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Prison Break Transcripts

Prison Break

1x02: Allen

Original Airdate: 8/29/2005

Writer: Paul T. Scheuring

Director: Michael Watkins

Transcript by Belinda



[Fox River State Penitentiary yard. Michael and Westmoreland play checkers at a table together.]
Westmoreland: You're anticipating every one of my moves three moves in advance. You're a hell of a strategist, Fish.
[Still looking at the table, a look of full concentration on his face.]
Michael: You ever think about Boston?
Westmoreland: Sure.
Michael: Think you'll ever see it again?
Westmoreland: I'm a sixty year old man with sixty years left on my ticket. What do you think?
Michael: I'm thinking about going.
Westmoreland: Eh, there's going, and there's going. Which one do you mean?
Michael: The one you think I mean.
Westmoreland: [Laughing] Three days inside and he's already thinking about turning rabbit. It'll pass, it always does. [He nods his head to another side of the yard] We have bigger things to worry about at the moment. I've been in here long enough to know it when I see it. The calm before the storm. Whites and blacks will be going at each other real soon. Everybody chooses sides and a lot of guys bleed.
Michael: There a reason?
Westmoreland: Same reason you don't put cats and dogs in the same cage. They don't get along. [Michael nods.]

[Cut to Sucre and Michael's cell. Michael examines part of the tattoo on his forearm. Sucre sings softly near the toilet. Michael puts a mirror up to reflect the tattoo. The mirrored image shows words that read '11121147 Allen Schweitzer' He writes these words down, rewording them so they read 'Schweitzer Allen 11121147']
Sucre: [Flushing the toilet. No water comes through.] Hmm.
Michael: What?
Sucre: Toilet wont flush.
Michael: So? [There's a buzzing sound from outside their cell. Realization comes to Sucre's face. He rushes to the cell door]
Sucre: Means only one thing, Fish. [Michael looks worried at the sudden movement. Special unit guards rush around the prison floor. Sucre pulls items out of secret nooks in their cell.] They shut down the water so you can't flush your contraband.
Michael: So we've got nothing to worry about.
Sucre: [Holding up a bag of something.] Says who? [Michael pulls his shirt sleeve down again to cover the tattoo. Sucre directs him to the table.] Under the table. Go, yo! [Michael feels under the table to find a well crafted metal shank.]
Michael: What the hell is this?
Sucre: It's insurance, white boy, now dump it! [He pushes Michael toward the cell door where Bellick now stands in front of them. Bellick smirks, sighting the shank in Micheal's hands.]
Bellick: [To an external CO] Open it. [Sucre, behind Michael, looks concerned] So, tooling up for the race riot are we? [Michael looks down at the shank.] Hand it over. [Michael reaches out and hands the shank to Bellick. Bellick laughs softly.] Oh, Rughead, or the Billie? [He gestures around with the shank.] Which side are you on, anyhow, Fish?
Michael: [Darkly.] That would be neither, Boss.
Bellick: Maybe you gonna go extra curricular with it then. [He moves the shank near his throat] Stick a CO maybe. [Michael looks back blankly.]
Pope: [Walking up] Is there a problem here, deputy?
Bellick: Got a shank in here. [He hands the shank to Pope. Pope looks through the bars to Michael.]
Pope: Is this yours? [Neither Michael nor Sucre say anything. Pope looks skeptically at them and looks away slightly. Sucre nods his head down slightly in relief. Pope looks to Michael.] You're not a good liar. [Michael's head lifts up slightly.] Come on Sucre, you're going to the SHU. [Sucre shakes his head and steps past Michael and out the door, glancing back quickly to look at Michael. Bellick doesn't move.] Move along deputy.
Bellick: I'm not done shaking this cell down yet.
Pope: [Turning back to look at him] I said, move along.
Bellick: [Darkly to Michael.] In the old man's back pocket are ya? Well I got news for you Fish. He may run this place during the day, but I run it during the night. [The cell doors slam shut in front of Michael's face.]

[Theme]

[Cut to Fox River Chapel. Lincoln sits in the front row, Michael directly behind him.]
Lincoln: What the hell are you thinking, Michael? [He pauses] How we doing?
Michael: The infirmary.
Lincoln: The infirmary.
Michael: [Leaning forward to talk to Lincoln.] It's the weakest link in the security chain. As long as I get that PUGNAC, I'll get all the access I need.
Lincoln: What the hell's a Pugnac?
Michael: It lowers my insulin levels to the point where I'm hypoglycemic. As long as the good doctor thinks that I'm diabetic, I'll have plenty of time in there to do what I need to do.
Lincoln: Which is..?
Michael: A little work, a little prep for your arrival. [He smiles.] That's the idea, anyway.
Lincoln: [Raising an eyebrow.] The idea?
Michael: There was a little hitch in getting the PUGNAC, that's all. They don't exactly stock it at the Commissary.
Lincoln: You're telling me this whole thing's riding on a bunch of pills?
Michael: [Looking over to C-Note] Someone's working on it as we speak.
Lincoln: [Following Michael's gaze. He shakes his head.] Now is not the time to be trusting a black inmate, Michael.
Michael: Our relationship transcends race.
Lincoln: Nothing transcends race in here. I can't let you do it. Good behavior you'll be out of here in three years.
Michael: Gonna be a whole lot sooner than that.
Lincoln: It can't be done. [He pauses as someone walks past.] Can't be done, Michael. No-one's ever broken out of Fox River.
Michael: [Leaning forward again] Every single step's already been mapped out. Every contingency.
Lincoln: Every contingency? You may have the blueprints to this place but there's one thing those plans can't show you. People. Guys like Abruzzi. You so much as look at these cats the wrong way, they'll cut you up. [Michael looks over at Abruzzi.]
Michael: Far as the rest of these guys are concerned, I'm just another con doing his time. Staying out of trouble.
Lincoln: You don't go looking for trouble in here it just finds you.
Michael: [Sitting back.] And when it does we'll be long gone.
Lincoln: [Sighing] Oh, this is madness. You can't even get out of your cell.
Michael: Not true.
Lincoln: What, you got a key?
Michael: Something like that.

[Cut to the yard. Inmates file out into the yard. Michael breaks away from the line and sights a set of bleachers. He feels along the edges, his eyes caressing the yard to make sure that no-one is watching. He feels along one and stops to rub a screw head a few more times. It's covered in a sealant. We see inside the bleacher to see the serial number of the bolt. 11121147. Flashback to Michael's apartment. He's sitting at his desk, leafing through schematics for a set of bleachers. He smiles, noticing something, and notes the numbers 11121147 under the words 16"x6" Machine Screw. He circles it and places a metal bolt next to it. End flashback. Michael steps up the bleachers and sits atop them. He feels around for the same bolt and inconspicuously slips a quarter into the slotted head of the bleacher bolt. Slowly he start to unscrew it. An inmate speaks to him.]
Inmate: Wrong piece of real estate, Fish. Belongs to T-Bag.
Michael: Who?
Inmate: You best speak with some respect, Fish. Man kidnapped half a dozen little boys and girls down in 'Balma. Raped and killed them. Wasn't always in that order, either.
Michael: [Looking around.] Does T-Bag have a real name?
T-Bag: [Approaching.] That is my real name. [Stepping behind him, and holding onto T-Bag's inside out pocket, is Maytag, his cellmate and submissive partner. Michael stands up.] No no no. Please. Sit. [Michael complies and T-Bag sits beside him.] So you're the new one I've hearing all the raving news about. Scofield. One thing's for sure, you're just as pretty as advertised. Prettier, even. [He laughs. Maytag, behind him, drops his smile slightly. T-Bag looks over to the weight pile where African American inmates sit together.] Rugheads got you scared, did they?
Michael: Sorry?
T-Bag: I assume that's why you're over here. A few days on the inside, any God fearing white man realizes the correctional system has a serious lean toward the African American persuasion.
Michael: I hadn't noticed.
T-Bag: They got the numbers all right, so they think they do as they please, [He turns to his group] but we got one thing they don't. [Turning back to Michael and taking off a baseball cap.] Surprise. We gonna take the ball game to them real soon. It's gonna be nasty for a first timer like you but we'll protect you. I'll protect you. All you gotta do is [he slaps Maytag's hand from his pocket] take this pocket right here, and your life'll be all peaches and cream. [Maytag looks at Michael with obvious jealousy. He retakes the pocket] I walk, you walk with me. Keep you real close and no-one up in here can hurt you.
Michael: [Referring to the glaring Maytag] Looks to me like you already got a girlfriend.
T-Bag: [Smiling. He slaps away Maytag's hand again and stands up, pulling his other pocket out.] I got a whole other pocket over here.
Michael: [Still unscrewing the bolt] I'll pass.
T-Bag: [Smiling] I don't protect you, them Rugheads are gonna gobble you up like a plate of black eyed peas.
Michael: I said no.
T-Bag: [Threateningly] Then you'd best move then. Now. [Michael stands slowly and steps down] You come around these bleaches again, it's gonna be more than just words we're exchanging [he replaces his hat back on his head] know what I'm saying? [Pan down to the bolt. It's halfway unscrewed.]

[Cut to a court house lobby. Veronica hunts down a lawyer named Tim Giles, Lincoln's public defender. She speaks with him as they walk toward the door.]
Veronica: Excuse me. Are you the Tim Giles that represented Lincoln Burrows?
Giles: If you're a reporter...
Veronica: I'm not a reporter, I know the defendant personally.
Giles: Huh. You family?
Veronica: Not exactly. [She pauses.] We were in a relationship a few years back.
Giles: Well look, Ma'am, I, I, I don't know what to tell you. I mean, the man was guilty. The, the prosecutions case was a slam dunk.
Veronica: Because the victim was the Vice Presidents brother?
Giles: If you're suggesting that a federal government ran this thing through then I take offense to that. 'Cause I fought for that guy.
Veronica: That's not what I meant.
Giles: [Stopping and sighing.] The evidence was there. Lincoln worked for Steadman's company. He gets into a public altercation with the guy, so he gets fired. Two weeks later, Steadman's shot dead, the murder weapon's found in Lincoln's house, and the victims blood on his clothes! Trust me, there are cases you lose sleep over. But, this isn't one of them. [He begins to walk on. Veronica sighs and hurries after him.]
Veronica: What about Crab Simmons? Lincoln said he could exonerate him. Why didn't you put him on the stand? [They stop again.]
Giles: The man's a five time felon, alright! He, he, he had no credibility!
Veronica: So you wouldn't mind if I paid him a visit?
Giles: Be my guest, but I don't think it'd do you any good. [He walks off.]

[Cut to Lincoln's cell on death row. Lincoln sits in a dark corner. He leans forward and touches a sliver of light that's shining on the wall. He leans against it. Flashback to him and Veronica in a bed together.]
Lincoln: Strange feeling. Don't know how to explain it. [He shakes his head and looks over at Veronica. He wiggles to lie next to her.] You know, um, usually my whole life it's always been crazy. [As he speaks, the camera zooms in on some papers and a graduate's hate. The paper is from Baylor University for Veronica Donovan.] Noisy. Maddening, you know, in my head. But, right now it's quiet. [He strokes her hair and kisses her shoulder.] It's perfect. I'm glad you came back.
Veronica: [Rolling over and smiling.] I thought about you the whole time.
Lincoln: You know I uh, made a lot of mistakes in my life. I know that but, I'm gonna make it right.
Veronica: I know you will. [They kiss. Lincoln sits up and pulls away to get something from a side table.] What are you doing?
Lincoln: [Picking up a camera and pointing it at them] I want to be able to remember this.
Veronica: No. [She pulls a pillow over her face.]
Lincoln: Oh come on. Vee, please. Just one.
Veronica: [Pushing the pillow away.] Okay. [She kisses Lincoln's face, and Lincoln takes a photo. End flashback. Lincoln slides down the wall of his cell, lost in memory.]

[Cut to the yard. Michael walks with C-Note. One of C-Note's friends, Trumpas, walks next to him.]
C-Note: [To Trumpas.] Take it easy man. [Trumpas steps back.]
Michael: How are we doing on the PUGNAC?
C-Note: Hey, I'm working on it.
Michael: Well work faster. I need that stuff tonight. [C-Note stops and pulls Michael aside]
C-Note: What's up in there in that infirmary that you need so bad?
Michael: [Mysteriously.] You get me that PUGNAC, and maybe I'll tell you. [He walks away.]

[Michael sits on T-Bag's bleachers again, working at the bolt. T-Bag walks through the gate of the yard followed my Maytag. He spots Michael and walks toward him, just as Michael wiggles the bolt free. He pulls it to one side.]
T-Bag: Uh, uh, uh! Thought we had an understanding. This here's for the family. You made it pretty clear you aint blood. How about you hand that over. [Michael glares at him but hands him the bolt.] Nice looking piece of steel. Little work and you could do some serious damage with it. [He pauses to study Michael's face.] Question is, who was it you was planning on damaging? I seen you with the Negro's you know. Well maybe you're one of them milk chickens all confused like, white on the outside, black as tar on the inside. Maybe we aught to take a look at them insides and find out, hmm?
CO Paterson: [Stepping close to them] Girl Scouts! [T-Bag turns to look at him] Is there a problem over there? [T-Bag pretends to yawn and stretch, slipping the bolt behind his shoulder to Maytag who puts it in his pocket]
T-Bag: I think we'll just hang onto this, if that's okay with you.
Paterson: Hey, I'm not gonna ask you again. Let's break up the party, ladies.
T-Bag: [To Michael.] You heard the man, li'l doggy. Git along! [Michael glances over at Paterson then glares at T-Bag before walking off.]

[Cut to the empty cell block. Bellick walks along the second tier, stopping by Michael's cell. He steps inside and does a quick check under the mattresses and other areas for contraband. He scans the desk and notices that a pad has been written on. Curious, he rubs it with his finger, then pulls out a pencil and begins to rub over the markings with his pencil to outline them. The notes Michael made earlier from his tattoo appear. He rips the piece off and holds it up.]

[Cut back to the yard. Michael walks around, glancing over to Abruzzi by the yard department. He leans against the fence, mentally preparing himself, then walks over to him.]
Michael: What's it take to shake down another inmate, get something he's taken from you?
Abruzzi: It would take Fibonacci.
Michael: I'll give you Fibonacci. I promise you that. When the time is right.
Abruzzi: The time is right now.
Michael: No, the time is right when you and I are both standing outside those walls. You're sitting on life without parole, you're never going to stand outside those walls again. Not unless you knew someone, someone who knew a way out. What do you say John?
Abruzzi: I say I've heard nothing but blabber. [Michael's face falls a bit and he sighs as Abruzzi walks off. He looks around.]

[Cut to the visitation room. Abruzzi finds Phil Falzone waiting for him. He approaches him and a partner, Gavin Smallhouse.]
Abruzzi: Philly Falzone. [He laughs.] It's an honor. What are you doing here?
Falzone: Well I um, I just thought we'd, you know, fraternize.
Smallhouse: He looks like it, doesn't he?
Abruzzi: Looks what?
Smallhouse: Like everybody's been saying. [Abruzzi sits down.] You got no sack. You've been neutered.
Abruzzi: [Laughing softly] You shouldn't talk to me like that. You used to pick up my laundry.
Smallhouse: Not anymore, John.
Falzone: [Trying to distract the two.] John. Word is there's someone in here that knows where Fibonacci is, and you're not doing anything about it.
Abruzzi: I'm working on it.
Falzone: Well you're not working on it fast enough. Apparently Fibonacci's coming up for air again. Next month, a congressional hearing. [He looks around] And if he testifies at that hearing, a lot of people are going down. Including me. Now I've known you a long time. Our wives are friends, our kids go to the same Catholic school. Now it would be a shame if anything were to happen to your kids. I know my kids would miss them.
Abruzzi: You don't have to do this.
Falzone: I do.
Abruzzi: I'll get this guy, we'll get Fibonacci.
Falzone: Well for everyone's sake, I hope you're right.
Abruzzi: I am.
Falzone: Be well, John. [They stand.]
Abruzzi: Thank you. [The two walk away.]

[Cut to Sucre's cell in Ad Sec. He paces up and down.]
Sucre: [He bangs on his cell door.] Yo badge! I gotta use the phone! [He turns away. The window on his door slides open and he turns around. CO Stolte looks through.]
Stolte: [Sarcastically.] Sure no problem. You want a pizza and a pedicure too?
Sucre: No, no it's Monday, man, I gotta call my girl, she's expecting my call!
Stolte: Put a sock in it, you got nothing coming.
Sucre: No, no, no badge! [Stolte bolts the window closed again. Sucre bangs on the door again before turning away, upset.]

[Cut to Fox River Administrative office. Bellick steps up to a window where an administrative officer sits at a computer.]
Bellick: Hey. Pull up the manifest. There an Allen Schweitzer in Gen Pop?
Officer: [Checking] No.
Bellick: How bout the SHU?
Officer: [Again, checking] No. [Bellick looks down at the paper.] Why you asking?
Bellick: Curious, that's all. [He walks off, slamming a book down on a locker.]

[Cut to the Chapel. An black inmate sees a white inmate slide a a sharp piece of glass across a pew and slip it down his sleeve. Shanks and weapons are exchanged and created all over the prison.]

[Cut to the yard. Trumpas walks up to Michael.]
Trumpas: You hear the trumpets, Fish? I know you hear 'em. That's judgement day. It's coming. Real soon. [Michael looks concerned.]

[Cut to the cell block, open tier time. Michael slips into T-Bag's cell and looks around for the bolt as T-Bag comes down the stairs. T-Bag turns to enter and sees Michael.]
T-Bag: What you doing in my cell? [Michael turns around to look at him.]
Michael: I want in.
T-Bag: [Looking disbelievingly at him. C-Note watches this interaction from his cell above them. T-Bag steps into his cell to face Michael, Maytag close behind him.] Now I'm not quite sure I heard that Fish, did you say you're in?
Michael: That's right.
T-Bag: [Laughing softly] You know the old saying don't you? In for an inch, you're in for a mile.
Michael: Whatever it takes, you want me to fight, I'll fight. The bolt from the bleachers, that's what it was for.
T-Bag: [Lightly] Well. You wanna fight, I'll get you a chance. Next count.
Michael: [Worried] Tonight?
T-Bag: Problem with that? 'Cause we're going straight out. Better catch a square, Fish, we undermanned in a big way.
Michael: All I need is a weapon.
Maytag: [Nastily] You want a weapon, bitch? [He waves the bolt in front of Michael's eyes but pulls out a nail file and offers that.] There you go. [He slips it into his pocket. A CO's voice calls out.]
CO: All prisoner's return to your cells. [Michael turns to step out, but T-Bag blocks his path.]
T-Bag: You're gonna have to prove yourself before we trust you with the heavy artillery, know what I'm sayin'?
CO: Gates closing! [Michael leaves and C-Note watches.]

[Cut to Veronica's office. She sits behind a desk. Tim Giles enters, waving a yellow package.]
Giles: I wanted to apologize for being so short with you before.
Veronica: No problem.
Giles: The closer it gets to an execution uh, harder it becomes. That's why I want to give you this. [He offers the package and Veronica takes it.] It's the uh, surveillance tape of the garage that night. It was a closed trial, so no-one outside of the courtroom saw it, but, I though I could help you out. [He turns to leave.]
Veronica: With what?
Giles: [Turning back again] Closure. [He leaves. Veronica slips the tape out of the package and puts it in her VCR and watches. On the tape, a man that is obviously Lincoln, walks up to a car with a gun outstretched. There's a firing, and he looks around before running off. Shortly later, he comes back into the frame and rummages through the car, picking something up before running off again. Veronica's eyes widen and her face pales.]

[Cut to the yard at Fox River. Michael leans against a fence. Bellick approaches him from behind.]
Bellick: Allen Schweitzer. [Michael turns his head sideways to listen to Bellick.] That name mean anything to you?
Michael: Should it?
Bellick: I don't know, you tell me.
Michael: Never heard of the guy.
Bellick: Are you sure?
Michael: Positive. [Bellick nods, and walks off. Michael looks on after him.]

[Cut to the shower block, Fox River. Michael does up his shirt. C-Note comes up from behind him and taps him on the shoulder. Michael, a little jumpy, spins around. C-Note shakes a bottle of pills in front of him, motioning for him to follow him. They head to a secluded area, where no CO's are watching.]
C-Note: [Acting friendly and extending his hand in a shake] Ta, what's up Snowflake? [He pushes him against a wall, while a few other inmates pushes holds Michael's head tightly. Michael wiggles.] Do you think I'm a fool?
Michael: [Hoarsely] What are you talking about?
C-Note: I see you up there with the Anglo's too. [He laughs bitterly.] You know, I got a good mind to slice you open right now.
Michael: It's not what you think. They've got something I need.
C-Note: [Laughing softly.] You see that's funny. Because I got something you need too. [He shakes the bottle of pills in front of Michael.] You want your PUGNAC Fish? Huh? [He laughs again and pops the lid open. Michael gasps for breath.] Right here baby. [He tips all the pills into his hand.] It's all here. [He drops the bottle to the floor.] Listen white boy, your luck just ran out. You chose the wrong side. [He pats Michael's face softly with one hand and leaves. The others release Michael. Annoyed with himself, Michael punches the bars.]

[Cut to visitation area, day. Lincoln walks into a closed box. Veronica sits across from him. He smiles.]
Lincoln: Ah, it's uh, great to see your face. [Veronica looks away. Lincoln's face falls, confused.]
Veronica: I think it's time you quit this charade, don't you?
Lincoln: What?
Veronica: It's starting to ruin people's lives. [Lincoln shakes his head, still confused.] Michael's in here because he thinks you're innocent.
Lincoln: What's he told you?
Veronica: He hasn't told me anything, but I know Lincoln. I know what he's planning. Call him off. If you love him, call him off. [Lincoln's face saddens.] I saw the tape. [Realization shows on Lincoln's face.]
Lincoln: What's on that tape's not how it went down.
Veronica: I know what I saw.
Lincoln: I know what I saw. I was there, remember?
[Flashback with Lincoln's over-voice. In the flashback, Lincoln leans against a pillar, lighting a joint and taking a drag.]
Lincoln: I got high that night. I had to. It was the only way I could go through with it.
[He drops the joint and stubs it out with his toe. He walks off, toward a car, pulls out a gun and points it forward, pointing it at a man in the car. The man is slumped over, blood all over his neck and head, dead. Lincoln lowers the gun.]
Lincoln: I never pulled the trigger. The guy was already dead.
[End flashback.]
Veronica: Yeah I know, you told me a thou-
Lincoln: [Angrily] Then listen! I was set up! I went there that night to clear a debt. Crab Simmons was on my ass for the ninety grand I owed him. Told me the mark was some scumbag drug dealer and if I took it, I'd be clean. I never pulled the trigger. All I know is that somebody wanted me in the same garage as Terrance Steadman that night.
Veronica: Why would somebody want to set you up?
Lincoln: [Standing up, frustrated.] It wasn't about me, it was about him.
Veronica: Steadman?
Lincoln: [Frustrated] Yes!
Veronica: The guy was like a saint. All the charity work, the environmental progress his company was making. About the only person in this entire country who had motive to kill him, was you.
Lincoln: You came all the way down here just to tell me how guilty I am?
Veronica: I don't know why I came here. [Lincoln sits down again.]
Lincoln: You have your life now, I know that. But if what we had before meant anything to you, you'd find out the truth. [He looks at her, desperately.]
Veronica: [Tears in her eyes] Maybe all this is the truth. Maybe they got it right. [Lincoln shakes his head and she nods, turns, and walks away.]

[Cut to the yard. There is more tension between the inmates in the yard. They pass angry taunts between them.]

[In the SHU, Sucre writes Maricruz's name on the floor with a rock. He checks his watch then mutters in Spanish. He stands up and bangs on the door.]
Sucre: Badge, Badge, open up, Badge! [CO Stolte slides the window open again.]
Stolte: You talking again?
Sucre: It's my girl's birthday.
Stolte: Happy Birthday to her then.
Sucre: Well you gotta let me call her. Please. I'll give you a million dollars if you let me use the phone.
Stolte: I seen your kick Sucre, you got something like forty cents to your name. [He slams the window shut again.]
Sucre: Please! Oh no! [He slumps to the floor.]

[Cut to the city that night. A stretch limo drives up and Hector, Sucre's cousin, opens the door for three women. Maricruz is the last of them.]
Hector: Alright, Maricruz, what you doing? Come on!
Maricruz: It's okay, Hector, you go ahead.
Hector: Whatcha talking about?
Maricruz: I think I'm just gonna take a cab.
Hector: What do you mean, like, go home? I mean, you just got here! [She turns away sadly.] He didn't call you, did he? [Maricruz glances down and shakes her head.] Look. I love Fernando to death, but the guy's a deadbeat. You gotta move on with your life. [Maricruz looks up at him sadly.]

[Cut to the front of a courtroom, the next day. Agent Kellerman scouts for Tim Giles to emerge.]
Kellerman: Mr Giles! I'd like to have a word with you, if I could.
Giles: Oh, uh, I really don't have time.
Kellerman: [Holding up his badge] I'm afraid we're going to have to insist. [Giles steps over with him.] It's come to our attention that you made a foil request a couple of days ago on the Burrows case. [Beside him, Hale holds up a briefcase for Giles. Giles takes it.]
Giles: Yeah, so?
Kellerman: The records show that you made a dupe of the surveillance tape?
Giles: That's right.
Kellerman: [Nodding.] Mind us asking why?
Giles: It was one of Burrow's old girlfriends, man. And she was under the impression that the guy was innocent, I figured it would, you know, help with closure.
Hale: So she's in possession of the tape now.
Giles: Don't pull that card on me. It's the freedom of information act. She's entitled to that tape as much as you or I.
Kellerman: [Interrupting.] Oh, no no no no. By all means. By all means.
Giles: [Tepidly.] May I go now?
Kellerman: Just one more thing. This old girlfriend of his. What's her name?

[Cut to Veronica driving in a car. She stops, parks and steps out, putting up an umbrella. She walks over to where a woman is stepping out of an apartment block. She turns to her.]
Veronica: Excuse me, is this the Simmons residence?
Miss Simmons: [Taking mail from a mail box and turning to go back inside.] I'm Miss Simmons.
Veronica: I'm sorry, um, [she pulls out a business card.] I'm Veronica Donovan, I'm looking for Crab Simmons, are you related?
Miss Simmons: He's my son.
Veronica: Is he around?
Miss Simmons: [Sadly] No.
Veronica: Can you tell me where I can find him?
Miss Simmons: Lady go away, I can't help you. Can't you understand that?
Veronica: Look, I'm sorry. It's just, a mans life is at stake, and maybe your son can help him.
Miss Simmons: Crab can't help nobody lady. He's dead.
Veronica: [Realizing] I'm sorry. [Miss Simmons walks back inside. Upstairs, another face peers out at the street below, watching their conversation.]

[Cut to Fox River Cellblock. Michael rests in his cell, thinking, when CO's come through the door at the end of the block.]
CO Paterson: Heads up! Counting up cons, stand at the gate!
[C-Note in his cell hops down from his bunk. Michael waits for the door of his cell to slide open and he steps out to the yellow railing. The inmate that told him about T-Bag is beside him.]
Inmate: About to jump off, Fish.
[All the inmates step to the railing. Westmoreland emerges, holding Marilyn. Michael faces off with C-Note across the block. On the bottom tier, one inmate steps forward.]
Paterson: Ballen, get back on your number! [Michael watches. Westmoreland, knowing what's about to happen, steps back into his cell still holding Marilyn.]
Another CO: [Into his radio] I need back up. Cell Block A.
Paterson: I said get back on your number!
[Inmates suddenly spontaneously start to riot fighting each other. Michael, although refusing profusely, is picked up and thrown over the railing. CO's barricade themselves while the inmates riot. Maytag spots Michael and starts to run at him, jealous. Michael fights him off, trying to pull the bolt being used as a weapon from Maytag's hands. He pulls it free, and, scared, looks up at C-Note for help. C-Note turns, knowing that he's on their side. Maytag continues to fight with Michael but a black inmate rushes up to him and stabs him numerous times in the chest. Michael looks on, horrified. Maytag falls on him as he dies.]
Maytag: [Weakly.] Help me. [He dies. T-Bag notices Michael by the tier, but not Maytag yet.]
T-Bag: Scofield! [His eyes widen in horror, seeing Maytag in Michael's arms and he gasps. Michael drops Maytag and smoke cans fly to the floor. Michael and other inmates, coughing, retreat to their cells. T-Bag runs to Maytag and screams out. Michael reaches his cell and coughs, trying to put clean air into his lungs. His shirt and hands are bloodied from Maytag's dying body.]
T-Bag: [Leaning over Maytag.] You're a dead man, Scofield, you hear me? You're a dead man!
[Michael try's to regain himself and clean up the blood using a towel. As other inmates pass his cell he jumps toward the door, fending off anyone with the bolt. His cell door slides shut. He leans against the wall, still gasping and wiping his hands. He buries his head in his arms, gasping.]

[Cut to the cell block, slightly later after everything has died down. Warden Pope strides along the second tier.]
Pope: I really don't know what to say to you gentlemen. I try to give you the benefit of the doubt, I try to treat you with respect. [Michael pulls off his bloodied shirt, leaving his sweatshirt that was underneath on.] You can't even respect yourselves. So, there's going to be a forty eight hour lockdown. No mess, no showers, no visitation. And I strongly suggest that you all learn to get along. Otherwise the next time it's going to be a week and the time after that it's going to be a month. Think about it. [He walks out. Michael in his cell looks down. Pulling out the bolt he casually scrapes an edge along the ground.]

[Cut to T-Bag standing over Maytag's lifeless body in the Morgue. He stares down at his body then raises his eyes thoughtfully.]

[Cut to Veronica's office. Her assistant comes into her office as she works behind a desk.]
Assistant: I've got a Latisha Bariss on the line.
Veronica: I don't know who that is, take a message. [She goes back to work.]
Assistant: She said she used to date Crab Simmons.
Veronica: [Looking up. She leans over and picks up the phone.] Latisha, thank you for calling.
Latisha: [On the phone.] You wanna hear what I have to say? We meet in a public place where they can't get to us.
Veronica: Woah woah woah, who can't get to us?
Latisha: You wanna hear what I have to say or not? 'Cause if you don't, I'm gonna hang up right now.
Veronica: No, no, no, no. You just name a time and a place.

[Cut to a city square. Latisha Bariss, the woman that was watching from the apartment at Miss Simmons house, and Veronica stand in the middle in the open.]
Latisha: Over here.
Veronica: Oh, Latisha, thanks for coming.
Latisha: Go easy lady, we don't know each other, you got that? We'll stay out here in the open where they cant get to us. Where they can't do what they do. [Veronica stares at her, confused.] Only reason why I'm talking to you is because they're gonna kill your boy like they killed mine.
Veronica: Coroners report says that smack killed your boyfriend, Latisha, it was an overdose.
Latisha: No overdose.
Veronica: What do you mean?
Latisha: Crab didn't use. He had a bad heart. If he touched the stuff it'd kill him. I mean don't you think it's just a slightest bit of a coincidence he OD'd a week after your boyfriends crime? They killed him. Because he knew things. Things they didn't want to get out.
Veronica: Like what?
Latisha: Like who was really behind that hit that night? It wasn't Crab, that's for damn sure, and it sure as hell wasn't Lincoln. [In a distressed whisper.] Neither of the boys knew what they were getting into, they were just pawns in a big game. [She glances around anxiously.]
Veronica: What?
Latisha: They're here. [She begins to walk off.]
Veronica: Who's here Latisha?
Latisha: Don't try to follow me, don't find me, I wont testify.
Veronica: Just slow down and talk to me.
Latisha: I'd get as far away from here as you can, girl, 'cause there aint nobody they can't get to. [She walks off. Veronica stands there stunned and confused.]
Veronica: Latisha! [She's gone. On the other side of the road, Kellerman and Hale stand, watching the two.]

[Cut to Kellerman's office, later. Kellerman knocks on the table sharply and picks up a phone, pausing before dialing. Cut to a river mansion. A title states that it's at 'Blackfoot, Montana.' Inside, a woman chops garlic. Her phone rings. On the other end is Kellerman. She picks up.]
Garlic Lady: Hello?
Kellerman: We have a small complication. There's a lawyer poking around.
Garlic Lady: Veronica Donovan.
Kellerman: Yes.
Garlic Lady: [Going back to chopping the garlic.] You can handle a girl who graduated in the middle of her Baylor law school class. At least I'd like to think so given the stakes of what we're doing here. Anyone that's a threat to what we're doing, is expendable. Anyone.
Kellerman: Understood.
Garlic Lady: Do what you need to do to make this go away. [She hangs up. Back with Kellerman, he places the phone back in its cradle, and cricks his neck.]

[Cut to Fox River. Michael is still rubbing the bolt along the ground. Below him, T-Bag hangs his head and arms out his cell.]
T-Bag: Are you there, Pretty? [Michael stops rubbing for a second, then starts again.] I know you're there, 'cause you know I'm coming for you. You got nowhere to run, you're trapped in that little hole of yours. [Michael turns the bolt in his hands.] Trapped like a pig to the slaughter. [Michael gulps and sighs, starting to rub the bolt on the floor again.]
[Sometime later, he stops rubbing, the bolt smoothened into another shape by the rubbing. He lifts it up and blows excess dust off of it. It now has grooves worked onto the tip of it. Flashback to his office. He turns the pages of a book, looking a the plans for the cell toilets. One plan states that they use '1/4" Allen Bolts' End flashback. Michael pulls up his shirt sleeve, and places the now grooved bolt on a spot on his tattoo. It fits perfectly. Michael moves over to the toilet and slides down the side of it to where it's fitted. The toilet company is Schweitzer. Slowly and quietly he fits the bolt into a fixture and turns. It comes out easily and he turns it in his hands.]

[The camera zooms into the toilet fixtures, through some corridors and up through a grate into the infirmary. Sara sits at her desk as the nurse, Katie, approaches.]
Sara: Who's my one o'clock?
Katie: Uhh, Michael Scofield.
[Sara checks some files.]

[Cut to the yard. Michael walks past C-Note.]
C-Note: I was wrong about you Scofield. [He drops PUGNAC pills into Michael's hand.] Here's your PUGNAC.
Michael: Little bit late.
C-Note: Better late than never, right?
[A CO calls out.]
CO: Scofield! Infirmary.
Michael: We'll see about that.
C-Note: Mhmm. [He walks off.] I'm gonna find out you know, what it is you're doing up there.

[Cut to the infirmary. Michael sits as Sara takes blood from his finger for a test.]
Michael: How long does this take?
Sara: It used to take hours. We've come a long way with the new glucose kits, this'll take us about ten seconds. Slide the strip into the meter, ready to go! [She sets up the test.] I'm sure you know this, but the average glucose for the non-diabetic is about a hundred milligrams per deciliter, so if we see a number like that here and we'll know you've been misdiagnosed. [Michael looks at her, nervous and uncomfortable. He rubs at his eyes.] You seem nervous.
Michael: [Trying to smile and cover it up.] I do?
Sara: You're sweating.
Michael: [Shaking his head.] Must be the needles, never really got used to them. [The meter beeps]
Sara: Somehow with diabetes and that tattoo, I find that hard to believe. [She picks up the meter and Michael pulls down his shirt to cover his tattooed arm.] Ah, bad news I'm afraid. [Michael tenses. She holds up the meter.] Hundred eighty milligrams per deciliter. You're definitely diabetic. [Michael smiles in relief. Sara smiles at him.]
Michael: Do you need anything else for me?
Sara: [Shaking her head] Arm to stick a needle in.
Michael: Okay. [Standing up.]
Sara: I'll see you Wednesday. [He leaves and she organizes his paperwork. Nurse Katie enters.]
Katie: Cute!
Sara: Prisoner. I don't know, there's something strange about him.
Katie: What do you mean?
Sara: I gave him the results of his blood tests and there was this look on his face. It was um... [she pauses] relief. [She shakes her head, not understanding.]

[Cut to the outside of the infirmary, near the yard. Michael's being escorted back to the yard. Bellick walks over and motions that he'll take Michael instead of the other CO.]
Bellick: It's alright, I've got it. I'm headed over to A-Wing anyhow. [He takes Michael's arm, smiling, a cup of coffee in his hand. He begins to whistle.]
Michael: You're positively beaming, Boss.
Bellick: Got up on the right side of the bed this morning I guess. Hold up. [He stops outside a room, leaving Michael between a fence and walls.] Sugar. [He motions to the coffee.] Now don't you move, Fishy. [Michael sticks his hands in his pockets. One of Abruzzi's group grab his arm as Bellick disappears.]
Michael: What are you doing?
Inmate: You're coming with us, Fish. [They force him toward the garden shed. Inside, Abruzzi hums to himself, sitting on a bench. Back at the fence, Bellick comes back, pauses, and waits. Back at the shed, Michael pulls out of the grip of the other inmates.]
Abruzzi: This little porker you and I have been doing for a while, as of this moment, [he taps next to him on the bench.] It's over. [The other inmates push Michael forward. Michael sits down.] Fibonacci. I want to know why you got to him, and where he is, right now.
Michael: Not gonna happen, John. [Abruzzi nods and raises his eyebrows. He sits down, and his group pull Michael down onto the bench. One pulls off his shoe and sock. They hold him down, and put a pair of gardening shears to his little toes. Michael watches.]
Abruzzi: Now I'm gonna count to three. [He holds up three fingers.] One,
Michael: I give you that information, I'm a dead man. You know it, and I know it.
Abruzzi: Two,
Michael: [Breathing heavily.] I'll tell you the moment we're outside those walls, not a second before.
Abruzzi: You tell me now.
Michael: Not going to happen, John.
Abruzzi: Hey. I'm gonna give you one last chance. [Michael's breathing quickens. Abruzzi pauses, waiting for Michael's response, but there isn't one. He nods to the inmate with the shears.] Three. [Michael's eyes squeeze shut, the shears begin to close.]