The farm hands are on their way in.
Should I fetch Charlotte?
No. Leave her be. This will just set her off.
Is he still in his room? Last time I checked he was asleep on the settee.
Let's go wake him up.
♪ For he's a jolly good fellow For he's a jolly good fellow
♪ For he's a jolly good fellow
♪ Which nobody can deny. ♪
Happy birthday!
What do we know, George?
Very little thus far, sir. Higgins and I just got here ourselves.
Do we have a name? Alexander Taylor.
He was discovered by his wife, son and two farm hands.
They had gathered to celebrate his 60th birthday.
Where are the witnesses?
Detective, we have Bernice Taylor, wife of the victim.
Joshua, his son, and the two farm hands, Clive Brewster and Norman Copps.
Why are you wasting time talking to us? We know who did it.
You do? It was my daughter!
She's in her room. She's locked the door and she won't come out.
We don't know it's her, Mother.
Don't be stupid, who else would it be?
Her name is Charlotte and you should be very careful.
Miss Taylor? Detective Murdoch of the Toronto Police. I'd like to have a word with you.
Miss Taylor?
Force the door.
Stand back inside. We're coming in!
I'm sorry!
I'm sorry.
What are you sorry for?
I killed Daddy.
I see.
I think I've got the devil inside me.
Miss Taylor, please give me the axe.
Give it to me.
Give me the axe. Now.
No!
NO, no, no!
How is the arm, George? She broke the skin, sir.
There's quite a bit of bruising. My uniform took the brunt of it.
She seems docile now, even somewhat disconsolate.
George, she admits to killing her father and faces death by hanging.
All good cause for sober self-reflection.
I don't care if she's dancing the Gay Gordon.
If she signs a confession, we'll argue for leniency.
I don't want this to turn into another Lizzie Borden fiasco.
She made the whole police department look like complete bloody fools.
Who's Gay Gordon?
Scottish, I believe.
Good morning, Miss Taylor.
I'm Detective Murdoch.
Do you remember me? Were you the one I bit?
No.
That was Constable Crabtree.
Please convey my apologies to him.
I will.
Miss Taylor, as you no doubt are aware, murder is a capital of fence.
But, if you're willing to co-operate and sign a full confession, we will argue for leniency.
Do you understand? Yes, of course.
All right...
Miss Taylor, did you strike your father in the chest with an axe last night?
Yes, I believe I did.
And why did you kill your father?
I'm possessed by the devil.
Miss Taylor, I'm afraid the courts won't accept a confession from someone who claims
the devil made them do it.
But it's the truth.
Miss Taylor, Charlotte, did your father beat you?
Maybe.
Is that why you killed him?
I don't remember. Miss Taylor... It's the truth. I don't remember.
This girl is willing to sign a confession but you won't let her?
Sounds familiar. She doesn't remember committing the crime, sir.
Only standing over the bloodied body with an axe in her hand.
After she plunged it into his chest. This isn't unprecedented.
People have been known to block out memories of traumatic events. It's called hysterical amnesia.
Anyone could have killed Mr Taylor during Charlotte's black-out. You know the game she's playing.
She feigns co-operation hoping to avoid the noose, yet leaves the door open for acquittal.
This woman is clearly disturbed.
Of course. Nobody sticks an axe through Daddy's ribs
unless they've got a few bats in the belfry.
I understand you're concerned and if Charlotte Taylor committed the crime we'll find out.
"If."
One blow to the upper chest. Missed the heart but severed the left pulmonary artery.
Death would have been quick.
Yes, but if he was asleep it certainly would have awakened him.
What sort of blood spatter would you expect from a wound such as this?
Miss Taylor had almost no blood on her clothing.
The dynamics are difficult to predict. One must account for the recoil of the ribs
as well as the pressurised spray from the severed artery.
Is it possible she could have escaped such spatter?
It's possible, yes. Likely? No. I would have expected her to be fairly drenched in the stuff.
She's savage.
She's an arm-biting, axe-wielding savage.
George, I need you to return to that property and look for any items of clothing with blood on them.
Yes, sir. Also, we'll need to speak to anyone who was in or around that house
in the hour prior to the body being discovered.
It would appear her brother Joshua is already here.
Please, sir. I wish to see my sister.
I'm afraid access to prisoners is restricted.
But I must see her.
She needs me. She's very fragile.
Begging your pardon, she didn't appear that fragile last night.
I don't mean in a physical way.
She's mentally unwell.
Her behaviour can be erratic, especially when she's upset.
Has she been violent before?
Never without provocation.
But if she was provoked?
Then it would be self-defence, would it not?
My father was a cruel and angry man especially when he was drunk. Was he drunk last night?
He was drunk every night.
I'm not sorry that he's dead.
I know that's a terrible thing for a son to say, but it's the truth.
And what were you doing last night between seven and eight pm?
Am I a suspect then?
That will depend on your answer.
I was in my room until just before eight, then went to the kitchen to join the birthday celebration.
Can anyone confirm this?
I'm sorry, no. Now can I please see Charlotte?
She needs to know she's not alone.
Joshua! It's all right.
I'm here. I'm here.
Sir... I'm afraid we haven't found any garments with blood on them.
They've probably been disposed of by now, but keep looking.
I've informed Bernice Taylor and the farm hands that you'll be interviewing them.
Let's start with the farm hands.
You were in the bunkhouse between seven and eight except for a period of 15 minutes
when you went to buy pipe tobacco?
That's right.
The store is 300 yards away, it shouldn't take you more than three or four minutes either direction.
Yet, according to the other farm hand, you took 15?
I don't know why you're talking to me. It's obvious who done the old man in.
Who's that?
That... Loony daughter.
Off her bloody nut, she is.
Spends her days on the swing, watching us work.
Sucking her thumb like a little girl.
Clive didn't seem to mind but...
she gave me the creeps.
Did she ever talk about her father?
As in, "I'm going to bury an axe in his chest?" No.
She didn't like her father much, nobody did.
She was more afraid of him than anything.
What did you think of him?
We got on.
But I get on with pretty much everybody.
Mr Brewster, where were you during the 15-minute period when Mr Copps went to buy pipe tobacco?
It wasn't me that killed him, sir.
But if my opinion matters at all, I don't think it was her that done it, neither.
Why would you say that?
Because it just don't seem like the girl I've come to know.
You know who I think done it?
It was that woman who calls herself her mother.
Me?
You have the murderer in custody. She confessed.
Not exactly.
She can't take responsibility for her actions is what it is.
She may be crazy as a March hare but she's not an innocent.
Believe me. Really?
We tried, we really did. Alex took a firm hand but it did no good.
He always thought she was either crazy or evil.
I've thought it was a bit of both.
Where were you during the hour prior to finding your husband's body?
I split my time between the kitchen and the dining room.
At about 7.40 I went upstairs to put on my good dress.
It was his birthday after all.
You were alone? For the most part.
So no-one can confirm your whereabouts during that time?
That's right.
Bernice Taylor was in the kitchen.
Charlotte was in her bedroom, which was across the hall from Alexander Taylor's study.
The son, Joshua, was in his bedroom.
Where was the axe?
Buried in a log outside the porch.
Whoever killed Alexander Taylor would have retrieved the axe and accessed the study by way of these stairs.
Presumably the killer would have exited the same way. It would have taken less than two minutes.
So what you're saying is, Charlotte, or any of these four, could have done it?
Yes.
Bloody marvellous!
It's as I was saying... Sir?
Everyone is in different parts of the house. No-one sees anything.
Daddy gets axed and she walks.
It's Lizzie Borden all over again!
I'm not going to stand by while some smartass turns this into a nursery rhyme.
Let's get her back into the interview room. I'll take a crack at her myself.
You plunged an axe into your father's chest and now you're saying you don't remember it?
I only remember pulling it out.
That's bloody convenient, isn't it? Does this happen to you a lot, this forgetting business?
Yes. Does it?
I often forget bad things I've done.
That's how I know I'm possessed.
Listen to me, missy. I'm onto your game.
Do you think this ploy is going to help you escape the noose?
No. Good. Because it won't! A jury of your peers will see right through your wide-eyed innocent act
to the cunning little schemer you are. I'm not...
And they will hang you until you're dead.
You may not remember your neck breaking as the rope snaps taught
but sure as I'm standing here you're going to feel it! No!
Leave her alone! Sir... I've a good mind to...
Go on, I'll claw your eyes out.
Sir, please. Leave her alone with me for a moment.
What's the matter? Are you scared of me?
What did you mean, "Leave her alone?" Leave who alone?
Charlotte.
But you're Charlotte. No, Charlotte's gone away for a bit.
Then who are you?
I'm her guardian angel.
You can call me Maddie.
You're Charlotte's guardian angel?
Well, maybe not an angel.
I watch over her.
Charlotte's weak, you know.
Someone's got to watch out for her.
By striking a police inspector?
Your inspector's a big boy.
He can handle it.
Where is Charlotte now? I don't know.
Is Charlotte aware of you?
No. You'd think she would be after all the situations I've left her in.
The thing is, I have no control over when Charlotte comes back.
Is that why Charlotte has no recollection of killing her father?
Because you did.
Maddie?
Who's Maddie?
You're telling me there's two women occupying the same body?
The same brain?
Dual personalities are rare but they have been reported in medical literature.
But what of the soul, sir? We're only allotted one.
Does that soul split into two? Half go to heaven, half go to hell?
I don't know, George.
What if one of the personalities committed the murder without the knowledge of the other,
do they both hang? That doesn't seem fair.
That's what the lass is counting on, isn't it?
Sir, her family has noted her instability for years.
If this is all a diabolical scheme, she's been planning it for some time.
All right.
Assuming there's a germ of truth to this claptrap, you're saying it was this Maddie who did it?
She clearly has violent tendencies.
So what's your next step?
Consult with an expert.
I came as soon as I heard. I appreciate it, Dr Roberts.
Did I understand the telegram correctly?
Do you really have a case of dual personality on you hands?
It appears so. Have you ever dealt with such a case?
Regrettably, no, they're extremely rare, but it's a fascinating condition!
This is Charlotte Taylor, shy, withdrawn.
But her alter ego, Maddie, is quite the opposite.
Detective, I would very much like to study Miss Taylor, but I realise you have your own agenda.
Yes, I need to find out what happened in that house.
Whether she's guilty or not, I'm convinced this woman holds the key.
I'm possessed by the devil. Do you really believe that?
What else could it be? It's not me doing these things, I swear it.
It's not the devil, Charlotte. Then what is it?
Am I crazy? I don't think you are.
Then how do you explain the things I do?
What things?
Once I woke up stark naked in a strange man's bed. I don't remember how I got there.
I ran out of the house but he chased after me, so I started screaming.
The police came and took me home.
Father was very angry. He locked me in the cellar for two days.
I also do other things.
Terrible things.
I don't remember doing them but everybody else does.
What's wrong with me?
You have a very rare condition called a dual personality.
Your mind is divided into two distinct entities.
Someone very different from you emerges when you become upset.
She views herself as your protector.
My protector?
She wouldn't do these things if she were my protector.
Charlotte, you don't seem entirely shocked at this revelation.
Have you sensed the presence of someone else?
I always thought it was the devil.
I suppose I should be grateful it's not.
She calls herself Maddie?
Strange men have called me that.
Not the kind of men decent girls should make company with.
Did she do it then?
Did she kill my father?
We have no idea.
She exhibits the symptoms but obviously my diagnosis is incomplete until I speak with Maddie.
The question is how to bring her out?
She seems to only emerge when Charlotte is threatened.
The last thing we need to do is cause more trauma to her psyche.
Perhaps we could use hypnosis.
There's no guarantee it will work. We're in uncharted territory here.
You're floating.
Free from every constraint.
Released from the bounds of time and flesh.
You have no body.
Can you feel the chair beneath you? No.
Charlotte, this is Detective Murdoch.
I'd like to speak to Maddie, please.
Maddie's not here. Where is she?
I don't know.
You should see this.
We found it in the cellar. Higgins dug it out of a coal bin.
Where's Mrs Taylor now? I've brought her in. She's in your office.
Thank you, George.
I took it off after I finished baking the cake.
I dropped it in the hamper in the bedroom. Charlotte must have put it on before she killed Alexander.
So she went down to the cellar, hid it in a coal box,
returned to the scene of the crime and retrieved the axe
then went to her bedroom and waited for the police to arrive? That doesn't make sense.
Nothing that girl does makes sense.
She must have been trying to frame me.
Was the mother being set up then?
Possibly. I suppose anybody could have stuffed the apron in the coal bin.
The question is, why?
Sir, I have never seen a woman express such disdain for her own daughter.
Hard to love a child like that I suppose.
Yes. Is she unloved because she's disturbed
or is she disturbed because she is so unloved?
Any luck? I just can't seem to bring Maddie out.
I was afraid of this.
We could use drugs. I've been experimenting with fungal hallucinogens.
I guess we'll have to do this the hard way.
Will she remember this session?
No.
Bring her out, please.
Wake up, Charlotte.
Charlotte... You've been under hypnosis.
Do you know what we've learned? What?
You've been lying to us. No.
Yes, you murdered your father.
No, it wasn't me.
It was Maddie. There is no Maddie. There's only you, Charlotte.
You butchered your own father in cold blood and now you're going to pay for it.
You are going to hang by the neck until you are dead!
Stop it! Stop it!
You can't win, Maddie.
You have to co-operate.
Are you going to introduce me to your friend?
Maddie, this is Dr Roberts.
Not a regular doctor, are you?
No, I'm not.
That's a shame.
Maddie?
What?
I want to know about the night your father died. I don't know!
My first memory was when you took the axe from my hand.
You're lying to us. You told us you protect Charlotte.
I do. Then why do you not remember what she remembers?
I don't know.
It's like a dream.
The memory fades.
So if you don't remember and Charlotte claims not to remember...
Then Charlotte's lying.
I didn't think she had it in her.
They can't both have suffered blackouts at the same time.
One of them must be lying.
Unless Charlotte suffered from hysterical amnesia, as you first suspected.
We'll have to put Charlotte under hypnosis again.
Excuse me.
Good day, Doctor.
Anything to report?
Yes, Alexander Taylor had cirrhosis of the liver.
That's not surprising.
Anything else? No, that was it.
You've heard about our suspect, haven't you?
A dual personality. It's so fascinating!
And naturally, as a doctor, you have a clinical interest in the condition.
Of course. But it's so rare.
Would you like to observe the interview. Why, yes!
If that's all right.
She's well under.
Can you take her back to the night of her father's murder?
Charlotte, it's the night of your father's murder. Where are you?
I'm in my bedroom.
Charlotte, what do you see?
What do you hear?
I hear someone coming up the stairs.
Who is it, Charlotte? I don't know.
You have to think hard.
Part of you knows.
Someone is coming up the stairs.
What happens next?
Mommy?
Charlotte...
I'm Girly.
Girly? How old are you?
I'm three.
Girly, I need you to sit down now.
Girly, please sit down, I need you to answer some questions.
I want Maddie.
Maddie?
My dolly.
Maddie is the name of your dolly? She's in the cellar.
Can you get her for me cos she's scared of the cellar.
I'll fetch Maddie for you if you answer some questions for me.
Is this about Daddy? Yes, Girly.
What happened to your Daddy?
He's dead. Somebody killed him.
Who killed him, Girly? It's a secret.
This is very serious, Girly.
I'm a police officer, I need you to tell me.
I said it's a secret!
Girly?
They used to call me that.
Three personalities, has that ever happened before?
There have been cases of as many as four.
Why did she think I was her mother?
Perhaps there's a resemblance.
I don't see it. For one, her mother is much older.
But Girly seems to be a personality frozen at the age of three.
Perhaps Dr Ogden reminds her of her mother at a younger age.
At any rate, Dr Ogden seemed to serve as a trigger for bringing Girly out.
We may need your help next time we speak with her.
Of course. You know where I am.
Well, you two appear to be having fun with your new toy.
Have you made any progress on the case? Yes. What?
Girly seems to know who committed the murder.
Either she witnessed someone doing it or she knows which of the other personalities did.
Why are you hanging around here, then?
Charlotte re-emerged before Girly could tell us who the killer was.
Well, that's bloody convenient, isn't it?
Can't you see? She's having you on. Sir, how would she know how to have us on.
Very few people have even heard of split personalities.
Her behaviour is in accordance with such cases.
Look, I don't care if this is coming from Maddie, Charlotte or the latest incarnation of Genghis Khan.
Just get the truth out of her!
Girly? Could you look at me, please?
Girly, the detective needs to ask you some questions.
All right.
Girly, when we last spoke,
you told me you knew who killed your father.
Is that right?
How do you know?
He walked by my room.
Him?
He was carrying an axe. Who was it?
I can't tell. It's a secret.
Girly, it's not good to keep secrets about this.
I promised.
Who did you promise? Boo Boo.
Who's Boo Boo?
You know!
Of course I know.
We're just playing a game. You like games, don't you?
Let's play a whisper game.
I want you
to whisper in the detective's ear who Boo Boo is.
I don't care what she said. I am not Boo Boo.
For God's sakes, Boo Boo doesn't even exist! How do you mean?
He's her imaginary friend. She used to talk to him when she was upset.
Used to? She grew up and forgot about him for the most part.
But not completely?
When Charlotte misbehaved,
Father would drag her to the cellar and lock her down there.
Why not simply lock her in her room?
Because she was terrified of the cellar.
I don't know why, but she would scream down there for hours.
Eventually when Father was asleep,
I'd unlock the door.
Charlotte would be curled up at the top of the stairs
with her thumb in her mouth, murmuring, "Boo Boo" over and over.
An imaginary friend? An imaginary friend.
So how does an imaginary friend bury a real axe in a real man's chest?
Perhaps Boo Boo is a fourth personality.
A brother figure who protects Charlotte from the ravages of her father.
Charlotte seemed to witness Boo Boo as an independent entity.
I have patients who, when experiencing abuse, have the ability to disassociate from themselves.
As if they're witnessing the abuse happening to someone else? Exactly. Hold it.
You're telling me that this imaginary friend that she saw walk by her room, with an axe,
was Charlotte herself?
Well, not Charlotte but... Yes, yes, yes, another bloody personality.
Is that what you're saying? Yes.
Unless Boo Boo actually existed.
George.
Sir.
I want you to dig up everything you can on the Taylor family.
See if Charlotte ever had an older brother. Sir.
How should we proceed? Murdoch?
If Charlotte's multiple personalities seem to be the result of trauma,
perhaps we should find out what that trauma was.
Girly is three years old, perhaps the trauma occurred there.
Let's take her back to that age.
Charlotte, we're taking you back in time.
Far, far back.
You're small.
Very small.
We need a specific time reference.
You've just lost Maddie. Do you remember Maddie?
She's my doll.
That's right.
Where is she? In the cellar.
Why don't you go and get her?
I don't want to.
You don't like the cellar, do you?
Bad things happen in the cellar.
What kind of things?
Charlotte, you need to go down to the cellar. Your favourite doll, Maddie, is down there.
She needs you to come get her.
No.
I'm scared. Why, Charlotte?
Why are you scared to go down to the cellar?
Daddy's down there.
What's Daddy doing?
He's got an axe.
What's he doing with the axe?
Charlotte?
What's Daddy doing with the axe? No!
Daddy, stop!
Boo Boo! Boo Boo! Bring her out. Bring her out of this now!
What happened? We need to find out what happened in that cellar.
This is where we found the bloodied apron.
Anything in particular you're looking for, sir?
I don't know, Henry.
Something happened down here 17 years ago.
Something terrible, I suspect.
Well, it all seems on the up and up now, sir. Cement floor and all.
You don't often see them in houses this old do you, sir?
No, no, you don't.
In fact, I'll wager this was poured after the house was built.
Henry, I want a couple of men with sledge hammers and shovels to excavate the ground under this floor.
Tell them to be very careful when they dig.
Sir, I've done some investigating at city records.
What did you find out, George? It seems the Taylor house used to belong to a Gerald Edwards.
He died in 1875 leaving the house to his widow, Bernice.
Bernice? As in Bernice Taylor?
The very same. A year after her husband's death, Bernice remarries to Mr Alexander Taylor.
So Joshua and Charlotte are Alexander's children.
Correct. But she had a ten-year-old son from her first marriage.
What was his name? Robert Edwards.
Robert... Bobby... Boo Boo.
Get Mrs Taylor back in here, George.
Sir.
Robert ran away from home when he was 13. Why?
He was always a troublesome lad. He butted heads
with his step-father.
You know how they get at that age. And you never saw him again? No.
He never wrote. He never came back.
That must have broken your heart.
Children do that to you, you know?
Sir, sorry to interrupt.
Just received word from Higgins.
They've found something in the cellar.
I can't tell much about the victim until I lay the skeleton out.
But I can say the bones have been shattered and severed.
With an axe? Seems likely.
What is that? I believe it's Maddie.
So was it Robert Edwards, the older brother, that we dug up?
I think so. I suspect that while she was retrieving her doll from the cellar,
Charlotte accidentally witnessed her father chopping up her brother's body.
Bloody hell. His mother attests that Robert had a difficult relationship with his step-father.
A 13-year-old naturally butts heads with his own father.
How much worse would it be to live with an abusive, drunken step-father?
Yes, but drunken and abusive enough to kill his wife's son?
Do you think the mother knew? I don't think so.
But I can't help but wonder why she cared so little about her son's disappearance.
Sir. Dr Ogden wants to see you in the morgue.
The body was chopped into 11 pieces but that wasn't the cause of death.
Look at the hyoid bone.
It's fractured. The victim was strangled.
So he was murdered in the cellar and then dismembered for easier burial.
This isn't the body of Robert Edwards, William.
Judging by the size of the pelvic bone, it's obvious the victim was a woman.
A woman? Likely in her early 30s.
That's why Bernice was so hostile and indifferent toward her children.
It wasn't her brother Charlotte saw chopped into pieces. It was her mother.
But her mother's alive.
No, if I'm not mistaken... this is her mother.
Alexander told me that his wife had run off with some Englishman and left him with the children.
You never suspected he'd killed her.
No, of course not. I met him at church. He seemed lonely. I felt sorry for him.
So sorry you decided to impersonate his wife?
That was Alexander's idea.
He wanted to sell off the back 40 and his wife held title.
So you took her name?
I was taking his anyway.
What about the children?
They were too young to remember their true mother and Robert had run off before I arrived.
I tried, I really tried to be a good mother to them, but Charlotte was such a handful,
flying off into these terrible rages at the drop of a hat.
She was like that before I ever met her.
Some children are just born difficult.
Actually, Mrs Taylor, Charlotte witnessed her mother being dismembered with an axe.
That is why she's filled with such rage.
That's what drove her to madness.
My God. I didn't know.
Gerald Edwards dies leaving a widow, Bernice and son, Robert.
Alexander Taylor marries the widow and she has two more children with him. Joshua and Charlotte.
Three years later, Alexander Taylor murders the widow
and invites a second woman into the home to take her place.
So this woman takes the original mother's name.
And pretends to be the mother to his two children.
What happens to him, Robert Edwards?
I believe he left home as Bernice number two claims.
And decides to come back 17 years later to take bloody revenge?
Girly claims that Boo Boo walked past her doorway with an axe.
You're thinking that was Robert?
Perhaps seeing her brother acted as a trigger for bringing Girly out.
How did he slip into the house unseen? How did he know Taylor would be sleeping one off in his room?
He knew his habits. How?
Perhaps he had a spy, or he had spent time with the family, himself.
They would have recognised him.
Bernice number two never knew Robert.
Alexander Taylor would only have remembered him as a 13-year-old boy.
Only Girly recognised him for who he truly was.
Off her bloody nut, she is.
Spends her days on the swing, watching us work.
Sucking her thumb like a little girl.
She was Girly while she was sitting on that swing. What?
Sir, if Boo Boo acted as a trigger for bringing Girly out, perhaps one of the farm hands is Boo Boo.
Which one?
Robert Edwards would be 30 now.
The younger one.
You've got the wrong man.
My name is Clive Brewster.
I was born in Victoria BC, in 1867.
Do you have a birth certificate?
Am I required to carry one?
No, but it would certainly help to prove you are who you say you are.
Telegraph the British Columbia Department of Records.
I have no doubt a Clive Brewster is on record.
My problem is determining whether you are him.
Well, that's not my problem, is it?
Perhaps your parents can vouch for your identity?
They're both dead. Siblings?
I was an only child.
Can you name a single person who can vouch for your identity, Mr Brewster?
No. You're certainly not helping yourself here.
No, detective, I'm simply not helping you.
You think I'm Robert Edwards.
Prove it.
Boo Boo!
I didn't tell anyone about our secret.
They asked but I wouldn't tell.
It's OK, Girly.
It's OK.
My step-father was a mean drunk. He used to beat my mother.
He used to beat me too. I never understood why she was with him.
Then one day I came home and she was gone.
He said she ran off to England.
And you believed him?
I thought I was the cause of her leaving.
I was a difficult boy.
Anyway, I lit out on my own.
There was Charlotte... Girly. I know.
I was young and selfish. I could only feel my own hurt.
What made you come back?
I don't know.
Maybe I hoped I'd find my mother had returned.
Instead I found this strange woman calling herself by my mom's name.
I knew then something was wrong.
Why not simply go to the police?
And tell them what?
I didn't know she was buried in the floor.
I know what you're thinking but I never would have let Charlotte hang for this. I swear it.
I was hoping to pin it on that woman.
That's why you put the bloodied apron in the coal bin in the cellar.
Charlotte would never go in the cellar. Everyone knew that.
Thank you, Mr Edwards. I'll draft up a confession for you to sign.
I want you to give this to Charlotte.
This is the only photograph ever taken of our mother.
Mommy.
Will she ever recover?
Hard to know.
She's agreed to stay in my care for a few months, but I fear it may take longer.
Come now, Charlotte, time to go.
Hell of a thing, witnessing your father chop your mother to pieces.
Be enough to make anyone sprout a new personality or two.
Well, at least you have your confession, sir.
What will become of Robert Edwards?
The noose? Not if I have anything to do with it.