The Mentalist S6 Ep8 Alternative Ending - "Red John"

Disclaimer: The author of this fan fiction does not, in any way, profit from the story. All creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).

Teresa Lisbon frowned as she looked over the bare walls and empty floors of her office. The sunlight streaming through windows highlighted the patches of dust that she never noticed before...before the FBI agents carried the desks and the file cabinets away. She hugged her own shoulders pensively, shuddering as if from the cold—although it was not cold in her office.

She had been late for the meeting. She should have arrived for the briefing with Supervisory FBI agent Dennis Abbott a half hour ago. Wayne Rigsby, Kimble Cho and Grace Van Pelt had already arrived, fidgeting and downcast. In the press-front page, headline news for the past few days, she recalled the clips showing the CBI Director of Law Enforcement—her former boss. Her consultant, Patrick Jane, had announced to the press his conclusion that Gale Bertram, head of CBI, was the notorious serial killer "Red John".

Teresa smiled wistfully. Patrick Jane always made good press. He was a showman, and reporters loved him. Jane was forgiven for leading the world to believe that a man named Timothy Carter was the serial killer known as "Red John". Of course, it had not been hard to believe that Jane mistook Carter for Red John. Jane's uncovering of Carter's history of serial rape and murders was a bombshell in the newspapers.

Now the meeting with Agent Abbott—the "man in charge".

After Agent Abbott left, Kimble muttered, in a low voice, "What a jerk!"

Teresa responded in a surprised tone, "Hold on, Cho. He's just doing his job."

"Is he? Why won't he let us do our job? It's not right." Wayne spoke then, slapping his palm on the desk chair in frustration. "How could I not have seen it? Bertram was corrupt, dirty. He was only concerned about closing cases if it made him look good!"

Teresa looked up and responded. "Hey, Rigsby. None of us saw this coming. The FBI was investigating this corruption in law enforcement for... who knows how long?

Teresa pauses, sighs, shakes her head. She takes a deep breath. "All right. You guys, this is our test. We've got to do what Jane has been asking us to do all the time we've known him. Read between the lines. See what no one else sees. What are we missing?"

Wayne looks at each of the members of our team, one after another. He says, "We have one big advantage over the FBI. We've worked with Jane for years. So we know how he operates. Nothing is as it seems."

Kimble, looking over at Wayne, says, "How does that help us now? We know he's gone after Red John. So where is he? Where's Jane?"

Grace, looking at each of them in turn, says, "Wait. What do we know already?"

Teresa holds up her hands, palms out, "Go with that. Now, tick off what we know. One, we know that Jane has revealed Red John's real identity—to the world. He did that for a reason".

Kimble says, "Two, we know he did that so Red John will come after him.

Wayne says, "Three. Red John's been forced out of his hiding place for the first time."

Grace responds, "Four. Red John's criminal organization must be weakened with the death of several key men. He's not going to have his full resources. Jane may finally have the advantage."

Wayne exclaims, "Good one, Grace!" Then a troubled look comes over his face. "Wait. Am I the only one who has considered that Bertram might not really be Red John?"

After a long pause, Kimble says "Yeah." "You're the only one."

Grace says "Wait. Wayne may be right. Remember how Timothy Carter pretended to be Red John? What about the fact that Red John knew the list of 7 suspects before Jane?

"Red John has been a step ahead the whole time, he's going to look for a trap from Jane. He's been setting up a trap of his own." Wayne paces the floor. "Jane is expecting Red John to set his trap, and so he sets his own trap. So there will be one trap, followed by a second trap, followed by a trap. Or traps. "

Kimble gives Wayne a long stare. "That makes no sense."

Teresa lifts her hand, frustrated. "Look. The point is, keep your eyes and ears open. Trust no one—except the people in this room. I'm going to meet with Jane now and find out more. I don't know exactly where he is—he doesn't want us to know to protect us. I've got a good hunch I can find him."

Later, after her meeting with Patrick, Teresa goes all that has happened in her mind. Oscar Cordero, another corrupt law enforcement underling, showed up on a grocery store video after shooting a store clerk and helping Bertram make a getaway. The FBI agents were in the park chasing Jane—but... How did they get there that fast? The trace on Jane's cell phone must have given off Jane's location-conveniently at the very time of his meeting with her. Coincidence? Jane clearly anticipated this because then he quickly switched his phone with a random passerby.

Then she pondered the brief high speed chase that followed after, and the stand off where CBI and FBI squared off with each other. Patrick's escaped—when he shouldn't have. He was going to meet Red John—completely alone!

Back in the FBI vehicle, after the team has been handcuffed, Teresa says, "Gang, what just happened?

Grace looks over at Teresa. "You gave Jane your gun."

Kimble looks over then. "Why would you do that?"

Teresa replied, "I don't know. He asked me to trust him. I do trust him. Besides, he hates guns. I don't expect him to use it."

Grace says, "But this is Red John!"

Kimble adds, "Yeah, all the rules have changed now. This is the end game."

Grace says, "Abbott just shut us down."

Teresa responds, "Yes! Yes! He tells his own men to back down. What doesn't he do what every law enforcement agent would do?"

Wayne raises his hand. "He doesn't read Jane his rights.

Teresa replied, "Yes, and...he doesn't search him for weapons. He doesn't find the gun I gave Patrick."

Hesitantly Wayne speaks up. "Uh...boss." Teresa gives him a look. Wayne continues, "Right...right, I know you're not the boss...Anyway, Cho's right. All the rules have changed—and Jane made special preparations for this day."

Teresa looks Wayne full in the face. "What do you mean 'special preparations'?"

Wayne sighs. "Well, once, when no one was around, and he didn't see me, I saw Jane in the target room practicing with a gun like one of ours. Recently, I saw him... I was on my way there myself and Jane had his back to me. I pulled back in the shadows and watch him aim and shoot."

Teresa snorts derisively. "Yeah, right. A few practice shots won't make him an expert. Jane hates guns."

Wayne interrupts, "No, you don't understand. He's a crack shot! I waited until after he left and then I pulled his target sheet."

Kimble looks at Wayne skeptically. "How good?"

Wayne looks around sheepishly, then says, "Better than me! Maybe better than you! He had a perfect score! Bullseye!"

Kimble folds his arms across his chest. "I'm not buying it." Teresa exclaims then, "Why am I just finding out about this now?"

Grace adds, "Yeah Wayne! Why would you keep a thing like this to yourself?"

Wayne responds, "Well, I thought it was a good thing, right? You know, that Jane could take care of himself in a tight place. I also thought that he practiced secretly, because he didn't want anyone to know. I was like...keeping his confidence, you know?"

Kimble says, "No. We don't. You should have told the team."

Teresa holds up her hand. "Never mind that now. Why now of all times would he pack a gun? Is he planning a shoot out with Cordero and Bertram?"

Wayne says, "Think back. What exactly did Jane say?"

Teresa replies, "He said trust him" The team looks at her. "He said 'please'" After a pause, Teresa says calmly, "Look, he won't use it. He told me the gun was just a 'prop' "

Grace interjects, "I agree. He'll keep his word to the chief. He wants Red John to think that he's going to use the gun for some reason."

Kimble says, "You don't know that."

Teresa thinks a moment. "No. Van Pelt is right. Jane has never lied to me. Sure...he leaves things out. He is a master of misdirection. But, he looked me in the eye, and asked me to trust him. I'm sure that he was telling me the truth". Teresa says to the team, "Think! We have to figure out, where would Jane go? He picked the place. What place would he pick?"

Wayne looks at Kimble, "What parks are by here?

Kimble responds, "William Land Park."

Van Pelt says slowly, "There's a place where he goes often. We've found him there before." The members of the team look at one another with a simultaneous realization... "Where his wife and daughter are buried..."

"Alexandria cemetery!"

Wayne asks "Should we tell Abbott?" Teresa shook her head emphatically. "Definitely not. Jane once told me to trust my instincts. Well, my gut tells me Abbott has a hidden agenda. He obviously is using Jane as bait."

Grace says: "Abbott asked for a 'paper map of the area...'

Wayne looks at her. "How do you know that?"

"I was reading their lips-like Jane once taught me. Grace looked deliberately at Wayne. "Before I was pounding my head against the car window, that is, trying to escape while Wayne here yelled at me."

Wayne hangs his head and sighs.

Kimble interrupts. "He's sorry. So. What do you think it means?"

Grace continues, "Every vehicle here is equipped with a GPS, and electronic map that gives points of interest. Why would he ask for a paper map when a digital version is faster?"

Teresa, after a pause exclaims, "He's delaying arrival. He must be part of the Blake association, too. He probably has instructions to wait until the trap is sprung. I've got a bad feeling about this. Guys, we've got to get out of here. Now. Jane needs us."

Wayne looks over. "Good one, Grace!" Grace grins, "Thanks." Then in a serious tone, losing the smile,she says, "Don't think you're out of the doghouse."

Kimble says to Grace, "Give him a break. He doesn't take losing his job, and the likelihood of going to federal prison, very well."

Teresa says in a determined tone, "Nobody's going to federal prison. Not today." Teresa reaches under the dashboard. Her hands are free. Suddenly there is the roar of the engine and the vehicle takes off. She swivels around and looks at the team. Each one holds up unlocked handcuffs. Wayne smiles. "Another benefit of working with an escape artist. Jane showed each one of us how to pick a handcuff lock." The van roars into action and speeds down the street. There are immediate shouts of surprise from the FBI agents assembled on the street. Abbott raises his hand to the second in command.

"Sir?"

"Give them a few minutes. I know where they are headed. We'll give them a chance to arrive, then catch them all in the same net."

Meanwhile Grace looks through the rear view window, "They're not chasing us!"

Teresa says, without turning her head. "I'm not surprised. How close are we to the cemetery?"

"We're close. When we get there, what are we going to use for weapons?'

"Look in the storage area, under the floor boards."

Wayne exclaims, "Boss, we're set! Fully loaded, ready to go!"

When they arrive at the scene, a startled Cordero, standing outside the chapel exit, takes cover behind a nearby statue and begins firing at the van, missing it. At the same time, in the chapel, Patrick has surprised a distracted McAllister with a hidden gun, holding him at bay.

McAllister grimaces. "Very clever, Jane. The hidden bird in your jacket that Cordero could not detect, so you could exploit my ornithophobia..." He attempts a desperate step forward.

"Stand where you are, McAllister. When I shoot at this close range, I won't miss. Hand me your cell phone—slowly." McAllister complies. With a watchful eye on his prisoner, Patrick punches a few keys on the cell phone with the thumb of one hand. He pauses, attentive to sounds outside— and smiles slowly at the sound of shouts, then gunfire.

"Listen." An angry look flashes over McAllister's face.

"Sounds like your man is busy. CBI is here, so Cordero won't stand a chance. Give yourself up now, McAllister. It's too late for you, now.

McAllister snarls, "You are so smug, Jane, still arrogant to the end! Do you think I will allow myself to be arrested?" Patrick shrugs.

Both turn as the door at the other end of the chapel opens and a brief flash of sunlight illumines the hall. A woman in a long garment, a nun perhaps, walks in and begins to walk towards them.

"Violence is never the answer, my children." she says.

McAllister shouts, "Help me! He has a gun!" However, Patrick has slipped the gun in his pocket when the door opened, and the gun is not visible.

Patrick calls out, "No, this is the man...he...he has the gun! Help me!"

McAllister swivels his attention back to Patrick, and hisses. "What's your game here? It won't work..."

Patrick backs away, slowly, increasing the distance between him and McAllister. The nun rushes up, and viciously stabs McAllister, who falls to the floor in complete shock.

"What? Stop, no! No!" Her knife arm raises and lowers again and again. McAllister reacts too late to fend off her attack. Then she turns a contorted face away, and leaps at Patrick. They struggle for a moment. However, Patrick is ready for the attack, anticipating it, and he seizes, then hits her with a candelabra that he has lifted from the floor. The woman goes down, and Patrick stands over her, studying her for the moment. Satisfied that she is out for the count, he returns his attention to McAllister. McAllister is still uncomprehending, as his life blood pours out.

"She stabbed me! Me! But, but..."

"Let's see, I'm guessing that your instruction to your woman here was that she was to attack if she heard gunfire, and that the order could not be countermanded or revoked. You set up this scenario, because you heard I was good with a gun. You took the gun I had from me at the entrance. You were curious to see if I would struggle for the gun. When your woman here heard gunfire, that was her cue to come in—seemingly to help, pretending to be a peacemaker—then she was to launch a deadly attack when she came close. You don't have to agree. I know it to be true. You sent her a quick, cryptic text message while I was delayed at the door by Cordero. "In that message, your follower is instructed to do the opposite of what they are told. So your last text was: "'If you hear gunfire, help him.' To her, that message was to mean, instead 'Kill him'"

Patrick held up the phone he had taken from McAllister. "What you don't know is that I added to your last text message. Simple to do. I added the words: 'Help them both'" "As your underlings do not know you to be Red John, they are indifferent to whom they kill. She would have killed you and me if given the chance."

Patrick pauses. "Yes, I was willing to die, if it caught you. My surviving the crazy woman's attack was... a bonus."

McAllister groaned, "But...but...you... you were supposed to try to have your revenge on me yourself!" McAllister struggled for his next breath. "You were supposed...(gasping) to...to try to kill me with your bare hands..."

"Meh. Revenge is overrated. I did want you to go down. It's only fitting that you have done so by your own bloody hand." Patrick then says sternly, in a low voice, "You are a murderer, and a coward, and an evil man. Besides those other things I said to you earlier—which are also true."

Patrick bends closer to the dying man. "My true revenge? The world will never know you're Red John. I won't tell them. You'll die a nobody, McAllister, -a somewhat inept, unremarkable local sheriff, a bungler, a man everyone already thought was dead, caught in a final twisted scheme of Red John—who the world knew to be Gale Bertram."

Every statement impacts McAllister like a blow to the face. A look of despair flashes across his face, then fury and pain. "No-ooo... B-but, wait...wait...I do have powers...I tell you...Listen, listen.." He gasps heavily.

"What powers? Pathetic. So you saw this coming, did you? You were never very good at the game Rock, Paper, Scissors—or any other game that could be played without cheating. You chose this game, I didn't. You may go now to the place where you belong." Patrick waits, standing over McAllister, hands in his pockets, as he sees the light fade from the evil one's eyes, and hears his death rattle. He withdraws the gun from a pocket, and places it in McAllister's lifeless hand.

Patrick is there when Teresa and the CBI team arrive. The team has shot Oscar Cordero—not fatally—and catches the fake nun with the knife, who has wakened from unconsciousness, finally FBI agent Abbott appears.

Outside the chapel, Patrick waves his hand to the team. "All clear! You'll find a couple of dead bodies inside and an unconscious, homicidal woman inside. The FBI will sort it all out later, I expect."

Patrick swivels his gaze to a handcuffed Cordero, who has been taken into custody.

"Cordero, you and the other followers, you have all been 'Red John'. All of you who follow his orders—committing murder and mayhem at his beck and call, covering up his crimes... You are organizational serial killers. That's why all of you must go down." "What you never realized, is that you were more loose ends for your leader. You would not have survived this night. He just would make a call to another of his demented followers and bam! You'd be shot in the back, or thrown from a moving car...well, you get the picture. You're alive now only because the two men in that building are dead."

Cordero looks down at the ground, disconcerted. The woman stares fixedly into space at no one. She is unmoved, frozen, unresponsive.

Patrick then says to the team, "You'll also find, now that Red John is finished, that his underling Jason Lennon will be coming out of his 'coma' anytime now...he was not quite as ill and near death as he appeared. As a precaution, he will need to be arrested and watched for a while."

Patrick looks over at the FBI men, who have arrived, guns drawn. To Abbott he says, "Hey G-man. You were intentionally delayed. I figured out who your inside man was. Excuse me a moment." Patrick presses a few buttons on the cell phone he has taken from McAllister, and waits. FBI Agent Mullins cannot suppress a look of shock as his phone vibrates in a pocket. He begins to back away cautiously, then pulls the phone from his pocket.

Patrick motions for the agent to answer it, as he grins broadly. "Ah! Agent Mullins, isn't it? Would you care to explain why a dead man has your number on speed dial? And why his recent calls during the 'chase' were to you...over the last hour? No explanation? Too bad. Agent Abbott, this is your mole, as I believe you suspected. Good work!"

The other agents quickly grab Mullins by the arms. Agent Abbott gives Patrick a nod in appreciation. Patrick claps Dennis Abbott on the back, looking at the CBI team. "This man is a straight arrow by all accounts. A little stuffy—but you'll like him when you get to know him."

Teresa says, "One moment. One question for Agent Abbott." "Sir. Did we 'screw up' as you expected? As you said, 'to make your life easy?'

Abbott smiles slowly and admits, "As a matter of fact, you did. Make my life a little easier."

Patrick looks at Abbott. "Do you mind if I speak to Lisbon and the team?" Dennis Abbott smiles and nods, "Go ahead." Then he steps away.

"Guys, you remember Kira Tinsley, of course. She attempted to plant a bug. I planted a bug on her. I learned a little bit more from her than I let on. She was an innocent, not one of McAllister's corrupt followers. That told me that he didn't have the time to create one of his elaborate set ups—by this use of an outsider. This was just one of his mistakes. Yes, I knew, that he knew, she told me about the three dots tattoo. He planted that suggestion at the time of his last fatal visit to her. We were close—too close. I wish that we had saved her."

"So. About Red John's system of communication, I also learned more from Lorelei Martins than Red John intended. I learned there was a number to call. That number constantly changed, he kept the number hidden from his underlings, and also kept the follower hidden from himself once in play. I guessed that his people did not reveal themselves without a phone call, a sign and a countersign. Over these years, I worked out the system and the secrets—the inner workings of a secret organization. His signal, 'Tiger, Tiger' was only effective if the other party had the countersign".

"McAllister delighted in making allusions that even his followers didn't grasp fully. Where does "Tiger, tiger" come from?" Patrick paused as he waited for a reply.

"William Blake wrote it, he lived in the 19th century." said Grace.

Patrick smiles slowly. "Yes. You all know that, and that is where the name 'Blake Association' comes from. In Blake's poem, the tiger is the embodiment of evil.

"Red John embraced this concept of evil, an all-consuming, all-powerful evil –burning bright like an uncontrolled fire.

"However, Red John overlooked an important line in the poem that makes all the difference. That line is: 'Did he who made the lamb make thee?"

"So Blake also refers to a lamb in his poetry. The lamb is the epitome of goodness. If Red John was a tiger, to defeat him in his topsy-turvy world, I had to be a lamb, meek and mild, defenseless.

Grace spoke again, "Like a gentle lamb led to the slaughter; And I did not know that they had devised plots against me' "

Kimble nodded. "Jeremiah 11."

Patrick smiled appreciatively. "Yes. However, Red John could not grasp the concept of a lamb who would sacrifice his life to save others. You, my friends, were willing to sacrifice your careers—and your very lives—to save me. That was the unexpected twist for which Red John failed to plan."

"I knew that Rigsby would remember about my shooting practice and tell the team and that you would arrive, as you did, right on time. You haven't let me down, ever."

Patrick smiles at Wayne. "Rigsby, I'm not quite as good a shot as I appeared, although I can shoot a gun. I switched some of my target practice sheets with those of Cho's—it was a little sleight of hand."

Kimble says, "I knew that."

Wayne grins, "You did not!"

"Yes, I did. By the way, who's getting the pizza to celebrate the successful finishing of a case?" Grace gives a hard look over at Wayne. "I think it should be Wayne, to make up for that crack in the car!"

Kimble says as an aside to Wayne, "Better do it, man. You have several days of groveling to make it up to her. You should start now." Wayne nods, and pulls his cell phone from a pocket. As the team walks over to the car, still talking,

Teresa looks over at Patrick and says, "I'm proud of you."

"Eh? Yes. A good day's work!"

"No! For not killing him yourself. I'm glad I trusted you. I'm glad you're alive."

"Me too. Who knows what I would have done if you hadn't shown up on time?"

Teresa rejoined. "You would have let us do our job and arrest him and he'd be locked away..."

Patrick interrupted. No. No, I don't think so. I might have killed him with my bare hands. Possibly."

Teresa gives him a sidelong stare. "No, you wouldn't."

"Yes, I would. I'd choke the life out of him...He'd be sorry for his murder of my wife and daughter. I'd make him say it, before I finished him off. I'm sure of it." Patrick grows pensive, looking away. He continues, "What a mess that would have been! Then I'd probably be on the run from the FBI, and Abbott would be after me. I'd have to disappear from the scene..."

Then he turned again and smiled at Teresa. "I'm good at doing that though! Disappearing, that is. I think I'm overdue for a trip to the Copacabana. A year, maybe two, or someplace like Rio de Janeiro with its sugar beach, seafood..."

Teresa grins and says, "Oh shut up!"

Patrick continues on, "...the samba...and, there's a drink with brandy, a little like a whiskey sour, only better..." Patrick pauses, takes a breath. He says, "Lisbon. Thanks for showing up. I mean it. Thank you". Then he calls out to the team, "Ok, who ordered the pizza? Did you get one with pineapple? I want pineapple on mine!" He winks at Teresa, who shakes her head chuckling.

Fin