Candyman

You're under arrest.

Get on your knees.

I didn't do anything.

Hands! Hands! Hands!

William, I know I told you to take out the laundry.

- Billy, where you going? - Laundry.

- Oh, can you do mine? - No.

I hope Sherman gets you.

If you see him, let us know.

We don't need him scaring any more kids, all right?

And that's the lowdown. Them kids.

They're still looking for him.

Just don't get out after dark. You know?

That's what I said.

Suspicious noise from inside the building. We're gonna check it out.

- You nervous? - What?

You're doing that thing with the bottle, with your hands.

- Are you a little fidgety? - No. No.

- Yeah. - Are you nervous?

No, I want to become best friends with your sister.

See? How would you feel about that?

- I'm fine. - Uh-huh.

Uh-uh. Uh-uh.

What is this wine? Walgreens? Rothschild's?

We have a moscato in the fridge, if that's more your taste.

I think Postmates delivers wine.

Is this one of yours?

Yes. Very old piece.

He hates that I put that up there.

- At some point, you gotta move on. - Except that you haven't though, right,

made a piece in, what, two years?

It's just that you're my muse, and I don't see you often enough, Troy.

Mm-mmm. Mm-mmm.

- Oh, my gosh, stop. You are too much. - Hmm?

- Thank you. - Brat.

- Let it breathe. - Shut up.

He's still salty we didn't use him as our realtor.

- As you can tell. - Mm-hmm.

- Horrible. How can you stand that? - No, no, no, sweetie.

You don't know the first thing about Chicago real estate.

He must like you,

because he's really showing his ass.

- Isn't he always? - You overpaid, Bri.

It's not just the inside that counts.

- It's close to the gallery. - Yeah, it's very practical.

- Okay, what is wrong with it? - Nothing.

As I told my sister many times,

- the neighborhood is haunted. - Everywhere is haunted.

- Troy, do not start with that. - Sure, sure, sure,

but why choose a place that used to be called Smokey Hollow?

Then, Little Hell, then what is it? Combat Alley?

- What's it called now? - Cabrini-Green.

It was the projects.

It was affordable housing that had a particularly bad reputation.

- You would never know. - Because they tore it down

and gentrified the shit out of it.

Translation: White people built the ghetto and then erased it

when they realized they built the ghetto.

- Oh, no offense. - None taken.

They took the opportunity to make it livable.

I could've got you a better conversion.

They kept telling people they were gonna make it better,

moving 'em from place to place, but they were just tearing it down,

so they could develop everything around it.

Oh, like here.

You guys want to hear a scary story?

- No. - Too bad.

But I voted no.

- Troy… - Uh-oh.

Oh, my gosh.

Really?

This shit better be good.

This is a story

about a woman named Helen Lyle.

She was a grad student, a white grad student,

doing her thesis on the urban legends of Cabrini-Green.

For research, she came down to Cabrini a few times, you know?

Asking questions, taking pictures of graffiti, of people.

And then,

one day,

she just…

…snaps.

She beheaded a Rottweiler.

By the time the police show up,

she's in one of the apartments, doing snow angels in a pool of blood.

- Ew. - Bullshit.

- Troy. - Bullshit.

- Where do you get this? - She killed a Rottweiler?

This is extra, even for you.

There are articles written about this.

Look it up.

The authorities take her in,

but she escapes almost immediately.

She goes on a rampage,

leaving a trail of bodies in her wake and then,

the baby of one of the residents…

…is abducted.

The mother is devastated. Everyone is looking for him,

and nothing.

On the night of the annual bonfire,

with all of the residents of Cabrini watching…

…Helen arrives…

with a sacrificial offering.

Baby in her arms, she runs towards the fire,

but they're on her, quick.

They say she was in a fugue state, fighting back blindly.

But they got the baby free.

While everyone is fussing over him,

Helen stands up,

and walks right into the fire.

And it's on that spot that she dies,

burns to death, right in the middle of Cabrini-Green.

Is my rosé still in the freezer?

You don't want the moscato?

Moscato's a dessert wine.

- Bye, Bri-Bri. - Love you.

- Nice to meet you. - And, Anthony, get painting!

My sister's not trying to support you the rest of her life.

Put down those weights, pick up them brushes.

- Troy… - Come on.

He's funny.

He is ridiculous.

He is right.

I'm just glad Troy's finally dating someone normal.

I was getting exhausted trying to keep up with all those European fashion designers.

Hello?

What time is Clive coming tomorrow?

10:00 a.m.

You feeling good about what you're showing?

Uh, I think so.

Uh…

Some stuff he might enjoy.

Mm-hmm.

Okay, okay.

Huh.

I guess she did kill a Rottweiler.

Damn.

I don't care.

I'm not trying to get creeped out in my new apartment before bed.

Your new apartment is ghost-proof.

- It was on the Zillow listing. - Our new apartment.

Mm-hmm.

Sorry.

Come here.

Hmm.

Who are you, man?

Uh, well…

This is Anthony McCoy of two years ago.

I want the Anthony McCoy of the future.

I want the great Black hope of the Chicago art scene of tomorrow.

That's the guy that I gave a solo show to straight out of grad school.

Look, I really don't want to have to go through

the trouble of replacing you in the summer show,

but you're the only person who hasn't shown me what I'm putting up!

- I'm working on something. - Dig into that history of yours, dude!

I'm thinking about doing something about the projects.

- And about how white supremacy… - White people.

Yeah, how it creates these spaces

of rampant neglect for communities of color,

- in particular, Black communities. - Yeah, like where you're from.

- Yeah. Bronzeville. - South Side is kind of played.

Uh, or Cabrini-Green.

- I'm hungry. - Me too.

Bye, babe.

- Don't forget we have your mom's tonight. - 7:00.

Bye.

They'd almost never come round here back in the day.

Unless it was to take someone in.

But that was a long time ago.

Now they can't seem to stay away.

At night, they post up where the last of us still live,

a police car on either side of the block.

Keeping us safe…

or keeping us in.

You've lived around here for a while?

Uh, since before the high-rises came down.

William. William Burke.

Anthony McCoy.

You need a hand?

Home sweet home.

Ah, the more things change, the more things stay the same.

How you doing, brother?

Ask the white people around here about "Girl X," Dantrell Davis.

Blank stares.

One white woman dies in the hood, and the story lives on forever.

It's a good story, I guess.

You mind if I take some notes?

Makes you think about what could make someone just snap like that.

Helen Lyle was out here looking for Candyman.

You ask me, I say she found him.