- Okay, now are you ready? - Yeah.
Okay. We're gonna go... you gotta hold on tight.
Squeeze, squeeze. You ready?
You're the one who should be in front of the camera.
What are you doing, hiding back there?
There she is, ladies and gentlemen, the most beautiful woman in the world.
Just like out of a fairytale.
Wave to Daddy.
- Hi, Daddy. - Throw Daddy a kiss.
Get off me.
Get the fuck off me, Dad. I just wanna sleep.
Shut up! Get up!
Help! Somebody help!
Hi.
- Pick up the phone! - I can't find it.
I got some news you're gonna want to hear.
Oh, yeah? What?
Penguin loved the proposal.
- Shut the fuck up! - We've got a deal.
Are you serious?
- That's awesome! - Yeah. They're wiring the money today,
and I got you twice what you asked me for.
What? You're the best!
Yeah, I'm a miracle worker.
Holy shit! That's great.
So wha... What now?
So now you write it.
All they need is a 20-page excerpt every month
and other than that, you're a free man...
Oh, and they wanna have a party in a few weeks...
black tie, canapes, et cetera, et cetera.
Whoa! What?
Go buy yourself a nice suit.
- All right! - Okay, hon. Talk later.
Wait for it, wait for it.
- First bucket, baby! First bucket! - Here we go.
That's one, that's one, that's one!
Bam! Yeah! Yes, motherfucker!
I will ruin you! Your kids will weep at your funeral!
Break that streak! Pound it!
No, no, no! No!
- No, no, no! Come on, man! - That's what I'm talking about!
That's my money. Give me that money!
You pay up, bitch. Gimme that money!
You are such a bitch.
Really? What is this, down payment?
Hey, you missed everything.
I know, I know. I had to go to the courthouse.
Yo, come on. What are you doing?
- It's over, right? - No, we're watching the recap.
- I gotta watch this real quick. - I wanna see...
No body, no weapon.
Next week, Hans Reiser goes on trial for the murder of his wife.
Big questions arise... did he kill her,
or did she simply leave her family to escape a bad marriage?
It's a haunting story,
as the investigation of Nina Reiser continues.
The direct physical evidence against Hans is limited,
but police have built a detailed circumstantial case.
Police have confirmed they believed Hans Reiser acted alone.
- According to some, Nina... - What is this?
It's Hans. He made the Linux operating system...
big nerd celebrity.
I'm profiling the case for Wired.
Hans says he lives for his kids.
In divorce court, a critical ruling...
Hans lost legal custody of his precious children.
His life was falling apart.
I don't know where Nina is.
All I know is that the woman that I love is gone
and her children keep asking me when she's coming back
and I don't know what to tell them.
I'm just a husband and a father.
I'm a victim in all this.
No one took Nina, no one hurt her.
She just left.
Nina left her family.
And with that, the last man known to have seen Nina alive heads back to his cell.
- Hey, can you get me in? - To the trial?
- Yeah. - Why?
...the question: Where is Nina?
Sure.
Hey, Stephen, it's Jen.
I know you know those pages are due at Penguin next week.
I hope it's going well. Give me a call.
Hey, man, it's Josh. I got you the Reiser interview.
You're welcome. Call me.
Who are you?
I'm Stephen Elliott.
Uh, look, I'm not talking to reporters.
I'm not a reporter.
I just want to write a book.
Well, it's... it's kind of hard to trust your kind of people.
Writers, they have a way of spinning things
the way they want to.
Yeah, I know. I have a lot of ex-girlfriends
that have accused me of the same thing.
Well, what do you want to know?
Anything. I just...
I just want to hear your story, that's it.
I'm not interested.
There's something there. He's sitting on something,
just waiting for a big reveal.
Like maybe he killed his wife.
Yeah, maybe, but why is the question.
Hey, is anybody dead out there?
I want to pitch a book to Jen. A true crime thing.
- Yeah. - My In Cold Blood.
Yeah. Better. But probably better.
What the hell is that?
Flip it.
That's my team, from down below.
- Sniff it. - You gave me your team?
- Yeah. - Yum.
- You got any blueberry sauce? - Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Put it where it goes, though.
Yeah, yeah.
The key is to put a little bit of butter in the balls like so.
Then you put a nice sloppy helping on there,
and then let the blood flow right to the other part.
A little wet, and look at that.
Looks like shit.
All right! Hot cakes are ready!
Get your asses in here for some cakes!
- Hey! - We cut my hair.
Whoa! Check out this haircut.
God damn it!
Oh-oh! Wow!
He's got it! That is just...
What do you... What do you think of it?
- You like it? - I think it's awesome.
- I think it's pretty awesome. - I think it's awesome
that you feel awesome for the last day of school,
but I gotta tell you, man, that looks terrible.
Hey, you know what, though? Maybe you should put a shirt on.
Looking like a deranged little ragamuffin with no shirt on.
This is not the kind of parent who disappears without warning.
This is not a mother who abandons her children.
Nina Reiser was president of her school's Parent-Teacher Association.
She chaperoned field trips. She did the class laundry.
Nina's children were her entire world.
She would have never, ever left them willingly.
And she most certainly wouldn't have left them with her estranged husband
of whom she was afraid.
The police were called to the Reiser house
three times during the months leading up to the separation.
Hans appeared twice in Family Court
for refusing to pay for his children's medical expenses.
The last time he appeared in court,
his request to have the children for Labor Day weekend was denied.
12 hours later, Nina Reiser disappeared from the face of the Earth.
When he was arrested, he was carrying $9,000 in cash,
two books about unsolved homicides
and a three-page letter.
The letter begins:
"I've been telling you about Nina and nobody listens.
I may be a danger to the worldview of some,
but I am no danger to my children."
Hey!
You forgot your notebook.
- This is where you say thank you. - Thank you.
How much did you read?
Nah, just a little.
I had to find your name.
I want to see if I should be embarrassed.
I wrote, "Hans Reiser trial. Get transcript of letter thing."
With search terms like that, should be a breeze.
Let me see what you wrote.
Whoa!
This is thorough.
I feel really inadequate,
Miss Lana Edmond.
I write for the Times. Are you covering the trial?
Not sure yet.
Do you want to get a drink?
- Like right now or in general? - Right now.
I have to take a raincheck.
I have to do something for work.
All right. I totally understand. It's a really big decision.
You have to think about it a lot.
So you'll have plenty of time to do that on our way there.
No fucking way! Is this your bike?
Yeah.
I'm driving.
That's Hans' mother's house.
They're right, you know. The body is buried here.
There's no way he buried the body that close.
Oh, yeah? Where would you dump a body?
Hudson Canyon.
Okay. It's weird you had an answer for that, but...
It's in New Jersey, off the coast.
It's this underwater canyon.
It's starts in the basin and goes out in the ocean, like 400 miles.
It's as big as the Grand Canyon, but nobody knows about it,
so people just abandon things there all the time.
I once dropped an engagement ring in there.
Sorry.
I don't know why I just said that.
Jesus Christ!
Um, so what are you doing tonight?
I don't know. What do you have in mind?
"I never went back.
I couldn't stand to see her that way.
Three months later, she was dead.
My father told me in the front seat of his convertible
after finding me in a park.
He was already living with his new wife and her children,
somewhere in the suburbs. He wouldn't tell me which one.
I lived on the streets until an overdose put me in the hospital
and I became a ward of the state.
The day my father was found guilty of abuse and neglect,
I sat beside him in court.
Right before my statement, he pulled me close,
so it would look like he was hugging me,
and then he whispered in my ear,
'You know it's all your fault, right?
You killed your mother.'
That's what I could never explain to the lawyers and caseworkers.
It wasn't about the handcuffs or the beatings
or his shaving my head. That was nothing.
It was the constant suggestion that I was doing something wrong,
that I was inherently poisonous
and to blame for the series of abuses and abandonment
that marked my adolescence.
He made that suggestion in countless, subtle
and more obvious ways all the years he was alive."
This is bullshit.
"In the end, his passing brought me no satisfaction, no closure.
The day he died..."
Jesus Christ, how can you people listen to this crap?
Oh my God, it's a ghost!
Boo!
My son, ladies and gentlemen.
The poor, abused orphan. The underdog.
How convenient for you to have a dead monster for a father!
How utterly pitiable!
I should be getting royalties for this shit.
My son, the storyteller... what a fucking joke!
You deserve to be played, falling for this nonsense.
My son was never homeless. He was never in group homes.
He was a drug addict fuck-up
who wants to seem interesting and dramatic
and take your money, is what he wants.
- All right, Neil, you gotta go. - Oh, Roger, how are you doing?
- You gotta go. - Get your fucking hands off of me!
- You gotta go. Now. - I gotta go?
You're a fucking coward. Always have been.
You people are all fools... listening to this bullshit.
Um...
You know, I haven't seen him in seven years.
The one thing we can agree on, though,
is that we're just dead to each other.
You don't have to explain to me.
Well, unfortunately, I don't think everyone else will feel that way.
But thank you.
I tried to kill my stepfather once...
...when I was 16.
I worked in a pharmacy, and I did the research.
I figured out what kind of pill I would need
and how much it would take to kill a man, the whole thing, right?
I put a few pills in my pocket every day before I left work,
saved up enough, ground them up
and put them in his fancy bottle of scotch
that he wouldn't let anyone else touch.
So you killed him.
Nope.
Not even close.
Nothing happened.
It just went right through his system.
He was that fat.
I guess I shouldn't laugh, it's not funny.
You'll get to funny one day.
It just takes time.
So what were you like in high school?
Me? I was a bad ass.
- A bad ass? - Oh, yeah.
I had a punk band and everything.
What were you called?
We were called the Lys Dexics.
- What? - Think about it.
Oh, like dyslexic.
I played bass, which is ridiculous
because I can't even hear bass notes. But whatever.
There's only like four of them, so.
And then we had this whole bit where I sprayed hairspray into Mattie's lighter.
It was very cool.
I wish I could have seen you then.
A little delinquent, yeah?
So why'd you break up?
- The band? - Mm-hmm.
I guess I ultimately figured out
it was less fun to have bad sex in the back of a van sober.
What kind of sober?
Not wanting to be my stepfather kind.
Do you mind if I ask what he did to you?
It's in the past.
I'm not looking over my shoulder.
I know, but what happens to us makes us who we are.
No. Fuck that!
That has nothing to do with who I am.
He has nothing to do with who I became.
That doesn't mean you need to bury it.
I'm not burying anything.
I've just got some souvenirs.
I think you're perfect.
I wouldn't want you any other way.
Hey!
Jesus! Where the hell have you been?
Oh... Uh, I just...
I needed a little time, that's all. Come in.
What are you doing?
Oh, it's this thing Roger turned me on to.
You heat it up to 209 degrees.
No, I mean, what in the actual fuck are we gonna do?
I don't know.
Uh, I never really had a plan for when life shits the bed like this.
Do you have any sense of how many phone calls
and hysterical emails I've gotten?
As a matter of fact, I do. I changed my number.
Thanks for letting me know.
So here's where we are.
Random House is backing out of the short story collection.
Columbia wants to buy you out of your teaching contract.
- Fuck them. - Essentially,
everyone is on the verge of suing us.
The Penguin thing... that's over, too?
Not yet.
I have managed to talk them down,
but you have gotta work with me here.
Okay. All right. Just tell me how.
Okay. First of all, you gotta tell me the truth.
- Fine. Easy. - Everything.
Look, yeah, my dad isn't dead, obviously.
But that's it.
So why does Neil say that you never lived in a group home?
Why does he say you were never homeless?
Why? Because... I don't...
My dad's crazy, that's why!
I don't know! I've been trying to figure it out my whole life.
He just... He doesn't want me to be happy.
Do you have proof?
- What kind of proof? - I don't know. Records.
- I mean, not on me. - Find some.
Quick. I believe you, but you've gotta cover your ass.
Okay.
Next, you've got to write a...
press release statement like, now.
Next, Penguin has got to have some pages ASAP.
Unless you start producing, this all goes away.
Kill yourself, you fucking asshole!
- Whad'ya got? - I already paid for that.
Don't be stupid.
Say what do you want from me.
I don't know.
I know exactly what you like, don't I?
Hi, Cori.
Cori, do you remember drawing that picture?
Yes.
Why did you draw it?
I drew it to show what happened.
Hans went away for a long time,
and when he came back, he had this very big bag.
Inside the bag there were so many rolls of tape, like a ball,
and Hans took it to his car.
Now, in your picture,
the bag is zipped up.
Could you actually see what was in the bag
or were you just kind of imagining what might be in there?
Imagining.
And who asked you to draw it?
The psychologist.
Now, did you remember the part about your Dad carrying the bag
before the psychologist talked to you?
I'm not sure.
Do you have trouble with keeping things straight sometimes, Cori?
Do you get a little, you know, confused, sometimes?
I don't want to do this anymore. Can I stop now?
Okay. Thank you, pal.
Did Cori always call his parents by their first names?
No, I don't think so, actually.
It seemed at the earlier custody trial statements he would say "my mom,"
but I don't know when he started calling Hans "Hans."
Do you think we could get the Family Court documents?
Some of them. Anything public record.
Can I see it?
All right. So this is the first one, where Cori is calling his mother "Nina,"
and Hans was already called "Hans."
Hmmm.
This was three months before she disappeared.
Mm-hmm.
Hey, can you get documents from other states,
not just New York?
Uh, yeah. Wha... what are you thinking?
Illinois.
Yeah, sure. Why?
'Cause I grew up in Chicago.
What are you looking for?
How about the hearing where my father was convicted of neglect and abuse
and I was made a ward of the state?
What are you gonna do with it?
I don't know. All my book deals went to shit,
and my editor says they're gonna stay that way
until I come up with some proof that all that stuff actually happened.
And I have to publish it in an important publication.
Like say The Times?
I wouldn't ask you to do that.
Yeah, kind of just did, but that's okay.
I'd love to help.
Does this look like what you're looking for?
Yeah.
Now the only problem is I can't write it.
Of course you can. Write whatever you want.
No, I just can't write. I mean...
It just happens. Last time it lasted six months.
And then what?
Then I started taking Adderall.
Okay. It's printing.
What if we published this as is?
Mm? Print it full page,
complete with your handwritten annotations.
That's something people would notice
and you wouldn't have to write anything.
I think that you're brilliant.
I know.
There's a term for what you are right now.
- Cunt-struck. - Fuck you.
- Cunt-struck. - That's not a word.
Yeah, it is.
It's an old word, old-timey word.
It's like cuntwinked.
Or the more politically correct version, hoodwinked.
- Come on, you don't know this? Huh? - No.
What's the male version?
- Cock hobbled. - Shut the fuck up!
Come on. You gonna match with me and you don't know that?
Hey. I put this on so I'd remember to give it to you.
Remember this?
Yeah.
Yeah. I was going through this old box
and thought I'd give it back to you.
- Yeah? - Yeah.
You sure you're ready to part ways with that?
- Thought it'd make you happy. - Yeah, it did.
You could give it to Jax.
It belonged to my grandmother.
Yeah, I remember.
You gave it to me the night after I overdosed.
Remember you said it would protect me?
I sure don't.
It meant a lot to me at the time.
Yeah? That's interesting.
'Cause I didn't give it to you, Stephen.
- What? - It got stolen
from my jacket at a party.
What are you talking about? I was in the hospital at Northwestern.
You snuck in to visit me.
Ha, doesn't matter. Forget it.
It matters to me.
Look, you were pissed off at me 'cause I made that shitty joke
about your mom in the wheelchair peeing herself, yeah?
- Yeah, I remember. - Yeah, and the chain broke,
and I had it in my jacket pocket and then it went missing at the party.
This is not how I remember it.
I believe that's not how you remember,
because you have a convenient way of remembering things.
- What? We're done? - Yeah, we're done.
Roger!
Why don't you just tell me what you're looking for, what you like?
Because I don't want to scare you away.
Do I seem easily scared to you?
No.
You're the last person I want to show my flaws to.
You're showing them to somebody.
I know you're not getting these marks on your own.
No, I'm not.
I just don't want to wonder who else you're with.
Give me a chance.
Tie this wrist.
Now tie it to the bed.
Now tie this one.
Tie it really tight.
Like that?
Yeah.
Take one nail.
Run it down.
Slower.
Slow.
Harder.
- Like that? - Yeah.
Kiss me.
Well, fine, but I like the Hans idea.
Look, I think they have the right to voice a concern.
This doesn't even resemble the book they're paying you to write.
Okay, no? Fine. I get that, but it's a better idea.
Yeah, I'm not really sure that I can sell this, Steve.
Look, Norman Mailer, Truman Capote.
They were both at the top of their games
and then they got massive writer's block, right?
- And then? - Yes, and they fell into addiction.
Exactly. And what happens? A murder trial.
Truman Capote writes his masterpiece, changes American literature.
Norman Mailer wins the freaking Pulitzer Prize.
Oh, so Hans Reiser is gonna win you a Pulitzer now?
No, I'm just... He's interesting, that's all. It's what I want to write.
Alright. Fine, fine, fine. As long as you're actually writing something.
I don't know. I guess we'll figure it out.
You're gonna have to get me some pages if you want me to pitch this change,
- actual pages. - Um, cool. You got it.
Yes, I promise. I promise. I promise.
- I promise. - Okay.
Okay. Bye.
I made breakfast.
- I see that. - Eggs Benedict.
- What's wrong? - Nothing.
It's just, um... This was taped to my front door.
Motherfucker!
You stay away from her.
If you ever hurt them, I swear to God I'm gonna fucking kill you.
Oh, come on. You're so dramatic!
- Come on. - No.
Oh! I see how it is, Tough Guy.
All right, you handsome motherfucker. At least come on in.
Come on!
You want a 7-Up?
Hey, let's get a steak, huh? My treat.
- Where's Cynthia? - She's in Florida.
You know how much I can't stand the fucking silverbacks.
So you're just spending her money alone?
Yeah, she sends her love to you, too.
Cynthia, you know, she had me clean out the attic.
I was visiting your stepsister.
She's going to Yale now, did you know that?
And I thought I might stop by here and see if you wanted any of this.
You came all this way to give me a box?
I came to see my son.
Why? You obviously hate me.
Oh, hey, now, come on! Don't say that.
- Why do you say that? - 'Cause you humiliated me!
Congratulations, I hope you're happy.
I'm not happy.
That didn't make me happy.
Then why would you do that?
You told everyone I was dead.
So did you!
Yeah, well, I mean, there's storytellers in this family.
I... I've read everything you've ever written.
I've come all the way across the country to this fancy party
where they're celebrating my son, the big-shot literary genius,
because I'm proud of you
and I'm sitting there, listening to these stories,
and every time, the monster father dies a horrible death
and those assholes in their party clothes, they're all happy about it.
How do you think that makes me feel?
You know what? You're not doing this.
You're not turning it around to make it about you.
I'm not going to feel guilty for not keeping your secrets.
My secrets? What about yours?
All right, look, here you go.
- What do you got? - Here's the court hearing
where you were convicted of seven counts of neglect and abuse.
Here's the police report for when I was homeless,
'cause you were hiding with your fucking replacement family!
Hiding? I looked everywhere for you.
You were a strung-out drug addict.
I roamed the streets trying to save your life.
- Oh, you were gonna save me? - Yes, save you. I had to restrain you.
You were trying to kill yourself.
You fucking beat the shit out of me, and I was too little to fight back!
I was grieving. I was doing my best!
You were grieving? As if I wasn't!
- As if I wasn't fucking grieving! - You pick at the details,
you're missing the entire context of this thing.
- The context? - Yeah.
The context is you were a fucking nightmare!
You were a nightmare!
You made my life a living hell! You terrorized my family!
I'm your family!
I was your fucking family and you fucking abandoned me!
That's not true!
You're not going anywhere. Stay there.
Get off of me!
Fucker!
You son of a bitch!
Roger! Get the fuck off me!
I didn't abandon you.
You left home, for God's sake!
You know what? You're right.
You have another family to take care of.
My father is dead. I'm a fucking orphan.
- You don't mean that! - Yes, I do!
You don't know what you're saying right now.
You're a pathetic old man and you're gonna die miserable and alone,
and you fucking deserve it!
Stephen! Stephen!
Stephen, come back here!
All at once or slow?
- Mm? - Slow.
Fuck!
What did you mean
when you told Dr. Shapiro that Nina wanted Cori to be sick?
She was... inventing illnesses for Cori,
to make him go through all these unnecessary medical procedures,
giving him medications that were making him sick.
She was poisoning my son.
She didn't like him on some deep, conflicted level.
I know people don't want to hear that.
I mean, they can't believe that a parent would actually hurt a child.
It happens all the time.
The court system, I mean,
it just makes things so much worse for the children.
We're taught to believe that the system
will actually help the child,
that it'll do the right thing,
but it doesn't always.
Sometimes it does the opposite.
I was betrayed and abandoned
by the people that I was supposed to trust blindly.
When I fought back, they called me a liar.
No one tells you what you're supposed to do then.
When you're all alone,
you have to take matters into your own hands.
If you understand that, you understand everything.
I always tried to do the right thing...
Even if it was an impossible decision.
Hey.
You okay?
Yeah.
What is that?
It's Adderall, Klonopin, Vicodin.
Can I have one?
I hate feeling trapped.
I'd never want to trap you.
You can tell me whatever you want.
You know that, right?
I know.
Choke me.
Now?
Yeah.
I don't... I just...
I don't really feel like that now.
Hey.
I don't want you to do anything that you don't want to do.
Come here. Come back.
I just feel at home with you, so...
I just don't wanna have to pretend, or...
And I don't want you to have to pretend anything.
- Just like that? - Yeah, squeeze.
Here?
Harder. Harder.
You can't go harder?
I'm trying.
I mean, look. Come here.
Put your hands there.
- Yeah? - All right.
- Like that? - Yeah.
Okay. Now I want you to press as hard as you can.
It's okay. Just let it out.
Everything he did to you, I want you to take it out.
Just take it out on me, right now. Do it.
Do it harder.
Harder. Harder.
Harder.
Stephen! Stephen!
Stephen, wake up!
Stephen!
Stephen, please, wake up!
Stephen!
Oh, my God.
- Oh, my God! - Are you okay?
I love you.
- What'd you say? - I love you.
What?
- I can't do this. - It's okay.
I'm not gonna let anything happen to you.
- Stephen, I can't do this! - It's okay.
Steven.
Please, you have to stop calling me.
I don't wanna talk to you.
I mean it. Bye.
Steve, I just had a meeting with your publisher,
maybe you remember them.
We waited three hours... for you.
Um, the bottom line is,
Penguin does not want this true crime bullshit, like I told you,
and they're pulling out of the original project, too.
- Oh, fuck! - You have seven days
to return the advance, and there's nothing else I can do.
- Fuck! - And you need a new editor
because you no longer have one.
I really hope you're able to get your shit together.
Fuck you!
Hey, it's Josh, where are you?
I'm trying to save your seat, but these people are crazy. Call me.
Shit!
Have you reached a verdict?
We have, Your Honor.
The defendant will rise.
Proceed.
We the jury find the defendant
guilty of murder in the first degree.
We, the jury, find the defendant
guilty of murder in the first degree.
On or about December 1st...
- Hey, can I watch this? - Yeah, sure.
Bailiff, remove Mr. Reiser from the courtroom, please. Thank you.
Wait, take your hands off me. Wait!
I just wanted to say that I was the best father that I knew how to be.
I only tried to protect my children!
Take your hands off me!
I wanted to be the best father that I could be!
Thanks.
Oh, wow! Remember this?
Oh!
- Remember that Mustang? - Yep.
- Shit, that was an awesome car! - Yeah.
"Neil Elliott graduated from the University of Natal.
Served as an airborne meteorologist with the South African Air Force,
worked as a geologist for two years
before immigrating to the United States."
What the fuck is this?
Guess he wrote a few books before I was born.
You know what Hans said after the verdict?
After the verdict?
"I tried to be the best father I knew how to be."
That's exactly what my dad fucking said.
I mean, can you fucking believe that?
I meant to tell you, I saw your dad the other day at the hospital,
when I was making my rounds.
Why was he at the hospital?
I don't know, but he was.
My dad and Hans are fucking delusional.
"The best father I knew how to be"...
What the fuck, like it was all my fault? All this?
- What? - I thought the whole point
of the Hans thing, of the trial, of all that
was so that you could write about something different.
So what? Back to me.
You know what he fucking said?
I didn't have the right context.
The right fucking context?
He said I terrorized his new family.
- Terrorized! - Terrorized is a bad word.
It's not a good word.
Oh, you think there's a better word that describes it?
No. I'm saying I've been... I've, I've thought about it.
I don't have a good feeling about it.
I feel like maybe we fucked his kids up.
Are you serious? How?
Because they saw us so out of control all the time.
- We weren't out of control. - Yeah, we were.
No, we weren't. Name one time.
Want me to name one time?
How about that... one time?
When you totaled his Mustang in front of the kids.
Now that had to be terrifying for them.
Are you seriously trying to make me feel bad about that?
No. All right?
You get the award for the shittiest father ever, right?
But now you can see him from a whole new perspective, if you want to,
from an adult perspective, like a real adult.
A real adult, like Roger? That would be better?
I didn't say it would be better.
- Oh. - I didn't say that.
What did you say? That we both started in the same place
and I ended up here and you ended up...
what, getting everything good? A wife, kids, all that?
Yeah, hell yeah.
Yeah, I like being a father. I like it.
Well, your dick works. That's great.
Congratulations, man. You're living the fucking dream.
How about fuck you, Stephen? How about that?
'Cause every time you get in some shitty little way,
you just grab me and try to drag me right through it, so fuck you.
Oh, man. You know what? You wanted to be a rock star
and now you fucking buy Happy Meals.
I mean, they're gonna name mountains after you...
fucking Mount I-Played-It-Fucking-Safe.
Look at you. You're exactly like your fucking father.
Exactly like him! You're sitting here, you're pouting and whining.
You're fucking spinning out, and you're destroying your own life,
and it's everybody else's fucking fault.
So fuck you, man, and don't come around my family anymore either.
I don't want you coming around them no more.
Oh, seriously? I don't wanna be around your...
...fucking family.
The charge is knocked down to Murder II, with chance of parole.
If you produce a body, you have a deal.
Murder II, no chance of parole.
I didn't want to kill Nina, but I did.
She was leaving me for another man.
I was devastated, lost control.
She said...
she had never loved me.
That she only married me to escape Russia.
I took her neck in my hands...
...and I crushed it until I felt her throat collapse.
That was it.
All the anger, all the hatred.
There was just silence.
Lana, can I talk to you?
Hey.
- I'm sorry. Sorry. - Don't touch me!
Can I please just... Please?
Talk to Roger if you need someone to talk to.
Well, he's not answering my calls either.
Please? I feel like I'm about to go underwater, okay?
Can I just... please talk to you...
Please?
You're the only person that's made me feel okay about myself
in my entire adult life and I feel like I know you.
From the first second I met you, I felt that.
I know it feels that way,
- but maybe that's not a good thing. - Why?
Because you're gonna take me down with you.
It's just who you are.
Look, I'm fucked up, okay?
- Come on! - You knew that!
Is that gonna be your excuse for the rest of your life?
That you're too broken not to be completely selfish?
Grow some fucking balls!
At least I'm not pretending nothing's wrong with me.
Oh, you're pretending plenty.
You just don't see it.
Here's those papers you wanted.
They're pretty enlightening.
Fuck.
There we go. Okay, you ready for a ride?
Hop on my back.
Come on, man. See if you can stay on. You ready?
You gotta hold on. Put your legs around me.
- Hold tight. Ready? - Yeah!
Yeah?
You're the one who should be in front of the camera.
What are you doing, hiding back there?
There she is, ladies and gentlemen,
the most beautiful woman in the world.
- Just like out of a fairytale. - Aw, stop.
Do you remember her like that?
Not much.
She really was the most beautiful woman I ever saw.
Wave to Daddy.
I was your age then, right before we went to Chicago,
and when she died...
Man, I was so confused, I couldn't stop screaming.
Yeah, I remember.
You want coffee?
- What? - Coffee.
No! Wh... what the fuck are you doing?
- Just waiting. - No.
Dad, you broke into my house.
What the fuck?
Well, I wanted to give you something.
Jesus. I can't... I can't deal with this right now.
I'm trying to apologize to you...
...before it's too late.
What does that mean?
I had a bunch of tests done.
I'm dying.
Don't fucking lie to me!
Will you just fucking listen to me?
I'm a sick man.
I wanted to come see you, make amends with my son.
- Amends? - Yeah.
What amends are you making?
You're such a martyr. God, you always have been.
What kid is like that? Think the world owes you something.
- Look, Dad, I'm exhausted. - You're exhausted?
A lot of people look at your life and think it would be pretty good.
You know? The New York Times reviews, pretty girls,
everybody kissing your ass to be around a hot shit writer.
Well, I can kiss all that good-bye 'cause everything good in my life
just disappeared as soon as you showed up!
You wanna blame me? That's easy.
And what are all the good things in your life that fell apart?
What do they all have in common?
- Here we go! - Yeah, you!
I mean, you're a fucking curse.
You're poison.
You know, everything you touch, you fuck up.
Just get out of my house!
All right.
- Look, I made this for you. - Get out!
- Just promise me that you'll look at it. - Get out!
- You just need to see for yourself. - Get out of my house!
I will get out of your house, but you just see for yourself, all right?
- You have to hear me out. - I don't fucking have to look at it!
You fucking hit your father.
- What, you wanna fight me, boy? - I won't fucking fight an old man!
Who the fuck do you think you're talking to? I'll ruin you!
Come on. Huh? Come on! Fucking pussy.
Huh? You fucking faggot!
Huh? You waste of a life! Come on, hit me!
You wanna kill me so bad, hit me! Come on! Hit me!
I deserve it! Come on! Hit me, hit me!
Hit me! Hit me! Come on! Hit me!
Oh, fuck!
- Fuck you! - Call 911.
Oh, fuck you! I'm not fucking buying it!
Ah, Stephen!
All right, all right, all right, all right....
I'm a terrible father. I'm a terrible father...
Okay...
Hi, Stephen.
I... I don't know if I'm ever gonna, you know,
get a chance to see you again, and even if I do,
we were never so good at communicating, so...
Well, there are some things I wanna tell you, so...
that's why I'm doing this.
You know, that story you tell
about the time I shaved your head and I restrained you,
was actually two different times.
The first time, you were squatting at the house.
It had been empty for a year,
and I needed that money so badly.
I finally found a buyer,
and I had to show the house once more before the deal closed.
I got there, and you trashed the place.
Thousands of dollars in damage,
and I was so angry that I hit you and I cut your hair.
You know, afterwards you were crying in the bathtub.
It was really horrible.
The second time...
...I did it to try to stop you from killing yourself.
You were living on the street
and I came upon you sitting outside the arcade,
and I asked you what was up, you know, what your plans were,
and you said, "Well, I guess, I'll just commit suicide."
I had to go to work,
and I didn't know what the hell to do.
I took you back to the empty house and then you really got out of control.
You know, you were trying to cut your wrists open,
so I... I handcuffed you to this radiator pipe
while I tried to, you know, reach my own decision
whether to call the cops or if that would put you in jail.
30 minutes later, I came back to check on you and you were hanging there,
passed out in a puddle of blood at your feet,
and I thought you were dead.
It was like a bolt of lightning hit my heart.
I just couldn't bear the thought of living knowing what I'd done to you.
Part of me... I don't think ever came back from that moment.
I took the handcuffs off you and I said,
"You do whatever you wanna do, son."
You didn't want anything to do with me.
I can't blame you for that.
I keep trying to apologize to you,
but it all goes wrong.
Maybe there just isn't a way to make amends for something like this.
And not that it matters, but honestly, I...
I only ever tried to do right by you.
I'm a broken man,
and I just...
I hope you won't be like me.
Fuck.
Could you ask me some questions?
I'm not good at making speeches.
Did you think you had a chance at a better verdict?
Look, I knew I wasn't gonna get away with it.
I mean, I looked guilty,
I am guilty,
but a father does what he has to do in order to protect his children.
Okay. Um...
If you knew that you weren't going for innocence,
then why didn't you just plead guilty in the beginning and get a deal?
I mean, I heard DuBois made a deal for seven years
because the DA didn't wanna go to court.
But who would've cared?
I had the most publicized trial in years.
Would you be interested in following the story of a murderer who took a plea bargain?
But I thought you said you did it for your children.
I did. Everything I've ever done was for them.
But you insured that you would never see them again.
I mean, they're not gonna have a father. I don't...
I don't know. I don't know what to tell you.
Validation is a hell of a drug.
What? What's funny?
Just the truth's a motherfucker.
Thanks. I'll see you.
So you wrote all that in two days?
Yeah, I mean, I put it down on paper in two days, but...
I mean, this is the book that I've... I've been wanting to write.
I just didn't know that until... until now.
So let's find you a publisher.
It's not going to be Penguin, but...
I've got a friend at Grey Wolf I think would be into this idea.
It won't be a big advance, but something to get us back on track.
Us?
Us.
Hey.
Brought you some coffee.
I'm in no mood, Elliott.
That was your decaf.
You can have my coffee, if you want.
I also brought you some blueberries.
So many gifts and so few actual apologies.
I don't know where to start.
Start with the hydrangeas.
And for the record... no.
It's not my life's plan to be watering these things...
feed them bone meal so they stay blue.
She loves it, so...
I'd be doing this if I had the chance.
I'd be doing all of this.
Sorry, Roger.
I'm a pretty shitty person.
No, you're not.
But you're my family.
You... you knew me when I was the messiest kid out of all of us.
You never gave me any grief about that, not once.
You kept showing up for me, so...
I'm not gonna walk away from this over a few words.
You wanna go for a ride?
You're all wet.
Yeah. We can even that up.
- Bitch. Bitch. - Sorry, it just slipped.
- Oh, that slipped? - Yeah.
Motherfucker! What are you doing, dude?
Don't, don't, don't, don't!
Nina's mother Christina says
she is relieved the children may come to some sense of closure...
- What time is it? - ...and move forward with their lives.
We have about an hour. Your flight's at 6:00.
We should pull the rental car around.
I already did.
- You know you're not driving. - Oh, great!
You can kill us both.
You remember when you taught me to drive?
I was 14.
You let me drive out to Warren Park in the '69 Mustang.
I loved that car.
You used to take me out, let me drive.
I remember feeling so happy and free,
full of hope and potential.
I don't know why you always told people I taught you to drive in the Mustang.
It was a red 1968 Oldsmobile Delmont convertible,
in Warren Park, in the parking lot.
You were belligerent and you were a terrible driver.
So we only did it once.
Wanna go for a drive? I don't wanna sit here for an hour.
Nah, we'd just argue.
Fine. Then we'll just go.
We'll agree not to talk. It doesn't matter.
None of it matters.
All right. You gotta help me up here.
Help your old dad get up.