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[Crisp's mother is buying a heap of pediatric medication
] Cullen Crisp
: The boy's not sick. Eleanor Crisp
: Doesn't hurt to take precautions. Cullen Crisp
: Mother, you are going to make him sick. You stuffed all this crap down my throat for years, and there was nothing wrong with me! Eleanor Crisp
: That's why there was nothing wrong with you. Cullen Crisp
: Now, how can you argue with that?
: [Eleanor Crisp enters locker room, where she finds and unloads Kimble's gun, and also finds her dead son's bullet-ridden body and Kimble slumped and bleeding on floor against the shower wall
] Where's my grandson? Detective John Kimble
] I don't know! Eleanor Crisp
: [Eleanor fires gun into wall, just inches above Kimble's head, hissing
] Where's... my... grandson? Detective John Kimble
: [gasping continues
] Go to hell! Eleanor Crisp
: That's exactly where you're going, you son of a bitch!
[moves towards Kimble and taking aim with pistol, suddenly accosted by an injured and bat-wielding Phoebe, who strikes her in the shoulder and knocks her to the floor
: You're not so tough without your car, are you?