0944-------------------------------------
(Monday morning, INT: hospital room.)

JH (slowly taking the gun apart and putting it, piece by piece, in the sharps disposal box): Anyway, yes, the driver's license was Richard's, and the gentleman I beat up used it to identify himself as such to the police. That's why I initially thought that I had spoken to Richard, until I saw his picture in the wreath.
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RoK (still clutching his hand): What are you doing?
JH: Continuing to answer your questions. The gun isn't why I was doing that.
RoK: No, I mean why are you putting it in the sharps disposal?
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JH: This is a device designed to cause a change in human biology. It is malfunctioning, it is dangerous, and we do not need it. As I understand it, this box is where devices that fit that description are supposed to go.
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RoK: You're a damn crazy person, and I don't care. Do you or do you not know where I can find whoever killed my son?
JH (holding a firing pin): Well, I'll give you a hint: you are reeeally really close.