I was never... meant to do anything! Every single second of my pathetic little life is as useless as that button! You think it's important? You think it's necessary? It's nothing, it's meaningless; and who are you to tell me that it's not?
The doctor that treated your daughter seems to feel differently.
RMRichard Malkin
Treated her? He tried to cut her open. He's just trying to cover up his own negligence. He tell you the whole story -- how she supposedly drowned? She fell into a mountain river, her body shut down; she went into hypothermia which made her appear dead.
Because she knows I'm a fraud. Because I make my living as a psychic. You see, that's what I do. I gather intelligence on people and I exploit it. Everyday I meet people looking for a miracle, desperate to find one. But there are none to be had. Not in this world, anyway.
This cross was worn by my brother, Yemi. Yemi was a great man, a priest, a man of God. And because I betrayed him he was shot and died. He was placed on a plane which took off from an airstrip in Nigeria half a world from here. Then, the plane that I was on crashed on this island. And somehow, here, I found my brother again. I found him in the same plane that took off from Nigeria. In the same plane that lies above us now -- that has concealed this place. And I took this cross from around Yemi's neck and put it back on mine, just as it was on the day I first took another man's life. So let me ask you -- how can you say this is meaningless? I believe the work being done in the Hatch is more important than anything. If you will not continue to push the button, John, I will.
For a brief time, I served in a small parish in England. Every Sunday after mass, I would see a young boy waiting at the back of the church. Then one day, the boy confessed to me that he had beaten his dog to death with a shovel. He said the dog had bitten his baby sister on the cheek and he needed to protect her. And he wanted to know whether he would go to hell for this. I told him that God would understand, and that he would be forgiven, as long as he was sorry. But the boy did not care about forgiveness. He was only afraid that if he did go to hell that the dog would be there, waiting for him.
[to Michael] Hey there, Michael. [Michael spits in his face] Not going to hold that against you. Fair's fair. I took your boy. But don't do that again, okay?