Jemi!
Don't do it! Jemi!
He's gonna drown!
This guy has officially become a pain in the ass.
They're both gonna drown!
- What do you want? - We got your letter.
- What letter? - To God.
- You're not God! - Not even close.
Not much of a swimmer either, really.
I'll go. Be brave.
I'll go find towels.
We need to borrow towels! There's someone in the water!
I got you. Maybe not.
More towels! Sir, please! Sir!
Two more. There.
I gotcha.
Napkins. Great. Coming!
Jemi...!
It's so dangerous. I was gonna go in there
and then I had to get the towels.
There were three. Wendy, you're really wet.
There you go.
You poor thing.
Why did you do that?
It's my job at the Post Office.
We don't like citizens in the water. Makes it hard to deliver mail.
Why did you do that?
OK.
My wife died last Christmas.
All my friends are dead.
Anybody I can talk to is dead.
I wanted to be with my Ann and my friends. You stopped me.
- Why? - Maybe the reward is in the caring.
- You don't even know me! - So you'll do this again tomorrow?
- Probably, yeah. - We only do rescues on our day off.
He's kidding. Of course we'll rescue you.
But could you give us an idea of the time?
No! That's good. You can spend the rest of the day
not butting into other people's business.
He lost his wife and friends. That's so depressing.
Did I tell you I was a recovering workaholic?
- Rebecca, more towels. - OK.
If you were going to kill yourself, why write to God? Why not just do it?
There is nothing wrong
with people choreographing their own ending.
A lot of people do it. Even more people think about it.
Didn't you ever think about it?
Well, I guess I'm just curious to see how the hand plays out.
I'm 74 years old!
I don't have time for another hand to be dealt.
- Maybe you need to meet someone. - Sure. Who would date me?
I got brown spots all over.
I got a voice like a loud snore.
I got a lot of hair in my ears.
Sure, who's gonna date me?
Maybe a blind woman.
If we're gonna keep the ball rolling,
we thought we'd better come up with a system. Mr Dooly?
- Hats? - I get headaches. I can't wear hats.
To people coming in, it looks like hats, but wait till you see this.
Got 'em all categorised, people.
Bin A, these are people's needs. Things, someone, food, love, a break.
Bin B, places and what they need...
"Dear God,
my sister and I are nurses at a retirement home. "
"We read an article that said single people live longer
when they have a pet to love and care for. " Dooly, listen!
"We've got the senior single people. "
"Can you supply the pets? Thank you, Lori and Terri Nathan. "
Hi, how are you?
Darwin! He needs a home.
This is Darwin. Best dog of the lot.
Here, how about a nice kitty?
No, Mr Raskin is allergic to cats. He can't have cats.
- He ought to have a medical sign. - Forget that, go get Mr Raskin!
- Tom. - Excuse me.
Dooly! Dooly, are you completely psychotic?
"Dear God... "
"Well, I've got the twins, Lilly and Charlotte. I thank you for them. "
"But I didn't know it would be such a job raising them!"
"There's feeding, rocking, cleaning. It's day and night, 24 hours. "
"My husband, Kenny, works nights, my in-laws live in Alaska
and my parents haven't spoken to me since I married Kenny. "
"Please, I need a break. Just one night to relax. "
"Thank you, Crystal Fricker. "
"Dear God, I've tried to maintain
our home, my kids and my work since Alex died. "
"You've always answered my prayers. Thank you. "
"I have a steady job and happy, healthy kids. "
"But when I get home from cleaning at the hotel
I don't have the energy to do it again in my own home. "
"Please give me strength and patience with the kids
when they make messes and cause more work for me at home. "
So, this the big date?
There's no date. Sarah gave me the afternoon off,
so I figured I'd test out some new recipes on him.
If Sylvia Plath were alive today
She'd put her head in a microwave oven
- I'll do that one tonight. - OK.
Tom and I are going out but Rebecca will take you next door.
You can play as many video games as you like then she'll take you home.
- We'll have a good time, won't we? - Yes.
- OK. - This isn't a...
I know.
Well, it's a beautiful day today, so you two have a lot of fun.
Is she gonna do that all day?
OK, here come the videos. Let's go.
Charles, I owe you.
Yeah. It's OK, Tommy.
Just clean up after yourselves.
You got about an hour.
- How do you know that guy? - Gave him a tip on a horse.
And he still let us in.
- You're confusing me. - Why?
We both know that you're a screw-up, but lately...
Gloria, trust me, you can't trust me.
That's what I thought. I believe you.
Thank you very much.
What did I promise you? A concert, a picnic and a dance.
And that, my dear, is exactly what you shall have.
So what about your father? I've only heard you talk about your mom.
My dad couldn't cut it as a golfer so he became a golf hustler, I guess.
This is my place.
- Celebrity Apartments? - Yeah.
- Do celebrities live here? - Yeah.
None that you'd actually know, but a lot of international stars.
Huge Honduran contingent. You're not coming, are you?
- Tell me more about your father. - We've done this. He's a golfer.
You told me your dad's a mortician. I didn't laugh.
We talked about Indiana, New Jersey.
I believe we're to the awkward groping part.
Yeah, but you said, "I guess".
So where's your dad?
I don't know.
Where is he?
Well, when I was a kid, one morning, very early,
I heard a noise downstairs.
It was my dad. He was standing there,
and he told me to close my eyes.
I thought he had some sort of a surprise for me.
When I opened them...
...he was gone.
I never closed my eyes again.
Sorry you asked, right?
- And you never heard from him? - No, I never did.
It's still early. You should check the place out.
You'll feel so much better about your own place.
I think I'd like to feel awkward in private.
Just for a few minutes, though.
It's right here. It might be on the messy side.
- I'm sure it's fine. - More company, Tom?
- I won't tell The Enquirer. - Thanks, Otis.
I won't tell Unsolved Mysteries about you.
Tom!
Somebody really trashed the place.
The fish are OK.
Who's Junior?
Someone determined to ruin our evening.
I'm sorry.
It's just stuff.
Yeah, well, it's the only stuff I own.
Possessions are chains.
A free man owns nothing.
You don't really believe that.
You want me to say you don't have a pot to piss in?
Like they say, no good deed goes unpunished.
Would you mail this for me? Word is, you have a lot of pull with the man.
"God, the big guy in the sky. "
- Would you? - We'll take care of it.
- Thank you. - I gotta get some breakfast.
Why would they break my eggs? It makes no sense.
- Don't we know each other? - I don't think so. I'm here a lot.
I love this neighbourhood. I love the ambience, the milieu.
"Dear God, my horn is in hock. "
"The pawn shop will only hold it a few more days. "
"I'm desperate for a horn. "
"Any horn. I need to play! Randy Sky Tyler. "
Here are today's announcements. All the clerks selling Elvis stamps
are not permitted to dress like him.
No, not there! Throw it here. Like me.
You? Like that?
No, not at me! Like me.
- You like me? - No. Get away!
No, no. Like me.
I don't see why you can't do your nails at the end of the day.
Tom, you just don't understand nails.
Changing shift.
You had some visitors again.
Alright, everybody, let's Macarena.
Come on up, I'm having a party.
"Dear God, a friend of ours was burglarised last night. "
"He doesn't deserve much, but what the hell, it's Christmas. "
"Whatever you find for him has to be better
than his old stuff, which he is better off without. "
"Signed, everyone but Tom. "
Our letters are getting to God
and, for that, I am very grateful.
They are getting to God faster than they're getting to my sister.
Coupled with an article in today's "El Periódico"
about this girl and her letter to God,
some are calling it The Case of the Postal Miracles.
This is André James signing off.
Yo, cowboy, take it easy! It was Junior's idea to trash this place.
Dude! Are you boffing the cleaning lady or something? Nice pad!
Hurry up and beat me up, Webster. I gotta get some sleep.
Food, dude!
Listen, man, there ain't gonna be any beating. Junior's dead.
He's dead?
I can't believe it. Heart attack, right?
I knew he needed to lose a few pounds.
Nope. Got hit by a bus. Did a lot of damage to the front end.
So, happy holidays!
Don't mess with my head.
So, what? I'm off the hook now? I'm officially debt-free?
Right. But first things first.
Tonight, you and me are gonna make party like old times!
Wait. Get your own. This is my chaser.
That is, if you can still party.
I heard you and some postal buddies have been doing some good deeds.
You are kidding, right?
This is my greatest hustle of all time, Webster.
Eventually, people will send money through the mail,
I'll take the money out, pay off whoever you work for,
and you can get your boots off of Lucille's blanket.
Tom!
I brought in a horn.
Don't tell me. We're gonna start the DLO marching band?
No, it's for Randy, the homeless guy.
I got a problem. He can't know where it came from. He's too proud.
Make a fake notice-of-delivery slip. He can pick it up himself.
- Perfect. - You're starting to participate.
No, just helping a fellow musician.
I'm Emanda Maine at the Central Post Office
as crowds gather for some sign of a miracle in their lives.
Doug Diamond at LA Post Office with people in search of miracles.
People of all shapes and sizes.
Police feel it could turn into a logistical nightmare.
Can we go again? I have a hair issue.
As a retired juggling motorbike hoodlum, what are you praying for?
- I need a new hog. - Stories of hope.
This one is from a homeless guy living on Ocean Avenue.
He says they really need food, boxes and cans this Christmas.
13 days till Christmas and the holiday spirit is engulfing LA.
Emanda Maine has the update.
Emanda?
Among the usual holiday scenes, a wave of kindness is going on.
For instance, a Salvation Army post was robbed.
People heard about it from the Post Office
and contributed toys to make up for the stolen ones.
A leaflet told Santa Monica homeless people
Santa Claus would bring canned food.
Nobody thought Santa would be coming but...
He is coming!
I'm Barbara Beck. Good evening.
"Dear God, I am young, gifted and Latino,
but the people on the soap operas,
don't think I could play a WASP hunk opposite Susan Lucci. "
"Dear God, I need a jet-black turbo Saab 900."
Of course you do, sir! Poor guy. Put him at the top of the list.
Rebecca's rocking.
"Dear God, I am sorry for my sins. "
"I have had my faith restored these last few weeks. "
"In honour of my patron saint, Paul,
please accept this $5,000 to use as you please. "
Cash?
$5,000? That could do somebody a lot of good.
5,000? Nobody ever sent that before!
Let's add it to the 82 cents in the DLO fund.
- Tom, tell us what we do with it. - You be in charge of the money.
So?
Let me think about this.
Attention, everybody. Be careful.
Some nut outside is baptising our postal people on the head.
Put it back. All of it.
- Turn it in to the Financial Office? - If that's what you do.
The man's an angel.
This is the second time I've seen him return money.
Tom Turner cannot be bought!
It's a setup. They want to charge us with stealing cash from the mail.
- A Federal offence. - Of course!
You're an extraordinarily paranoid guy. I like that!
It's a madhouse out there!
Pushing, shoving, squeezing! I had a little fun!
Mucho más mail for Dear God.
- Tom, what do we do now? - Now?
Now we hang low for a while. See what they do if all this stops.
You think if you guys stop, the letters will stop?
We just got started here. We got all the bins organised and everything.
OK, so we're clear? Low profile.
Try not to do anything nice for a few days.
I was beginning to care.
You know, when you care, you're kind of rewarded for that.
With us tonight is Preston Sweeny, US Postmaster General.
I'm sitting here in Washington DC, very upset.
You don't think God is really answering these letters?
I don't think so.
We have many rules in the postal business.
But we have one ironclad rule.
You cannot open someone else's mail.
Doesn't matter who it's addressed to. Elvis, God, the Easter Bunny.
You, Barbara. You can't open other people's mail. That's the rule.
I vow we will find these people and we will put them in jail!
Thank you, Mr Sweeny. This is Barbara Beck saying goodnight.
Thanks for helping with his homework.
He's better at math than I am. It's frightening.
OK, so clue me in. Are you going to jail?
You afraid you'll have to dress in black
and pine away in front of the prison?
No, I just don't know how to bake a file into a bran muffin.
I see. But it's safe to say
that you were maybe thinking about it.
- You can never tell. - You were considering it.
- I saw that! - Yes.
OK, say goodbye.
Bye.
- Thanks for doing my homework. - See you, buddy.
- Good luck tomorrow. - Yeah.
I saw that, too!
In front of the Post Office, a frenzied make-me-a-miracle crowd
is being fired up by the 90-degree holiday heat wave in Los Angeles.
It was not me. I swear on the Bible.
Did you guys know we was on TV?
They said we did 14 postal miracles since Friday.
We're getting credit for miracles we didn't do.
What is going on?
- Don't you get it? - No.
Well, they do. Faith, Thomas. Faith. People are helping people.
Regular people are doing miracles all by themselves.
And you started it. You should be proud.
Congratulations.
- Let's get to work. - Nice job, guys!
Way to go! Thanks, Tom!
Postal Police! Everybody, freeze!
I am not illegal. I am Puerto Rican.
That's him. But there must be a mistake.
No, that's the guy.
- Eye-dris Abraham? - Idris.
Idris Abraham, you're under arrest. Cuff him good. Put him in the car.
This is big mistake. We fix.
Guy, what...?
- This is great. Like being on Cops. - Why are you...?
How about that guy? Ten days left to his pension and he screws up.
He forged a notice-of-delivery slip and we nailed him.
Everybody, come, go back to work. Back!
- Father? - Wait, I remember you.
You're the beeper man. You walked out on my sermon about Thomas.
- You remember that? - Yeah.
Comedians and priests, we never forget a walkout.
While I'm here, out of curiosity,
how did that sermon on Doubting Thomas end?
Well, you know, Thomas found his belief again.
Then, according to the version I like,
Thomas became a wealthy architect. He moves to India,
he meets this king, who gives him a ton of cash and says,
"Build me a grand palace. "
That's it? The end?
He spent every rupee of the king's fortune feeding the poor.
- When the king found out... - He killed him. Sent his goons in.
No. Thomas told him, "Instead of a palace on Earth,
I've built you a palace in heaven. "
And then he killed him. I got it. Thank you.
Can you hold this, please?
Well, look, the king let Thomas go
and Thomas spent the rest of his happy life sacrificing for others.
- So Thomas conned the king, right? - No.
No, the king was not conned.
The king had faith. He believed.
See, that's where I get confused.
That's good. Confusion is good. Faith isn't arrived at easily.
It's the struggle that gives it its power and its meaning.
You still struggling?
Every day. Yeah.
When times are particularly trying,
I try to act as if everything is as it should be, the way God intends it.
And then, eventually, I get my faith back.
What if you never had it to begin with?
That's a big one, isn't it?
I can't believe I'm doing this. My name is Rebecca.
I'm pretending I remember how to be a lawyer, which I don't.
Do they have anything on us? I mean, him?
A trumpet. Some homeless musician got a horn from God.
They traced it back to Idris, who's charged with tampering with the mail.
He'll probably plea-bargain and throw our bodies on the spears! Ratfink!
No. You didn't hear? No, he confessed.
Confessed to what? He didn't do anything.
They told him if he pleaded guilty, they'd drop the whole investigation.
- But he's the only one not guilty. - I should not be saying this,
but it doesn't exactly feel right to let him take the rap alone.
I feel OK.
I don't know what good it'd do for us to turn ourselves in.
Now, Tom, what do you think?
I think...
...I should have gone to jail in the first place.
I'd have met a better class of people there.
A study shows that approximately 55 percent
continue to believe in a thing called miracles.
Faith is a natural response. It is cynicism we learn.
Wait, we have a breaking news story. Let's go to the LA Post Office.
This is Tom Turner, a postal worker,
with some new information on the God Squad Case. Mr Turner?
Yeah, they arrested the wrong man. Idris Abraham was a scapegoat.
- Really? - He wasn't involved in any of this.
- And how do you know this? - Because I did it all.
Excuse me?
I did it all. It was me.
I did everything.
I've got another client.
As we approach Christmas, the case
of the so-called Postal Miracles takes another strange turn.
Previously arrested Idris Abraham has been set free and given his pension,
while postal worker Tom Turner has confessed
and been charged with answering God's mail without authorisation.
The Postal Miracle trial has taken a holiday high-speed lane
through the overloaded court docket.
Having dispensed with the arraignment, we are ready for trial.
And the whole country is watching as the Post Office miracle workers
take on the US Government in a modern-day David versus Goliath.
Legal experts predict that, in this case, Goliath will win.
I agreed to let you broadcast from here
but you gotta work or I'll get fired. Pick up a brush. Grab the putty!
I'm here for you.
I meant to keep you guys outta here, so you could continue your work.
I'm sorry.
Mr Bacon?
This court is now in session. Judge Kits Van Heynigan presiding.
Stuart Banks, for the prosecution. For the defence, Rebecca Frazen.
Excuse me.
Pardon me.
Excuse me. Stuart!
Hi. When did you get out of the rubber bungalow?
Good to see you. Gentlemen.
- He knows you? - I used to live with him,
in another life. A total sociopath.
Not a problem.
Your Honour, we are prepared today to charge one Mr Tom Turner
with several counts of tampering,
impersonating a Federal employee and theft of government property.
Does the defence have an opening statement?
Not at this time.
I guess we never thought about who Tom was,
or his people, or how God had contacted them.
I thought he was a nice man, that Tom Turner.
So you turned to Tom Turner?
Well, no. I turned to God.
What he did was very nice,
but I don't know if what he did was right.
Thank you. No more questions, Your Honour.
The prosecution rests.
OK, give it to me straight. Worst-case scenario.
One to five years for every count, or every miracle.
12 miracles. You could get 60 years.
We'll adjourn until 1 pm.
Lunch. I gotta go.
Can I have my son back now?
I'm outside the LA Federal Court, where lawyers for the prosecution
and defence are locked in contentious legal debate
over the origins, motives and parties responsible
in the so-called Postal Miracle trial.
I've dealt with some of these attorneys.
People, I've been to boxing matches that are more civilised.
- You may be seated. - Mr Turner.
Are there any witnesses for the defence?
Witnesses? I don't even know where my lawyer is.
We're here.
We're here, Your Honour.
We're all here.
I was basically the ringleader. El número uno.
El hombre con los manos de piedra. I'm the one you're looking for.
He was a pawn in the chess game of life.
Why would a con like Tom Turner do good deeds?
Think about it.
- Did you talk them into this? - No. They all wanted to do it.
Do you have to type while I'm talking?
It was! It was Thursday. I threatened Tom.
I said, "Either get in on this or I'll bite out your spleen!"
Mr Dooly, do you really expect us to believe you're the enforcer type?
Yeah. You got a problem with that, bobbing head?
Wanna see? Wanna see me enforce something?
I'd like to enforce you. Let's take it outside! Come on, let's go!
I want this man removed from my courtroom.
Take him out.
I'll get you, you legal lump of lard!
Lighten up here.
You come down to the Post Office for stamps, you'll be in line a week.
Now, Mr Vidov, if you would give us your impression of the defendant...
I've lost the witness, Your Honour.
No, right here. I lost pipe. I'm trying to stop smoking. I'm nervous.
There's no smoking in the courtroom.
No? OK.
Now, if you would give us your impression of Mr Tom Turner.
See, I do believe that God may or may not live in heaven...
And you're going to heaven?
I believe in Russian proverb.
It says, you go to heaven for weather and hell for the company.
- May I finish, please? - Knock yourself out.
I do believe that God also lives within each of us.
Is this going somewhere?
Perhaps He does not live within lawyers.
But I believe that God was speaking through Tom.
Tom Turner made ordinary people do extraordinary things.
We need this.
As his supervisor, I covered up for him.
Therefore, I am as guilty as him.
OK.
Enough. Fine.
Is there anybody else here who would like to confess?
Is there anybody else here that the defence would like to blame?
Maybe society at large?
Maybe the media?
Maybe, I don't know, Lex Luthor.
Maybe Sacco and Vanzetti. Maybe Hannibal Lecter.
Maybe the one-armed man. What the hell is going on?
Now that I have your attention, Mr Banks,
please proceed with a little more decorum,
rather than this childish display of histrionics.
Yes, Judge Kits Van Heynigan.
The prosecution is finished with its cross-examination.
It is so obvious this whole performance is just to impress me.
Put your arm around me.
- What? - Put your arm around me.
Does the defence rest?
Rebecca?
Yes. Defence rests.
In that case, Your Honour,
the prosecution is ready to begin its summation.
After a five-minute recess.
This may be the first time a serial killer
has actually killed with poisoned cereal. No one knows the motive.
And we have a bulletin in the Who's Answering God's Mail case.
That's right, Barbara.
Experts are even more certain that the prosecution's case will prevail.
It's defence attorney Rebecca Frazen's first time in the courtroom
since leaving the legal profession two years ago for unknown reasons.
Rumour has it she appeared at a deposition
for an animal-rights case totally nude.
Will you stop the shaking? I'm trying to listen!
The Government wishes to keep its focus on Mr Tom Turner,
despite the multitude of sins confessed to by his co-workers.
Now, what do these co-workers have in common?
All of them have worked at the Post Office for years
without ever committing a crime.
- That's a good point. - Shut up!
The defendant, however, a man with a dubious character,
arrived a month and a half ago,
at precisely the same time that these so-called miracles began to occur.
He broke the law
and he directed others to break the law.
But worst of all, he literally chose to play God,
to who knows how many hundreds of good and faithful people.
And what of the countless others who write to God every day?
There must be accountability here.
There must be a reckoning.
This is no petty misdemeanour, Your Honour.
This is hurtful and cruel fraud.
The Government demands the maximum fine and imprisonment.
I know, Tom. I was the one that got you into this
and I'm gonna figure out something tonight.
- And I'm gonna get you out. - Thanks.
We'll adjourn until nine tomorrow morning.
"I just want you to know
Joey and I think you did the right thing and we're proud of you. "
"PS, I included something to make you smile. "
Here we are.
I didn't know Rebecca had dogs.
Dogs?
Your Honour, these are my witnesses for my closing argument.
- Alright, proceed. - Thank you, Your Honour.
Let me take you back, back millions of years ago,
when the Earth spewed forth many different species
from its molten loins.
Some species stayed in their microscopic state, others moved on.
No matter how far they developed,
they all retained one common characteristic
which I will demonstrate for you now.
Your Honour,
this is Rocky.
And Rocky is a healthy little doggie, aren't you, sugars?
And that is his friend, Taffy. And Taffy's been a sick puppy all week.
Now, Taffy needs some nourishment,
and in my pocket I have a little doggie treat,
which I am going to set between these two old friends.
Now, healthy doggy Rocky cares about his poor sick friend Taffy,
but he still quickly gobbled up the treat.
Gobbled it up!
Because Rocky acted only on instinct and not feelings.
Because that is what animals do, Your Honour.
You big thing, you!
But human beings,
human beings are able to help their friends,
because human beings can recognise when their friends are sick,
or our friends are happy,
or our friends are... sad.
Now, yes, maybe Tom Turner did do
some of those things that the learned prosecutor,
who sucks his thumb in his sleep, says that he did.
But Tom Turner didn't do these things for himself.
Tom Turner did these things for other people.
Can the dogs leave now, before there's an accident?
- OK, everybody up. - Rocky and Taffy may step down.
Mayday! Mayday!
We all know what Tom Turner did. What we don't know is why he did it.
Things aren't going well. I need all the help I can get.
- Would you like to know why? - I'd like to know.
I need sorters, carriers, drivers.
Speaking on his own behalf,
may Tom Turner finish my closing argument?
Roll the trucks.
You didn't prep me on this.
Just tell them the truth, or... make something up.
Proceed. I want to celebrate Christmas before it's New Year's.
- She's making Tom speak? - Yeah.
Thank you, Judge Kits Van... Heineken.
- I can't pronounce your name. - Then call me Shirley.
But let's get this thing moving along.
I don't have any dogs with me and I'm not a very good dancer.
I can only tell you my thoughts.
I lay awake most of last night, wondering how I ended up here.
About how I've spent my life playing people for fools.
And these losers' letters to God gave you a sudden change of heart?
They didn't. When I first saw them, I thought these people were saps.
If I could have taken advantage of them, I would have.
But they didn't have anything to take, except their faith.
And I didn't even know what that was.
I mean, how could people,
especially people dealt such crummy, pathetic hands,
have faith in anything or anyone?
I don't know how things got going,
but it's not because I had some sort of noble intention.
If anything, it's because I met somebody who saw right through me.
I wanted her to think I was a better person than we both knew me to be.
She's not here right now.
Her name is Gloria.
She had to work. As many do, I've discovered.
Window. Mr Bacon, will you please see to it
that all of the windows are tightly closed?
Yeah, Tom!
- Proceed, young man. - Well, that's pretty much it.
I mean, the letters kept pouring in and I began to believe.
To believe that I could really help people
and that that was more rewarding than any con that I could pull.
And then I found, this is the really bizarre thing,
the less I tried to take advantage of people, the more I got back.
Your Honour, I lost my programme notes.
Is this where we all clap for Tinker Bell?
You're blessed with a con artist's gift
of talking his way out of trouble.
That didn't sound like a compliment.
So how do I know if your words are sincere
or if they're some cynical attempt to talk your way out of trouble?
I don't know.
I appreciate your candour, Mr Turner.
And I hope that you can appreciate...
Would somebody please tell me what is going on out there?
The Federal courthouse is surrounded
by what appears to be every mail truck in the Southland.
Outside the Federal courthouse, traffic is at a standstill.
Tom in jail, no mail.
Your Honour, you're gonna have to see it to believe it.
There must be 1,000 postal trucks out there.
That's a damn miracle.
Let go of me.
I am Postmaster General Preston Sweeny.
Sure! I'm Shaquille O'Neal, this is Michael Jordan,
but you still can't go in.
I flew in from Washington. I left a party to come here.
He is the Postmaster General! Sorry.
Thank you very much. I'll remember you. Let go of me!
Mr Sweeny, let's have a photograph!
- We met at your daughter's wedding. - She's divorced.
It's the day before Christmas, I got 30 million pieces of mail backed up.
Fruitcakes are rotting all over this country. Do something.
- Don't tell me what to do. - Tom Turner, the defendant.
My client might plead no contest to one count of unauthorised...
- Miracle doings. - Are you nuts? Forget it!
Since he passed his postal exam,
I move that all charges be now erased from his record.
Free Tom T!
They seem to like Tom, Your Honour.
The mail must be delivered. Please.
With the proviso that the defendant complete a year of employment,
as was previously ordered by the lower court,
this court finds the defendant, Tom Turner,
not guilty.
Tom Turner, the Rocky Balboa of the judicial system,
has scored a knockout. Acquittal.
Tom Turner, not guilty, as in innocent.
As in, he needed a miracle and he got one.
I was wrong about you.
- Yes, you were. - Thanks, Rebecca.
I'll see you at work.
You missed my speech.
Way to go. I gotta see my buddy, the Postmaster General.
It was a piece of cake. I think I might go to law school.
The verdict is in. Not guilty.
You didn't even write a Dear God letter!
Mr Turner, if you don't come out here and wave, there'll be a riot.
By the way, you won the bet. Steep odds.
- You bet the bailiff on the verdict? - Just a silly side bet.
There's Joey.
- Hi, Mom. - There's my mom.
Where?
He's got a girl with him.
- Really? - Yeah.
Close your eyes.
Take a chance, Tom.
See?
So the trial of Tom Turner ended but the effects of the God Squad linger
through the holiday season and, hopefully, even longer.
A side note. Herman Dooly got his old route back
and returned to the neighbourhood which had cost him his job.
Hi, everybody, I'm back. I got my route back. I'm back.
- Mr Roscoe, how are you? - Herman, how are you doing?
Good to see you. Merry Christmas. Take care.
Have a happy New Year.
Hi, Mrs Cooper. Hi, Dee-Dee! How are you?
- Welcome back. - Good to see you.
Stay calm, Mr Dooly.
Hi, Wallace.
I'm sorry that I bit you in the knee.
I was just under a lot of pressure at the time.
It seemed like the thing to do.
You were barking, too. So it was kind of...
I don't want to lay no blame or nothing.
Anyway, I'm sorry.
See you around, pal.
Happy holidays, Wallace!
Mrs Morgan, got those cookies with the raisins?