How i Died S1 E12: Tightly Wound

Transcript: How i Died S1 E12: Tightly Wound

This transcript is adapted from the episode’s original script, so the final audio may differ slightly.

Sheriff: No recorder today?

Jon: Damnit. I must’ve left it at the lab.

Sheriff: You’re not going to freak out and make us drive back, are you?

Jon: No. I’ll just take some photos and handwritten notes…

Sheriff: Good! So you remember how I said I’ll never be surprised by how people die around here?

Jon: I really don’t like the sound of that. Why?

Sheriff: Well. Come on in.

Jon: Smith’s Refinery? What is this place?

[Old steel door opening and closing. Walking on metal. The]

[Room is huge like a warehouse.]

Sheriff: It’s the largest twine processing plant around here. One of our state’s biggest exports, actually. Before the Springfield Corporation, this was the big money maker of the town.

Jon: Refined twine, huh? Is that a large industry?

Sheriff: It was what founded the town back in the – ah, nevermind. This isn’t a history lesson. Somebody died and that’s why you’re here.

Jon: Oookay. Now what?

Sheriff: Well?

Jon: Well what? I’m not seeing anything.

Sheriff: Look down.

Jon: Still not seeing anything.

Sheriff: Jesus you’re more dense than usual. Look. That’s a spool spinner.

Jon: Yeah, the giant scary machine, got it. But I don’t see blood or a body.

Sheriff: He’s IN the twine.

Jon: What?

Sheriff: Like a fuckin’ cocoon.

Jon: There’s someone INSIDE that monstrous ball? You’re sure?

Sheriff: Yep… We… Got the security footage.

Jon: Can I see it?

Sheriff: It’s kind of graphic.

Jon: I cut open dead people on a daily basis. I think I’ll be fine.

Sheriff: Okay. The office is right behind us.

[Wheely chair. Sheriff clicking.]

Sheriff: Ready?

Jon: Just play it. (COMING THROUGH SPEAKER:)

[Machine sounds.]

Jon: Okay. There’s a guy loading up the machine. Is that him?

Sheriff: It is. Watch.

[Machine whirring. Turns on]

Jon: The machine just turned on… By itself? The guy’s leaning over to look… There’s someone behind him. Shit… they pushed him in.

[Machine whirring and wrapping. Man screaming and yelling for help. His yells get more strained as he’s running out of]

[Air. He gets suffocated.]

[Click.]

Sheriff: So. Yeah.

Jon: Do we know who he is?

Sheriff: The owners identified him as Jackson Tundon, aged 42. He’s a manager here.

Jon: Are there night shifts here?

Sheriff: Nope. There wasn’t a reason for Tundon to be here this late. And especially not alone.

Jon: Alright. Let me climb down there and see if I can cut this. So what we’re trying to find is why he was here, and who pushed him in?

Sheriff: That’s my job, yeah. You’re here to cut him out.

Jon: I am cutting him out…

Sheriff: Unless you want me to do it so you can go interview some more people.

Jon: Absolutely not. You could destroy crucial evidence or even knick the body.

Sheriff: Yeah. That was a joke, Spacer. You do your job and I’ll do mine. You’ve been trying to take over cases recently anyway.

Jon: Jackson… Or… Victim’s head and upper torso have been exposed through the wool. His eyes are… Completelt bloodshot, which is consistent with suffocation. There’s also significant bruising around his nose, mouth and forehead. I imagine that we will find more bruising around his torso, as the wool was wrapped incredibly tightly. Moving down, I can actually feel a few cracked ribs near the sternum. These seem to be broken during the wrapping procesa. Ans no offense, *Fran*, but I was brought here under the pretense that we’d be working *together*, and you’ve been sidelining me since I started.

Sheriff: We’re not partners, Jon. You’re an employee of the sheriff’s department. With me being the sheriff.

[Cutting with scissors, slowly. Continues during argument]

Jon: I don’t get where the contention is coming from. I’ve done nothing but-

Sheriff: You’ve overstepped your bounds on multiple occasions so far. You’re interviewing people and telling ME information that I’m supposed to find out during the course of investigation.

Jon: I’ve helped you solve so many cases already.

Sheriff: And I appreciate that. But you can’t just magically be better at this job than every other ME we’ve had.

Jon: And what makes a small town sheriff qualified to solve homicides? I’m sure you’re great at breaking up bar fights or corner store robberies-

Sheriff: You watch your fucking mouth. I already didn’t trust your bullshit from the moment you got here.

Jon: What’s that supposed to mean?

Sheriff: You led me to a decapitated head on a spike a few weeks ago, Jon. How can you explain that?

Jon: We followed a clue.

Sheriff: A clue you convinced me to follow. Do you know how much paperwork this shit has caused?

Jon: You’re pissed off at me about PAPERWORK? We’re solving murders.

Sheriff: Yes! when you’re making my job harder and putting more scrutinizing eyes on the department, then absolutely, I am. I have hospital staff saying they hear you talking to yourself when they walk by your room. We’ve got fuckin reporters coming around asking about you – about how you solved so many murders so quickly And that damn Curtis guy is practically stalking you AND me.

Jon: Curtis again?

Sheriff: Yeah, AGAIN.

Jon: God damnit, why won’t he leave me alone?

Sheriff: That’s the one thing you pick up on from this conversation?

Jon: What did he say?

Sheriff: Ranting on some shit about talking to you in the ER. I don’t know. He’s a conspiracy nut. The real problem is that more shit is coming our way because of you.

Jon: What do you want me to do? Not do my job?

Sheriff: Oh I want you to do your job. And I want me to do mine, then we can leave it at that.

Jon: Fine. I’ll put my head down then, and if deaths go unanswered, so be it.

Sheriff: No matter what you think of this place, I am damn good at my job, kid. Don’t you think otherwise.

Jon: I need to examine the body.

Sheriff: Good. Get to it. I’m going outside for a smoke.

[Sheriff walks away on metal]

Jon: (mumbling to himself) Ass. I’m doing my job and helping her. She doesn’t event want these cases solved.

Jackson: (ghost effect) That sounded… Hostile.

Jon: Holy shit. Where did you come from?

Jackson: I’ve been here the whole time, but I didn’t want to interrupt.

Jon: How did you know I could hear you?

Jackson: I didn’t. Not really. But it seemed rude to interrupt either way.

Jon: A polite ghost. Now that’s a change of pace.

Jackson: So I am a ghost, huh? That’s my body in there?

Jon: I’m afraid so.

Jackson: Figures.

Jon: I have to ask. What were you doing down here this late?

Jackson: I couldn’t sleep.

Jon: You… Couldn’t sleep?

Jackson: Right. I don’t know. It might sound strange, but the whirring of the machines always helps me relax.

Jon: So you do this often?

Jackson: Only every once in a while. Usually I’m stressed during the day, and I can just relax and listen to the sound, but… Tonight was just different. It’s so quiet living out here. I can’t sleep without the noise of cars or something.

Jon: I know what you mean.

Jackson: You’re not from around here either?

Jon: No. I’m not. I’m from Baltimore, actually. How about you?

Jackson: (Insert where ever actor is from). I haven’t been able to really sleep since I moved.

Jon: What made you move out here?

Jackson: My wife died. Car accident.

Jon: I’m sorry to hear that.

Jackson: It’s okay. I just needed to get away. And… I’m dead now… So when do I see her?

Jon: I’m not sure. I don’t know how any of this works.

Jackson: You’ve never asked?

Jon: I don’t usually follow up with any of my …patients… But, I can understand the curiosity. If I’m veing honest, I moved here to get away from something, myself.

Jackson: I need to find my wife. I need to move on.

Jon: Oh. That didn’t work? If I could just ask you a few questions.

Jackson: No. You can’t…

Jon: Wait. Why?

Jackson: I don’t want to be here. It’s so quiet.

Jon: Please! Come back.

Garrett: (echoing in distance) H-hello?

Jon: Hello? Whose there?

Garrett: My name is Garrett… Garrett Sweenie… I… I think I killed someone.

Jon: Shit. Where are you Garrett?

Garrett: Up here.

Job: Stay where you are. I’m coming.

[Walking on metal.]

Jon: Sheriff! Sheriff Crowley!

Garrett: (closer) Am I going to jail?

Jon: I can’t – hold on. I’ll be right back. Wait in this office.

[Running on metal. Door opening]

Jon: (out of breath) Crowley.

Sheriff: (smoking) What?

Jon: There’s a kid. In here. He says. He thinks he killed someone.

Sheriff: God damnit, I leave you alone for one second and you engage a witness again?

Jon: I didn’t. Barely talk to him. Don’t worry.

Sheriff: You better not have. Or I’ll be sticking your ass so far down in the lab that you won’t see sunlight until you quit. Come on.

[Walking on metal]

Jon: Garrett? Garrett!

Sheriff: I thought you didn’t talk to him.

Jon: I asked his name.

Garrett: I’m still here.

Sheriff: Hey, son. My name is Fran Crowley, and I’m the sheriff. This is doctor Spacer. Do you know where you are?

Garrett: Yes. I told doctor Spacer that I killed someone.

Sheriff: Did he?

Jon: He yelled it to me. I didn’t say anything.

Sheriff: What’s your name, kid?

Garrett: Garrett Sweenie.

Sheriff: And how old are you Garrett?

Garrett: 17, ma’am

Sheriff: Okay. Because of your age, we need to have a lawyer or a consenting adult present. It’s protocol, but I’m going to put you in handcuffs. Do you mind riding in the back of my cruiser to the sheriff’s department with me?

Garrett: Sure.

Sheriff: Great. Let’s go. Doc, are you capable of finishing up here, or should I go get Curtis to help?

Jon: I can handle it.

Sheriff: Good. Thanks for coming to get me this time. Maybe you can learn after all.

Jon: Hmph

Sheriff: I’m parked outside. Let’s go.

[Walking away]

Jon: Jackson?

[Silence]

Jon: What a weird feeling.

[Cutting and scraping sound]

Jon: Jesus…

[Taking photos]

Jon: Unlesa I can find any extenuating findings, the evidence, along with the video and potential confession conclusively point to suffocation as cause of death in this homicide case. I’ve gotta remember to ask Crowley about the case number after the body has been moved to the forensic lab. I’ve gotta say… There is definitely something seird going on around here. Something more than just a curse. I mean – first that weird radio static, then a voice of a person trapped in a bunker. And now this machine turning on just as someone falls in… I don’t know much about geo or electromagnetic frequiencies, but could that explosion from the Springfield corp. really be what’s behind all of these freak accidents? Bah. Who the hell am I even talking to? I’m too used to having that recorder on me all the time.