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104 The Judge

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The Judge

[MLM-104 (4C04)]

Written by Ted Mann

Directed by Randy Zisk

U.S. Air Date: November 15, 1996

[Transcribed by Maria Vitale

Edited by Libby]


[The Lucky Pins bowling alley. Outside, it is raining. Inside, several patrons are having meals at the diner. At one table, two men, having finished their game, are having a conversation as they finish their meals.]

1ST MAN: Yeah, I'm going to bring that pickup in for an overhaul.

[A waitress brings the men their desserts.]

1ST MAN: Thanks.

[Another man, Carl Nearman, enters, watching the second of the men intently and sits at a nearby table.]

1ST MAN: Yeah, points, plugs, carburetor - the whole deal. It's been a while since I had it in.

[The waitress approaches the new arrival.]

WAITRESS: What can I get for you tonight, hon?

NEARMAN: I'll have a beer and a sandwich - a tuna salad sandwich.

WAITRESS: Will that be it for you tonight, hon?


[she smiles and leaves to fill his order. Nearman continues to stare at the second man who is eating a lime pie, licking his fork with each bite, showing his green tongue.]

[The waitress returns with Nearman's food.]

WAITRESS: Here you be, hon.

NEARMAN: Thanks.

[He drinks his beer, spins his plate of food slowly with his finger while continuing to stare at the other man as he finishes eating his pie.]

1ST MAN: Think we're about ready for a check. Anything else for you?

[Nearman looks at his own check as the waitress brings the checks for the two men. As they get ready to pay her, she looks up and sees that Nearman has finished his beer, but left without touching his sandwich or paying for his food.]

[Outside the two men part company.]

2ND MAN: See you.

[He walks toward his own car. The other man drives off. Thunder can be heard. He unlocks his door and looks over to see Nearman standing nearby.]

2ND MAN: Evening

[Nearman doesn't answer, so the man tries again to be civil.]

2ND MAN: Evening.

[This time Nearman walks toward him, carrying a bowling ball in his left hand. He hits him on the head with the ball and lets it fall to the ground. The man falls and the ball can be seen rolling around underneath the car.]

[Nearman then removes a knife from his pocket and opens it.]

[A doorbell rings. It is sometime later and a package is being delivered to a house.]

DELIVERY MAN: Hi. A package for Mrs. Annie Tisman? Could you sign here?

TISMAN: Well, I haven't ordered anything. Are you sure it's for me?

DELIVERY MAN: It's the, uh, correct name and address?

[He shows her the label. It reads: ]

Annie Tisman 3845 Regent St. Seattle WA

TISMAN: Oh, yeah, sure. I've been Annie Tisman more years than I like to count.

DELIVERY MAN: (Laughs.) You have a good day, ma'am.

[He leaves and she enters her home with the package.]

[she quickly removes the label and peels back the tape sealing the box. Inside she finds something wrapped in cellophane. She removes it and places it on her lap. She peels off the plastic and removes the layers of paper which cover the object.]

[Finally she lifts a blood-stained piece of paper to reveal a severed tongue. Horrified, she drops the object and begins screaming.]

[main titles]

"...the visible world seems formed in love, the invisible spheres were formed in fright."

H. Melville 1819-1891

[polaroid fade up]


[Outside the Tisman house. Police are on the scene interviewing neighbors. Radio chatter can be heard in the background. Frank Black arrives and approaches the house. He stops, turns and looks around him.]

[inside, Mrs. Tisman, still clearly shaken by her ordeal, comes out of the bathroom. Bletcher is waiting for her to return in order to resume his investigation.]

BLETCHER: Are you feeling any better?

TISMAN: A little. I don't understand this. Why would someone do this to me? I never hurt anyone.

BLETCHER: Is there someplace we could sit down and talk?

[she looks across the room and becomes upset at the presence of the object still in her living room.]

TISMAN: Are they going to take that away soon?

[it is being photographed and is examined by Dets. Teeple and Giebelhouse.]

[As Frank tries to enter the house, he's stopped by an officer.]

OFFICER: Sorry, sir. I can't let you in. It's a crime scene.

BLETCHER: Oh that's okay, Connelly. It's Frank Black.

[Frank walks past the officer. Radio chatter can again be heard in the background.]

TISMAN: (To Bletcher) Please, uh, in the other room. We can talk in there.

BLETCHER: I'm sorry. Wherever you'd be more comfortable.

[They leave and Frank walks over to look at the object. The photographer takes one last photo as Frank picks up the box the object arrived in.]

[it triggers two brief visions for Frank. He hears panting throughout both visions The first: he sees the dead man with his tongue hanging out of his mouth, then another man with an executioner's hood over his head, and then several images of someone pulling and cutting the dead man's tongue off. Flashes of white light and a ground view of some pigs in a pen.]

GIEBELHOUSE: Bletcher give you any details?

[The second: again he sees someone holding and cutting off the dead man's tongue with a knife.]

FRANK: Yeah. Has anybody spoken to the delivery service?

GIEBELHOUSE: Package was left in a drop-off box with a bogus billing code and a bogus return.

TEEPLE: You seen what you need to see?

FRANK: Yeah.

GIEBELHOUSE: Let's get this evidence bagged and tagged.

[bletcher returns to the living room.]

BLETCHER: Frank? Spare me a minute?

[Frank joins him and they both enter the other room.]

BLETCHER: I sent her to be with a friend. (gestures to the living room) You saw her?

FRANK: Was she any help at all?

BLETCHER: Doesn't seem to be any reason why it was sent to this lady. She's a bookkeeper for a florist. No problems at work. She's, uh, widowed almost ten years ago. No romantic involvements. On good terms with the family - the ones she keeps up with.

FRANK: No one with any grievances she's aware of?

BLETCHER: (Shakes his head.) Doesn't make any sense.

FRANK: This isn't the first time that you've seen one of these, is it?

BLETCHER: Over the last four years, we've had, uh, human fingers, partial hand - sent to three individuals, locally. No discernable reason why these people were chosen and no connection between any of them we're able to find. Finger's one thing. A guy can live without a finger. But a tongue?

FRANK: The victim is dead, Bletch.

BLETCHER: We need your expertise on this, Frank. I guess that goes without saying.

[The same delivery man waits as someone signs for another package.]

DELIVERY MAN: Okay. Have a good evening, ma'am.

[The package is addressed to: 'Frank Black.']

CATHERINE: Thank you.

[she brings the package into the house.]

[inside, Frank is lying on the living room floor, reading a story to Jordan.]

FRANK: 'The bear never told the rabbit, the badger or the crow that his honey was missing from the hollow tree but he looked at them differently from then on.'


[Frank looks at Catherine as enters the living room with the package.]

FRANK: We'll find out later.

CATHERINE: Were you expecting a package, Frank?

FRANK: Yeah, files from Bletcher.

[He puts down the book, stands up and walks over to take the package from Catherine.]

FRANK: I'll look at it downstairs. Won't take long.

JORDAN: Can you read the rest before bed, Daddy?

FRANK: Sure I will, honey.

[Down in Frank's basement, he scans the photos Bletcher has sent him while he talks to Jim Penseyres on the phone.]

FRANK: That's the last of the photos. Have you read the pathology reports yet?

PENSEYRES: What strikes me about them right off is the examiner's prior conclusion in each instance the body parts were removed while the victims were alive.

[Frank looks at several of the photos. The first one is of the severed fingers.]

FRANK: It's very possible the victim or the killer weren't acquainted.

[The second is of the severed hand.]

PENSEYRES: Which is why the perpetrator's been hard to catch. But the owners of the body parts - why haven't they turned up?

FRANK: Given the four years activity, we can infer the killer's been careful in disposing of the remains, selecting victims whose disappearance wouldn't draw unusual attention. No obvious connection to the previous victims or body part recipients.

[Catherine interrupts the phone conversation.]

CATHERINE: Frank? Dinner's on the table.

FRANK: In a minute.

[she goes back upstairs.]

FRANK: There's an unusual element of mindfulness associated with the violence. I think the local M.E. could use an educated opinion.

PENSEYRES: I've got a call in to Cheryl Andrews. Already ran it down with her. Anything else?


PENSEYRES: Enjoy your dinner, Frank.

FRANK: (Smiles.) Thanks.

[The morgue. Cheryl Andrews begins her review of the medical findings of the tongue. Present are Penseyres, Frank and Bletcher.]

ANDREWS: We're aware previous findings indicate the other body parts were all sundered while the victims where alive, but I believe this tongue was removed after death.

[she uses a scalpel to slice a thin sample from the tongue.]

ANDREWS: Also the instrument wasn't as sharp or as skillfully used as in previous excisions.

BLETCHER: Would that point to, uh, rage, loss of control?

ANDREWS: Doubtful. The cuts aren't unusually forceful, just imprecise. A few false starts, repetitive blade strokes.


FRANK: We do have a pattern change.

PENSEYRES: Unlikely to be intentional deviation from the established method.

BLETCHER: So how do we account for it?

ANDREWS: The victim died prematurely or the killer was interrupted.

PENSEYRES: The perpetrator may be getting lazy, becoming more casual as his activities lose their novelty.

BLETCHER: So it really doesn't tell us much then.

FRANK: Well, it tells us that he's less concerned about being discovered but no less dangerous - possibly more so. There's nothing here to indicate that this is going to stop.

[Night. A man stands on a street corner. A scar is visible on his upper lip. A corrections bus turns a corner, stops and another man, Mike Bardale, steps off the bus and heads toward a bar across the street, the Tittle Tattle Room.]

[The man with the scar shortly follows him into the bar. There is music playing in the background. Bardale sits at the bar, drinking a beer. The bartender is watching television. The first man signals the bartender for a drink, as he sits beside Bardale.]

1ST MAN: A wet, raw night.

BARTENDER: What can I getcha?

1ST MAN: Rain without, rain within. A glass of water.


1ST MAN: Be very careful of the tone you take with strangers. And bring Mr. Bardale another round now.

BARDALE: What are you at?

1ST MAN: You've been released from prison, newborn in the world, off the bus just minutes. You like it?

BARDALE: Look, if you're some queer thinks he got lucky...

1ST MAN: Queer? Since the age of 15, Mr. Bardale, you've been released six times but your total time outside prison is less than a year.

BARDALE: You a cop?

1ST MAN: You're out this time after having served 8 years for robbery with violence. Never been tried for most of what you've done.

BARDALE: Parole officer? I got 24 hours to report in.

1ST MAN: Two murders. The girl in Tacoma your last time out. And the man who picked you up hitchhiking. You were 17. He was homosexual. Others you killed in prison. I admire your capacity for action. I want to keep you in the world. Your nature can serve a higher purpose.

BARDALE: You want to keep me from going back to prison?

1ST MAN: Without me you'll be in custody within days. Sooner, perhaps. I will keep you in the world.

BARDALE: You're a lawyer, right?

1ST MAN: No, Mr. Bardale, I'm not. I'm a judge.

[Night, a pig farm, the Judge's home. Pigs are snorting in their pen. Inside, the Judge is convening 'his' court.]

JUDGE: Sentence carried out contrary to just instructions of this court.

NEARMAN: I had to be practical. It's hard to cut a guy's tongue out when he's still alive. I meant to get him unsuspecting but he bled out in the parking lot and he croaked before I got the tongue.

JUDGE: You acted as agent of this court while impaired.

NEARMAN: One beer is all.

JUDGE: Remember I am who I am. How was the corpse of the condemned disposed of?

NEARMAN: Same way as usual.

JUDGE: You've forgotten. You feel you can lie as freely to me as to yourself.

NEARMAN: Uh, they'll never find it. Um, I had to hurry.

JUDGE: Carl Nearman, you've acted selfishly. You've ignored both the requirements of justice and the procedures of this court. I'm discharging you from the court's service.

[bardale enters the room.]

JUDGE: Mr. Bardale.

[The Judge places an executioner's hood over his head.]

JUDGE: Stand and receive sentence.

[bardale yanks Nearman upright by his hair as the pigs outside squeal loudly.]

[fade to black]

[polaroid fade up]

[A wooded area. Two women are walking along a path, calling to their dog. It is busily digging something it has found.]

1ST WOMAN: Achilles! Achilles, you come right here, girl! Come on!

2ND WOMAN: Achilles, come here now.

1ST WOMAN: Come on! Achilles! Oh, what in Heaven's name have you got there, huh?

[The dog is investigating what looks like a mound of leaves. The other woman laughs. The first one notices a foul odor.]

1ST WOMAN: Oh, God. The most appalling smell.

2ND WOMAN: Eeiw!

1ST WOMAN: Achilles, come away from there. Come on!

[The dog continues to pull and tear at something with its teeth.]

1ST WOMAN: Come on now, what you got?

[The first woman moves in closer for a better look.]

1ST WOMAN: What d'you want with that smelly old thing, huh? What d'you want with that?

[she pulls the dog away a bit and notices the flies. Then she notices the decomposing remains of a man.]

1ST WOMAN: Terry? Terry? Don't panic but there's a person there.

2ND WOMAN: What?

1ST WOMAN: There's a dead person.

[The Black residence, Frank's basement. Frank is looking at several photos of the body parts which he has tacked to a board as Catherine comes down to speak with him.]


FRANK: Catherine.

[He turns the board over and places it on his desk.]

FRANK: How was work?

CATHERINE: Fine. Um, Frank, that package that you got the other night - what are you working on?


CATHERINE: I had lunch with someone from the office. She's been counseling a woman who had a human tongue delivered to her.

FRANK: Annie Tisman.

CATHERINE: She couldn't give me her name. Has anyone spoken to her that you know of, about her history?

FRANK: The police did brief interviews. They weren't productive.

CATHERINE: Well, her husband was sent to jail for robbery about 12 years ago. He was appealing post-conviction on the basis that the testimony against him was perjured.

FRANK: What was the outcome?

CATHERINE: The husband was murdered in prison before the matter was resolved.

[Frank nods, then smiles and takes her hand.]

FRANK: Thanks.

CATHERINE: I just always feel like a trespasser down here.

FRANK: Neither of us should feel at home with what I do.

[The phone rings and Frank quickly goes over to answer it.]

FRANK: Yeah.

BLETCHER: Frank, it's Bob Bletcher.

[The morgue. Bletcher and Frank enter as he briefs him on the body found by the two women and their dog.]

BLETCHER: The corpse was barely concealed. Some garden clippings tossed over it. Tongue cut out. Looking like we caught a break here, Frank.

[An assistant wheels over another body while they wait for the body from the woods. It draws Frank's interest. Det. Teeple arrives.]

TEEPLE: The body's on its way up. The pathologist will be right with us.

[Frank continues to be interested in the body presently there. He goes over for a closer look at it. The legs are missing from the knee down. Two assistants bring in the body from the woods. They are accompanied by the pathologist.]

BLETCHER: Is this our guy?

PATHOLOGIST: Everything's a match. White male, early fifties, evident good health. Blunt object trauma to the skull occurred probably prior to these stabs wounds.

[bletcher looks over to see that Frank is not paying any attention to this corpse but is instead examining the other one. He's wearing a rubber glove and looking at the man's right hand.]

PATHOLOGIST: No defensive injuries. Any or all of these wounds might have caused death.

[Frank looks at the man's fingernails and notices something beneath them. This triggers a vision. He sees the hands of someone with a knife cutting out the tongue of the man. There's lots of blood visible and he hears the sound of metal clashing.]

BLETCHER: Frank. That's an unrelated D.O.A.

FRANK: Who is this man?

BLETCHER: (To Teeple.) Is that the John Doe from the tracks?


BLETCHER: Vagrant. Railway cops found him early AM. Died from a massive loss of blood. Probably tried to hop a freight while he had a bag on and slipped and his legs swung under.

TEEPLE: Happens three or four times a year. Rail yard bulls hate it. Interrupts their running poker game.

BLETCHER: Want to take a look?

[Frank walks over to look at the other body. Giebelhouse enters.]

GIEBELHOUSE: I got an ID from the prints. The man you're looking at is Jonathan Mellen. He's a former Seattle police officer.

FRANK: He was a cop?

GIEBELHOUSE: Retired seven years. We're running down any living relatives. He was divorced. Had a reputation for being argumentative.

FRANK: (To Bletcher.) These two are connected.


[Frank again walks over to the first body.]

BLETCHER: Mellen and the D.O.A. there? Frank? One's a murder. The other is death by misadventure. Miles apart, Frank. Days apart.

FRANK: Who was this man, the man from the freight yard?

BLETCHER: (To Giebelhouse.) Do we know that yet?

[Giebelhouse shakes his head.]

FRANK: You'll find the evidence that connects these two. (Peels off his glove.) It's here.

[Frank leaves. Bletcher is skeptical.]

[The Black residence, Frank's basement. Frank, using his Macintosh, calls Jim Penseyres. The number is: 555-0131.]

[upon connecting, Frank picks up the phone. There is a lot of static and noise on the line.]

PENSEYRES: Yeah, Frank?

FRANK: Penseyres?


FRANK: Can you hear me?

PENSEYRES: A lot of links and patches between us right now. I'm traveling. I may lose you.

FRANK: I'm looking for older documentation.

[His computer screen shows some records, affidavits, petitions for James Tisman.]

FRANK: Court records that are likely archived only on hard copy.

PENSEYRES: If it can be found, it will be.

FRANK: The records pertain to the husband of the woman who received the tongue. Last name: Tisman. T, as in Tom, I-S-M-A-N. He was a state prisoner. He would have filed a post-conviction appeal of the appropriate motion seeking to overturn between 9 and 12 years ago.


FRANK: We ID'd the body from which the tongue was removed. An ex-Seattle police officer. He may figure in the record of the court proceedings, he may not.

PENSEYRES: I'll check it.

FRANK: I'll be in touch.

[He hangs up the phone. The doorbell rings.]

[Outside, Bletcher waits from someone to answer, looking around him at the sunny scene. Frank opens the door and stays outside to talk with Bletcher.]

BLETCHER: 500 years ago, you would have been burned as a witch.

FRANK: Nothing I do is magic, Bob.

BLETCHER: (Laughs.) Yeah, a lot of people shouted just that from the middle of a bonfire. You were right about the two bodies in the morgue, Frank. Pathologist found traces of tissue under the fingernails of the rail yard corpse. Tissue blood types matched. DNA workup will confirm it. They were killer and victim.

FRANK: What do we know about the killer, Bob?

BLETCHER: Uh, ex-con named Carl Nearman.

FRANK: What's his history?

BLETCHER: Uh, done half a dozen sequential bits at state prisons - armed robbery, grand theft. Released five years back.

FRANK: No record since?

BLETCHER: No. Clean by all accounts. Never even missed a date with his parole officer. Probably not your model citizen but, uh... You were right, Frank. I wanted you to hear it from me.

[bletcher turns to leave. Frank is dissatisfied with what he's heard.]

FRANK: Doesn't fit, Bob.

BLETCHER: What are you talking about? I just gave you the rundown.

FRANK: A violent repeat-offender, repeatedly caught, convicted and jailed. Habitual criminal, not someone who's capable of acting with this kind of deliberate purpose.

BLETCHER: This one's in the books, Frank. You made the connection. It must have made some kind of sense to you.

FRANK: There is a connection but the easy thing to do here is to overlook the complexity. There's an act of hubris at work here, a perverse calculus. I know these men. I've chased them.


FRANK: There's someone else in this, Bletch.

BLETCHER: Oh, boy. Frank, you know, sometimes if it quacks, it really is a duck.

[bletcher laughs and walks down the steps. Frank just stares after him. Bletcher hesitates, serious now, and turns to look back at Frank who just turns and enters his home.]

[The Judge's residence. The Judge is putting Bardale's left leg in a cast. He finishes and goes to wash the plaster from his hands.]

JUDGE: Having found sufficient evidence the accused removed, or caused to be removed, lighting from his apartment building's common stairwell. This action resulted in a female client, aged 62, sustaining fatal injuries as a result of a fall. It is now my duty to pronounce sentence.

[He again places the black hood over his head.]

JUDGE: You are to apprehend the condemned as instructed and having transported him to the place designated, to amputate his right leg below the knee.

BARDALE: I got it written down from earlier, Judge. I like the foot. I mean it's like the son of a bitch, he kicked that old lady down the stairs, practically.

JUDGE: The prisoner shall be conscious prior to the amputation. You shall make him aware of the court's sentence.

BARDALE: I'll rub it in good.

[The Judge removes his hood.]

JUDGE: The hood may seem superfluous to you, Mr. Bardale, but I pronounce formal sentence to honor what we do and to set it apart from frying bacon or passing gas.

BARDALE: Oh, I respect that, Judge. Only, the two of us here, it seems a little like law court, you know?

JUDGE: Mine is not a court of law, Mr. Bardale. It is a court of justice. We cannot address every case. Our scope is not broad like the common law courts. It is narrower. Deeper. More pure. Our judgment final.

BARDALE: I'd better get going. You're doing the right thing like this. Feels good. I'm real grateful, Judge.

[Night, a stretch of road. Sound of something metal hitting the ground, possibly a lug wrench. Bardale is shown with the fake cast on his leg, standing near an apparently disabled vehicle, trying to flag down help from a passing motorist.]

MOTORIST: Oh, dammit!

[bardale stands in the middle of the road, causing the motorist to stop his car.]

BARDALE: I could really use a hand, mister. Come on. Please.

[The motorist frowns but Bardale's pleas win him over. The car door can be heard opening as well as the warning tones when a door is left ajar.]

[fade to black]

[polaroid fade up]

[Outside, a statue is seen, across the street from a federal building. It's a gray, damp day, not much daylight and the street lights are on.]



[inside, it is obviously a post office. Several packages travel along a conveyor belt and are being x-rayed. A young woman keeps her eyes on a monitor, checking each package while a co-worker is talking to her.]

MAN: You get more moody than you'd think, 'cause there's no windows. You know, what do you see these days?

[The monitor is shown. Several packages display their contents on the screen.]

MAN: I don't mind the no windows after a while. I been here six years, working security. It's important. You know you're contributing.

[The monitor again is shown. One of the packages contains a human foot and part of a leg.]

WOMAN: F-f-f-f-foot! Turn it back! Turn the belt back!

[The belt is rewound and the leg comes back into view.]

MAN: (To the others) Go for a damn supervisor! I ain't got it for this crap. I got training for bombs.

[The morgue. The pathologist begins his examination of the leg found at the post office. Bletcher, Giebelhouse and Teeple are also present, standing near the examination table. Frank stands near the rear. The pathologist removes a sock which is still on the leg, turns and places it on a tray that Bletcher offers him.]

PATHOLOGIST: Well, going by the state of decomposition, assuming no refrigeration, I put the amputation within the last 36 to 100 hours.

TEEPLE: Got to be the same guy, Nearman, we made for the others.

[Frank moves in closer.]

FRANK: Who was the addressee?

TEEPLE: Guy's name is Philman, widower, due to retire this year.

FRANK: What was the time stamp on the package?

[Frank looks at the leg. It is the right leg, cut just below the knee.]

TEEPLE: Parcel service guy said it could have sat in the drop box over the weekend.

GIEBELHOUSE: So much as another five or six hours before getting sorted, time and date stamped and shipped. Plenty of time for Nearman to do it before his accident.

TEEPLE: We're assuming this is the same perpetrator. Nothing says different. Nothing else makes sense.

PATHOLOGIST: By the evidence, the time frame works. We're seeing the established pattern.

[Frank has two sets of visions. He hears a man's screams throughout both visions.]

[The first: a man's hands holding a piece of cloth and a bottle of something, perhaps chloroform. He is dampening the cloth with the bottle's contents. Frank then sees another man, the victim, screaming. As he does, the other man stuffs the dampened cloth into his mouth. The man holds the cloth down with some kind of strap as the terrified victim continues to struggle.]

PATHOLOGIST: Amputation occurred while the victim was alive.

FRANK: That's not the established pattern.

[The second: He sees the man cutting through the victim's pant leg with a linoleum cutter, just below the knee. He sees the blade cut through the cloth and then through the flesh itself. The victim's eyes are open. He is alive throughout the procedure but unable to defend himself. The cloth still in his mouth, the strap holding it in place around his head. Again, a vision of the pigpen with a trail of blood leading past several grunting pigs. Lastly, more images of the victim, eyes open and of the killer's bloodied hand still holding the knife.]

FRANK: It's the return to the established pattern.

[Teeple and Giebelhouse look at one another incredulously.]

FRANK: The guy who killed the cop, Mellen, he didn't do this.

BLETCHER: Then who did?

FRANK: Someone else. These impressions on the calf.

[He points to a spot on the foot.]

FRANK: Was there a sock?

BLETCHER: Yeah, yeah. Right here, Frank.

[He shows Frank the sock on the tray. It is covered with residue, dirt.]

GIEBELHOUSE: We've got our guy. Every piece of evidence says he did it.

[Frank picks up an envelope, opens it and hands it to Bletcher to hold for him. He is wearing rubber gloves.]

FRANK: No. This is the old pattern. This limb belongs to someone who may still be alive.

[He picks up the sock.]

FRANK: We recess for a debate, that may change.

[He shakes the dirt from the sock onto the tray. Then scrapes up samples of the dirt into the envelope.]

[in a lab, someone is pouring the dirt sample into a tube, then adding liquid and a stopper before placing it into a centrifuge. The person is Cheryl Andrews, who begins the work for her analysis of the sample. In the background, Penseyres is on the phone. He is sending a fax to Frank, then speaks to him by phone.]

[Frank's basement. The fax arrives, then the phone rings.]

FRANK: Yeah.

PENSEYRES: Did you receive my copy of the court records?

FRANK: I'm looking at them right now.

PENSEYRES: Cements the connection between the cop who was killed and the lady who was sent the tongue. The dead police officer, Mellen, was a prosecution witness in the Tisman trial. The conviction turned on his testimony.

FRANK: Possibly a false testimony.

PENSEYRES: So Annie Tisman was sent the tongue of the cop who looks to have perjured himself against her husband. Why?

FRANK: I think somebody's righting wrongs.

PENSEYRES: What, a New Age vigilante?

FRANK: This person is directing the killer or killers and there's nothing new about that.

[back in the lab, Cheryl Andrews begins her analysis. A slide is shown with some crystalline-shaped objects. She photographs them and turns to a computer which displays the sample she has just photographed. She begins a search of the database to find a match for the sample. The computer beeps twice. A match is found.]

ANDREWS: (To Penseyres) I've got something here.

[The computer screen reads as follows: ]


[in Bletcher's office, Cheryl Andrews rundowns the analysis of the dirt sample taken from the sock for Bletcher, who is taking notes.]

ANDREWS: Soil composition suggests a bog. Absence of herbicide and pesticide along with the presence of cranberry seeds indicate it was once a working cranberry farm, out of production a couple of years.

BLETCHER: Giebelhouse! (He enters the office) I need you to listen to this.

ANDREWS: Are either of you familiar with Chelan County, lieutenant?

BLETCHER: Chelan County? Yeah, sure.

ANDREWS: If you get a topo map, we could probably narrow this down to a few specific sites.

[A massive search of one of the probable sites is underway. Helicopters can be heard overhead. Sheriff's department deputies are everywhere as are Bletcher and his men.]

BLETCHER: Giebelhouse! You keep working this area. You two, follow me.

[They move off to an area just ahead of the rest of the search party.]

BLETCHER: (To one of the deputies) The man we're looking for is in this area. He could be covered, hidden in debris.

[Looking down, Bletcher notices a disturbance in the grass underfoot. Pulling back the overgrowth, he finds fresh tire tracks leading straight ahead.]

BLETCHER: One of you get on the radio. I want everybody moved down here.

DEPUTY: Right away, sir.

[bletcher runs on ahead with one of the deputies. He stumbles and falls at the foot of an old oil storage tank. He tries to open the hatch at the side of the tank, near the top.]

BLETCHER: Where's those E.M.T.s?

[He finally manages to open the latch. Teeple, Giebelhouse and the others come running up to the area. Bletcher climbs a ladder soldered on the side of the tank and flips open the latch door. Looking inside the tank, he sees a man, with a severed right foot and lots of blood.]

BLETCHER: Get them up here right now!

TEEPLE: Let's get that stretcher!

[bletcher climbs into the tank.]

TEEPLE: Lieutenant! Lieutenant!

BLETCHER: We found our victim.

[The victim is shown. His eyes are open. He is already dead.]

BLETCHER: There's no rush.

[back at the morgue, Cheryl Andrews and the pathologist are examining the remains of the latest victim. Present are Bletcher, Giebelhouse, Teeple, Frank and Penseyres.]

BLETCHER: How long has he been dead?

ANDREWS: Not long. Two hours, maybe, a little less.

PATHOLOGIST: Improvised tourniquet kept him alive.

ANDREWS: Used his own belt.

BLETCHER: Ah, can you imagine? The pain, knowing you're going to die.

FRANK: Those are most probably the orders of execution. The killer's following a protocol.

PENSEYRES: Resuming the M.O.

BLETCHER: Orders from whom?

FRANK: A controller. Someone calling the shots. Out of caution or distaste, he's chosen to avoid direct action. Now he's found himself a new surrogate.

PENSEYRES: Someone to carry on the killing.

FRANK: Someone predisposed to an alternative theory of justice. Disillusioned, credulous, naïve.

BLETCHER: You mean we're looking for two guys now?

FRANK: The killer's capable of a high level of violence, probably someone who's been in the justice system once or twice, done time.

PENSEYRES: Ex-con, moves in similar circles outside. Limited number of places these people go. Limited ways they socialize.

BLETCHER: I think I know the kind of places you mean.

[Outside the Tittle Tattle Room. Several motorcycles are parked outside as Teeple and Giebelhouse drive by. Inside, Frank sits at a table while Bletcher tries to get information from the bartender.]

BLETCHER: Thanks a lot.

[He returns to the table to sit with Frank, who, all the while, has been keeping a close eye on everyone in the bar, and everyone who comes in.]

BLETCHER: Nothing. Muscle-head bartenders - know nothing and they try to keep it a secret. (sighs) I don't know, Frank.

[bardale enters and sits at the bar, with his back to Frank. Frank notices him immediately and doesn't take his eyes off him.]

BLETCHER: We've pretty much done the circuit. Even if this controller exists and he recruits his guys straight from the joint, doesn't mean we're going to find him.

[bardale turns to stare directly at Frank who returns glance.]

BLETCHER: This might not be the night.

FRANK: Come on.

BLETCHER: We'll check release and parole records.

FRANK: Not now, Bletch.

[They've both risen and Frank heads toward a mirror, buttons up his jacket and eyes Bardale behind him at the bar, still staring at him.]

[Frank and Bletcher get into their car.]

FRANK: The killer's inside.

[fade to black]

[polaroid fade up]

[still sitting in their car outside the bar, Frank runs down his assessment of the killer inside.]

FRANK: Pale and pasty, hadn't been out of doors lately. Relatively recent jailhouse '12' tattooed on his neck.

BLETCHER: If he is just out, what makes him right? What says he's our guy?

FRANK: He recognized us.

BLETCHER: (laughs) I've been told I look like a cop. Maybe you do too.

FRANK: He made eye contact. He didn't just know we were law enforcement. He was expecting us. He didn't panic.

BLETCHER: Okay, we'll detain him. See what his story is.

FRANK: We want the guy who runs him.

BLETCHER: He'll give that up, sooner or later - if he's the killer. And if he is, there's always physical evidence, Frank. We'll prove it.

FRANK: Wait till he comes out, gets in his car.

[Meanwhile, inside the bar, Bardale has called the Judge by phone to tell him about Frank and Bletcher.]

JUDGE: My judicial privilege shelters you, Mr. Bardale.

BARDALE: Yeah, yeah, but what do I do?

JUDGE: We cannot be called into account, you and I, by courts at perpetual odds with the justice that they presume to assure their continued existence.

BARDALE: Sure. There are cops riding circles around here and you're on your justice horse. I gotta move.

JUDGE: Shut up, Bardale! Don't let your fear make you insolent. You saw the cops in the bar, did you? Are they looking for you? (exhales) You're an afterthought, Bardale. They want me.

BARDALE: Why? Why would they, Judge?

JUDGE: Because if you saw them then they saw you. If they wanted you, they'd take you and they'd convict you. Then they'd miss me. If they left you then it's clear they have some idea that I exist. I've been wanting to meet the man who could find me. They will come to me and as I promised, I will protect you. Now, do as I say. Take my car. Drive away.


[They both hang up and Bardale heads for the front door. Stops, turns and looks at the back door. He decides to make a run for it instead of obeying the Judge's instructions.]

[Outside, Giebelhouse and Teeple pull up beside Frank and Bletcher.]

BLETCHER: (To Frank) Can't wait for this guy any longer. (To the detectives) Go. You've got the description.

[Giebelhouse and Teeple search through the bar for Bardale. They find the open window in the restroom through which Bardale escaped.]

TEEPLE: Didn't go right, didn't go left. Right down the middle.

[still waiting outside till the bar finally closes, Frank and Bletcher watch as everyone leaves, each taking his car, until only one remains.]

FRANK: That's got to be it. It's what the killer was driving. That's the car that's going to lead us to the man in charge.

BLETCHER: It shouldn't. That car should be hot, plates stolen.

FRANK: I have a feeling that the man we're after doesn't operate that way.

[sometime later, after checking the car's registration, it leads them to the home of the Judge. Bletcher knocks on his door, holds out his badge and introduces himself. He's got several officers providing back-up with him.]

BLETCHER: Detective Lieutenant Bletcher, Seattle PD. We'd like to ask you a few questions.

JUDGE: I've been expecting you. Come in.

BLETCHER: We'd like to ask you to come with us.

[The Judge looks around at the other officers and notices Frank standing by the gate, in the shadows. He smiles at Frank.]

[The Public Safety Building. Bletcher speaks with an assistant DA about the case.]

A.D.A.: I've reviewed journals removed from the suspect's home. There's definitely material there linking him to the body part recipients and the victims we've managed to identify. I think he's in this.

BLETCHER: (smiling) You're the A.D.A. Do we charge him?

A.D.A.: I called my boss. He said no.

[bletcher's smile dissolves into a frustrated scowl.]

A.D.A.: We don't have enough from the scrapbooks. There's over a thousand names but nothing to satisfy motive or intent. Did you get a statement from him that we can use?

BLETCHER: We're working on it.

A.D.A.: That's a 'no?'

[in an interrogation room, Teeple, Giebelhouse and Bletcher continue to try and get the Judge to make a statement, but he's not cooperating. Teeple leaves the room.]

BLETCHER: Once more, do you recognize this man?

[He shoves a photograph of Nearman, his face bloodied, at the Judge.]

JUDGE: Once more, it could be Carl, a hired man who cared for my hogs. A drifter and an alcoholic. I never asked his last name, as I said.

[The Judge shoves the photograph away from him, back toward Bletcher.]

BLETCHER: Where is he now?

JUDGE: In the photo, he looks dead but since you won't say, I won't guess.

BLETCHER: We have evidence that, uh, your 'hired man' committed at least one murder - a man named Mellen. Does that name sound familiar?


[bletcher takes out and shows the Judge a photo of Bardale.]

BLETCHER: This man.

JUDGE: I said it looks something like Mike.

GIEBELHOUSE: Another pig guy you barely know?

JUDGE: Didn't I say so? If that is Mike.

BLETCHER: You said you were a livestock auctioneer.

[The Judge begins calling a mock-auction in response.]

JUDGE: I got 15 going on 15-5-- 15-5-- 15-5 for this good steer right here - thank you, sir! Can I have 15-50? Will you go to 15-50? Going to 15-50 for this steer, thank you.

GIEBELHOUSE: Shut up! Damn!

[Giebelhouse comes out of the interrogation room to let Frank and Teeple know what's been happening inside.]

GIEBELHOUSE: Well, it's gonna take another ten minutes, but guess what? We're going to have to cut him loose.

TEEPLE: Who's in there with him?

GIEBELHOUSE: No one. I never took his belt or his laces either.

FRANK: I'd like to talk to him.

TEEPLE: You know that he asked for you last night.

GIEBELHOUSE: Talk to him. He's going home soon anyway.

TEEPLE: He called you 'The Outsider.'

[All three head toward the interrogation room. Giebelhouse opens the door but only Frank enters. When he does, the Judge rises. Thunder can be heard throughout.]

FRANK: Sit down. (They both do.) What should I call you?

JUDGE: 'Judge' is fine. Or the name on the report. My name is 'Legion.'

FRANK: 'Legion?'

JUDGE: When Jesus of Nazareth expelled demons from a herd of enchanted hogs, story has it that the demons told him their name was 'Legion.' How would you like to work for me?

FRANK: Work? You mean killing.

JUDGE: Every man finds his own path to justice. You needn't commit yourself now. The offer's open. A month, a year... Many benefits. I know you're sometimes scared for your family, your wife. There's a child now too, yes?

FRANK: When you spoke to Bardale, what did you say to him when he called you from the bar?

JUDGE: Bardale - who can speak to Bardale? A slave of echoes. I can talk to you. We're after the same thing.

FRANK: How's that?

JUDGE: I can show you an absolute justice, an unconstrained justice. You'd have freedom to act without fear. Bardale and his kindred - they fear me, they obey me. Your family would be safe from such threats.

FRANK: Uh-huh.

JUDGE: The police are about to release me. You and your group of associates have never been as close to me as I've allowed this time. I wanted you to hear my offer, feel its truth, see my strength.

FRANK: We're going to find Bardale.

JUDGE: Oh, yes. My congratulations in advance.

[Giebelhouse opens the door to the room.]

JUDGE: Well, it's time to go. And remember, the offer's open. And if I'm hard to reach, well, don't make the conventional assumptions.

[He leaves.]

BLETCHER: What'd he say?

FRANK: He offered me a job.

[The Black residence. Frank sits alone, with an untouched sandwich - quiet, pensive. Catherine enters.]

CATHERINE: Something's bothering me, all I do is eat. It's been going on for almost a week, Frank. You want to talk about it?

FRANK: The man I had Bletcher pick up has filed a half a dozen law suits. City attorney's ordered the police to stay away from him.

[Offers his sandwich to Catherine.]

FRANK: Want this?

CATHERINE: No, thanks. There's nothing to be done, to bring this man to justice?

FRANK: He flouts the system and gets away with it, as if his private justice was a higher, purer form.

CATHERINE: Then he uses conventional law to protect himself.

FRANK: When you believe in nothing, everything is acceptable. It's a game to him. He sits at home a free man. He's taunting us.

CATHERINE: What about the accomplice, the man you and Bob saw at the bar?

FRANK: Can't find him. He may be dead.

CATHERINE: He couldn't be hiding?

FRANK: He spent most of his life in jail. He's not good at hiding. He'd be seeking his own comfort.

[His last thought give him an idea about Bardale's whereabouts.]

[Frank drives out to meet Bletcher at a road overlooking the Judge's farm. It is late at night and very dark.]

BLETCHER: I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be this close to his place.

FRANK: I think Bardale's in there. I think that's why we can't find him.

BLETCHER: I can't go near there, Frank. I step on this man's property and Bardale's not there, I put the department and the city in real legal trouble.

FRANK: Stay close by.

[Frank heads toward the house alone.]

BLETCHER: I can't advise you to go there yourself.

[Frank does go on to his car and drives up to the farm. The pigs are squealing. He steps out from his car and cautiously walks round the back of the house, slowly making his way toward the door. On the wall, he finds an envelope taped there with his name on it. Opening it, he finds a note: 'SORRY TO HAVE MISSED YOU. ANOTHER TIME?']

[He proceeds to enter the house. It is completely dark and quiet but he hears a sound from the kitchen. There he finds Bardale, drinking a beer. He finishes it, crushes the can and tosses it to the floor.]

BARDALE: You a cop?

FRANK: No, I'm not a cop. I'm a private citizen.

[bardale walks over to the refrigerator for another beer. He stands in front of the open refrigerator door, letting the light from it provide the only illumination in the room.]

BARDALE: Like me.

[He isn't wearing a shirt and his arms and chest are covered with tattoos and cuts and blood. He opens another beer and takes a long sip.]

BARDALE: You looking for someone?

FRANK: Where's the guy who lives here?

BARDALE: Around.

[Frank looks around him, finally finds a light switch and turns it on.]

FRANK: You have nowhere to go.

BARDALE: Back to prison.

[He pours the cold beer on his back.]

BARDALE: I was always going back to prison.

FRANK: Where did you get those cuts?

BARDALE: On business.

[Frank has a brief vision of the pigs squealing and human bones strewn across the pigpen.]

BARDALE: Man wasn't no judge.

FRANK: What was he?

BARDALE: Well, who cares now. He was no judge of me, that's how it turned out.

FRANK: He betrayed you.

[bardale sits down at a table and offers Frank a cigarette. Frank refuses.]

BARDALE: You know in prison you don't have it both ways. You're either an inmate or a convict - a man or a piece of worthless crap. Judge said the system was worthless crap, then he gets in bed with the system. He was a pig, like the rest.

FRANK: He promised to take care of you on the outside.

BARDALE: Who gives a rat's ass. Wasn't what he said, it's what he was that mattered. He was bitch enough to let the cops take him, file law suits after he let them do it. bitch in the heart. Wasn't any kind of judge. Bitch was pure pig.

FRANK: I want you to come outside with me.

BARDALE: You know what Gary Gilmore said right before they shot him?

[Frank nods.]

BARDALE: Well, then, 'Let's do it.'

[The pigpen. The police are everywhere. They have cordoned off the area. Some are trying to move the pigs out of the pen. Others have been digging up various human remains.]

[in a police car, Bletcher gets out of the back seat where he has been trying to get a statement from Bardale, but without success.]

BLETCHER: Okay, Bardale. Have it your way. (To the driver) Get him out of here.

[Other officers are photographing the scene and lighting up some areas with flashlights.]

BLETCHER: (To Frank) He's not talking to me. It's just convict to cop. What did he say to you?

FRANK: He said the Judge was a pig.

[The grunting pigs can be seen moving around their pen. At their feet are a dismembered leg and hand.]

BLETCHER: Bardale killed him and put him in there.

FRANK: Probably hamstrung him then dumped him in there. Probably.

BLETCHER: You don't know?

FRANK: (Sighs.) I don't want to know.

BLETCHER: Frank, the bodies - the ones we never found - we'll find what there is to find of them in there?

FRANK: It's over. I'm going home now.

[Frank gets into his Jeep and drives off.]

[The police have unearthed the Judge's body, his eyes still open.]

[fade to black]

[end titles]


Lance Henriksen (Frank Black)

Megan Gallagher (Catherine Black)

Brittany Tiplady (Jordan Black)


Bill Smitrovich (Lt. Bob Bletcher)

Guest Starring

Marshall Bell (The Judge)

John Hawkes (Mike Bardale)

Chris Ellis (Jim Penseyres)

Stephen James Lang (Det. Giebelhouse)

Brian Markinson (Det. Teeple)


CCH Pounder as Cheryl Andrews


Michael Puttonen (Pathologist Massey)

David Fredericks (Jonathan Mellen)

Kirsten Williamson (Mail Room Worker)

J.R. Bourne (Carl Nearman)

Donna White (Annie Tisman)

Eva deViveiros (Assistant DA Aquila)

Kate Robbins (Marilyn)

Beverly Elliot (Terry)

Gabe Khouth (Parcel Service Employee)

Story Editor: Charles Holland

Music By Mark Snow

Editor: Stephen Mark

Production Designer: Sheila Haley

Director of Photography: Robert McLachlan

Associate Producer: Jon-Michael Preece

Consulting Producer: Ted Mann

Consulting Producers: James Wong & Glen Morgan

Co-Producer: Ken Dennis

Co-Producer: Chip Johannessen

Co-Producer: Frank Spotnitz

Co-Executive Producer: Jorge Zamacona

Co-Executive Producer: Ken Horton

Co-Executive Producer: John Peter Kousakis

Written by Ted Mann

Directed by Randy Zisk

Executive Producer: Chris Carter

Edited by Libby
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