20x23 - Rubber Room

Episode transcripts for the TV show "Law & Order". Aired: September 1990 to May 2010.*
Watch/Buy Amazon  Merchandise


Detectives and prosecutors work to solve crimes and convict perpetrators.
Post Reply

20x23 - Rubber Room

Post by bunniefuu »

NARRATOR:
In the criminal justice system

the people are represented by two
separate yet equally important groups,

the police
who investigate crime

and the district attorneys
who prosecute the offenders.

These are their stories.

I can't believe she
could be so stupid.

This from the genius who mooned the
girl's soccer team in tenth grade.

What're you guys
doing on my computer?

What were
you doing?

Exposing yourself to some
creep on your webcam.

He took a video capture of it
and now it's all over the Net.

It's just my boobs, okay?

Why don't you ask Dad where he found this?
What site was he on?

Who is he, Eliza?

Here, I found him.
Fighter Boy.

Did you know
he has a blog?

Dad, please. Just stop.

WOMAN ON WEBSITE:
Like what you see?

Oh, great.

We're not naive, we
know kids experiment.

But, this creep had the video
of our daughter on his blog.

She's 17?
Yeah.

If she consented to chat with him,
there may not be much we can do.

But, he has videos

of other girls who looked much younger.
Mmm-hmm.

Do you have his blog address?
Yeah, I got it.

He's got girls on his blog,
pictures of g*ns. He's a freak.

VAN BUREN:
They do look young.

Um, can you excuse
me a moment?

Sure.

Lupo, log on to this.

Okay.

Okay, looks like video caps of naked
girls, something for the "perv" unit.

Not that. Click here.

Huh.

Fighter Boy's got
a lot of hobbies.

VAN BUREN:
Click on the video.

All right.

There's enough here to take
out a whole city block.

Not just any block. Check
out the license plate.

LUPO: "The Empire State."

A New York City block.

(ALARM RINGING)

FEMALE VOICE: 6:00, Fighter Boy.
6:00, Fighter Boy.

6:00, Fighter Boy, 6:00, Fighter Boy.
6:00, Fighter Boy.

Police! Don't move. Don't move!
Don't move! John Noite?

What?

- Fighter Boy, that's you?
- Yeah.

Where are the weapons?
What weapons?

All right, w*r's over for you, Johnny.
Get up! Get up!

Swear to God, the only weapons I have
are a beam r*fle and energy bolts.

They're online
computer game weapons.

That's right. Pretend weapons. I
don't have anything like this.

These photos on your blog,

that pipe b*mb video,
where did you get that?

On the web somewhere. I just
thought if I had it on my blog...

You'd get some
web cred? Hmm?

Hmm.

Well, the sex cops, they want to talk to
you about your videos of under-aged girls.

No more pretend for you, Johnny,
you're going to do some real time now.

CCS confirms the photos and
b*mb video were downloaded

from another source on the Net,
a source they can't trace.

Yeah, Johnny's apartment was clean,
no weapons no trace of expl*sives.

The lump's a watcher,
he's not a doer.

Then find the doer.

The car in the video was a silver Civic.
Any one of five model years.

Tens of thousands
in the state.

It's like fishing for a needle in
the ocean, old Chinese saying.

Just do it,
old American saying.

Look, we've got someone driving
around loaded for mayhem.

Right place, right time, we could be
looking at hundreds of casualties.

It'd be nice if just this once we
could stop something from happening.

TECHNICIAN: Your fast MR!
was three months ago?

Uh, yeah, right
after my radiation.

Let's just have you
lie down right here.

Now, your doctor will take a look
at the pictures we take today

and compare them to the one from three months
ago, to see if there's been any change.

I'm sure she'll call
you in a couple of days.

All right, you'll hear this machine
turn on, and then we'll slide you in,

just your lower torso. Now
make sure you don't move.

If you have a problem,
use the call button here.

Got it? Okay.
Okay.

(OPERA MUSIC PLAYING)

Okay, we're ready.
Music okay?

Uh, yeah.
Yeah, it's fine.

TECHNICIAN: Okay
remember, don't move.

(OPERA MUSIC BUILDS UP)

(OPERA MUSIC CONTINUES)

DETECTIVE JENA: Going by the
vegetative growth pattern, shadows,

this was sh*t in an
east-by-northeast orientation,

between 6:00 and 7:00 a.m.,
four to eight weeks ago.

What's that
on the horizon line?

JENA: Looks like the tops
of two structures.

Are those cables
coming out of them?

The towers of a
suspension bridge.

JENA: Yeah. We can check.

The Verrazano Bridge. This
was sh*t on Staten Island.

Can you figure out where this
field is, relative to the bridge?

I have the height
of the towers,

the perspective
distance between them,

short answer's yes.

We got no reports of an expl*si*n, but,
uh, we're on a flight path for JFK.

So, people pretty much
tune out the noise.

(BEEPING ACCELERATING)
I got something.

Fragment of a two-inch
diameter iron pipe, threaded.

Characteristic traces of a
black-powder expl*si*n.

Pipe b*mb, huh?
Yeah.

We, uh...

We found a pipe b*mb
a couple of weeks ago,

in the restroom of a gas
station three miles from here.

It was a dud.
It was all rusted.

I thought it
was a prank.

Ha-ha.

It was in a trash bin in the rest room.
The gas jockey found it.

Yeah, it matches the one in
the field and in the video.

The lab found three sets of prints,
and a residue of a medicinal cream,

pimecrolimus.
Eczema cream.

A bomber with
itchy hands.

You're tracking down every
silver Civic on Staten Island?

Mmm-hmm, and pulling
video from toll booths.

Van Buren. Oh, yes. Thank
you for returning my call.

Can you hold
on, please?

Listen, circle back to that gas jockey.
See what he remembers about this prank.

Okay.

Uh, yes, I called to apply
for a line of credit.

I've been sick.

I have medical bills.

MAN". A silver Honda?

I don't know, I'm not into cars.
I take public transportation.

All right, what about who you
gave the key to the rest room to?

You don't need a key. The lock's busted.
I told those other cops.

What about a car with
three people in it?

I remember three kids.

On bicycles. They came
in to use the air hose.

Any of them use
the restroom?

I don't know. I was
checking out their bikes,

BMX, all the same
color, green and black.

I could tell from the pegs
they do a lot of grinding.

Where do the free-stylers
hang out around here?

There's a park over
on Grandview.

All right. Thanks.

Come on! You know white
boys can't jump! (LAUGHS)

I'm just saying, all we need is a
bar, 100 bucks for refreshments.

I don't think she's gonna go for it, Lupes.
You know, she's a very private person.

Hey.

Sorry.

Ball got away from us.

You guys mind if we
ask you a question?

It's okay, we're cops.

We just want to know
if you guys ever use

the air hose at the service
station on Richmond...

Hey, hey, hey!
Hey. Hey.

Let go!
Easy, easy.

Well, well, well,
look what we have here.

Eczema.

This is nonsense. My kid is 13.
He's no mad bomber.

The fingerprints we found on his bicycle
match the prints we found on this.

Prints and eczema cream. They
both tie your son to the b*mb.

(sum-nus)

Well, Vinnie, what
do you have to say?

Did you make this b*mb?

No, no, I found it
in a field, past the mall.

What the hell were
you doing over there?

Vinnie, why were
you in that field?

I saw the video online,
of the expl*si*n.

And, um, I
recognized the place,

so me and my friends,
we went there to look around,

for, you know, like,
a piece of history.

And I found the pipe,
but they got all scared

so I ditched it
at the gas station.

A "piece of history"?

Yeah. It's gonna be epic.

Show us where
you saw the video.

That it?

"Moofs Countdown."

These are the photos Fighter
Boy had on his blog.

Right there,
the expl*si*n video.

(READING)

(EXCLAIMS)

Check this out,

"I figure 600 dead, easy,
students and faculty.

"300 just in the cafeteria. I'm going
to bring down the whole building."

This guy's talking about
taking out his school.

"When I'm done, no one will be able
to walk into a New York City school

"without thinking of me."

Like I said, epic.

This boy Moot's been running his
blog through a server in Romania.

There is no way to
identify him or trace him.

Is this a credible thr*at? The blog
doesn't name the school, the borough,

or even a specific
time frame.

Chief, he's got a Hi-Point 9mm
carbine with 20 ten-round mags,

a GLOCK 21 with five
boxes of hollow points,

15 pipe bombs, and a web body
harness to carry it all.

Not to mention three
propane tanks wired to go.

This is as credible a thr*at as any I've
seen in eight years in Counter-Terror.

Then that's what
I'll tell the PC.

Lieutenant, I'll have the Chief of
School Safety talk to you directly.

Thank you.

This boy's had this blog for three months
talking about blowing up his school.

How many people read it?
2,300 hits.

And no one thought
to report him.

Well, nobody likes a
snitch, even on the Net.

All right, let's bring in some help, see if
we can profile this boy from his writings.

And start working on an e-mail,
maybe we can smoke him out.

"I'm surrounded by
drones who never stop

"and ask why they're even in school.
I hate them.

"I hate the whole stupid world. I want to
send them a message they'll understand.

"You know what I'm
talking about, Moot.

"I think we should
coordinate our actions.

"Just picture it, you in
New York and me in L.A.

"Same day, same time.
It'll be epic.

"Get back to me. Eric and Dylan 4
ever!" Nice Columbine reference.

You like that, huh?

Kids like this see Harris and Klebold as
tragic heroes, instead of what they were,

a grandiose psychopath
and a suicidal depressive.

The perfect storm. Which way
does this kid Moot swing?

He skews more toward
depressive and suicidal.

Some days, he's angry, feels disrespected.
Other days, he's frustrated, despondent.

Problem is, he's not giving out any
personal details we can work with.

There's a failed love
affair, but no specifics.

Lab pulled the serial number off the
photo of that Hi-Point carbine.

Turns out the g*n was stolen from a g*n
store heist in Massachusetts last month.

So, whoever did the job must've
sold the carbine to Moot.

Mmm-hmm. A*F caught the thief two weeks ago.
He's sitting in Otisville, awaiting trial.

Go. I got plenty
here to amuse myself.

BERNARD: This g*n
is in the possession of a kid

who's threatening
to blow up his high school.

Now, we need to know who
Mr. Phillips sold it to.

What are
you offering?

We can't offer anything. He's
under Federal jurisdiction.

This guy's got g*ns, he's
got a*mo, he's got bombs.

He's got plans
to k*ll hundreds of kids.

I don't know, maybe you got
a kid brother in school.

You've got
to help us out, man.

Then you better go talk
to the damn Feds, man.

SCHUCTER: Dwayne Phillips is
a potential witness against

a g*n-running network that extends
all the way up into Canada.

I'm not wasting Federal leverage
on a nothing state investigation.

"Nothing" investigation? Mr.
Schlicter, we're talking about

a credible thr*at against a high
school full of children and teachers.

According to what?
A blog? Get real.

A blog that had video of a pipe
b*mb expl*si*n, a real expl*si*n.

Have you checked
the Internet lately?

It's filled with videos of dumb kids
blowing up crap with pipe bombs.

Well, not for nothing, Schlicter
rhymes with sphincter.

No go. His boss
won't see us.

Well, we could always ask Moot to blow up
Schlicter's car to prove he's for real.

We may not
need the Feds.

A*F gave us the dumps off of Phillips's
cell phone. He made a couple of calls

to a number upstate, in Ghent, and
that number corresponds to a DSL line

used by a computer
to log on to Moot's blog.

(PHONE RINGING)

Van Buren. Anita, it's Dr.
Knight.

Yes, Doctor.

I need you to come back
in for another MRI.

Why? What did
you find?

Nothing. There was a problem with
the images. The data got corrupted.

We need to redo the MRI.
I am very sorry.

I booked you another appointment
for Monday morning.

Okay, Doctor.
I'll be there Monday.

Again, I'm
very sorry.

Right.
Good-bye.

WOMAN: Morgan, I swear,

if you don't tell
them what you know,

you are not stepping out of
this house for the next year.

Okay.

I met Dwayne Phillips
at the skating rink.

He was nice.
I liked talking to him.

I didn't do anything
else with him.

Then what about Moot?

You talked to him, besides
sending him e-mails?

No. I found his
blog by accident.

I wrote him.
He wrote me back.

Did he tell you his
name, where he lives?

No. Just Moot.

We mostly talked about me.

Yet, you put Moot
in touch with Dwayne.

No.

Moot told me he was
looking to get a r*fle,

a special
kind of r*fle.

And then I met Dwayne, and he said
he could get a r*fle like that.

So, I gave him 100 bucks
out of my savings.

Moot, you met with him,
you gave him the r*fle?

No. My friend, Lee, thought Moot
might be some kind of freak,

try and r*pe me
or something.

So, he went down
and gave him the r*fle.

He drove down to Saugerties.
That's where they met.

We're gonna need to talk
to your friend Lee.

He drove through a red light two weeks ago.
18-wheeler took him out.

All right. Thanks.

We read through the e-mails that
Moot exchanged with the girl.

It's all about her. He doesn't
give up anything about himself.

He met her friend
in Saugerties?

Pull all the toll booth
video for that night.

We're on it.

Guys, this is bad.
Moot's blog.

"I just found out the police
have been reading my blog.

"At least now someone's paying attention.
They know I'm for real.

"I'll just have to be
more careful from now on.

"The plan goes on.
The end has been written."

So much for
the element of surprise.

Our girl in Ghent, she e-mailed Moot about
our visit. She said she felt sorry for him.

I feel sorry for her. Any
likelihood he'll move up his plans?

So far, he's acted in a slow, deliberate
manner. This is not an impulsive kid.

Anything in his blog that can
actually help us find him?

He's bright, articulate, probably
at the top of his English class.

He loves to write. He knows we're reading
his blog, but he's still posting.

This one's
about a teacher.

Teachers are his favorite subject.
Can't stop griping about them.

I'd like this story better
if this teacher had a name.

Right, because one of the
students probably wrote it.

These teachers on his blog, maybe
identifying them will lead us to Moot.

There's one teacher he wrote
about a couple of weeks ago.

Here, science teacher,
a religious zealot

who b*rned crosses
on the arms of his students.

FONTOVA: Sorry.
I can't help you.

The teacher in question was
the subject of a proceeding.

But it was resolved before
it got to arbitration.

Resolved how?
You fired the teacher?

I really can't discuss it. The
unions would be all over us.

Maybe we didn't make ourselves
clear, Mr. Fontova.

There's a credible b*mb thr*at
against one of your schools.

b*mb threats are
a serious matter.

But, union lawyers
are more serious.

PRELUTSKY:
The file was sealed.

I wouldn't be doing my job protecting members
of this union if I violated that seal.

Mr. Prelutsky, I assure you, this unnamed
teacher is not a target in our investigation.

But, he might have
important information...

I have a collective bargaining
agreement to enforce.

As members of a union, I'm
sure you can appreciate that.

You wanted
to talk to us, Miss?

You know about this teacher,
how we can find him?

The teachers have this website
where they bitch about their job.

Here's how you log in. If
you leave a message there,

maybe someone can help
you find that teacher.

Thank you.

Now, just remember
to not move.

You mess up this test again, you're
going to see me move in your direction.

Baby, come on now.

Thinks I have nothing better to do than
come here and be shoved into this machine

like a pot roast?

TECHNICIAN: We're ready.
Remember, don't move.

Anita. Bite your tongue.

Here you go.

You read what these
teachers put up with,

all of a sudden walking a b*at in
Brownsville doesn't sound so bad.

I studied to be a teacher. I spent
a year teaching kindergarten.

You were
a kindergarten teacher?

Don't go there, Lupes.

Okay, we got an answer.

"The teacher you asked about, the
one who branded kids with crosses,

"it sounds like Ron Kozlowski. He's a
science teacher in Suffolk County."

It's absurd. I didn't
brand anybody.

You know what
a Tesla coil is?

Yes. That.

Correct. I assume you
know what it does.

It generates an
electrical current.

Good job. Last year, as I've
done hundreds of times before,

I did a little demonstration by passing
the current over the arms of my students.

Left a little
redness on the skin.

Next thing I know, there's a complaint
filed that I branded crosses.

I was suspended,
pending an arbitration.

One of your students wrote about you on his
blog. He said you were a "church freak."

I'm a religious person. I don't
make any bones about that.

We're trying to identify the student
who wrote this about you on his blog.

He probably gets A's in English.
He drives a silver Honda.

No, doesn't
ring a bell.

What about the student who filed
the complaint, you have his name?

There was more
than one student.

The Department of Education
wouldn't tell me their names.

Sorry you had to drive
all the way out here.

Sorry you ended up out here.

After four months' suspension, I
quit New York and got a job here.

Half the salary, twice the commute,
but at least I'm teaching.

The Department of Education won't
release the names of the students.

Not even the students
in Kozlowski's class.

Moot could be a kid in another class who
just happened to hear about Kozlowski.

We really need the names of
all the kids in that school.

The Department of Education
is standing on principle,

protecting
the privacy of minors.

They're not taking
this seriously.

Book us with the Grand Jury.

We need to move for an indictment
and start issuing subpoenas.

BERNARD: The pipe b*mb
components in the field

matched the pipe bombs
pictured on the blog.

The serial number of the r*fle
stolen from the g*n store

matched the w*apon
on the blog.

What conclusion do you
take from those facts?

The person writing this blog has
been amassing and testing weapons

over the past three months
with the clear intent

to att*ck a New York
City school.

Thank you, Detective.
You're excused.

Members of the Grand Jury, that concludes
the presentation in the matter

of People v. Unknown
Suspect John Doe,

also known as
"Blogger Moot."

I ask now that you authorize me to serve
subpoenas on the Department of Education

for all relevant student records of but
not limited to John Locke High School.

I also ask that you authorize
me to seize all computers

that are found
on the school's premises.

Yes?

How many students
are in this high school?

2,812.

You want to search the records
and computers of 2,800 kids?

We don't know the
identity of this suspect.

That's why we're seeking
a John Doe Indictment.

What if you've got
the wrong school?

You're going to search the
computers of another 2,000 kids?

Some of us here
are parents

and I'm not sure
we like that idea.

These are high school
kids, not Al Qaeda.

"I figure 600 dead, easy.

"Students and faculty.
300 just in the cafeteria.

"I'm going to bring down
the whole building."

MAN: Those are just words
on a computer.

The police can get
warrants from a judge.

You don't need
a blank check from us.

WOMAN: I have a question.

Can we vote to cut off
this indictment right now?

VAN BUREN: They shut you down?

All right, I'll tell them.

Yeah. Good night.

What were you
looking at?

Nothing.

Open it back up.

The D.A. crapped out
with the Grand Jury,

so stopping this kid is going
to come down to police work.

And you're not going to have
time for any fund-raiser.

So cancel it.

Lou,

that was supposed
to be a surprise.

If you respect me,
respect my privacy.

Told you.

Screw that.

I'm not going
to cancel it.

Lupes.

Check out
what our friend just posted.

"Every day I feel
it all closing in,

"the police, the school,
the lies,

"the empty void of my future,
my relentless destiny.

"The only power I have left
is when I choose to end this.

"I can't wait anymore.

"By the end of next week,

"you will all know my name."

It's on.

The doomsday clock
just moved up three minutes.

Slow and deliberate.
Not impulsive.

That is what you said.

I also said
the kid's suicidal.

He was always likely
to go off at any minute.

Look, you gentlemen
can settle this later.

All I want to know is
how we can catch this boy.

On his blog,

there's a half-dozen teachers
that he has a beef with.

Like the science teacher.

And if we identify them and cross-reference
the students in their classes,

we may be able
to come up with our boy.

So last night, we went
on the teachers' website,

and we described what the kid
said about his teachers,

asking if anybody
recognized them.

This morning,
we got replies with names.

Now according to
the Department of Education,

most of these teachers
are in Queens,

at something called a Temporary
Reassignment Center.

What is that?

Welcome to
the Rubber Room.

This is where teachers accused
of incompetence or misconduct

are reassigned pending
an arbitration hearing.

They're not teaching?

We don't want them
near a classroom,

but we can't fire them
pending the arbitration.

So they report here,

seven hours a day,
five days a week.

And do what?

Crossword puzzles,

sort recipes.

I have teachers here who've been waiting
for their hearing for two years.

That's why they call it
the Rubber Room.

BERNARD: Two years?

What happens
if they don't show up?

They don't show up,
they don't get paid.


Their full salary.
Union rules.

Right, well, these are the
teachers we need to talk to.

I don't want
to talk about it.

Mr. Bendel, we're not here to
investigate your as*ault on a student.

Is that what they
told you I did?

That's how a student
described it on his blog.

There's one cardinal rule,
never hit a student.

I was conducting
a computer reading program,

and this one student
was on a game site.

I told him, come on, you know
better, get back to reading.

He had his hair
gelled straight up,

and I swatted it,
like this.

I barely touched it.

That's an as*ault?

Doesn't sound like it.

Well, that'd be news to
the Department of Education.

Could you write down the names of
all the kids in the computer class?

Thirty years of teaching
down the drain.

Thirty years I never
laid a hand on a kid.

It's a sham.
I shouldn't be here.

Well, we were told that you used
abusive language on a student.

I called him a little bastard,
and a few other choice words.

Why would you do that?

Because he punched me

and tried to take my eye out
with a pair of scissors.

You want his name?

I'm not supposed to,
but I don't care.

And the names
of his friends,

students who may have
witnessed the incident.

You know,
the worst thing is,

I got into teaching
because I love children.

No.

No.

No. None of the students
cross-reference with any of the lists.

These teachers were in different
schools, different boroughs.

How could one student have
witnessed all these incidents,

or even heard of them?

We've always assumed
that Moot was a student.

What if he was a teacher?

A teacher who got parked in one
of these rubber rooms last year.

He would've heard all those stories
from those other teachers.

Well, except he's been complaining
about teachers on his blog.

Maybe just to try to
throw us off his trail.

What've we been
hearing all day?

Stories about teachers who
got screwed by the system.

I believe Moot wanted us
to hear those stories.

Because he's a teacher
like them.

A teacher whose
career got derailed

by a nuisance complaint
from a student.

And now he's looking
for payback.

This might take us to him.

All the teachers
Moot mentions on his blog,

he could have met in
rubber rooms, except one.

Maura Scott.

She's never been
reassigned here.

She's been at the same school
for the past five years.

There's only one way
Moot would know her story.

Because he works with her.

You left a message for her?

All right. Put a radio car
outside her building.

And as soon as she comes
home, bring her in.

All right.

They think
they've got a good lead.

I'm going in
for a couple of hours.

You know, getting this loan
would be a lot easier,

if you could show
two incomes.

Well, I only have
the one income.

Why?

What are you saying?

We'll talk about it
when you get back.

Yeah, we'll talk about it.

I don't want you
feeling sorry for me.

See, you would think that.

It's like with
that 10-13 thing.

Officer in need
of assistance?

Well, I don't need
that kind of assistance.

So give it to charity.

Just be glad
people want to help you.

I'm in no mood
for a pity party.

I'm still waiting
to hear from my doctor.

I've other things
to worry about.

Whatever happens, happens.

In the meantime, let your
people do this thing for you.

Are you telling me
how to run my house?

I'm suggesting.

Maybe they need
to do this for you.

You know,
you're not the only one

who feels helpless
against this disease.

I spent the night
at my fiance's,

I didn't get your message until
I got to school this morning.

We appreciate
your coming in.

But it wasn't necessary
to bring a lawyer.

You're only here
as a witness.

The union rep at her
school contacted us.

We insisted she not
come undefended.

This was posted
on a blog.

The teacher it describes,

the one who calls
a student "stupid,"

was that you?

Yes. But I didn't
call him stupid.

I'm an English teacher.

I told him if he didn't use
proper grammar,

people will think he's stupid
even if he isn't stupid.

Of course, what the student heard is, Ms.
Scott called me stupid.

That got me a reprimand that'll be
in my file till the end of time.

Ms. Scott, which teachers at your
school would know about this incident?

I imagine
most of them would.

We're looking for a teacher
that might have spent time

at a Temporary Reassignment
Center in the last year.

You mean the rubber rooms?

That's right. He might
also drive a silver Honda.

Maura, hold on.

Who gets reassigned to a TRC is
not a matter of public record.

She doesn't have
to answer you.

Ms. Scott, this teacher,
whoever he may be,

presents an imminent danger
not just to himself but...

Unless you have a subpoena,
you can't compel her to talk.

Do you have subpoena?

I didn't think so.

Maura, let's go.

Okay.

JACK: Ms. Scott?

Ms. Scott.

I'm Jack McCoy,
the District Attorney.

We need you
to talk to us.

I know you know
what a subpoena is.

Just how far up your ass
is your head?

A member of your union is
threatening to sh**t up a school.

Really?

I find it hard to believe any teacher
could be pushed over the edge.

What do you think did it,
Mr. McCoy?

Is it being micro-managed by
the Department of Education?

Or having
all the responsibility

and none of the authority?

Or is it having to dig
into their own pockets

to pay for
classroom supplies?

Or maybe it's being abused and assaulted
daily by students and their parents?

You get no argument
from me there.

But if your obstruction
allows a m*ssacre to happen,

I will crucify you,
Mr. Kralik.

I will charge you
with negligent homicide.

And after I convict you,
I'll resign my job

and represent the
families of the victims

in a wrongful death suit
against you and the union.

By the time I'm done,
you will be finished.

So my advice to you is,
get out of my way!

Now, Ms. Scott,

please, I beg you.

Before I tell you
his name,

I want to tell you
what happened to him.

You have to know
he was a good teacher.

We're listening.

He'd only been teaching
for three years.

Ninth grade English.

He was having a terrible time
with classroom management.

They don't train you
for that.

It's sink or swim,
and Rick was sinking.

During a class, a student asked
permission to use the bathroom.

You get in trouble if your students
are in the hallway during class.

There was only 10 minutes
left till recess so

Rick told the student
to wait.

So this kid, he was 16,

he goes to the front of the
class and pees in the trashcan.

Rick tried to stop him.

The kid accused him
of molesting him.

The Department started
proceedings against Rick.

He spent eight months
in the rubber rooms.

They dismissed
the complaint

but they told him
he'd never get tenure.

They might as well
have fired him.

The blog mentioned
a failed relationship.

After Rick was accused of
molestation, his girlfriend left him.

His full name.

Rick Benson.

He doesn't teach
at the school anymore.

I think he lives with his
parents, in Brooklyn.

He was a good teacher.

They destroyed him.

MR. BENSON: We told you,
Rick's not here.

MRS. BENSON: It's the Department
of Education, they sent you.

Why can't they
leave him alone?

Lupes.

Check this out.

We've got empty boxes of
a*mo, cans of black powder.

Did you know what your
son was doing down here?

No. What was he doing?

He was making pipe bombs.
Now where is he?

He's substitute teaching,
at a high school in Queens.

I don't know the name.

BERNARD: Locate the car
in the parking lot

and do not wait
for ESU,

and start evacuating
the school.

Tell them
it's afire drill.

It's in Ridgewood,
off of Gates.

Ten minutes away, tops.

OFFICER: Get on the bus.
Get on the bus.

This way, this way.

That Benson's?

Yeah. Security saw him going
into the school half hour ago,

carrying a backpack
and a heavy gym bag.

Right. He's doing it.

OFFICER ON RADIO: We're starting
a sweep of the building,

from the northeast entrance.

Yeah, we're heading
to the cafeteria.

The cafeteria,
where is it?

That way,
down the hall.

BERNARD: Okay.
Keep moving. Let's go.

Go! Go!

LUPO: He might've planted
propane tanks,

with some kind of
timing device.

They might be
rigged with shrapnel.

He has pipe
bombs, too.

Sarge, we got
something here.

That's one. There
could be two more.

Get the b*mb Squad here.

OFFICER: We got a male white, with a g*n
heading upstairs to the second floor.

Man with a g*n
on the stairs.

(g*nshots f*ring)
(SCREAMING)

Don't stop. Don't stop! Keep moving.
Stay down! Stay down!

The sh*ts came from down
there, from the library.

BERNARD:
Go, go, go, go!

It's okay, it's okay.

GIRL: Please help us!
We're on the second floor!

Come on, quick,
come on.

It's okay, Coach,
stay back.

I got students in there.

Go, go!

Let's go, let's go.
This way. Come on!

Come on. Get down!
Move quick! Come on!

(GIRL SOBBING)

By the way,
I'm the math teacher.

TEACHER: Keep pressing on the wound.
That's it. That's it.

Keep pressing. Jayson, stay down. I
won't let anything happen to you.

Julie, help Maria.

Where is he?
That way.

Mr. Cortina, help us.

You stay right there, Manuel.
You're doing good.

Hey, Monique, that's
my girl, stay low.

BENSON: I called
to say good-bye.

Nowhere. I'm not
going anywhere.

(SNIFFLING)
It'll be on T.V.

You never mind
what I'm going to do.

What are you
going to do, huh?

You abandoned me,
you bitch!

No, this is all on you.

Yeah, you bought
into all the lies.

You should've
stood by me.

If you loved me,
you would've stood by me!

Hey, Rick. Rick Benson.

I want to talk to you.

The police are here.
I gotta go.

Look, Rick, we found
the bombs, okay?

The building's not
gonna come down.

Don't sh**t.

I'm just saying,
it's not too late.

You haven't k*lled anybody yet.
You can step back from this.

Step back into what?

I got nothing!
I'm a dead man!

Hey, Rick,
(g*n CLICKING)

I read your blog.
I talked to Maura.

I know you
got screwed.

Shut up!

Move in! Move in! MR.
CORTINA: I got his hand!

(SNARLING)

Hey, thanks for...

LUPO: There were three
g*nsh*t injuries,

nothing critical.
We got lucky.

Luck was only
part of it, Detectives.

You did good,
all of you.

Thanks.

Hey, there she is!
The party girl!

(ALL CHEERING)

You don't really think you're
gonna fill that thing.

I got three checks in here. One's
from the people in my office,

the other's from
the Police Commissioner,

and the third one's
from the Mayor.

You got a lot of
friends, Lieutenant.

(CHEERING)

Thank you.
You guys are too much.

Oh, before I forget.

Um, everybody, this is my
boyfriend, Frank Gibson.

MAN: Hey, Frank!
Boyfriend?

Right. As of this afternoon,
Frank is my fiance.

(CHEERING)

(PEOPLE CONGRATULATING)

(PHONE RINGING)
JACK: Anita, that's great!

Thank you.

I need to get this.
Sure.

Dr. Knight?
Uh, yes, it's Anita Van Buren.

I see that you called?

(sum-nus)

Yes,

I understand.

Yes. Good night.

(EXHALES SHAKILY)

(INDISTINCT)

Thank you. Thank you.
Thank you.
Post Reply