the eye.
Lots of dirty little secrets.
-If I'd known...
-Why didn't you?
You knew she was an alcoholic.
-I knew that after the fact.
-But why didn't you stop her?
Because I didn't know.
Oh, God.
-Larry.
-Marty, what are you doing here?
There's gotta be something missing.
I gave you the pictures.
What else?
-Maybe something they overlooked.
-What, you think she's innocent?
-I don't know.
-You gotta be crazy.
-Larry.
-You've seen the report. Cut and dry.
-Maybe something's not in the report.
-You're too involved.
Jesus. Turn this case over
to someone else.
I'll see what I can come up with.
For now, go home and get some sleep.
Thanks.
If I find anything, I'll call you.
It's Helen. You missed
Mrs. Davenport's appointment.
Call her at home.
And some reporters were
trying to get ahold of you.
They seemed persistent
and may call you.
I didn't give them your number.
My name is Jean Martin. I'm writing
an article on Sister Agnes.
I'd appreciate it if you'd
give me a phone call at 942-2424.
Hi, it's me.
I just talked with Detective Crowley.
There was one thing
that didn't make it in the report.
The wastepaper basket
in Agnes' room.
None of the other nuns had one.
Bye.
...didn't make it in the report.
The wastepaper basket
in Agnes' room.
None of the other nuns had one.
Bye.
I've gotten the court's permission
to hypnotize her.
-And my permission?
-I'd like yours too.
We'll see about that.
-You'll deny it?
-I haven't decided.
-Her health is at stake.
-Spiritual health.
-I don't give a damn.
-I know you don't.
Sentence her and be done with it?
-She's a simple woman.
-An unhappy woman.
She'd be happy with us if
she were left alone.
Why did you call the police?
Why didn't you just burn the baby?
-I am a moral person.
-Bullshit!
-Bullshit yourself!
-The Church doesn't...
What the hell does the Church
got to do with you?
-Nothing.
-What have we done to you?
I can smell an ex-Catholic miles away.
What did we do? Burn heretics?
That was when the Church was a
ruling body. So what did we do to you?
You wanted to neck
and you couldn't because it was a sin?
-So instead of questioning...
-It wasn't sex.
It was a lot of things,
but it wasn't sex.
My friend was run over
in the 1 st grade.
The nun said she died
for missing morning prayer.
-Stupid woman, that's all.
-That's all? That's enough.
-She was beautiful.
-What has that to do with it?
I wasn't. I wasn't.
The pretty one died. Why not me?
I never said my morning prayers.
And I was ugly. I had freckles.
Sister Mary Cleatis
called me "Polka Dot" Livingston.
-So you left because you had freckles?
-No, because I...
Yeah.
Yeah, I left the Church
because I had freckles.
As a child I could hear
my guardian angel.
She sang to me
until I was 6 years old.
That's when I stopped listening.
But I remember the voice.
A few years ago,
I was a nun certain of nothing.
Not even of heaven.
Not even of God.
And then one evening, I saw Agnes
standing by her window, singing.
And all my doubts about myself and God
were gone, in that one moment.
I recognized the voice.
Please don't take it away from me
again, Dr. Livingston.
Those years after 6 were very bleak.
My sister died in a convent.
And it's her voice I hear.
Does my smoking bother you?
No, it reminds me.
Would you like one?
I'd love one.
I'm out of practice.
-All right?
-Fine, thanks.
-Suppose the saints would've smoked?
-Undoubtedly.
Not the ascetics, of course, but...
...well, Saint Thomas More.
Long, thin and filtered.
Saint Ignatius would stub out
cigars on the soles of his bare feet.
-And the apostles?
-Hand-rolled.
Even Christ would partake socially.
-Saint Peter?
-Pipe.
Mary Magdalene?
"You've come a long way, baby!"
Saint Joan would chew