On march 21, 1963,
Alcatraz officially closed due to rising costs
and decrepit facilities.
All the prisoners were transferred off the island...
Only, that's not what happened.
Not at all.
What the hell?
What is it?
Ready your weapon.
What's happening?
Two guards... Always meet the transfer.
Maybe they forgot.
This is Alcatraz.
No one forgets.
Is anyone here?
Follow me.
Radio the station.
Tell them to send everyone.
302 men disappeared that night.
They were never seen or heard from again...
Until now.
They stayed in their cells 24 hours a day.
Susie?
Where the hell is she?
Hey, buddy, you can't sleep in here.
You got two minutes to get the hell outta here.
As I was saying, on March 21, 1963,
Alcatraz officially closed due to rising costs...
Ticket, sir?
Hope you had a nice time on the rock.
Inside "B" and "C" head count.
- 14, inside "C". - First tier.
15, inside "C" second tier.
14, inside "B" first tier.
Rack 'em!
Toes on the line.
25. Move, move, move, move!
Let's go!
Not so fast, 2024.
Shake it down.
It's clean, Mr. Tiller.
Take him away.
Today's visiting day.
Not for you.
Tiller.
Presync: IAA, transcript: Addic7ed Episodes 1 & 2
{pub}Madsen! Come on!
Take my hand!
Come on!
Okay, all right.
Madsen.
Detective Madsen.
You hear a word I've been saying?
Lieutenant, I respect you too much to say yes.
You've been flying solo for three months.
It's time to get you partnered up again.
Um, I just remembered that I have...
Sit.
Let's start with rivers.
Just coming off a stint in vice.
You know, I don't think rivers knows I'm a detective here.
He's always asking me to make him coffee.
How about Hollier?
Too slow.
- Fiveash. - Too fast.
- Kheel. - Too blond.
We'd look like the Hardy boys.
Look...We all took a loss that day.
But you gotta stop blaming yourself.
I don't.
I blame the guy that pushed him off the roof.
We've been through the mug shots.
We followed every lead.
It's time to move on.
Madsen, we got a homicide.
You're up.
You're right. Those are great choices.
Yeah, I know.
Give me the day, and I'll pick someone.
I promise.
Thank you, lieutenant.
Who murders a guy
who's already got one hip in the grave?
Victim's Elijah Bailey Tiller.
Folks called him E.B.
78. Neighbor says the door was open.
Rebecca,
the Vic... he was a fed.
All right, let's get all we can before we get tossed.
You're done here.
Excuse me?
The victim was a federal agent.
- We're taking over. - Says who?
Says me.
And you are?
Emerson Hauser.
Now, get out.
I don't leave a crime scene
unless my immediate superior orders me to.
Okay, run along and play now.
Thanks for being a dick about it.
Jimmy, do me a favor?
Run Emerson Hauser through the database.
I wanna know where he came from.
What are you gonna do?
Jack Sylvane.
Damn it.
Alcatraz.
Vic's name was E.B. Tiller.
Deputy warden?
Hmm. Diego Soto.
What's your story?
Come on, come on, that's not fair.
Doc, you really wanna do that? Shh, shh, shh!
Come on, come on, come on.
- There ya go. - Shut up.
You're too worried about the double-ups, doc.
You just gotta shoot.
You have to double up.
Double-ups are key.
Yeah, the high score's a pipe dream
without the double-up.
Of course, I'm more partial to Pac-man,
but maybe that's 'cause I like to eat.
Diego Soto. Will you marry me?
Dr. Diego Soto?
I'm way smarter than I look.
Phds in criminal justice and civil war history.
Four books on Alcatraz?
I'd say you're way smarter than we all look.
I'm detective Rebecca Madsen.
I was hoping to borrow you for a case.
These two look familiar?
Warden James and his deputy Tiller?
James is long dead,
but Tiller, he's still alive.
You ever do any research
on an inmate named Jack Sylvane?
Sylvane?
That was one unlucky cat.
The guy was a World War II vet.
Got sent to the rock for robbing a grocery store.
How's that a federal crime?
That's the unlucky part. The store sold stamps.
Which makes it a post office.
And feeding your family becomes a federal offense.
Sent him to leavenworth.
Another prisoner got frisky in the shower.
Jack murders him.
Next stop, the rock.
So...Why all the interest in Jack Sylvane?
E.B. Tiller was killed last night.
Sylvane's prints showed up at the scene.
I'm sorry. That's just not possible.
Why not?
'Cause Jack Sylvane died over 30 years ago.
{pub}Okay, 2024, on your feet.
Let's go.
Attaboy.
That's it.
What did you say to my wife?
Oh, would you look at that?
I must have made a mistake.
It's red getting sprung today.
Not you.
You should really eat something.
Remember, this is Alcatraz.
Things can always get worse.
I need to use the locker room.
It's 8 bucks to enjoy the facilities as a guest.
Hey, you got some change comin'.
Brought you your change and a fresh towel.
Becky!
Uncle Ray.
Hiya, sweetie.
Get ya something?
Jack on the rocks.
Jack on the rocks, huh?
I need your help with a homicide.
Goes back to Alcatraz. DB's Elijah Bailey Tiller.
So...Somebody finally nailed E.B.
I knew you'd know him. Any insights?
Ball breaker, this guy.
Of the worst variety.
Worked the rock for about ten years.
Deputy warden when I was a guard.
Got out before she shut down.
Ray Archer?
Dr. Soto. This is my Uncle Ray.
It's an honor, sir.
You know me?
Know you? I studied you.
I even named a character after you in my comic.
Ray Archer's your Uncle?
Sort of.
He raised me after my parents died.
My grandfather was a guard too.
Tommy Madsen. He and Ray were best friends.
It's where they met. You write about him?
Sure.
Get you a drink, son?
Club soda would be great.
Well, I found him back at my place.
Jack Sylvane's transfer order to San Quentin,
dated the day the Rock was closed in '63,
-and look who signed it. -Robert Kennedy.
And here's Jack's death certificate.
So how's a dead man dropping fingerprints
- at a murder scene? - You think these are phonies?
Memory serves...Tiller joined up with the feds.
Federal officer gets a federal investigation.
This isn't your case, is it, Becky?
- No, but... - No, but nothing.
If it's not your case, stay out of it.
This is about Alcatraz. You worked...
Damn it, Rebecca.
Let it go.
For once in your life, just...walk away.
My folks...
Are really, really smart.
They teach at Stanford.
And they're always telling me what to do.
Smart doesn't always make you happy.
So mostly, I just hear what they have to say...
And then I do the opposite.
You're the expert. What do you think happened?
I don't know.
But last time on the island,
I stumbled across a room that was full of files and boxes
and all sorts of stuff I wasn't supposed to see.
Pier 33, first boat out?
I'll bring the coffee.
So I spoke to the warden at San Quentin.
He confirms Sylvane's transfer and death in '76.
But you think he's alive and that he killed Tiller.
I don't know. It just doesn't make sense.
Sylvane was a thief, not a killer.
So if Jack's been around all this time,
why'd he wait so long to kill Tiller?
Where the hell's he been?
Where are we now?
The barracks.
The guards lived here with their families.
I can't imagine children living here.
They took the boat to school every day.
Way cooler than the bus.
Here's the room.
Still locked. Any ideas?
Department issue.
Flashlight.
Aren't you kind of young to be a detective?
Yeah. I get that a lot.
Bet you have a pretty cool origin story.
I was raised by a cop.
He'd bring his cases home, I'd read them before bed,
put post-its where I thought he should look.
I actually helped him solve a few cases.
Nice.
How come the inmate files
weren't transferred with the inmates?
Holy crap! You gotta come see this.
- This is... - Everything!
It's all their stuff.
SFPD! I'm armed.
What the hell is that?
This is a mistake.
She found us,
and she won't stop until she finds him.
You need her, Emerson.
Good. You're awake.
Detective Madsen...
Welcome to Alcatraz.
{pub}My head.
Where are we?
Alcatraz.
- Looks good. - Yep.
They've done some redecorating.
Dr. Soto, I'm Hauser.
I read your books.
Um, did you...gas us?
We have strict protocols for intruders here.
I'm Lucy Banerjee.
You're quite resourceful, detective Madsen.
Lifting the photo from the crime scene
was not only bold but effective.
I'll need that back.
Emerson Hauser, you wanna tell me why
there's no record of you working for the FBI?
I run a special division in charge of criminals
who hold a particular allure for our government.
You know I don't believe a word of that, right?
You built the bat cave...
Underneath Alcatraz.
But why would you do that?
Who's the old guy?
That is a computer-generated simulation
of what Jack Sylvane should look like today.
Should?
Lucy, run the green street surveillance.
Traffic cam caught this last night.
The older gentleman is our victim... E.B. Tiller,
and meet...
Jack Sylvane.
85 years young.
What? That's him?
Dr. Soto?
It's him.
Jack Sylvane disappeared from Alcatraz in 1963.
What does that mean, he escaped?
No one ever escaped Alcatraz.
Not to mention, the guy looks exactly the same,
which, if you're keeping score at home,
isn't possible.
So the San Quentin transfer was bogus.
As was the death certificate.
That still doesn't explain why he hasn't aged.
No, it doesn't.
Yes?
What's going on?
Local PD found a uniform at a crime scene.
Alcatraz issue.
Tell you what... I'll give you your prints back
if you let me come with you.
Why?
Because you gassed me, and now you owe me one.
Don't forget your lunchbox.
Yeah. Let's go, doc.
Coming!
Keep at it.
You'll owe me a transfusion.
You'd think a month in the hole
would teach you not to run your mouth.
Just saying... That's a lotta blood
from a guy who ain't sick.
Oh, I didn't know there was another doctor among us.
Fetch me a stethoscope for Dr. Sylvane here.
Do me a favor, Jack.
Keep your opinions, medical or otherwise,
to your godforsaken self.
So how many they take from you?
'Scuse me?
Vials of warm red blood?
What the hell do you care?
This place is nothing compared to downstairs.
Sent me out on visiting day.
I'm not talking about the hole.
I'm talking about below the hole.
I missed seeing my wife.
Trust me, you're better off.
Who the hell are you?
The same as you.
A number.
2002.
Yeah, well...
2002, I don't trust you.
And I ain't better off.
You listen to me.
Something terrible's gonna happen here.
2024. That's Jack's number.
Is this the man who attacked you?
Yeah. That's the son of a bitch.
Did you give him a locker key?
No. He never asked.
And is the video camera in the lobby working?
You kidding me?
Nothing's worked here since like 1975.
Here.
591 NPQN.
- You got a plate number. - It's the cab he took off in.
I'll have SFPD run it.
Turn around slow!
Do it now!
Show me your hands. I said show me your hands!
Are you Barclay Flynn?
I'm here for you.
- Aah! - Open the safe.
Okay. See?
Here. You can have anything you want.
Gimme the bag.
What bag?
The soft black bag.
Here, take it. Take it.
That's it? That's what you came for?
{pub}- I got a pulse. - This one's gone.
Officer down. I repeat... office down.
We need backup and a bus.
Stay with him.
I lost him.
His name is Barclay Flynn.
So what's this guy's connection to Sylvane?
Why assume there has to be one?
Silly me, looking for motive.
Even if Jack Sylvane didn't know Flynn,
it doesn't mean there weren't people who wanted him dead.
So...you're implying
that Sylvane's being used by someone,
that he was told to do this.
I don't think I was implying it.
I thought I was saying it.
What have you got?
Listen, Jack's wife remarried.
Only get this... Wasn't just some guy.
She married Jack's brother.
She's still alive?
Jack could go looking for her.
She's dead.
But his brother, he's still alive.
And if Jack knows that...
- Right. He could be next. - Whoa.
What about Eliot Ness?
Won't he be pissed if we leave without him?
I wanna find Jack. I wanna know what happened.
And he's never gonna tell us.
So...are you with me?
All the way.
Hi. Can I help you?
I'm Jack. Uh...
I'm looking for Alan Sylvane?
I'm Alan junior. I'm his son.
Uh...our dads were friends.
Come on in.
I'll get dad.
How are your flowers?
The roses, they grow, but...
The tulips are dying.
I'm sorry to hear that.
Last month I come and...
They say you are ill?
I'm good now.
I'm worried.
And...there is no one I can ask.
I'm sorry about that.
Your brother, uh, Alan, says hello.
He looking out for you?
I must, um...
Ask you for something.
- Yeah, anything. - Anything you need.
Oh, please, you must let me go.
Please don't do this, Sonya.
- I have to. - Please don't do this.
Please...you must let me go.
- Don't do this. - Give me a divorce.
No. No. No. No.
Jackie, I can't do this.
- Jackie... - No!
Ah! That's it, Jack.
You're done.
Back to your cell, Jack!
That's my mom.
She died four years ago.
You have her eyes.
Hello, Alan.
How?
You look the same.
You got old.
They told me you died.
I threw dirt on your coffin.
Did she suffer?
She got cancer.
She suffered.
What happened to you, Jackie?
What happened was...
My brother married my wife.
And nothing that came after that...
Matters worth a damn.
Police!
- He took my dad. - Who did?
He said his name was Jack.
He say where he was going?
Said he wanted to find his wife.
It's okay, Sonya.
What you did.
In my heart...
There's only love for you.
Turn around, Jack.
Do I know you?
No, you don't.
Now, give me your gun,
and I won't blow your brains out.
Gimme the gun, Jack.
You don't want to hurt anyone else.
I hurt people.
I killed Tiller out of hate.
And the other guy... Flynn?
Why'd you kill him?
I only did what they told me.
What who told you?
Jack.
What who to you?
Where have you been?
What happened to you, Jack?
Shoot me.
No.
Jack, put down the gun!
Do it! Get on your knees!
This is where I belong!
Hey! Ho! Stop!
Tell me what happened to you, Jack.
Huh? What happened?
I'll take it from here.
You've done enough on your own.
You should have killed me.
{pub}One fingerprint, as promised.
So what happened to Jack?
He's in prison.
A spanking new identity and a nice long life sentence.
What about his brother?
Oh, he won't be a problem.
"He won't be a problem"?
I looked into this Flynn.
No ties to Jack Sylvane or Alcatraz.
Forget about Barclay Flynn.
We need to worry about our next victim.
"Our next victim"?
Jack Sylvane was just the beginning.
You knew this was gonna happen.
That's why you're here. You've been waiting for this.
A very, very long time.
Come with me.
Meet the '63s.
256 prisoners on the right.
46 guards on the left.
On March 21, 1963,
Alcatraz officially closed due to rising costs
and decrepit facilities.
All the prisoners were transferred
off the island.
Only, that's not what happened.
Not at all.
Radio the station.
Tell them to send everyone.
Kid.
I don't know where these men went
or what happened to them, but we need to do our job.
You understand me?
What's your name?
Hauser.
Emerson Hauser.
The worst criminals this country has ever known
are coming back.
They're coming back to our streets,
and no one's gonna be able to find them
because they don't exist.
2002.
My grandfather wasn't a guard. He was an inmate.
That's him.
He killed my partner.
You knew this.
You wanted me in on this all along.
Oh, no. You've got that wrong.
You're too young. You're too impetuous.
If you want to stay and find him,
you'll have to prove to me every day
that you deserve to be here.
Is anyone else's head exploding right now?
I want in.
Your transfer orders.
It'll be difficult for you. No one can know.
Not Ray Archer, not your friends.
No one.
If they found out,
it would be very, very dangerous.
I'm gonna need a partner.
What, him?
Me?
Partner?
Yes! Of course yes!
Good.
Wouldn't want to have to kill you.
So we have to find these '63s.
More than that...
We need to find who took them.
I know you.
Well, if that's true,
it's news to me.
Welcome home, Jack.
You're not gonna give me a hard time, are you?
E.B. Tiller was my friend.
Take him to his cell.
Not to worry, Jack.
You won't be lonesome long.
Hey, we got a new fish, boys.
Hey, welcome to the big house.
We'll get you in a cell,
but first the boss wants to cast an eyeball on you.
The warden likes to welcome the new fish in person.
But he's king screw,
and you'd do well not to piss him off.
Outside?
Brisk air'll do wonders for a Johnson.
500 yards.
That's a heck of a shot, son.
What was the final body count? 15?
16.
Me, I can barely hit these cans at 20.
Tell me, how do you pick one?
When they're all just little dots in your scope.
A feeling.
Word from McNeil island
has you taking pot shots
at a guard with a homemade single-shot.
Is that right?
In the leg.
Which, given your skills, was purposive.
I wanted transfer, not murder.
Ten years on the rock,
you'd be the first who'd come willingly.
What made our little island your favorite destination?
A private cell.
My own private cell.
Mile and a half,
from here to the shore.
In case you were getting ideas.
Situate him in his private cell.
Mr. Cobb...
Any pointers?
Drop your shoulder.
There are 47 slats in the picket fence.
Four,
seven, one, two,
three, four, one.
Please, let's just... Let's just not.
Come on. I won't shake it, I promise.
- It'll be fun. - Okay, you promise?
You have to run a register, do inventory and stock.
It's not all videogames
and the first crack at DC's latest.
Got it, doc.
Hey, what's the new gig, anyway?
I'm not supposed to talk about it.
It's a task force.
FBI, mostly, some police.
But I can't talk about it.
I'm a civilian authority.
Sounds cool.
Oh, it's cool, all right.
It's super-cool.
Oh, hot chick. Don't look,
don't look, don't look.
You looked.
That's my partner,
from the task force.
No way.
Way.
Morning, doc.
Go stock something.
You want?
No, thanks. There's scary stuff in Dim Sum.
Sucks for you.
Read your book last night.
"Tommy Mansen," my grandfather,
"inmate 2002.
Life without parole for murdering his wife."
A couple typos in there, but, uh...
What?
Kidding.
Where's the rest?
Rest of what?
There's like six paragraphs for the other inmates,
and only one paragraph for Tommy.
It's all I could find.
Did he really kill your partner?
Yeah, we were chasing after him
and didn't even know it.
Weird. Chasing your own grandfather.
I wonder, who's next?
One, two, three, four.
There's 47 slats in the picket fence.
Four, seven, one, two, three, four,
one, two...
Two, three, four,
five, six, seven...
- 47, 47, 47... - No!
Hey, Hopper.
Becca, hey.
How's the new gig with the feds?
Oh, you know.
So what's going on?
Some kind of sniper.
SWAT's searching everything at 750 yards.
Area's on lockdown.
Who's the ride-along?
He's a famous comic book writer.
The victims, are they, you know, still here?
Look, homicides are never easy.
Well, before I met you, it wasn't really an issue.
I'm just saying.
You have to detach yourself from everything you see.
Don't let your emotions cloud your judgment.
Okay?
Who've we got?
You tell me.
Dead crows?
Ernest Cobb. Gotta be.
Wichita sniper.
He learned to shoot killing crows
for farmers.
It's how he made a living
after he left the orphanage.
All the kill shots were to the heart.
Oh, boy. He does three shootings in three days,
then he goes underground.
So we've got two teenagers
and a guy in his mid-30s.
Was that Cobb's M.O.?
Doc?
How's the new partner working out?
Hey, doc.
Take long, deep breaths.
Cobb's shootings were always random.
No M.O., as far as his victims were concerned.
Random.
That just means we don't have
enough information yet.
Or aren't sharing it.
Maybe I'm not cut out for this.
You know what kind of rifle Cobb used,
back in the day?
It's Winchester, model 70, I think.
No. No. Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Uses the same bullets as an M-40.
So the S.F.P.D. is assuming
that he's using a modern weapon,
but Cobb's maximum range with a Winchester
is what? Probably 500 yards?
Not 750.
So the buildings they're searching are too far away.
Nice work.
But that hill looks about right.
Guy on the midway...
Boom.
Ferris wheel...
Bam bam.
Casings should have popped this way.
I don't know, Rebecca.
He would've cleaned up afterward.
The guy was kind of O.C.D.
What?
Alcatraz.
Another killer back from the Rock?
We've got two days to catch him.
On March 21st, 1963,
Alcatraz officially closed.
All the prisoners were transferred off the island.
Only that's not what happened.
Not at all.
{pub}Inmates on the tier!
Tier two on the ready!
Hey, buddy!
I see you. I know you're in there.
You can't hide, buddy.
Leave me alone.
Mail call today.
Got a beauty from the missus.
She's staying with her sister and her sister's husband,
who I bet a Lincoln is trying to poke her in the laundry room.
Anyways, they're asking for rent,
which request the missus passes to me.
Even from a distance she is a piece of work.
Already she sent my entire shop salary.
These damn chicks. I gotta...
That poor bastard.
Name's Jack Sylvane.
Where does he go?
Solitary.
That's the last he sees of any of us.
Do you know him?
No.
He's back.
Just like you're back.
Why? Are you working together?
Where have you been, Jack, for the past 50 years?
Who's watching me?
You disappeared from Alcatraz in 1963... how did you get here?
I don't know.
One minute, i was in my cell,
and then I...
And then I wasn't.
When you were captured,
they found this in your pocket.
Do you know what it opens?
Did someone ask you to get it?
I...don't...know.
He's telling the truth.
All right, Jack.
Let's start at the beginning again, shall we?
I found Cobb's storage box.
This isn't the only door without a handle, you know?
There's another one in the file room.
And there are three buttons in the elevator
that you can't press without a key.
He's got a whole operation,
and we're only a tiny part of it.
Now you're the main part of our part,
so what does he need me for?
- I'm just... - Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
Who caught Jack Sylvane, doc?
Hauser's people? No.
We did.
Cobb spent more time in solitary confinement
than any other inmate on record.
Any issues with authority or had trouble following the rules?
How'd they catch him the last time?
Someone recognized him from the FBI's most wanted list.
But not before he shot his way through eight cities,
from Denver to Anchorage.
Yeah, I don't think we can
put a time-traveling sniper's face
on the most wanted list.
Yeah, probably not.
The hammer markings on the casing you found
are a match...
For Cobb's gun of choice.
How could you possibly
get a ballistics report in two hours?
Does this lead to something concrete?
Old rifle.
He would've had to get it at a specialty gun shop.
Then why are you still here?
You wanted children. Go babysit.
You know, Emerson, they're not so bad.
Tell me Hauser isn't the nutcase I think he is.
He's a little prickly sometimes,
but he's all right.
You've been with him a while?
With him, without him.
Urban Warfare in 3D.
Think I got a second amendment contact high.
Hello, Whitten.
Detective Madsen.
What an unspeakable pleasure.
You know, I thought the ATF took your license away.
All my wife's licenses are up-to-date.
Thank you, ma'am. I just work here.
Never seen him.
Sorry.
Oh, wow. That's a relief.
'Cause this guy's a suspect in this morning's shooting,
so whoever sold him the gun is gonna be in a world of hurt.
Glad it's not you.
You know what?
This individual did, in fact,
come to the store a couple of days ago.
Picked up an old Winchester.
Model 70.
Prepaid credit card. No name or address.
You know that without looking?
Do you know how many 70s I've sold
in the past ten years?
One.
You know the drill.
Security footage, please.
Ooh, pause it there.
That a room key?
Yeah, not that many hotels
still use that kind of room marker any more.
Have to figure out which one.
{pub}Give us some space.
First prison where I eat the same as you.
Full bellies make a man less likely to cause upset.
You eat alone.
What was that, son? You need to speak up.
Alone. You eat alone.
"Honorable warden Edwin James,
"I respectfully and kindly request a transfer
"to deep lock in a solitary cell,
"the purpose of which is for me to take meals in private
"and abstain from communal visits to the yard.
"Also, I would prefer to be in a cell block
where talking and fraternization was prohibited."
Really beautiful letter, son.
Request denied.
This ain't a hotel, son.
You don't get to pick your accommodations.
A new cell, a quiet cell...
I'm gonna pick up this bone now
and chew on it.
I'd prefer to do that in private.
Please, sir.
Please. No!
No! No! No, you can't!
- So we sign in here? - Mm-hmm.
Great, may I?
Can I ask you something?
Do you know how these guys are coming back,
and who's... you know... behind it?
'Cause I have some theories involving wormholes,
but how is it
you seem to just accept everything
that's happening, like it's not
the biggest thing ever?
How I feel about what's happening
doesn't change the fact that it is happening.
Thanks.
That helps a ton.
This is the place. Manager I.D.'d Cobb.
Room 123.
I've called Hauser. He'll be here momentarily.
No, no, no.
We can't risk Cobb slipping away.
Stay behind until I say it's clear.
Police!
Clear!
There's 47 slats in the picket fence.
Four, seven.
One, two.
Lucy, get down!
Oh, my God. Oh, my God!
Doc, get out of here! Call an ambulance!
Come on! Go!
Stay with me, Lucy.
Stay with me, okay?
Her pulse is weak.
She's lost a lot of blood.
The blood pressure's dropping.
Where are you taking her?
St. Mary's.
What happened?
She was at the window.
He must have been sitting on the room,
watching, waiting for us.
Whose fault is that?
He played us,
like he knew we were coming.
Do these guys know we're chasing them?
What does that matter?
Look, if I knew how they got here
or what they want,
maybe this wouldn't have happened.
Stop...talking!
This is what I know,
that Cobb is still out there,
and as long as he is,
he will continue to kill,
and that is all you need to know.
{pub}She's alive.
But she's in a coma.
Doctor says it might be temporary,
but it also might be not so temporary.
Hello, Jack.
Was she a target?
I don't know.
Was she a target?
Answer me.
I don't know.
That's a shame.
Maybe Dr. Beauregard can jog your memory.
This is weird.
And awful.
The only thing we can do to help Lucy now
is to find Cobb, Okay?
What's that?
Those are the cities
where Cobb shot people.
Lucy must have set up a database on the '63s.
Those are the first five victims.
Hauser said Cobb didn't have an M.O.,
that his shootings were random.
What if they weren't?
What if he used the randomness
to hide his real victim?
And who was that?
There's always a girl.
She's about 15,
16 years old,
but she's in every shooting, just like the carnival.
Who's the 16-year-old in his life?
I don't know.
He grew up in an orphanage. He ran away when he was 12.
He did go looking for his birth mom, though.
Found her when he was 20,
but she slammed the door in his face.
And she would have been in her 40s, not 16.
What do they mean to you, Cobb?
What are you doing?
Cobb's been ahead of us the whole time,
and I'm trying to get ahead of him.
This was his cell.
Found a box in the file room
filled with letters that were never delivered.
This one's for Cobb.
Why didn't he get it?
Well, when you're an inmate and you want to get letters,
you have to give the warden a list of names.
Cobb didn't have a list.
From Eloise Monroe.
"Dear Ernest, you probably don't remember me,
"but I was there the day you came to find your mom,
"who's my mom, too.
"Which, I guess, means we're brother and sister.
"I'm sorry she was unkind to you.
"She's never been one for surprises.
"I Hope it'll be okay if we're pen pals,
"because I always wanted a big brother
to look out for me.
Sincerely, Eloise."
So Cobb didn't even know she tried to contact him.
Nope. Looks like you were right.
What do you mean?
So I'm Cobb, and I finally find my mom,
I get up the courage to go see her,
she slams the door in my face.
But not before I see she's got another kid
not much younger than me, a 16-year-old girl.
And this one she actually took the trouble to raise.
Why her and not me? If I'm Cobb, I'm pissed.
Is Eloise still alive?
No, I checked.
Died in a car accident nine years ago.
Well, we know the why. Let's find the where.
I'll keep digging.
- Pier "C". - 15 minutes to go.
Bring in outside "B."
On your feet.
It's time for count.
Open 114.
There's 47 slats in the picket fence...
One more time.
Get up.
Welcome to solitary.
Your days of elbow-rubbing and hobnobbing are over.
No mess hall,
no work detail, no talking.
Just you and your cell, 24/7.
Open 212!
You been here all night?
Yeah.
What's that?
Son of a bitch made himself a scope.
Does it work?
Yeah, it works.
Holy crap. I can see cars, hills, people...
He just sat here, staring at the city...
At people... waiting.
For what?
The day he could kill them. Come on.
47, 47, 47...
47, 47...
47...
{pub}Good morning.
I gotta hand it to you.
You could have done anything,
jumped a guard, fire-bombed your cell,
heck, you could have took a page
from your own playbook and made yourself a gun.
But you showed real smarts.
Studied that rule book
till you found the perfect infraction.
"Number 28, daily routine.
"Stand by your cell door, facing out.
Remain there till the bell signal sounds again."
Simple.
Elegant.
You committed the smallest breach
in the most public of ways, and you forced my hand.
You win, son, fair and square.
There's just one thing.
Open up!
I believe you two fellas know each other.
Oh, wait.
Wait. Y-you can't.
You can't.
Well, hell, buddy, it ain't so bad,
no... you can't!
Son, this is my prison.
I can do whatever the hell I like.
No. No, no, no, no, no, you can't!
Well, that man makes me nervous.
You must have done something real bad, shut... shut...
Because this right here is the worst cell in the place. Shut...
I believe you. I gotta say...
I know, I know, I know...
I mean, that view right there, that view of the city,
I mean, that is unbelievable,
- because we're looking... - Stop it!
- At people right there... - Stop it!
- No, no, no... - All the people run around,
and all we can do is sit and watch it and think about
all the things that we're not having right now...
Stop. Stop. Shut... shut your mouth!
- Shut up! - That's... I mean, that's torture
it is, it's torture.
Shut it!
- No! - For the trumpet will sound!
And the dead shall be raised imperishable!
And we will all be changed...
This shocking footage
was captured just a few hours ago
at a local Columbus super store,
where an unidentified shooter opened fire on the store's...
It's his third shooting.
Brutally killing three,
and wounding many others. Police are investigating...
- We missed him. - No.
Lucy wasn't part of his pattern,
it's number two.
We've got one more shot.
Let's get back to work.
The view narrows our search to three miles
covering North beach and Telegraph Hill.
Both of the shootings happened
at the highest vantage point in that area.
Can you remove the structures
that weren't there in '63,
the ones Cobb wouldn't have seen from his cell?
Uh, let me see.
Okay, got it.
This is a photo of the buildings
that are there now,
and these are the buildings that Cobb could see in 1963.
How's Lucy?
She's stable.
But the doctors say
there's no telling the extent of the damage.
What do you got?
This is what Cobb saw from his cell every day.
He even made a scope and studied the view.
Just imagined it over and over.
And these are the buildings
high enough to be used as a vantage point.
Yeah, from the rooftops he could shoot down
at pier 31 or Fort Mason.
That's where we're gonna find him.
Let's take a ride.
I got this one.
Alive, I want him alive.
47 slats in the picket fence.
Picket fence. 47, 47,...
There's 47 slats in the picket fence...
One, two, three, four...
{pub}There's 47 slats in the picket fence.
One, two, three, four.
One, two, three...
Cobb!
47. There's 47 slats in the picket fence.
47 slats.
Drop your weapon!
Three, four, five...
I know you met your mother!
She had a daughter, and you saw her, Cobb.
You saw your sister.
You know she wrote you a letter?
Her name was Eloise.
She lived at 47 Kaley Street,
your sister.
- Go to hell. - She wanted to know you.
She wanted a big brother.
Go to hell!
Okay, Cobb,
I'm putting down my gun. Are you ready?
I'm coming out.
Here's the gun.
All right?
My hands are in the air.
I have the letter. I can show you.
She's not out there.
Your sister's not out there.
- Shut... - Cobb!
Don't move!
- Don't move! - Oh.
Is he right-handed?
No more shooting.
I don't think I can hack this.
- Doc... - No, I mean it.
I mean, Hauser doesn't need me,
and what we're doing,
stone-cold killers and dead bodies,
and someone I actually know getting...
Right in front of me.
This isn't a comic book world, is it?
I mean, real people are gonna die
if we don't catch these guys.
It's okay to feel this way, doc.
It comes with the job.
I'm afraid...
I'm not gonna be good at it.
Well, too late. You already are.
I want to you go home, get some sleep,
and get ready for the next one,
because I need you.
Thanks.
Close it up.
I could have killed you today.
But now you're here,
you're gonna wish I had.
I hate to see it's come to this,
trussed up like a Christmas hog,
but your penchant for insubordination
seems insatiable.
Time and again, you've found your way back into solitary,
and damned if I can figure out why.
But not to worry, son.
I've studied and researched
and found a doctor who, with God's will,
might could be able to help you.
If anyone can figure what's gone amiss
in that noggin of yours,
it's this little lady here.
Welcome to Alcatraz,
Dr. Sengupta.
Thank you, warden James.
Hello, Mr. Cobb.
My name is Lucille Sengupta.
I'm here to help you.