Celda 211 Page #2

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He's trying to tell us

he's fine and he's tricked them.

Okay, let's everybody

get this clear.

Nobody outside this room must know

that Juan Oliver isn't an inmate.

If word gets out and they hear

something, he's f***ed.

The SWAT team is here.

I hope this kid's a good liar.

Recognize this bastard?

Look closely.

Is he the son of a b*tch

who beat you up this morning?

No, it's not him.

How about that, Julian?

Today is your lucky day.

You were in for

some real punishment.

But I bet you remember

Mueco here.

Mueco sure remembers you

and your friends.

Went a little far, didn't you?

Look at him.

Look at his face,

he's a zombie.

He wasn't pretty before,

but now he looks like sh*t.

Wouldn't you say?

Yes.

Yes, what?

Yes, he looks like sh*t.

See? You insult him and

he doesn't even blink.

How many of you

were in there letting him have it?

You hardly fit in there.

Then 20 days in the hole.

Okay, come on.

No hard feelings.

What's done is done.

We'll just leave you two alone

for a little while

so you can talk it over.

Talking about it always helps.

Right, Julian?

Be careful.

If something happens to me,

you get nothing.

What do you think I'd get for you?

A plate of spaghetti?

They don't give a sh*t about you.

Don't worry, Julian.

I promise you'll have a great time

in the infirmary tonight.

Malamadre's Word.

Let's go.

Hey, Calzones.

How are you at literature?

How did you hear about it?

What did they say?

Relax, if something were up,

I'd tell you.

Okay, bye.

Sh*t. They talked about

the prison riot on the radio.

How do these people

find out about everything?

Some idiot always tells

his family about it.

How easy things look

from an office

in Madrid. They've decided

to teach them a lesson.

They're afraid they'll riot

once a week,

like 10 years ago.

What about Julian

and the other guy?

Nobody to negotiate?

They won't negotiate.

The order is to go in

as soon as the SWAT team

sees an opening.

Then we should warn them

about the situation.

What situation?

The inmates in cell block 4.

It's empty. They were moved

to other prisons

for remodeling.

Not all of them.

Jon Arteaga. Alias: Potolo.

Ex- member of cell in San Sebastian.

Sentenced to 1,200 years in prison

for 7 murders

and a thwarted kidnapping attempt.

Antxon Elorza, "the professor. "

Native of Renteria,

Asier Urriticoechea.

Alias:
Txiqui. 30 years old.

Sentenced to 8 years

for throwing a Molotov cocktail,

causing severe burns

to a member of the Basque police...

I'm not accusing anyone.

What I'm saying is the ETA story

wasn't us, you understand?

Hey, cut it out!

Trying to comb your way

out of here?

What should I do,

sit around waiting to get killed?

Nobody's going to get killed.

Hey, knock it off.

Quit speaking Basque.

We don't want any secrets.

Gentlemen, everybody out.

Move it!

What's he saying?

That he has 3 hostages

better than any guard.

He wants us to know

he's calling the shots.

Ernesto Almansa,

federal envoy sent to negotiate.

Jose Roca, I'm the warden.

We gave them a walkie-talkie

but they still haven't tried

to contact us.

Staging all this with the ETA

members in the middle...

He's trying to win over

his audience.

How long have we complained

to anyone who'd listen?

For years! To judges,

the district attorney, newspapers...

And what did we get?

Nothing but bullshit!

A bunch of crap!

But now, with our friends

from the north,

they're going to listen to us.

But for real.

Because this time we've got them

by the balls!

By the balls!

This was 10 years ago,

in Puerto de Santa Maria.

They should have fried

the son of a b*tch.

He has nothing to lose.

He knows he'll never get out.

So he won't be easy to reason with.

The ETA members were transferred to

that cell block yesterday, the same day

they were supposed to leave.

This is no coincidence.

- What do you mean?

- They must have had

this information. And if they had

it, it had to come from somewhere.

This isn't the time

to look for those responsible.

We're about to play a game of poker

with a murderer.

We'll mark the cards, of course.

I'd like to make sure he won't know

my next move beforehand.

Conejo.

Conejo was in the cell

next to Malamadre.

Conejo's in the infirmary.

He was having cramps.

Let me talk to him.

I'll find out who tipped them off.

In this situation,

we have no choice but to try.

Utrilla.

The cure better not be worse

than the illness.

By the way,

has Juan's wife been notified?

- Hi.

- Hi.

One kilo of tomatoes, please.

"Demands."

See that, Tachuela?

Very good.

Did you see his handwriting?

He writes better than my last lawyer,

I never understood a word he wrote.

Right, since you can't read...

I read f***ing great.

Writing is the problem.

It's like everything,

you have to do it every day...

Right, that must be it.

I can tell you're great at it.

You must work in a bank

or an office or something.

I was studying to be

a civil servant.

What kind? A cop?

Post office.

Right.

And suddenly you kill some f***er

and it all goes to hell.

- All those letters and telegrams...

- Come on, Malamadre.

Get to it.

First of all, that supervisor.

What's that f***er's name?

Benigno.

No, Maligno.

His name is Maligno.

Get rid of him.

We're sick of him giving his blessing

to all the crap they do to us.

You can't keep a man isolated

for 20 days straight

in a f***ing hole with no light,

nobody to talk to...

You're even grateful

when they come and beat on you.

At least you can yell at somebody.

Personal visits.

Every 2 weeks,

not whenever they feel like it.

They pull the plug on you here

and nobody says a damn thing.

You wanna keep giving it

to your wife, don't you?

Or don't you feel like it

anymore?

What happened, you catch her

with someone and lose your head?

You must have been hot.

Otherwise I can't picture you

using a knife.

It wasn't a knife.

And it had nothing to do

with my wife.

The doctor.

No more treating people

through bars. No wonder

they mistake cancer for diarrhea.

Like Morao.

Guy was screaming all day long

his head

was bursting,

his head was bursting...

In the end he had a tumor

the size of a kiwi.

They took it out

after he was already dead.

They found him at your place,

cell 211.

Sitting there with his veins open

because nobody gave a f***.

Morao...

This is Ernesto Almansa, the national

envoy sent to negotiate. Who is this?

Felipe Gonzalez.

You know the drill. No bullshit,

let's get this over with.

That's what we want. The sooner this

is over, the easier for everyone.

Can we speak in person?

You know where to find us.

We should meet

in the security zone.

No, no. None of that crap.

You wanna talk, come on in.

All right.

But uncover the camera

so they can see me from outside.

What, don't you trust us?

Don't worry, you'll be fine.

We know what respect means.

Sorry, but without the camera

there's no way.

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