(birds chirping)
(baby crying)
Your turn.
Jack?
(baby continues crying)
(Jack coughing)
Honey?
(toilet flushes)
Are you still feeling sick?
What's the matter with you?
Can't you hear the baby is crying?
WOMAN: How about some cereal, honey, hmm?
(babbles)
You were having those awful dreams again last night.
I didn't sleep long enough to be dreaming.
I want you to go to the doctor.
Find out what's wrong.
Will you do that?
I'd just like to eat my breakfast in peace!
Do you think that's possible?
(both crying)
Jack, what is it?!
(engine starts)
(tires screeching)
(crow cawing)
MULDER: Private John McAlpin--
one of the few, the proud... the dead.
Last week,
he wrapped his car around a tree, died on impact.
Drug and alcohol tests
came back negative.
And car shows no evidence
of brake, steering or any other mechanical failure.
Military is calling it a suicide.
They're especially concerned because
it's the second one in as many weeks.
Both at the same base?
Yeah, except it's not exactly a base.
Flip to the back.
The marines were all stationed
at the Folkstone Processing Center in North Carolina.
More than 12,000 refugees
waiting for asylum from Uncle Sam.
Wasn't there a riot there about a month ago?
Yeah. A ten-year-old boy was killed,
but the details of his death were never released.
Why did the military contact us?
They didn't.
Mrs. McAlpin contacted the Bureau
when the military refused her request to investigate
her husband's death further.
She doesn't believe it was suicide.
There.
This is the tree
that stopped Private McAlpin's car.
State police reported there's graffiti on the bark.
Looks like some kind of ritual symbol.
Most of the refugees at Folkstone are Haitian.
Mrs. McAlpin believes voodoo
was behind her husband's death?
Mrs. McAlpin doesn't believe
her husband killed himself.
She wants to know who did.
(baby fussing)
MRS. McALPIN: Jack used to tell these jokes.
Well, they were pretty dumb, I guess,
but the way he told them
always made me laugh.
Then he got transferred to the camp,
and nothing was very funny anymore.
Did he ever discuss with you what went on there,
what his duties included?
No. He'd just come home angry.
Mostly at himself,
though sometimes he'd turn it on Luke and me.
Was he ever treated for depression or stress?
No, I tried getting him to talk to someone,
even our minister.
But Jack believed
in dealing with his own problems.
Did he believe in voodoo?
The Marines, his family and football--
pretty much sums up everything Jack believed in.
So, when did you first think that his death involved
something out of the ordinary?
One of the boys in his squad told me
what they found at the accident,
and he said it was some kind of voodoo curse--
the same one they found on the stool
that Puerto Rican boy used
to hang himself.
Who told you that?
Harry Dunham.
(sighs)
He's from New Orleans,
so he's pretty superstitious about that type of thing.
What about you?
My husband had just died,
so I didn't give it much thought either way.
Not until Luke dug this up out of his sandbox.
I know it sounds crazy, me worrying about all this.
The truth is, I'm scared.
I'm scared for my child.
And I just don't know what to do anymore.
(people chattering)
♪ ♪
It's, uh, down there on the right, sir.
(speaking Creole)
(shouting in Creole)
Go! Go! Get away! Get out of here!
Go! Go! Get away!
Go! Go!
He's crazy.
Too much rum.
For such a pretty lady,
it's dangerous out here.
You need something
pour vous gardez--
for protection.
Your lucky charm.
Come on, Mulder.
How much?
Five... I mean, ten.
I'll give you five.
BOY: Okay.
SCULLY: Let's go, Mulder.
No, you should always carry protection. Hold on.
There you go.
(chuckles)
I'm still not clear just what it is you're investigating here.
Two of your men have died in the past two weeks,
allegedly of self-inflicted injuries.
And I've taken every measure
to see it doesn't happen again.
I've even flown in
the 528th Combat Stress Control Detachment
from Camp Lejeune.
SCULLY: But your soldiers
aren't in combat.
MAN: In some ways,
what we're dealing with here is worse.
How so?
We're soldiers.
We're not prison guards.
And we're being asked to police
a hostile population of foreigners
without the resources to feed or house them.
There are bound to be some conflicts.
So your men are getting the brunt
of the refugees' frustration?
It's hatred, plain and simple.
They hate us.
And all I can do
is see that they're processed
as efficiently as possible.
Colonel Wharton, a, uh...
a certain ritual sign was found at the scene
of both deaths.
Is there anything you can tell us about that?
Not much.
Apparently, it's some sort of voodoo marking.
But you haven't investigated it as a possibility.
Possibility of what?
All I know is voodoo caused a riot in my camp.
One night, they held some secret ceremony.
The next day, all hell broke loose.
We understand a refugee was killed-- a young boy.
No one felt that tragedy more deeply than me.
Fortunately, I was able to isolate the one responsible
for instigating all the trouble.
Who would that be?
His name is Bauvais.
Pierre Bauvais.
Thinks he's some kind of revolutionary.
You think we could speak with him?
If you don't mind listening
to his laundry list of complaints.
I'd also like to examine Private McAlpin's body.
I have a signed consent from his wife.
Private Dunham
will help you both with whatever you need.
Cause of death was no great mystery.
That boy was doing 60 when he hit the tree.
So they pronounced him at the scene?
Well, his head was hanging on his shoulders
like a broken peony,
and he had no respiratory or cardiac functioning.
I saw no reason to conduct an autopsy then; I still don't.
Well, you can see for yourself.
What kind of a sick joke is this?
- Jackson?! - MAN: Sir?
Who the hell's been in here?!
Someone's tampered with McAlpin's body,
and I want to know who!
MULDER: You're Harry Dunham?
DUNHAM: Yes, sir.
You knew Private McAlpin?
His wife said you were friends.
We were in the same squad.
Any idea why he might have killed himself?
I can't say, sir.
Can't say or you won't say?
I'll be right here if you need me.
My name is Mulder.
I'm with the FBI.
I was hoping you could answer some questions
about the two U.S. Marines who took their own lives.
It is a terrible shame.
I'm not convinced it's as simple as that.
You do not believe I was involved in this, do you?
How could I be...
when they keep me locked up in here?
You tell me.
These photographs were taken at the sites of both deaths.
The shell was found buried
under one of the soldiers' homes.
Can you tell me about the symbol?
Why?
What do you expect to learn from this?
Just the truth.
One of the marines left behind a wife.
She's too frightened to even mourn.
She deserves some peace of mind.
It is the Loco-Miroir,
the crossroads between the two worlds--
the mirror in which a man must confront his true self.
These marines...
maybe they didn't like what they saw.
Colonel Wharton says you incited the riot last month.
My country was born on the blood of slaves.
Freedom is our most sacred legacy.
Does that mean you'd kill to preserve it?
Wharton will not let us return home...
which is all we ask.
SCULLY: Mulder, I need to speak with you.
BAUVAIS: She's come to tell you
the marine is gone.
How did you know?
It's the spirits.
Loa have warned you.
Somebody stole McAlpin's body
and replaced it with what looks like a dog's corpse.
They will only warn you once.
After that, no magic can save you.
Come on, Scully. Let's go.
MULDER: So what do you think happened to Private McAlpin?
Somehow, Bauvais must have switched the bodies.
It's quite a trick, considering he's been
confined for the last month.
Well, then he had somebody else do it.
But you said there was no trace evidence,
and security is practically impossible to breach.
I was only suggesting
that whoever did it was clever and thorough,
I wasn't suggesting that some kind of spirit did it.
Well, just in case.
I believe in covering my bases.
Mulder, voodoo only works
by instilling fear in its believers.
You saw how Bauvais tried to intimidate me.
I'll admit the power of suggestion is considerable,
but this is no more magic than a pair
of fuzzy dice.
Scully, look out!
(tires screeching)
Hey.
Private McAlpin?
SCULLY: He's nonverbal,
nonresponsive to voice, touch or pain.
The neurologists suspect
he suffered a severe concussion in the crash
resulting in amnesia.
MULDER: It's a plausible diagnosis.
Only, I'm more interested in how he came back to life.
Well, obviously he never left.
Dr. Foyle made a gross mistake
when he signed the death certificate.
It's not the first time something like that's happened.
Did you get a copy of the blood test?
Yeah.
Electrolytes, white and red counts are all normal.
Except, this is strange.
The lab detected trace levels of tetrodotoxin in his blood.
That's a poison found in the liver
and reproductive organs of puffer fish--
a Japanese delicacy.
Only, I get the feeling that Private McAlpin
didn't frequent too many sushi bars.
You have a theory how it got into his blood?
What do you know about zombies?
I hope you don't intend to tell Robin McAlpin
that she married one.
In 1982, a Harvard ethnobotanist
named Wade Davis did extensive field research in Haiti
on the zombification phenomenon.
He analyzed several samples of zombie powder
prepared by voodoo priests,
and he found tetrodotoxin to be common to all of them.
But, Mulder, it's a lethal poison.
No, but in small enough doses,
it can cause paralysis
and depress cardiorespiratory activities to such a low level
that the victim might appear clinically dead.
Well, zombie or not, Jack McAlpin is alive.
Exactly. Which is what makes me wonder
about the other marine who allegedly killed himself.
Why would they bury Private Guttierez here?
(growling)
(barking)
They beat you to it.
You're the FBI, aren't you?
Stay.
- Yeah. - Easy, Wong.
We've arranged to exhume the body
of Manuel Guttierez.
I prepared the dig as soon as I got the judge's order,
but it's too late.
Too late?
Yeah, the body snatchers got there first.
I caught them more than a few times right in the act,
but it's getting I can't keep up anymore.
That's, uh, why I got this.
Don't the police intervene?
Oh, they got their hands full
just trying to protect the lives of the living.
I'm all these people have to preserve their rest.
These body snatchers-- what do they do with the bodies?
Uh, they sell them.
To who?
Well, it varies.
When the local medical school ran short of cadavers,
rumor had it that the snatchers got $200 a head.
But mostly, it's the voodoo types who do the buying.
A lot of folks in these parts go in for that,
with the medicines and the potions and...
Yeah, here we are.
Look at that.
They dug him up right under my nose.
How's he supposed to rest in peace like this?
They can do what they like
with the pigs and the chickens...
but this is a desecration.
This is uncool.
Mulder.
MAN: Look at that.
See what I'm talking about?
Let us take care of this.
Knock yourselves out.
Hey!
Let me be!
I didn't do nothing!
- Hey, hey, hold on. - What did I do?!
- Maybe you can tell us. - Let me be!
Let go!
(frogs croaking)
Maybe I should kiss a few
and find out if one is Guttierez.
Fresh bones.
They pay good.
But I go there for the frogs.
You find the best frogs at the cemetery.
How do you get out of the camp?
I go, and then I come back.
What about your parents? Are your parents at the camp?
What about a name?
(sighs)
Chester Bonaparte.
MULDER: What do you do
with the frogs, Chester?
For each one I catch, I get 50 cents.
From who? Who pays you for them?
Bauvais. His magic is the most strong.
He even made my fries disappear!
You know, Chester, I got magic, too.
And I bet I can make your fries reappear.
Merci.
You know, Mulder, certain frog species
secrete a substance called bufotoxin.
It's chemically similar to what we found
in Private McAlpin's blood.
I think we should ask Bauvais
what he's doing with those frogs.
I didn't want to say anything before
because I wasn't sure, but I think we're being followed.
It's a gray four-door sedan in the parking lot.
Keep an eye on Chester.
Out of the car, Private!
You've been following us.
Look, I had to warn you.
You didn't seem too interested in helping us before.
I couldn't talk then-- not with Colonel Wharton so close by.
And not with him right there.
Stay here. I'll be back.
Chester? He's just a little boy.
No, sir, he is not.
What's going on?
Private Dunham was just about to tell us why we're in danger.
You're putting yourselves
into the middle of something you don't understand.
But you do?
Bauvais warned him.
He told the colonel
he'd take his men one by one unless...
Unless what?
Unless the colonel let his people go back to Haiti.
But the colonel...
he just had us turn up the heat on all them beatings and all.
SCULLY: Colonel Wharton
sanctioned beatings of the refugees?
He ordered it, and worse.
The things he is making us do to those people.
Why hasn't anybody stepped forward or filed a complaint?
None of us feel too good about it, ma'am.
But you don't join the Marines to feel good.
You said that Bauvais threatened the colonel's men.
He said he'd take their souls.
And you believe he can do that?
Jack McAlpin was my friend, and look what happened to him.
Well, we don't know what happened to him,
but there is a medical explanation for his condition.
Back home, an associate of my daddy's,
Clyde Jessamin, once crossed a man
on some kind of real estate deal.
And not two weeks passed
before Jessamin's daughter took ill with something
the doctors couldn't make heads or tails of.
All they could do was shoot her full of morphine,
the pain was so bad.
She died five minutes past midnight on her wedding day.
And when they did an autopsy
to try and figure it out, all they could find
was a bunch of snakes squirming around inside her belly.
Sounds like an old wives' tale.
No, ma'am, it's not.
You see, I'm the one who was supposed to marry her.
(car door closes)
(engine starts)
Think he's telling the truth?
Till I can figure out why he'd lie, yeah.
He's superstitious, and superstition breeds fear.
It's what voodoo is all about.
It's just as irrational
as avoiding a crack in the sidewalk.
Why would he be trying to avoid Chester?
Chester?!
Chester? Chester!
Wait a second!
Chester!
Stop! I'm not going to hurt you!
Chester!
It's okay, I'll get him.
Chester.
Chester?!
(cat meowing)
Can I get you anything else, sir?
(knocking)
Just get the door.
I'm sorry. I'm having my breakfast.
That's all right. We already ate.
I understand you obtained a court order yesterday
to exhume Private Guttierez.
That's right.
You should know that I filed
a complaint with the Justice Department.
His body was missing--
stolen from his coffin apparently.
Now you see what we're facing here.
What kind of barbaric religion would desecrate a grave?
SCULLY: We suspect
it was an act of retaliation.
Retaliation?
For your mistreatment of the detainees.
What the hell are you talking about?
Physical abuse of political refugees
is a prosecutable crime under international law.
(chuckles)
It's Bauvais, isn't it?
He's the one you're getting this garbage from.
Look, nobody ever said this was a hotel,
but it's hardly a concentration camp.
Then there is no official policy of harassment?
If anything, it's my men
who are being harassed.
The U.N., the relief organizations--
they're all so busy protecting the rights of these refugees,
nobody's looking out for my men!
Well, we'll let you finish.
Wouldn't want your breakfast to get cold.
(sighs)
Way I see it, Wharton's left these people no choice
but to fight back with the only weapon they have.
Sorry, Mulder, there's a big difference
between nasty looks and raising the dead.
Not according to Private Dunham.
Ah!
What?
More scare tactics.
Let me see that.
No, it's nothing.
(engine starts)
(grunts)
I-I don't think he's in any condition to talk.
WHARTON: That's right, Private.
You don't think. You follow orders.
But, sir...
Dismissed.
(door opens, closes)
Ouvri barrière pou moi.
I want the secret.
Maybe you should tell me now, while you can still talk.
Ma vie nan mains bon dieu.
No, papaloi.
Your life is in my hands.
♪ ♪
(car door closes)
(footsteps approaching)
I was surprised to get your card.
I had assumed our last contact...
would be our last.
Why are you here?
Your investigation is faltering, Agent Mulder.
We've got a renegade marine
who may be violating every human rights provision...
These people have no rights.
In 24 hours, all access to Folkstone will be restricted
to military personnel.
No press,
no third-party monitoring.
What about Scully and me?
You'll be called back to Washington
on a priority matter.
(sighs)
They're making the camp invisible.
Why?
In case you haven't noticed, Agent Mulder,
the Statue of Liberty is on vacation.
The new mandate says, if you're not a citizen,
you'd better keep out.
Well, why hold them up?
Why not just repatriate them?
During our most recent involvement in Haiti,
three U.S. soldiers took their own lives.
Of those men, two were under Colonel Wharton's command.
You saying the military is sanctioning Wharton's revenge?
(thunder rumbling softly)
These people are innocent civilians.
Some people in Congress might have a real problem with that.
By the time they get a committee together,
it'll be as if none of this ever happened.
(car door opens)
(car door closes)
No, you don't understand.
I've been on hold for half an hour.
I'm trying to locate a Private Dunham.
Yeah.
Thanks.
Mulder, I just got through to Dunham's barracks.
Mulder?
Your door's unlocked.
(water running)
Mulder, listen to this.
Dunham's been AWOL since last night...
Mulder?
Oh, God.
(water stops)
- MULDER: Scully? - Yeah?
I found him wandering around outside.
You all right?
Yeah.
It's Dunham.
MULDER: When I found him,
he had this in his hand.
Do you recall leaving the hospital?
These past few days, I don't recall much of anything.
Except feeling real heavy,
like... like I'm asleep and I can't wake up.
MULDER: Do you remember killing Private Dunham?
McALPIN: All I remember
is being there, seeing him in all that blood.
Why did you sign the confession?
WHARTON: The private asked,
and I apprised him
of what you found at the crime scene.
Who else might it have been?
Colonel...
...can we have a word outside?
What exactly did you tell him?
If you're suggesting
that I coerced Private McAlpin in any way...
I need to know, did he sign that confession voluntarily?
Of course he did.
Since his reappearance,
has Private McAlpin had any contact with Bauvais?
Not to my knowledge.
Well, we'd still like to speak with Bauvais.
I'm afraid that's impossible.
Why?
Because he's dead.
Last night, he cut his wrists with a bedspring.
I'll have the report sent to your motel
along with the private's confession.
Since both matters are being handled internally,
I'll assume your business here is finished.
What's wrong?
I'm fine.
It's just a headache.
(cell phone ringing)
(sighs)
Mulder.
Okay, Mrs. McAlpin, we can be there in 15 minutes.
MRS. McALPIN: First, I thought I lost him...
as if that wasn't hard enough to deal with.
Now they're saying he's killed Harry.
He said it himself; he signed a confession.
I don't care.
It doesn't make sense.
Jack and Harry were friends.
Mrs. McAlpin, you said on the telephone
that Private Dunham came here last night.
What did he want?
He was on his way to see you.
For what reason?
He wouldn't tell me.
He said if anything happened to him...
...I should give this to you.
He told me not to open it.
(baby fussing)
Luke's been in a mood since all this started.
It's almost like he knows what's going on.
I'll be right back.
(baby crying)
It's okay, honey. I'm coming.
SCULLY: That's Bauvais.
And Wharton?
They must have known each other when Wharton served in Haiti.
When in Rome.
♪ ♪
Mulder.
Dunham and Guttierez both filed complaints
against Colonel Wharton.
They both cited incidents of abuse-- dates, times.
Scully.
Look at this.
Check out the name on the dog tags.
MAN: Come with me, please.
Take the light out of my eyes.
Where's Wharton?
You'll find out soon enough.
He killed Bauvais, and if you know anything about it,
you'll be tried as an accessory to murder.
Shut up!
Bauvais got what he deserved.
After what he did to McAlpin and Guttierez.
It wasn't Bauvais.
What are you talking about?
Those men were about to testify
against Colonel Wharton, so he stopped them before they did.
MULDER: If you don't believe us,
look in the trunk.
This is what's left of Private Guttierez.
Now, where's Bauvais' body?
We buried him.
This afternoon.
In the municipal graveyard.
♪ ♪
Au nom des saints...
et de la lune.
Au nom des saints
et de la lune.
Au nom des saints
et des étoiles.
What is it, Scully?
I'm all right.
You don't look all right.
No, I'm-I'm fine.
I'll catch up with you.
Just go get Wharton.
♪ ♪
(gasping)
(screaming)
(speaking Creole)
(Wharton chanting quietly in Creole)
Federal agent!
Drop the knife, Wharton.
(speaking Creole in demonic voice)
Drop the knife!
Do it!
(speaking Creole in demonic voice)
(groans loudly)
(speaking Creole)
Ca qui fait mal, ce mal li we.
He who does evil, evil he will see.
(screaming)
(speaking Creole)
(cat meows)
Mulder.
You're okay?
I feel better than you look.
(panting)
What happened?
I don't know.
SCULLY: He's dead.
Did you kill him?
It was Bauvais.
(people chattering)
Here's the passenger manifest you asked for.
Thank you.
They're petitioning to have Bauvais returned to Haiti.
Too bad it has to be in a box.
Is this a complete list?
As far as I know.
There was a boy.
His name was Bonaparte. Chester Bonaparte.
Sure, Chester. Poor kid.
He died six weeks ago in that riot.
MAN (over P.A.): All returnees,
have your papers ready when boarding the vehicles.
(whimpering)
Move it, Wong.
(banging, yelling)
CHILD: I made this!