♪ ♪
(gasping)
(labored breathing)
(gasping)
J... Joe?
Yeah?
(toilet flushes)
Did I wake you?
(moans): It's friggin' cold.
I had trouble sleeping,
breathing.
I must have picked up on that.
I had a bad dream.
What a shock.
I can't seem to settle down.
My head's filled with work;
stuff going on.
Come here.
Uh, I don't know.
Maybe I should sleep in the living room.
Come here.
What are you doing?
What if I'm contagious?
Shh...
WOMAN: Oh, baby!
Let me have it. Let me have all of it.
Oh, baby, let me have it!
Let me have all of it!
Oh, baby, let me have it. Let me have all of it.
Oh, baby, let me have it.
Let me have all of it.
Oh, baby, let me have it...
(gasps)
Oh, you okay?
I don't know.
What were you dreaming?
Huh? I wasn't dreaming anything.
I was sleeping.
It was nice.
Sorry.
♪ ♪
(alarm clock beeps, music stops abruptly)
Hey, Allison, we both overslept.
Oh, you're kidding!
BOY: Help!
Please!
Somebody, anybody!
JOE: Allison? (gasps)
You okay?
I'm fine. I'm just trying to take a shower.
Well, you got to turn on the water first.
Hardy-har-har-har-har.
Allison, you doing anything?
Are you familiar with State Assemblyman Henry Rykoff?
I know he's a state assemblyman.
I know his first name is Henry.
Died in his sleep last night.
Apparently, his widow is fiercely protective
of her late husband's legacy.
Okay.
After she discovered the assemblyman had passed,
she called EMS.
I don't know what's going on over there,
but Emergency Medical called the police
and everyone's been there
since before 7:00 this morning.
It's past 10:00.
What do you think's going on?
I have no idea.
But whatever it is, the governor asked me
to get over there and make it go away.
What am I doing?
Oh, I don't know.
The assemblyman died. Isn't that your area?
Mrs. Rykoff,
I'm District Attorney Manuel Devalos.
This is Allison Dubois.
She's a bereavement counselor who works with my office.
I'm so sorry for your loss.
The governor asked us to come by
and see if we could be of any help
during what he knows must be a very difficult time for you.
Help? Absolutely, we could use some help.
Those idiots with the ambulance called the police,
and the police won't let me call a funeral home.
My husband is lying dead in his bed.
He's been there for hours.
I would like to get him where he belongs,
so we can move on with the business of his funeral.
I understand.
Mr. District Attorney,
my name is Casey Frank.
I was the assemblyman's chief of staff, also a family friend.
This is Scott Brittenham,
the family attorney.
Apparently, the maid discovered the body
and immediately dialed 911
before Mrs. Rykoff here had a chance to make contact
with the funeral home.
I think you'll see
it's all a big misunderstanding.
All anyone wants
really, is to protect the assemblyman's dignity.
Of course.
Let us see what we can find out, please.
Excuse us.
MAN: Look at his neck.
What do you mean?
All the ambulance guys wanted to do
was lift him up and get him out of here.
I don't get a bonus for saying something smells fishy.
Just go upstairs, look at his neck.
♪ ♪
(music stops abruptly)
This man did not die in his sleep.
I've taken a look at your late husband, Mrs. Rykoff.
We have a problem.
No, there is no problem.
My husband served the state for 32 years.
He's entitled to privacy with regard to his life
and dignity with regard to his death.
But he did not die in his sleep.
We're not even convinced he died in that bed.
Is my client being accused
of something here, Mr. District Attorney?
Not yet.
My husband and I were married
for 37 years.
In 37 years, a couple can grow very close
and very distant at the same time.
Henry got up in the middle of the night.
It wasn't unusual.
He liked to use the bathroom down the hall.
I heard him get up, make his way down the hall in the dark.
I even heard him cough and wheeze through the wall.
He had that cold that's been going around.
I must have fallen back asleep, and when I woke up again,
I realized that Henry still hadn't returned.
Finally, I came down here.
He had taken the belt of his robe...
used that beam, put it around his neck.
I kept screaming his name...
but I think he was already dead.
Mrs. Rykoff, I will do everything in my power
to be sure that when a death certificate is issued...
He did not commit suicide.
Nothing could have been further from his mind.
And you know this how?
I know this because Mrs. Rykoff called me
to help her get the body down from the ceiling.
I know this because when I came in the room,
his computer was on.
There was a pornographic Web site on the screen.
His pajama bottoms were around his ankles
and was clear from the state of the rest of his body
exactly what he was doing,
exactly what his intention was.
And it had nothing to do with killing oneself.
And you helped Mrs. Rykoff move the body?
Yes.
Up the stairs and down the hall
and into the bedroom.
I beg of you all,
let my husband be remembered for his great work
and not for some foolishness
no one was ever meant to know about.
(exhales)
BOY: Help me!
Do you hear that?
Somebody!
What are you doing?
Put your head on the pillow, close your eyes
and let's get some sleep.
You didn't hear that either?
Shh.
(sighs)
(mechanical rattling)
BOY: Help me! Please!
Help me!
Please! Somebody!
(gasps)
It looked like he was in some kind of a hole
or maybe it was a cave or some kind of a well, or...
Whatever it was, it looked like it was natural,
not man-made.
That's great, but, Allison,
there are no missing children of that approximate age
who match anything close to that description.
What do you mean?
I mean, you may have dreamt it,
but it doesn't appear to have happened--
not yet, not around here anyway.
Well, maybe his parents haven't reported it yet.
Maybe they don't realize he's missing.
You said he was dirty, you said he looked like
he'd been wherever he was for a while.
I mean, come on, if your child was missing
for long enough to be beat up by the elements like that
you'd notice, you'd report it.
What are you saying?
I'm saying there's nothing more I can do.
I can't mount a search until I have someone to search for.
And honestly, I've got about ten other fires
I got to put out this morning, including...
one that you might be interested in.
What's this?
The coroner's report on Assemblyman Rykoff.
What am I looking at?
"High levels of dexohyphrodan..."
Dexohydrophan.
"were present in the deceased's system."
What's that?
It's a libido inhibitor.
It's like anti-Viagra. Kills the sex drive.
I don't get it.
Neither do I.
Dexohydrophan is a drug usually reserved
for chronic sex offenders.
You're saying Assemblyman Rykoff was a sex offender?
Of course not.
But I got a better question.
Why's a guy who's loaded to the gills on libido-inhibitors
hanging from a belt with his John Thomas in his hand,
looking at Internet porn?
Girls down?
All except Ariel,
who just asked me what "clubbing" is.
And when will she be old enough to do it.
(sighs)
I feel like
I looked at a million files, stared at a billion pictures.
All of those kids.
I just know he's out there, scared and alone.
If one of our girls...
Shh, shh, shh, shh, shh.
They're fine.
They're in bed.
All except for Ariel.
She wants to know what "clubbing" is.
(mechanical rattling)
I see you. I see you up there.
Hey, where are you going?
No, please, you can't leave me.
No! Please don't leave me!
Allison, hey, what are you doing?
I saw it, the place where the boy is.
It's this hole, this glowing hole in the ground.
I've got to call Scanlon.
Hold on a second. You're not making any sense.
What...
what do you know today that you didn't know yesterday?
A hole?
You're going to wake the man up in the middle of the night
to tell him about a hole in the ground that glows.
Allison... I got to do something, Joe.
He's drinking green muck.
He's dying out there.
The whole thing was green.
It glowed green.
Wait a second. Green?
Like phosphorus?
Have you ever heard of the Living Caves?
No, the Living Caves-- what are they?
Well, they're these naturally occurring holes in the ground
and people say they're living
because they still have big pools
of acidic water at the bottom of them.
So they're still eroding away the soil,
forming new passages, growing, living.
Okay. Here they are.
Okay, what made you think of them?
Uh, well, they're filled with phosphorus,
so at night they glow.
Okay, show me exactly where they are.
Allison, there's over 200 square miles of these caves.
There's no way to narrow it down.
Wait a second. What's this?
Railroad track?
(rumbling)
Railroad track...
Hey, you think
you could take the girls to school?
You're going there?
You're insane.
ALLISON: Hello?
Hello?
Hello?!
Hello?
Is anyone in there?
BOY: Hello? Is somebody up there?
I'm down here. Somebody, anybody, can you hear me?
Yes, someone's here.
Yes, I can hear you.
Keep talking. There's a lot of holes around here.
Oh, please, get me out! Get me out! Get me out!
I'm coming.
Keep calling out.
Can you hear me?
Get me out! Get me out!
Oh, please, get me out!
Get me out! Get me out!
I am.
Here, let me throw you down some water.
I have some food.
I need to call people. What's your name?
Jimmy... James. Jamison Nessler.
Hi, Jamison Nessler.
I'm Allison.
How bad is your leg?
It hurts. It's hard to climb.
Okay, I'm not going anywhere.
I'm going to stay right here
and use my phone to call for help.
You just eat. I'll be right here.
He's here. He's in this hole.
Young man...
if you can hear me, I want you to...
Shine a light down there.
No.
No, I just saw him. I spoke to him.
Do you have any idea how much it costs
to land an emergency helicopter
with three Forest Service Rangers in the Arizona desert?
Hmm, no, no, I don't.
$1,700.
$1,700 to pick up a skeleton.
He kept saying, "A skeleton
"is not an emergency, ma'am.
Do you have any idea how much this is going to cost?"
Of course, now I do.
Aren't you going to say anything?
What am I going to say?
It's absurd. I don't have $1,700.
I mean, I have it, we have it,
but not to spend on unexpected emergency skeleton pickups.
I mean, what are they going to do if we don't pay?
Cut us off?
Not show up the next time we have bones that need rescuing?
I'm sorry.
♪ ♪
(labored breathing)
WOMAN: Oh, baby...
Let me have it.
Let me have all of it.
Oh, baby, let me...
ALLISON: Something doesn't add up.
I'm talking about the suicide of Assemblyman Rykoff.
You want to close that door, please?
That fact that Henry Rykoff committed suicide
is supposed to be a closely held secret.
It's not something we want to talk about
where others can hear.
Of course. I'm sorry.
I'm already pretty far out on a limb with this thing.
Hiding the material facts of this man's death,
walking his death certificate through channels.
For what it's worth,
I don't think he actually did commit suicide.
You remember Mrs. Dubois from the other day?
And this is Detective Lee Scanlon
who works with my office on a regular basis.
I've taken them into our confidence.
He's someone you can trust.
Well, I'll have to take your word for that.
Now, what am I doing here?
Frankly, Mr. District Attorney, I have a funeral to plan.
I appreciate that this is a difficult time.
But if I'm going to get you a death certificate
that indicates your husband died in his sleep of natural causes,
I'm going to need your help answering some questions.
Mrs. Rykoff, did you know your husband was taking dexohydrophan?
Do you know what dexohydrophan is?
Well, you people are just determined
to wake up every sleeping dog in the village, aren't you?
Yes, I am familiar with the drug,
and I was entirely aware that my husband was taking it.
He had been taking it since... some time in the early '90s.
Mrs. Rykoff,
it's my understanding that this drug is normally prescribed
to registered sex offenders.
Why would the assembly...?
Years ago, I became aware that in addition
to Henry's voracious ambition, he also possessed
a seemingly endless appetite for...
What's the polite way to say it? Companionship?
Not that he didn't love me.
I never doubted that.
But, apparently, in addition
he needed something more dangerous,
something more... varied.
And you knew about this?
I sensed it.
We had no children.
He was extraordinarily busy with his career.
I still couldn't account for all his time.
One night, he came to me.
He was terrified.
Something had happened.
He never told me what, and I never asked.
Someone got pregnant, I suspect.
Whatever it was, whatever he had to do
to clean up after himself...
it changed him.
He confessed to me that he just had these
compulsions, he called them.
That he hated himself for it.
So he found this place in Minneapolis.
He spent two weeks, intense counseling,
medication.
And it seemed to work for him?
It certainly worked for us.
It became our secret...
our deep, dark secret.
Until today.
Actually bound us together in a way
that old-fashioned intimacy never did.
So now you know everything.
I'm sorry.
I still don't understand.
When you found your husband the other night,
it appears he was trying
to get a kind of a, um, heightened...
The drug kills the ability to get aroused,
but not the instinct.
The way you sometimes
see a neutered dog rubbing against a lamppost.
Oh, I felt so horrible for him sometimes.
Is there anything else?
I-I really would like to put him, this,
all of this to rest.
I'm good.
I think we're all good.
That's him.
That's the boy from my dream.
Ain't modern science amazing? Just like on TV.
You give those guys a bag of bones,
a day later, you get a name and a school picture.
Say hello to Jimmy Nessler.
Jimmy Nessler.
He just turned 12 at the time of his disappearance,
which his parents first reported to police in 1991.
1991?
My God, his parents-- I can't imagine their pain.
One of those nightmares you hear about
from time to time.
Only child.
Kids gets on his bike to go to school one morning,
never comes home.
Nobody saw him, never left any clues.
Just, uh, vanished.
It was an exhaustive search.
It went on for months.
Has anyone called 'em yet?
I mean, his parents?
Left the state in '94.
The father died in a car accident two years later.
His blood-alcohol level was through the roof.
Mother had a series of mental problems.
In and out of homeless shelters through the late '90s.
After that...
So nothing's different?
If I'd never seen what I saw, if I never found what I found...
everything would still be the same?
♪ ♪
MAN: Time to wake up, Jimmy.
You doing all right?
That was quite a little nap you had for yourself.
Can I get you more to drink?
(clears throat)
Where's my clothes?
You wanted to take a swim.
Do you remember taking a swim?
They're over there.
Did you have a good time?
I hope you had a good time.
And don't worry.
I'm not going to let anyone know you were here.
I know how much trouble a kid your age can get into
by skipping school.
Did you put the dirty magazines back?
Can't have my wife finding those.
But if you ever want to look at 'em again...
I can even make you one of my special drinks.
Nice meeting you, Jimmy.
Go after him.
Make sure he's okay.
He's okay.
He's drunk.
He's young. He's sweet.
You know, I'm only a couple years older.
It's not about that.
Just go after him.
(gasps)
They knew each other.
Look at you.
I'm impressed.
There's nothing impressive about a 55-year-old man
who gets up before dawn to trudge a mile and a half
just because he's convinced if he doesn't
he'll die ten years before his time.
I beg to differ. I'm impressed.
Duly noted.
What brings you out at this ridiculous hour?
I called your house
and your wife said you already left.
Henry Rykoff, the dead assemblyman, knew Jimmy Nessler.
Okay.
Allison, Jimmy Nessler's been dead almost 15 years.
He died from a combination
of starvation, dehydration and exposure.
Assemblyman Rykoff died several days ago
and in my opinion, by his own hand.
What do the two have to do with each other?
I don't know. Something.
I think when Mrs. Rykoff was talking about
the assemblyman's... appetites,
they may have included the Nessler boy.
And I presume all of this came to you the way that most things
come to you?
I'm sorry, but I don't see how any of this is relevant
to anything.
The boy is dead.
Rykoff is dead.
Since we can be reasonably certain
that the dead boy didn't kill Rykoff...?
What if it's the other way around?
I just like to confirm, in fact, the assemblyman knew the boy.
Why?
I'm sorry.
I know why. I guess what I'm really trying to say is
would it be such a terrible thing
to just let sleeping dogs lie?
Yes!
Isn't Jimmy Nessler entitled to justice?
If someone stole his life,
isn't it our job to find out who did it?
Of course, it is, but the victim is long dead
and the man you think might be responsible is dead, too.
And frankly, I'm dubious that any of it is true.
And I strongly doubt that even if it were,
we could prove any of it.
What I am convinced of,
given the times in which we live
and the climate in which we work,
if you go swimming around in all this muck,
you will definitely stir up some kind of dirt
and it may reflect badly on a man who isn't alive
to defend himself.
So where does that leave us?
I'd still like to try and find out
if he knew the boy.
And how do you hope to do that?
Ask!
No, I am not bringing his widow back here.
She wasn't out the door ten minutes
and the governor was on the phone lecturing me
about decency and fairness
and respect for the grieving.
Can I talk to his attorney?
Or what about that aide of his?
The one that his wife called to help move the body?
Sir?!
I have to take a shower.
Just stay away from the widow.
And if the governor calls, I'm putting him on with you.
I'm sure he knew him or at least knew of him.
We all did. I did.
It was a big deal when this kid went missing.
I mean, our school organized search parties.
I think I was in the tenth grade
and he was in, like, seventh.
Yeah, definitely the assemblyman
was almost certainly aware of him.
No, I mean, before he went missing.
Do you think they knew each other, Mr. Frank?
Casey. Call me Casey.
I don't know-- this is all before my time.
I didn't start working for Mr. Rykoff
until I was out of college.
Hmm. But you knew him?
I did yard work for the Rykoffs.
And Mr. Rykoff was very much a father figure to me.
Really pushed me to go to college,
which I was not inclined to do.
Introduced me to politics,
or "public service," which is what
he liked to call it.
But again, back then,
I was in high school. I have no idea he knew Jimmy.
I mean, why would he?
Let me ask you a question.
I read just this morning that you were being asked to run
to fill the assemblyman's vacant seat.
You're young.
You're at the beginning of your career.
You get a call in the middle of the night
to move a dead body,
to disturb what may be a crime scene.
At the very least,
you must know you're putting your future on the line.
Why did you do it?
Same reason you and your bosses are working
so hard to cover it up.
Because he's earned that.
Because it's the right thing to do.
Because I was asked.
You make it sound like a privilege, fudging the truth.
Maybe I've been in politics too long, but yes,
I consider it an honor to be asked to help a great man
maintain his dignity at a moment
when he doesn't have the strength to do it for himself.
So you really admired him?
I like to think I understood him.
You know, with all he accomplished,
Henry Rykoff was actually
a very lonely and disconnected man.
But I'll tell you something, when I was a kid,
when I was constantly being told
that I was not the smartest boy in the room or the best-looking
or the strongest or the fastest,
Henry Rykoff-- and I don't know why--
was the first adult to say to me "You're special.
"There's a future for you if you want it,
if you're willing to work for it."
He wrote letters of recommendation
to get me into school,
loaned my mom money for tuition,
and when I graduated,
he immediately took me under his wing,
made me part of his staff.
Why?
I think he sensed I might have been a bit lonely,
a bit disconnected, too.
(mechanical rattling)
Jim!
Jimmy...
You okay?
No, I'm not okay!
I don't feel good!
I feel sick!
And now I'm going to get in trouble for skipping school.
And I think you and that old guy,
I think you're a couple of pervs.
What are you talking about?
You know what I'm talking about!
How'd my clothes get off of me?!
You wanted to swim.
No, I didn't! I don't even know how to swim!
I feel so sick.
I need my mom.
You're a perv and that other guy's a perv.
And I'm telling my mom.
You put something in my soda.
Nobody's telling anybody anything.
You understand?
Nobody is telling anybody anything.
Now you sit back down
and I promise you you'll feel better soon.
I'm going home.
And I'm telling... No, you're not!
Now don't be stupid.
You're not going anywhere.
Not until you calm down.
What do you think you're gonna say to your mother?
Do you know who that old guy was?
Do you know how important he is?
(grunting)
(clanking)
There!
(laughs)
(whistles)
(grunting)
What are you doing?
I'm getting my bike.
Getting your bike?
What are you, nuts? You can't even see
the bottom of... Shut up! I'm getting it.
You don't seem to be making much progress.
This was dumb. Help me out.
What, so you can run home to Mommy
and tell her all kinds of lies?
Just help me out. Give me your hand.
What are you going to tell Mommy?
Just give me your hand!
Swear to...
(Jimmy screaming) Oh...
Jimmy! (grunting)
Jimmy!
He's dead.
What?
These are his books.
They're the only thing left.
He fell.
I mean, he was climbing because I threw his bike
and he asked me for help, but I-I couldn't help.
Put those in here.
(sobbing) Casey... my Casey.
(gasping)
Casey.
(elevator bell dings)
CASEY: So, how can I be of help?
As you may or may not be aware,
when we recovered Jimmy Nessler's remains
earlier in the week
from the bottom of that living cave
we also recovered some other artifacts
that apparently had been down there
as long as he had. Okay...
A bicycle, that apparently was his,
some microscopic bits of fiber
that we believe is all that's left of his clothes
after 15 years in the elements,
and a Saint Christopher's medal.
This is all fascinating, but...
The back of the medal was engraved with the initials
"C-E-F."
Those are your initials, aren't they?
Casey Edward Frank.
Also the date, 11-15-74.
That's your birthday.
So you're suggesting...?
That perhaps it might just be your medal.
Okay, I'll concede that. It just might be.
What's the point?
No point.
Not a big one anyway.
Just that, you told Mrs. Dubois
only yesterday that you really didn't know
the Nessler boy, not personally.
And I didn't. Did I play near those caves?
Horse around there?
Sure. Everyone did.
Is it possible that I dropped or lost my medal?
Sure. Where are you going with this?
Not going anywhere.
Just, now that you're going to be running for public office,
now that you're going to be
under some scrutiny, we just want to give you
a chance to revise your statement
with regard to how well you knew
the Nessler boy, if... you chose to.
I don't need to revise my statement.
I stand by what I said.
Are we through here?
Just one more thing, uh, as you know I'm...
working to get the coroner
to issue a death certificate for Assemblyman Rykoff
that would indicate he died of natural causes,
and I almost had him there, but...
then he realized that the trauma to the back
of the assemblyman's neck
was as severe as the trauma to the front.
I'm sorry.
You're losing me. If a man were
to hang himself, even if it was only a botched attempt
to heighten sexual sensation,
the trauma would only occur to the front of the neck--
the place where the noose and the throat meet.
It would take someone coming up from behind the assemblyman,
strangling him with great force,
to create the kind of trauma apparent at the back
of the neck.
Wh... what are you saying? We're saying that
it appears that someone murdered Henry Rykoff,
then staged it to make it look as though
he accidentally caused his own death.
And you think that someone is me.
With any murder case,
we look for means, motive and opportunity.
You certainly had the means.
You have the physical strength to strangle
the assemblyman and lift him into that noose.
You had the opportunity.
We're very aware that you
had a key to the Rykoff residence
along with their alarm codes, that you frequently took care
of their home when they were away.
And as far as the motive,
congratulations on running unopposed
to fill the assemblyman's seat.
That's absurd. This whole thing's absurd
Everyone knew I was being groomed as Henry's successor.
Everyone knew he was planning to retire
after this term. Do you honestly believe
I would kill a man to take something
he was prepared to give me a year and a half from now?
I'm going to remember this moment,
Mr. District Attorney.
When I'm sitting in the state capital building
staring at your budget,
contemplating anything to do with you
or your office, I will remember this moment.
I thought you were a smart man.
I thought you were smart people.
But smart people don't make absurd allegations.
And they certainly don't make absurd allegations
they can't prove.
I'll see myself out.
(door opens and closes)
He's right. We can't prove a damn thing
and he knows it. (sighing)
ALLISON: I know what happened.
I know who did it. I just can't prove it.
And I'm never going to be able to.
Well, you know what you need?
A good night's sleep.
Trust me. Just close your eyes,
get some rest and everything will look
better in the morning. (groaning)
That's easy for you to say.
You're right. In fact, I think
I'll say it again. Close your eyes...
Shut up.
CASEY: Hey, you wanted to see me?
Casey, my Casey.
Thanks for coming over, um...
Um...
I've been thinking a lot about the plans we made,
my... not running this term, endorsing you.
Truth is, I just don't think I can do it.
What?
I'm gonna run again.
And I'd very much like your help.
Are you forgetting I know things?
I know things that would make it very difficult
for you to get reelected.
That's a silly threat, young man.
You know things.
And everything you know about me involves you, too.
So while you might be able
to tarnish me at the end of my career,
you'll destroy your own in the process.
Well, I might do it anyway.
I don't want to wait another four years.
I can't. You can.
And you will.
Now let's not forget who has what on whom.
You have nothing on me.
I'm the victim in all this.
That's not the way I see it.
The Nessler boy's book bag.
Covered with your fingerprints all over it.
(safe door closes)
Maybe not enough to prove you killed him,
but you'd certainly have a lot of questions to answer.
So... let's calm down.
It's only four more years.
And who knows?
Maybe you'll get lucky.
I could die in office.
(gasping)
(grunting)
Everything okay? Everything's fine.
Everything's great.
You were right.
I closed my eyes and suddenly
everything was better.
Who are you calling?
A locksmith I know.
Sorry to wake you, Mr. District Attorney.
Uh... there's a safe that you and I need to crack right now.