The Life of David Gale Page #7

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- Zack? It's open.

- What?

- Well, maybe the maid forgot.

- Look.

Well... We gotta call somebody.

Wait.

- What is that?

- I don't know.

This is not good.

- I'm gonna check the bathroom.

- No, no. Bitsey, no.

You wait there.

- Bitsey!

- What? Zack, There could've been prints.

Look.

The lady at reception says that no one asked

for you. All the room keys are different.

- Just she and her husband have masters.

- What'd you tell her?

- That you have a jealous boyfriend.

- Thanks. How about the V.C.R.?

She didn't ask. I think she assumed it had

something to do with why he was jealous.

- You sure we shouldn't call the cops?

- No.

Anyway, whoever got in here

without a key in broad daylight...

was probably smart enough

not to leave prints.

I have the remote. Here.

- Are you sure you wanna see what's on here?

- No.

- Try three.

- Three.

I hope this isn't what I think it is.

Oh, my God.

- Is it her?

- Yeah, it's her.

- Oh, man.

Geez.

Belyeu said to bring the

tape first thing tomorrow.

He also said you were right

about not calling the police.

You gonna be all right?

No.

He deserves it though, probably. There's

a lot of sick people in this world.

And if they done wrong

and they're found guilty...

All right. Let's just say

Gale's telling the truth.

Maybe some right-wing f*** set him

up, arranged the perfect murder.

Why would you send a magazine journalist

proof a few hours before you've won?

- It does not make sense.

- No. It's perfect.

Whoever this is knows how hard

it is to get a retrial in Texas.

They know the magazine can't give this

any substantial play before the execution.

We'd have to give it to a daily

or a network. That won't happen.

- But mostly, they know I'll tell Gale today.

- So?

What if Constance's murder was

just a means of getting at Gale...

not only to get rid of him, but

to make abolishionists look crazy?

Of course he sympathizes

with murderers. He is one.

They make sure he sits

six years on death row...

for a brutal rape and murder,

then they let him die...

die knowing everyone will

remember him with disgust.

They destroy his life,

his work, his memory...

- and they make him watch.

- That's a lot of hate.

- Well, then why release it?

- Hate's no fun if you keep it to yourself.

Whoa. We got company.

- The cowboy?

- Mm-hmm.

And doing a lousy job of hiding.

Oh, he must think we're idiots.

- Is he gaining?

- No. He's just sitting back there.

Get a license plate number.

- Ohh. He's turned off.

- God, I'm sorry.

What does this guy want?

Fine. And, uh, Bobbi, could you make

a quick copy of that videotape...

and bring in Miss Bloom's

original when that's done?

- I don't blame you for not watching that twice.

- I couldn't sleep afterwards.

I understand. I tell folks I'm no

more afraid of the Grim Reaper...

than I am of a Presbyterian

on Mother's Day, but, uh...

watching that tape, well, uh...

I had to keep telling myself that's

not Constance just to get through.

Unfortunately, others

may argue the same.

But it's in her kitchen, in her house.

Currently home to

Weirdos, Incorporated.

Arguably, that tape could have been made by

anybody with $20 and a tolerance for vulgarity.

- Will it get us a postponement?

- Us?

This ain't my first rodeo, Miss Bloom.

Now, I got to tell you that

there's a machine a-runnin'

And come tomorrow night at 6:00,

that machine gonna wanna be fed.

- All here, Mr. Belyeu.

- Thank you, Aaron.

Now, to add to our troubles, your own

credibility may come into question.

- Why?

- Well, you've been fraternizing with the condemned.

- I've been what?

- He's the most likely candidate to have put you onto that tape.

He's a persuasive man, you an out-of-state

woman. That don't look so good.

Mr. Belyeu, someone

put the tape in my room.

That's a fact for which

we have no evidence.

- Thank you, Bobbi.

- Thanks.

Let's not throw a pity party

and sit around reading Kafka.

Could be we find a sympathetic judge.

- I'll file within the hour. You goin' over to see Gale?

- Yeah.

Fine. I'll give you a call over

to the motel later with an update.

My coat. Shoot.

- What? Who?

- Did you see him? The cowboy.

- He was here?

- He's in the lobby.

Go see if his truck's out front.

Tail him, get a license number.

Find out who he is. Don't

screw this up. It's important.

- How are you gonna get to the prison?

- Taxi.

F***! F***! F***!

I don't think you're being straight

with me. I walk out of Belyeu's office...

- the guy's in the lobby.

- Maybe you should just calm down.

Visitor, please stay seated.

Maybe you should sit down.

His name is Dusty Wright. He's the local

DeathWatch director before Constance.

He's a bullhorner.

He's a zealot who thinks that a good

demonstration has to end with riots and arrests.

DeathWatch fired him because

he punched somebody at a rally.

But Constance kept him in the

organization. He adored her.

They were close. Real close.

He testified at my trial.

Testified to support you or

to oppose the death penalty?

He testified against me.

- Against you?

- He testified about the drinking.

Alcohol is a mitigating

factor in capital cases.

I always told myself that

he did it in some sick way...

to try to help me get

a reduced sentenced.

I guess he believes

I really killed her.

Dusty's a man easily blinded by hatred.

Maybe he hated you because

you were seeing Constance.

I wasn't seeing Constance.

She had your semen inside her.

I know. Look, it's just... It's a

little more complicated than that.

Respect for life means every life.!

Respect for life means every life.!

Respect for life means every life!

Respect for life means every life!

Respect for life means every life!

Respect for life means every life!

When you kill someone,

you rob their family.

Not just of a loved one

but of their humanity.

You harden their hearts with hate.

You take away their capacity

for civilized dispassion.

You condemn them to blood lust.

It's a cruel and horrible thing.

- But indulging that

hate will never help.

The damage is done.

And once we've had our pound

of flesh, we're still hungry.

We leave the death house muttering...

that lethal injection was

just too good for them.

In the end, a civilized society...

must live with a hard truth.

He who seeks revenge digs two graves.

They're bringing

Betty Sue's people out.

Thank you, Dusty.

Just look. Look at those losers.

Rednecks, ghetto hustlers,

drug addicts, schizophrenics.

They're murderers, and

who cares if they die?

Who cares if the cycle, if it

just goes on and on and on and on?

Who cares?

Who cares?

Hey, did you make it

to your meeting today?

Yeah. I think I have to

find one less guru-like.

- Did you take your,

uh, medicine? - Mm-hmm.

Feel better?

- Mm

-hmm.

You know those stages of Kubler-Ross?

The ones the dying go through?

Um, anger...

denial...

bargaining...

uh...

- Depression.

- Depression, acceptance.

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