorney?

Well, let's look at this from our perspective, Kimball.

Your boss Bertram is a criminal.

Makes sense that you might be one, too.

We will be looking very closely at all of you.

If you have ever done anything even remotely questionable, we will find out, and we will prosecute.

Unless, of course, we feel very, very comfortable with your cooperation.

Then you got a little wiggle room.

(Vehicles passing, horn blares in distance)

(Woman on TV) The F.B.I. is overseeing an international manhunt for prominent Sacramento law enforcement official Gail Bertram.

F.B.I. sources confirm that Bertram is believed to be the notorious serial k*ller Red John, wanted for a string of grisly murders across the California heartland.

(Clicks remote)

(Remote clatters, vehicle door closes)

(Door bell dings)

Hey, man.

How's it going?

Do you have a pay phone?

It's right back there.

(Coins rattle)

Thank you.

(Door bell dings)

Hey, Ali, how you doing?

Uh, give me a pick 6...

And one of those pineapple cheroots.

(Cash register beeping)

Pick 6. Cheroot.

(Coins drop and rattle)

(Cell phone rings)

(Ring)

(Sighs)

(Ring)

(Sighs)

(Ring)

(Beep)

Hello?

Bertram: Hello, Patrick.

I don't have to use a funny voice, do I?

You know who this is.

Yes, I do.

It's weird, huh?

'Cause the last time we—

Put your hands up—

(g*nshots)

(Grunts)

Hello?

Hello? Thanks.

No problem.

Hello? Bertram? Hello?

(Snaps phone shut)

♪ The Mentalist 6x08 ♪
Red John
Original Air Date on November 24, 2013

(Lock clicking)

Clear, sir.

No kidding.

(Door closes)

Where is he?

If you're asking about Jane, I don't know.

Hmm. Did you check upstairs?

Yeah.

You know, maybe you haven't heard.

About an hour ago, Gail Bertram k*lled a cop at a gas station in east Sac.

I heard.

Did you hear what Bertram was doing at the gas station?

No.

Using a pay phone.

Guess who he was calling.

I'm gonna guess Jane.

Ahh. Yeah. So where is he?

I don't know.

I think you do.

I can't help what you think.

I think your boyfriend is colluding with a dangerous fugitive.

I think he is up to his neck in this Blake association craziness, and probably you are, too.

I'm not. He's not.

Jane can't help who calls him, and he's not my boyfriend.

It's a damn shame, Teresa.

By all accounts... you were a good cop.

I still am.

(Lowered voice) Hey, boss!

Rigsby?

Is it safe?

Yeah. What are you doing?

(Car bell dinging)

We heard about what Bertram did this morning.

We heard the F.B.I. were looking for us.

So what now? You're hiding in the parking lot?

No. No, we're not hiding. We're just... laying low.

Well, we're safe for now. There's no arrest warrant that's put out for us just yet.

Give 'em time.

Where's Jane?

Don't ask.

She just did.

Listen to me.

The C.B.I. is gone now.

We're on our own. You need to protect yourselves.

You don't know where Jane is, you don't know what he's doing, and you don't want to know, you understand?

(Sighs) Yes, boss.

Yes, boss. Yes, boss.

All right then.

But I am not your boss anymore. That's the point.

We're on our own.

(Sighs)

Yeah, we get it.

So where is he?

(Pigeons cooing)

Hey.

Hey.

You're a wanted man.

Well, I like to think so.

Seriously. Abbott put an actual warrant out on you.

Eh. It's not the first time.

(Wings flapping)

So you gonna tell me, or what?

Oh, yeah. Uh... Bertram called me.

I know. Mm.

What did he say?

Well, whatever he wanted to say, he didn't have time.

Why the hell is he still here?

What does he want?

I'm guessing he'll call back soon and tell me.

Your phone's not safe. The F.B.I.—

Yeah, they have a tap on the line.

But they don't have a trace yet.

If they had a trace, then I'd be arrested already.

Maybe so, but sooner or later, they'll get a trace on you.

I know.

But I can't get rid of my phone until Bertram calls.

It's all very suspenseful.

(Sighs)

What does he want?

Who?

Bertram. We'll see.

Now you're being evasive.

What beady little eyes birds have.

Tiny dinosaurs, you know?

I know.

I know you know what he wants.

What does he want?

(Cell phone ringing)

(Beep)

Hello?

Oh, sorry I had to hang up on you.

It's been a busy day.

Yeah, no problem. You know, this phone is not safe.

Let me call you back in a moment.

Yeah.

What'd he say?

(Beep, phone snaps shut)

Just a second.

Hey. How you doing?

I'll give you $100 for that phone. Huh?

(Bills rustle)

$200 for that phone.

What's the catch?

No catch.

$300 plus... a replacement phone.

Uh, okay. (Chuckles)

Yeah, dude, I'll call you right back.

(Cell phone beeps)

Pleasure doing business with you.

(Buttons clicking)

Thanks, man.

Mm-hmm.

What did he say?

Hello?

Look, I think we should meet and talk.

Just the two of us. What, like a date?

(Laughs) Yes...

No.

Look, the game is over.

I'd call it a very honorable tie.

And now that it's over, I really think that we should talk.

You know, a truce. No weapons, no tricks.

Just talk.

Then we both walk away.

Talk. About what?

(Chuckles) Well... everything.

I think we both could use a little closure, don't you?

It has to be today. You know, now.

(Chuckles) I'm kind of pressed for time.

How do I know I can trust you?

Ah, don't be timid now, Patrick.

I could have k*lled you many times, and I haven't, have I?

Okay. When and where?

Excellent.

I'll be at the Fremont Park fountain in half an hour.

No. Don't know it. Central bus station.

North entrance. Nah, there's too many people.

There's too many cops.

You know Alexandria cemetery?

Of course I do.

Yeah, there's a chapel by the Western gate.

That—that'll do. Half an hour.

Don't be late. I can't wait around.

Half an hour.

(Receiver clatters)

What'd he say?

He wants to meet with me.

It's a trap.

Probably. (Exhales)

Well, what are you gonna do?

(Clicks tongue)

I'm gonna meet him.

You can't.

Trust me, I know what I'm doing.

Jane, don't do this. Think about it.

The F.B.I. is gonna get Bertram soon enough.

I don't want the F.B.I. to get him.

You knew this day was coming.

It's here.

Let me come with you.

No, I don't want you involved.

Involved? I am involved. Not anymore.

I'm gonna need to borrow your g*n.

My g*n?

Yes, your g*n. I'm not gonna use it.

Just a prop.

Teresa, trust me, please. Just trust me.

Thank you.

(Indistinct conversations)

(Gasps)

Like that way.

Thanks.

(Gasps)

(Cell phone clatters)

(Starts engine, engine revs)

(Tires screech, gears shift)

(Tires peal)

(Speaking indistinctly)

(Tires screeching)

(Siren wailing)

(Tires screech)

(Tires screech)

(Car alarm wailing)

(Tires peal)

(Siren wails)

Uhh!

(Patrick panting)

(g*ns cocking)

Where's the man in charge here?

Where is Abbott?

Get down on your knees.

Keep your hands where I can see them.

Where is Abbott?

I-I have to go.

All right, take it down a notch, people.

He's not Al Capone.

Abbott, please listen to me.

I can tell that you're a man of honor.

On my honor, I will give myself up in an hour.

But right now I just— I just need...

Just...

Forget it.

No. No, no, no, no. No, tell me.

Come on.

(Mutters indistinctly)

No, what do you need?

What do you need, huh?

You need an hour?

For what?

(Tires screeching in distance)

Where are you going?

Who are you gonna go meet?

(Brakes squeal)

No?

Well, let's take a trip downtown, shall we?

Hey.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

No. You can let her go.

Hi, Miss Lisbon.

Do me this one favor, Abbott, cop to cop.

Let him go, and I swear I will bring him back later.

Not happening.

(Vehicle doors open)

And what is all this urgency I'm hearing here? Hmm?

Oh. You made a plan with Bertram.

Is that it?

Is that what you did?

Please, Abbott.

(Vehicle doors close)

Man: F.B.I.! Back it off!

CBI. Back it up yourself.

Abbott: What's this?

Let him go, Abbott. He's done nothing wrong.

Hey, guys.

You know, I-it's good to see you.

I hate to bring you down, but there is no CBI.

That badge is a toy, and you're all impersonating officers of the law.

Whatever. Let him go.

Are you mad-dogging me right now?

The F.B.I.?

You say you're legit F.B.I., but how do we know?

Yeah, you could be members of the Blake association for all we know.

(Chuckles) We're not.

Prove it.

Your man Reede Smith was a member. Why not you?

And how do we know Jane's not in danger?

That's absurd.

I'm sorry, agent Abbott, but it is our duty to protect this man until we're assured his safety.

Hey. Let him go.

Oh, whoa, whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. No, no, no, no, no.

It's all right. Just stand down. Stand down, guys. No bloodshed required. It's cool.

Let him go.

Take my car.

(Mouths word)

(Rapid footsteps depart)

Man: Sir?

It's okay.

Thank you, guys!

(Door closes, engine starts)

(Tires peal)

(Vehicle departing)

We done?

He's gone. We're done.

Hmm. Arrest them.

Put your g*ns down on the ground...

Slowly.

Do as he says.

(Handcuffs clicking)

Go track Agent Lisbon's vehicle.

Yes, sir.

You put a bug on my car?

How do you think we found Jane?

I said I was glad to see you people because I knew you would screw up and make my life easy.

And you did just that.

Thank you.

Arrest her.

Come on.

(Tires screech)

(Tires screech)

(Reverse signal beeping)

(Tires screech)

(Speaking indistinctly)

Man: He wasn't ready for it.

Man: No.

(Men speaking indistinctly)

Man: Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo. Check it out. Whoa!

(Seat belt clicks)

Check this out.

(Engine idling)

What's up?

Uh, could you guys keep an eye on my car for me, please?

Sure, I'll watch it.

Thank you.

(Laughs) Let's go.

(Laughs)

Yeah, man, no worries.

(Tires screech)

(Men laughing)

Man: Yeah! Ha ha ha ha!

(Men whooping)

Hey there.

Uh...

(Brakes squeal)

Sorry to bother you, ma'am.

Uh, long story.

Uh, I need—I need a ride, if you're willing.

(Tires peal)

(Spanish hip-hop playing)

♪

(Revs engine)

(Police radio chatter)

(Breathes deeply)

(Radio squawks)

Man: This is unit 4. We have the vehicle in sight, stationary on Fifth and Sherman.

(Static crackles)

Stay back, stay back.

This could be the meet.

(Static crackles)

(Radio squawks)

What the heck?

Unit 4, what's the situation?

(Static crackles)

Unit 4, respond, damn it.

(Static crackles)

Boss, it was some kids in Lisbon's car.

Jane wasn't there.

We don't have Jane. Repeat. We don't have Jane.

Do you co—

(Radio clatters)

Don't dig yourself any deeper.

Where did he go?

I don't know.

You guys really have a death wish, don't you?

Sir, we really don't know.

Mm-hmm.

"Sir"? Why the hell are you calling him "sir"?

Oh, calm down, Dillinger.

We're under arrest here. We might as well be civil.

Why? You think you'll get a nicer cell?

(Engine revs)

Muchas gracias, Aurelio.

De nada. Buena suerte.

(Car departing)

(Sprinklers hissing)

Hey, Patrick.

I'm gonna need to search you for weapons.

So you can go ahead, put your hands up.

Worth a sh*t.

You can go in now.

Patrick.

(Exhales)

Thank you for being so punctual.

(Door closes)

You lied to me.

Oh. (Chuckles)

Well... as did you.

What a couple of scamps we are, huh?

I promise that is the last lie that I will ever tell you. (pats shoulder)

So... (Inhales) first things first.

You and the feds have made a big mistake.

I'm not Red John.

What?

(Chuckles)

I'm not Red John.

I-I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm just a humble foot soldier in the Blake association.

Red John is one of the top brass.

I'm not sure I believe you.

Well... (Chuckles) that's your privilege, but— but I am telling you the truth.

You all just jumped to the wrong conclusion.

Okay, so who is Red John?

Oh, I have no idea.

No, h-honestly.

No idea.

The association works on a strictly need-to-know basis.

Supposing what you say is true, then we could have had this talk on the phone.

Yeah, but if we talked on the phone, then you... you probably wouldn't have come to meet me, would you?

And I was told to call you, tell you the game's over, and arrange a meeting.

Why?

Why am I here?

(Sighs)

Please... don't think for a moment that I am happy about this.

The association doesn't like loose ends.

Just hates them.

So... go on, Oscar.

No, no. Listen. Listen. Let's— let's talk about this. Just... w-wait.

Now I am truly sorry, but it is totally out of my hands.

I always liked you, Patrick.

(Cocks g*n)

No. No. This is not necessary.

We don'

(Silenced g*nsh*t)

H-hey...

Thank you, Oscar.

You can wait outside. Just, uh...

Make sure we're left in peace.

(Door opens)

(Exhales) Hello, Patrick.

(Door closes)

Hi.

(Police radio chatter)

Hey!

(Pounds head)

Hello? !

(Pounding continues)

Hey, what's going on?

Grace, what are you— Hey!

What—please don't do that.

(Sighs)

You're worse than Cho.

They need to tell us what's going on.

Rigsby: They don't need to do anything.

And we can't do anything, so please just relax.

(Huffs) Relax?

How can I relax?

You know, sometimes I think you like being helpless.

Okay, fine, I take it back. Don't relax.

Just break the window with your forehead and we'll all jump out and make a run for it. (Sighs)

Guys, let's try to keep it together, okay?

Okay, I'm sorry.

(Under breath) "Sorry."

Mullins, you're from here, yes?

Yes, sir. Over to Lincoln Heights.

Get me a map of Sacramento. Yes, sir.

There's one on the computer in the car.

Paper map.

Paper... map.

Come on. Let's go.

(Lowered voice)

Hey, do you have a paper map?

Well, Patrick, here we are.

Poor fella.

Smart but dumb.

It never occurred to him that I am the Blake association.

Why'd you have to k*ll him?

Everyone thinks he's Red John, don't they?

So... it would seem a fitting end to the story if you two were found dead together.

No one will look any deeper.

So I'm supposed to die, am I?

After all these years, seems kind of unfair.

(In Red John voice)

It's totally fair.

The game's over, and I won.

It's not a game.

(Normal voice) There's a winner and a loser.

That's a game.

It's not a game I asked to play.

No, but you played it very well nonetheless.

You were fun, challenging. Thank you.

(Chuckles softly)

You probably have a lot of questions for me, huh?

We have time, if you want.

I have no questions.

You're an evil, sexually perverted sociopath with pathetic delusions of grandeur.

The rest is just details.

"Evil, sexually perverted sociopath"?

Well, I guess I have to own that, but, uh...

"Delusions of grandeur"?

No.

I have no delusions.

I built a secret empire.

I control the lives of thousands of people.

My word is life and death, and nobody knows who I am.

Now if that's not grandeur, I don't know what you call it.

I'd call it the ravings of a squalid egomaniac.

You see?

For no reason at all, you... you're rude and contemptuous.

That's why your wife and kid are dead.

Who are you to butt in here and make obnoxious judgments about me?

Who are you?

Hmm?

Who are you?

Nobody.

Nobody.

You didn't know me.

You don't know me.

You have no idea.

Here's your problem, Pat.

You're a smart man, but you are arrogant.

You can't imagine someone smarter than you.

Which is why I've been ahead of you at every step along the way.

You're holding the g*n. You want to brag?

Go ahead. I'm not gonna stop you.

(Exhales)

You still don't know how I fooled you, do you?

How did I survive that b*mb?

How did I know all the names on your list?

Is this what you've been missing? Appreciation?

Hmm?

Do you want me to applaud?

You have no idea, do you?

I don't know how you got the list of suspects.

That was a good trick.

But the b*mb gag is simple.

There were two explosions.

The first was a concussion b*mb, knocked everyone out.

The second, lethal b*mb that k*lled Haffner and Stiles only went off after you dragged Bertram and me out of harm's way.

Correct.

Faking your own death was easy.

Brett Partridge was Blake association.

His job gave him access to the primary D.N.A. database.

He switched your D.N.A. records with a body that you had on ice.

A surrogate.

And you brought the body to my house in the trunk of your car and you put it alongside Stiles and Haffner.

Very good.

Your hindsight is 20/20.

Can I show you something?

Sure.

Bread crumbs?

(Cooing)

Aah! Aah! Aah!

(Tape rips)

(Grunts)

(g*nsh*t)

(Groaning)

(g*n clatters)

Uhh!

(Breathing heavily)

(Wings flapping, cooing)

(Gasping)

(Cooing continues)

(Continues gasping)

Birds. (Panting)

Very clever.

The b*mb was a mistake.

It was theater.

I knew that whatever the truth looked like, the opposite must be true.

Please don't.

Don't k*ll me.

Oh, now you want mercy?

After all you've done?

(Breathing unevenly)

You're not like me.

You're a good man.

It'll haunt you.

Oh, I'm not hesitating.

I'm just savoring the moment.

You're Red John.

I have to say I'm a little disappointed.

(Doors open and close)

Oh, my God!

Help! Please! He's gonna k*ll me!

Oh, my God!

I'm a policeman, and you need to leave.

Sir, I'm sorry, you don't look like a policeman.

Yes, I am. Just do as I say and leave right now.

Please put down that g*n. You need to go.

Whatever's happened here, more v*olence is not the answer.

No, you don't understand. Sir, I do understand.

I know how angry you must—

No, you don't, and you have to go now!

Sir, in all good conscience—

(Grunts)

(Woman grunting)

(Grunts)

All right, so he started out here, and he dumped the car here at a mini-mall.

So where would you arrange a meeting?

Someplace with easy access, in and out, close to the highway.

Ballpark. Too much security. What's that?

Community college campus.

No, that, right there.

That's the Alexandria cemetery.

Where was Jane's wife buried?

What does that have to do— where was she buried?

Alexandria cemetery.

Thanks.

Abbott: Alexandria cemetery. Let's go!

(Map rustling)

(Engine starts)

(Tires pealing)

(Panting)

(Panting)

(Groaning)

Oh, my God.

Oh, no. Oh, my God!

Woman: Help! Please!

(Woman screaming)

Which way?

(Panting) Over there.

(Groans)

(Grunting)

(Brakes squealing)

"B" team, canvass this side.

Denyer, you're with me. Let's go.

Let's go now. Come on. Let's see if he's here.

(Panting)

(Lock clatters)

Uhh!

What was that?

Aah! Aah!

(Gasping) Oh, my— oh! Oh, my—oh!

(Woman gasping and screaming)

No! (Gasping)

Oh! What's going on?

I'm on the line with the police.

I am police, ma'am. Let me talk to them.

Oh.

Thank you. This way?

Uh, um, yeah, well...

(Children laughing)

(Phone clatters)

(Sighs)

Ah, hell.

(Children shouting playfully, ducks quacking)

(Grunting)

(Grunting)

(Breathing deeply)

(Cell phone beeps)

(Dialing phone)

(Exhaling deeply)

(Line ringing)

(Continues exhaling deeply)

Woman: 9-1-1. What's your emergency?

Hello. Ma—

Aah! Hello?

(Groaning)

9-1-1. What's your emergency?

(Breathing heavily)

Please don't k*ll me. Let me live.

9-1-1. What's your emergency?

(Cell phone beeps)

Please... let me live.

(Panting)

I'll tell you how I got the names on your list.

I don't care.

I-I knew because I have real psychic—

Shh...

(Gasping)

I want you to blink once for "no" and twice for "yes."

(Breathing heavily)

Are you sorry that you k*lled my wife Angela and my daughter Charlotte?

(Gurgles)

Good.

Good.

Are you afraid to die?

Good.

(Exhales sharply)

(Breathing unevenly)

(Gurgling)

(Inhales sharply)

(Continues gurgling)

(Rustling)

(Thud)

(Gasps)

(Exhaling sharply)

(Exhales deeply)

(Breathing heavily)

(Sniffles)

(Breathing heavily)

(Cell phone beeps, buttons clicking)

(Rings)

(Ring)

(Ring)

(Ring)

(Ring)

Don't even think about it.

(Ring)

(Ringing stops)

(Beep) Lisbon...

(Breathing heavily)

It's over. It's done.

I just want you to know I'm okay.

And I'm gonna Miss you.

(Cell phone beeps)

(Cell phone clatters)

(Child laughs)

Stay tuned for scenes from our next episode.