The Messenger Page #5

as soon as possible, sir.

What we can tell you right now is that his

platoon came under sniper fire...

...and it was an instant death.

I'm so sorry.

Look at that tree.

I said look at that f***ing tree.

It's the same age as my son.

"If I don't go,

who's gonna go in place of me?"

That's what he said.

A Casualty Assistance Officer

will contact you in four hours...

- F***ing bastards!

- Will notify you in...

Will notify you in four hours.

Is there a neighbor

or a friend or a family member...

- You f***ing idiot!

- That can come and help you in your trying time?

Why aren't you there?

Why aren't you dead?

- I'm sorry, sir.

- Why aren't you there now?

- I'm sorry.

- F***ing cowards.

- Let's go.

- I don't care if you're f***ing sorry!

We're done here.

Don't you f***ing say you're sorry to me.

You want to tell his mother?

Are you gonna tell his mother?

He's f***ing 20 years old!

Keep walking.

- You f***ing coward!

- Keep walking.

- I said...

- I don't f***ing care!

Sergeant,

he touches you again, I'll handle it.

What? F***ing handle what?

You'll f***ing handle what?

You f***ing cowards!

Well, I guess one way or another

we're all God's children.

It's all fortune cookies to me, sir.

I'm not really happy with these drops.

I'm gonna prescribe something else.

What's the doctor saying about the leg?

It's getting better. Though but I'm sort

of rooting for the eye.

It's not a race.

Polytrauma takes a lot of patience.

The body parts are literally

on different schedules.

"And all the king's horses

and all the king's men... " How does it go?

"Couldn't put Humpty back together again. "

Kelly's phone. This is Alan.

Answer off.

Sh*t.

- Son of a b*tch.

- ... For sentencing tomorrow.

We'll keep you posted.

And the State Supreme Court...

Don't say anything. I'll do the talking.

Sergeant.

- License and registration.

- What'd I do?

You went through a red light

about a half a mile back.

- It was yellow.

- It was red when he went through it.

- It's an emergency.

- What kind of emergency?

A soldier died.

We're going to notify the widow.

- That's not an emergency.

- It's about timing.

You know that.

Yeah, well, you get into a wreck

on your way to a notification...

...you kill somebody, you get yourself killed,

how's that gonna feel?

That's a jackass move.

- Can you believe this sh*t?

- Excuse me?

No, he's right. He's right.

I don't want to do this anyway.

You want to do it?

Go to this address,

her name is Olivia Pitterson.

Knock on her door

and break her little heart.

F*** it.

Well, let's pretend it didn't happen.

Let her find out that he got blown up

from some kid at the local news desk.

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