Poison

Police! Open up!

Police, ma'am! Hello?

Open up! Come on! Come on. Open up.

Hello?

Miss Olsen, are you there?

We will have to make a forced entry...

if you refuse or are unable to open up!

Nancy Olsen!

Open up! Come on!

...the door down the hall.

Oh, my God!

How awful!

Look!

He went out there! Get him!

On June 3, 1985...

at approximately 5:58 a.m.,

Richard Beacon, a seven-year-old Long Island boy,

shot and killed his father in a heated family argument.

Felicia Beacon, the boy's mother, astonishingly claims...

she then saw her son take off in flight from the patio balcony.

What really happened the night of June 3?

Who was Richie Beacon, and where is he now?

In '44,

I was sent to Fontenal Prison on several counts of theft.

Name?

Broom.

- First? - John.

Age?

Thirty-one.

Date of birth?

October 29, 1913.

- Orphan? - Yes.

Where?

First--

Prison was not new to me. I'd lived in them all my life.

...various foster homes.

In submitting to prison life, embracing it,

I could reject the world that had rejected me.

...the sexual behavior, which includes--

Hold him! males--

Is that correct? What?

I will bash your fucking skull in!

The state obliges us to, uh,

inquire as to whether or not you engaged in the...

practice of--

that you practiced, uh--

Yeah.

Whatever.

That word there, is it written as two words?

We're gathered here today...

in the shadow cast by the penal preserve of Baton...

by the trusty and loyal inmates,

Harold van Roven and John Broom,

who hereby pledge to one another...

in the eyes of their comrades and fellows in misery...

their loyalty and faith to one another's body and soul.

The ring upon each man's finger...

will prove to them and those in their company...

that each is betrothed to the other for life and to love...

till death do come.

Place the rings on each finger.

Pledge to truth and faith...

above and beyond God, the oppressor.

Ever since he was a child,

Thomas Graves had been hungry for knowledge.

Hungry to discover all the secrets of the universe.

Science--

man's sacred quest for truth--

was his first and only love.

Years of hard work and research...

led him to the mysteries of the sex drive...

and its potential for the betterment of mankind.

At the age of 32,

Dr. Thomas Graves was called upon...

to present his theories to experts in his field.

And thus, as I have demonstrated,

I have determined that once extracted...

the application of the hormonal equivalent...

of the sexual instinct to practical neurology...

will not only provoke a dramatic reassessment of geriatric research...

but will end paralysis as we know it today.

Thank you.

Why, this is ridiculous!

I ask you, are we to take this charade seriously?

I demand that this man be reexamined...

by the panel on grounds of medical incompetence!

I agree.

That's it.

It's putrefacted condensation sustained,

allowing molecular coagulation by producing--

biomagnetic gas.

I did it. I did it.

- Dr. Graves? - Yes. I'm Dr. Graves.

And I've just captured the sex drive.

That's marvelous.

It means the molecular coagulation theory holds true.

Molecular coag--

How do you know that? Who are you?

- I'm Dr. Olsen. - Who?

Dr. Olsen. Nancy Olsen?

From Boston?

Dr. Strick recommended me to you regarding--

You're--

I-- I didn't expect a woman.

I didn't expect you to.

I've been following your work for years, Doctor.

Ever since Evaluations of Molecular Sustention of Hormonal Conductivity...

appeared in the science journal at MIT.

Your discovery of the white cellular clotting predominance in neurasthenia...

completely altered my understanding of...

conditional bioflavonoid neuropathology.

I wrote my doctoral thesis on your molecular coagulation theory,

and I'm now a hormonal specialist.

I've come here with the hopes of assisting you.

Well, how do you do?

Very well, Doctor. Thank you.

And now I really should leave you to record your success.

But, please, feel free to call on me anytime that you need.

And congratulations, Doctor.

You're making medical history.

...molecular coagulation--

...conditional bioflavonoid neuropathology.

...Evaluations of Molecular Sustention of Hormonal Conductivity...

appeared in the science journal at MIT.

Putrefacted condensation sustained--

You're making medical history.

The quiet residential community of Glenville...

was stunned to learn of the strange death of Fred Beacon.

It gave everybody the creeps.

All the neighbors were afraid to come out their door.

It was absolutely...

the most dreadful thing I have experienced...

- in my entire lifetime. - It was awful.

Oh, it was terrible.

You know, I heard every shot.

- You never know who your friends are. - I heard every single shot.

You think you know people, but you really don't know them...

and you live next door to them.

You don't, till something like this happens.

Richie Beacon's disappearance provoked...

one of the toughest missing person investigations in Long Island history.

Whole thing lasted at least a year.

His face is still on milk cartons.

What was found?

Nothing.

Felicia Beacon became the center of Glenville controversy...

following her extraordinary account of her son's disappearance.

I guess I just didn't--

I definitely didn't know what he was.

I mean, I punished him.

His father hit him, just like any kid.

But I definitely didn't realize--

Realize what?

That he was a gift from God.

By the time I was 16 years old,

I was notorious as a kid with a terrific knack for theft.

Foster homes would no longer take me,

and I was sent to the Boys' Reformatory of Baton.

There, in the counterfeit world of men among men--

- Down! - Three!

- I found my true family. - Four!

Halt!

- Step to the left! - At Baton, I was astounded by the discovery--

- Step to the right! - that each male had a male of his own.

- Step to the right! - And that the world of force and manly beauty...

loved in that way within itself...

from link to link.

- Down! - Five!

It was from then on, when they merged in shadow,

that each group offered me a puzzle.

The stiff, silent males possessed the violence of love.

And my life's study...

would be to find it.

Sixteen years had passed...

when the maximum security prison of Fontenal...

brought me face-to-face with my deliverance.

Jack Bolton. Age 28.

175 pounds.

Seventy-five inches.

Formerly a captive of Baton.

Oh, poor kid!

Somebody up there knows. Come on, pussy!

You know what? You make me want to puke!

You want to suck it, bitch? When was the last time you saw rock?

You want to suck it! You want to crawl for it!

Yes, you do!

Is it Jack Bolton?

You hear that? Pussy!

Canon!

Here?

Since today.

Coyle, Jack Bolton.

Hey, John. A friend of mine, man.

- You make me want to puke! - Jack Bolton, Johnny Broom.

- Baton? - Yeah. Yeah.

I knew it.

You swallow it by the mouthful, don't you, Birdy?

Jism by the jug, right?

You want it real bad, don't you, punk?

Don't you, slug? Don't you, pretty boy?