... ...
... ... ... ...
Name three objects in this room.
Cheer, well,
Three objects not in this room.
We'll skip out on our planet source.
Today's date? First.
Then date, not the day of the week.
How about the year?
What's your say of birth?
Do you remember your mother's name?
How about your father?
This is an experimental procedure.
Electrons will send impulses to the total neurons in your brain.
Then neural pathways should develop,
but the results can be a little less predictable,
especially given your history of substance abuse,
a common trigger for Alzheimer's.
Hello.
Clean hands, Project.
Yes.
We are a legal action nonprofit,
and we advocate for inmates who have been disenfranchised by the system.
Okay.
Would you have a few minutes to speak? Yeah.
What's this about?
It's regarding an old case of yours.
Mr. Freeman?
Listen to your seat.
Hi, Emily.
I really appreciate you meeting with me.
No problem.
You said it was about an old case, huh? Yes, sir.
Isaac Samuel.
Isaac Samuel?
I'm sorry, I don't...
Of course.
I'm sure you've seen more cases than you care to remember.
Well, it's been my time.
He was convicted in the Joseph Wiedermerkert Waterford College 10 years ago.
The schedule may be executed at the end of last month.
We've tried to get a stay from the governor, but it's not looking good.
Okay.
I don't recognize him.
What's he got to do with me?
Mr. Samuel requested to speak with the detectives,
who had interrogated him in the night of his confession.
By interrogating him?
And I have yet to locate your former partner.
What does he want to talk about?
I'm afraid he didn't say.
That's something that you'll have to ask him yourself.
Isaac Samuel?
You?
I'm Roy Freeman. I used to be a detective.
I've been told you wanted to see me.
Yeah? Yeah.
Okay.
Well, man, here I am.
How you doing?
Yeah!
Subtitle made by Master_Blaster for https://subscene.com/
You know, I'm blessed, Roy.
Ten years, three hearts in the car.
Member of the Death Row Book Club.
Prison got my body, but I like got my spirit.
Like you give a fuck how I'm doing.
Isaac.
So this lady, uh,
M.O.E. Dietz, from the Clean Hands Project,
she told me you wanted to talk to me. Is that what you wanted to say?
No.
You here, because I want to know how it feels
to know an innocent man gonna be put to death.
Right.
And, uh,
you are the innocent man.
Yeah.
Don't get me wrong, Roy.
Tell some bad shit, make some bad decisions,
but killing Joe Wieder ain't one of them.
Isaac, you confessed.
You were brought in for questioning,
and you confessed.
So now you're telling me all this time later,
suddenly you remember things differently?
Ain't nothing's talking about it.
I've been in here ten years, ten fucking years.
Not the stupid replay that shit might have
out really went down.
Right. That's why I'm here.
So you can tell me how it really went down.
Look, I know you ain't no cop no more,
the way this shit can't chew over that drunk drive in an accident,
but maybe you want to clear your conscience.
Please hear me out.
This time,
I must have
died in the murder.
I was so strung out, I remember shit.
You guys haven't been all night.
By the time I saw those photos, I was so fucked up,
I thought I must have died.
You're broken. You're feeling good, Dad.
You found your fingerprints all over the house.
Come on. Just admit it, son.
Admit it.
This was you. This was you.
You did this. This is you.
This is all fucking you.
Admit it.
Why did you go to his house?
A year before Weena got killed, I got rung up for theft.
A phone left for my little man,
and Weena testified his next birth witness for the DA.
I told the judge I was so high that night, I wasn't thinking straight.
But Weena said I knew exactly what I was doing.
So he tried and he's an adult.
You know what it's like to be 18 years old and some skinny-ass bitch?
Let's just go back over this.
Weena testifies against you against your prison time.
You go to his house, it's late at night, you're angry.
You don't like this- I hate no killing!
I just wanted my son back.
I thought maybe Weena could help.
Yeah, I went to his house.
I waited for his caretaker to leave and I went round the back.
I even made it all the way inside.
Something else came in.
Whoa!
Back so soon?
Then she just went back? I'm sorry.
I panicked and I left before I could see who it was.
Okay.
So you never touched him?
I'm telling you the truth.
You think I'm lying?
Well, ass reaches in.
He tell you.
You're gonna have to remind me.
Who was Richard Finn?
He came to see me a few months back.
He writes some book about the murder.
Book? Yeah.
Look, I think I just don't see that I'm gonna be in a position to get involved.
You are already involved, Roy?
This is so unusual.
You were there when I signed that, you were fucking confession.
Make it right.
I begged for what I did when I was 18.
Make this shit right, or I'm dead.
The medication can aid synaptic regeneration, but you must keep your mind active.
Books, puzzles, anything to stimulate your brain.
Oh, you!
I did it!
We did this!
This is you!
Well, ass reaches in.
Hey.
Roy? Yeah.
What the fuck are you doing here?
I was just in the neighborhood.
Come here.
Come here, come here.
Do you know I kind of remember the last time I saw your face.
Hey, Roy.
You know who that was?
Ah, it was only ten years ago.
One of those fucking sons of bitches took your badge.
Yeah, I suppose so.
Listen, I hope you're not still carrying around all that shit.
I mean, we all drank on the job like that.
That accident, that could have been any one of us.
Cheers.
What's that? You got a wagon or something? Well, yeah.
My doctor says it'll mess with my medication, so...
You see, Roy?
I'm doing, like, a clinical trial.
I've got Alzheimer's, so they put these little pulses into my fucking head.
It's supposed to stimulate memory.
Jesus Christ, Roy.
If you understand my name, at the front door, I wouldn't have known it was you.
So you...
You have no memory of feeling me on the job?
Oh.
You know, I read old case files in itself with fresh information from me.
You know, but it's not just my time on the
job. My whole fucking life is black and white.
Fuck, man.
Remember Kat?
My wife? She, uh.
..
She passed last year with cancer.
I'm sorry.
Yeah. Fucking cancer.
Department of Health Fund.
When you pay the hospital bills, I had to sort it out.
Anyway, you didn't come here for that shit.
What brings you by, Roy? Okay.
You remember a guy called Isaac Samuel?
He got convicted for murder.
The thing that happened in Waterford College with a professor.
Ah, you've been talking to a lady from the advocacy group.
I didn't call her back.
Oh, well. I took the call.
And she said that Isaac wanted to talk to me, so...
You spoke to Isaac Samuel? Yeah.
I went down to the state prison.
We talked, and...
He tells me he didn't do it.
Come on, Roy.
That's what they all say on death, Roy.
Yeah, I know. I know.
But I gotta say, Jimmy, he was convincing.
He mentioned another guy that came to see him, uh...
Finn.
Richard Finn.
Does that name ring any kind of bell with you?
So long ago, I had to remember.
Well, I read the file.
And when we dusted that house...
Finn's prints are all over the place inside.
All through the house.
So... It was there.
Who cares?
Richard Finn said he wasn't at the house the night of the murder.
That's in his statement, okay?
But we never followed it up.
We never corroborated his whereabouts.
And I just kind of felt not a bit strange.
Is that not strange?
What's your point? I don't know.
I was just thinking that you and me, we'd maybe go
talk to him, see what he has to say for himself.
Why? I don't know.
It's just a feeling.
That's all I got to go on these days.
Besides, my doctor says I gotta keep my mind active.
So what the fuck?
Sugar right here.
I'll look into it.
I still got a few friends on the job.
Okay.
I'll be in touch, Roy.
Yeah?
I found your boy.
I found Richard Finn.
The lying lady found one when she let the gas man in.
How did he die?
Overdose, ventral.
Only one needle hole.
What?
He's not much of a donkey.
There's no track marks.
So he's an enemy.
They know what he's doing.
You all right there, Roy? He was there.
At the crime scene.
Yeah.
You said that.
No.
Not just his prince, he was there.
The next morning when we were there.
Is this what you're remembering, seeing him in the crime scene?
This guy's prince are at the house, all over.
He turns up to the crime scene the next morning.
We talk to him.
His alibi for the time of the murder is that he was home alone.
And we don't follow him.
We don't talk to his friends.
We don't talk to his neighbors.
Isaac Samuel's prince were all over the house.
He had motive, and he confessed.
It doesn't make sense.
Well, it doesn't matter now that they don't talk.
Yeah, maybe.
They do leave shit behind.
Mrs. Finn.
My name's Roy Freeman.
I understand this is a very bad time, but I was wondering,
can I just ask you a couple questions about your husband?
I'm her husband, Eddie.
Oh, I'm so sorry, Eddie.
Hi.
Is the other Mrs. Finn around here somewhere?
No, she and Richard weren't exactly on the best of terms.
Is there something I can help you with?
He was my brother.
I'm looking into a case that your brother was particularly interested in.
Recently he went to visit a death row inmate,
and he mentioned he was actually writing a book on the subject.
I wondered if you'd know anything about this.
Yeah, I'm gonna get a ride home with Andrew, okay? Okay.
I'm just over here.
Here.
I found it in his apartment.
He called it the Book of Mirrors.
The title doesn't make any sense to me.
Book of Mirrors.
Isaac Samuel, that death row inmate, he said this is about the William Martin.
Yeah, well, if Richard were here, he'd probably call it a crime memoir or some shit.
You read it? Yeah.
Much as I get stomach.
It's a bunch of self-grandizing garbage, you ask me.
Not some girl he was obsessed with in college.
Some of you guys weren't close.
Look, I don't mean to speak good with the dead,
but Richard wasn't exactly someone that you wanted to get close to.
How long had he been using? Drugs.
No.
No, I never knew him to be into drugs.
It just didn't seem his thing.
Then again with Richard, nothing was ever really how it seemed.
I mean, he'd always been a little bit off,
even when we were kids.
But this last year, last couple of years even,
some just didn't seem right.
Most of them.
I don't know.
He was agitated, paranoid,
just like he comes across in that book.
But listen, if I were you, I wouldn't waste too much time on it.
Okay, I can keep this.
Be my guest.
Memory is a fickle thing.
What we can recall, what we can.
Rare moments that forever imprint.
But now we use the tone.
Suffering's so painful,
they're buried deep in our mind's recesses.
For God, until time takes them back up.
Whatever the memory though, good, bad, unremarkable,
it never comes back all at once.
They're always doled out in fragments,
like pieces of a puzzle you have to wait to complete.
When you'll get another puzzle piece,
that's anyone's guess.
Months, years, could be a decade, Richard Finn.
Like it was with the murder of Joseph Wieder.
Ten years of never understanding it.
Or as I now know, misunderstanding it.
Laura Baines.
She was one of those rare unicorns
who knew everything about everything.
Nobody made better use of dramatic counterpoint than right now.
Double bachelors in art history and neuroscience.
Between lower cortisol levels and their predisposition.
A master's in math.
The beauty of what a wishko showed is that the distribution... Spoke five languages.
She knew exactly who she was.
If only I did, back then.
How's the punch?
Wade, you've been scoping around,
waiting for your moment to come and talk to me.
I think you'd at least come up with something better than, how's the punch?
I wasn't skulking.
Not just skulking, leering too.
Oh, skulking and leering.
You're making me sound like I'm a serial killer.
Well, I can say I knew you went.
I'm, uh, Richard.
I know.
It's on your chest.
Oh, right.
And yet, uh, here you are.
Nameless and shrouded in mystery seems unfair.
Oh, it's in a name, really.
Which we call a rose by any other name.
Oh, great. Another bardoliter.
So, uh, what's your thesis about?
Um... No, don't tell me, let me guess.
Okay.
Okay, uh, it's probably something controversial.
Probably.
Yeah.
Okay.
Cross-gender interference in a midst of our next dream.
Boom.
Close.
Memory reconsolidation through accelerated resolution therapy.
Oh, one of the bards.
Lesser, no more.
Um, psychology department.
I'm over.
What, you dislike to crash other departments' mixers?
Oh, uh, no, I came with a friend, well, a colleague.
Really?
Professor Reader?
I'm helping him with some research, and he's administering my thesis.
Right, on memory reconstruction through the accelerated reconciliation...
Memory reconsolidation through... Yeah, okay.
No, sorry, I'm just being part of it now.
It is a bit of a mouthful.
How many wishes do you got?
Oh.
They don't belong to my grandmother.
I read somewhere that when a woman plays with
her jewel, it means she's flirting with you.
Oh, really?
Hmm.
Well, you should believe everything you read.
Oh!
From that moment on, it was like we were inseparable.
For the next few months, we did everything together.
She made me feel like the best version of myself.
So, what do you think?
What do I think?
I think you're fucking Worthington, Richard.
I mean, other people need to read your work.
You should send it to Harper's, the Atlantic, all the big fiction rags.
It was like I was experiencing the world for the first time through her eyes.
You're so talented.
Hey, Mom.
But not everything was looking rosy.
Uh-huh.
A few months after we met, my father died of a heart attack.
My mother couldn't afford my room and board.
Laura wanted to help.
And that's how I first met Professor Joseph Weeder.
Laura.
Welcome.
Sorry, we're late.
Not a problem.
Hey, hello.
I had to finish a call with our friend D.C. in the way.
You must be Richard.
Laura's told me a lot about you.
All lies, I'm sure.
Exaggerations and half-truths.
Those I can admit.
Do we feel like my teenies? Sure.
Yes.
So, Richard, Laura tells me you're one of the anomalous.
Literary memoir, actually.
Oh, I'm not familiar.
But you see, a traditional memoir is someone's life story.
The genre is not concerned with questions of truth, imagination, memory, style.
Literary memoir has a fictional element then.
No, I wouldn't call it fictional, really.
Oh, sorry.
No, see, the author is telling the truth of the story as he believes it to be true.
They, as they believe it to be true.
So, perception and personal experience have a part in it.
Okay.
More wine, please.
You know something?
Ten years from now, we'll look back to this dinner.
All we'll remember is the Chateau Léodile d'Arbonne.
Oh, I doubt that.
The mind replaces memories all the time.
Nate, it's wiring.
Especially if you drink too much.
Do the thing.
Come on.
I'm glad I'm part of the trick.
Wait, what's she talking about?
It helps explain what we're working on.
Okay, then.
Think of memory.
From your child.
Like anything.
Objects, moments, people.
Anything you can easily recall.
Okay.
I remember we had this green chag rug,
and poor goldfish named after the guys in Kess.
That's a good memory.
How about something that you wish you could forget?
Did your parents ever hit you?
No.
Did you ever get lost?
In the shopping mall or big supermarket?
I mean, come to think of it,
there was this one time we went to a toy store,
and I couldn't find my mom.
Were you scared?
I mean, I haven't thought about it since it happened,
but, yeah, we looked for her everywhere.
You eventually found her.
Outside smoking.
Crazy.
I've forgotten all that.
At the heart of our research,
Joe's research,
is the thesis that most people experience trauma,
but the mind blocks those memories from ever actually presenting.
The trauma you experienced that day
was your mother a bad day.
You were a child, full,
and that fact that your mother
might actually harm you is too traumatic a process,
so you suppressed it from memory.
But the effects of that trauma still linger in your subconscious
and become part of the fabric of who you are.
Wow, okay.
That's it.
Therapy with dinner.
Cheers.
Richard,
when you come with me,
I've got something I'd like to show you.
Okay? Okay.
That's a lot of books.
I can offer you $500 a week to organize it,
to classify the electron when you can
until you're done,
which, if I had to guess, won't be any time soon.
I... I mean, I don't really know what to say.
Laura told me about what happened to your father
and the situation that you're in.
So you might want to just say you're doing it.
Thank you.
Working for Weeter was a dream.
New worlds up and up.
A curated collection of the world's greatest thinkers.
For every two-way catalog,
I'd find myself reading another.
Eventually, though,
all the time I spent at Weeter's exposed me to something I wasn't expecting.
More books? Yeah.
Professor wants me to donate them to Goodwill, but there's some good shit in here.
See ya.
That's for the bats.
Here's your dads.
Collect them, I guess.
Signed, too.
Willie McCovey.
Al Kalin.
Ted Williams.
You want to finish this? I got to work.
Yeah, sure.
Thanks.
A laugh.
A hand grazing an arm.
One thing is clear.
Hey, it's me.
I'm sorry, but I have to bag on dinner tonight.
I'm stuck in the office helping Joe,
but I'll see you when I get home.
Laura Baines was more than just Joseph Weeter's research for love.
I used to live as a transistor.
Despite our time together,
I didn't know Laura Baines at all.
And when I found that manuscript,
I realized I wasn't the only one.
Are you hungry? Oh, hey.
I didn't know you were home.
And what did you got there? I don't know.
I found it in a little splash in the back there behind some books.
You are so eager.
Come on.
Before lunch gets cold.
Do you like to cook, Richard?
I don't really know how.
You should learn.
Maybe you're good at it.
Maybe you're not.
Experiment.
Laura likes a man who can cook.
How are things going between you two?
We're just friends.
Come on.
I got the impression you were more than that.
Is that what she told you?
I don't need Laura to tell me something to know her.
I can sense things.
I've known her for some time now.
Great.
I mean, I would never presume a picture.
She brought him into my life to help,
not to complicate things.
That's what I'm here for.
To help.
Well, good.
To that end, then.
I think, and these are just my thoughts.
I think it would be better if you stopped seeing each other.
Wait, what?
Nobody likes it when things become overly complicated.
I'm going out of town to meet some people about my book.
I imagine when I get back,
we would have sorted out some new arrangement.
Bon Appetit.
He crossed a line,
but I never sorted anything out.
She sorted it out for me.
Babe?
You home? Hey, uh.
..
I got you some stuff from Bamboo House.
You know those dumb things you like?
Babe? She was gone.
And then the next day, it happened.
Professor Joseph Weeder was found dead,
beaten to death.
Some junkie confessed to the crime.
The Waterford College community digested the tragedy,
and I went on to become a novelist of no repute.
Toiling in obscurity.
And Laura Baines?
I later found out that a week before the murder,
she went to see Susan Avery,
Weeder's contact at the Department of Defense,
claiming ownership over Weeder's work.
Well, it doesn't work like that.
The U.S. government commissioned this study.
The grant is from Professor Weeder.
But I wrote it.
Look,
Miss Baines, I don't know what arrangement you made with Dr.
Weeder, but I recommend you take it over to the university or directly with him.
Oh, come on.
This is my work and he just put his name on it.
I'm sorry.
Is that all you can see?
This is bullshit!
You can't just get away with this!
After the murder,
she disappeared.
It was like she had fallen right off the face of the earth.
Until the day I saw her again.
Until I saw her again?
Until you saw her again Weeder?
You know why she's probably dead?
Her social security number is still active.
She's got no address,
no social media presence,
no place in business, nothing.
Just one old pig from high school.
So what?
She's a private person.
It's the same with Wayne Devereux.
Weeder's caretaker.
No phone number,
no job district.
I did a reverse address search, nothing.
It's like everyone from Weeder's life at that time is now a fucking ghost.
You know why?
It makes me feel like I want to be a fucking ghost.
The only one I've been able to track down
is Finn's ex-wife.
I'm going to go and talk to her.
I'm going to talk to your ghost idiot.
I know.
She might know something.
You know, Finn might have been onto something.
That's all.
Something's a baby,
something's a butt.
Look, man,
if Isaac Samuel is innocent,
and we've put away the wrong guy, come on.
That's a chance for us to make that right.
The guy confessed.
No, he confessed, okay?
He admits he was in the house on that night.
He says that, but he also says before he can do anything,
someone else came into the house.
Who?
Who came in right? I don't know.
If you don't fucking know,
then I don't fucking know either.
I'm going to take a piss.
What the fuck, man?
Hallucinations are often a common byproduct of the procedure.
But I've only ever seen pictures of them.
Yeah, well, it indicates recall,
even if it wasn't really her.
Same with the snippets of memory you've reported.
It means your normal pathways are starting to reactivate.
So I'm not just going completely crazy then?
Or for all of it.
You're actually what we call a good result.
Treatment's warning.
I'm sorry to disturb you, I... Here's a call.
Boy Freeman, yeah.
The call.
Yeah, I'm actually, you know,
I saw I'm not with the police anymore.
Good.
Never like cops.
Doesn't make sense.
Richard was a lot of things.
Deluded.
Real listens wrote that.
But he wasn't a jerky.
So you think his death was an accident, maybe?
I bet that cunt Elizabeth Wesley had something to do with it.
I'm sorry, I don't know who that is.
Yeah, neither did I until recently.
Crazy ass bitch.
They had some big argument a few weeks before Richard moved out.
Elizabeth Wesley? Yeah.
Okay.
Richard started drinking again.
One night he comes home screaming on the phone all pissed.
No, no, no.
You listen to me, okay?
Don't you fucking lie.
He must have thought I was asleep.
Okay, I know what you did.
Yeah, and you're not going to get away with it.
You ever asked him what the argument was about?
I tried not to talk to Richard when he was like that.
So I waited until he was asleep.
Next day I called the number and got her voicemail.
What else do you know about her?
I don't know what she does, do you know how they connect?
No.
Nothing.
You just called her a crazy ass bitch.
And all I know is I never heard her talk to anybody like that before.
Not even me.
You asked me.
She killed him.
Miss Westlake?
No.
Mr. Freeman! And we met.
I'm sorry I have a condition.
Forget black stuff.
Well, I'm sorry.
We met in passing a long time ago.
And I read about your accident in the newspaper.
Would you mind if I asked you where?
Where did it be?
I wish I could talk, but I need to get to the office.
That's okay.
Look, I actually just wanted to talk to you about Richard Finn.
Now there's someone I'd like to forget.
Why is that?
I guess you've never been stalked.
Made to feel like you always need to be looking over your shoulder.
Yeah, well you know, he had it in his mind.
That you had something to do with Joseph Wheeler's murder.
So you've spoken to him? No, I haven't.
I tried to, but he passed away.
I see.
He left something behind, though.
A memoir.
And I was wondering if you would like to have a
look at it and you can just tell me what you think.
I've worked very hard.
Forget that time in my life, Professor Wheeler's death and I'd rather not relive it.
Totally, I understand.
Yeah.
You know, though, there's a man who was on death row for Joseph Wheeler's murder.
And his date's coming up pretty soon.
So maybe you could just, you know, take a look.
If I have a free moment.
Okay, thank you.
Thank you very much.
Alright.
Alright, you have a great day.
You take care of yourself now, boy.
It's been a while.
Took me a second to replace you.
The story's the same as what's in it.
I just never got to tell it to you because you already had your man.
Well, if it's okay with you, I'd like to hear it now.
Yeah?
Why's that?
I'm just going back through things.
Making sure all the rap boxes got checked, you know.
Okay.
Well,
Professor Wade had found me when I was a shell of who I was.
He helped me get back on my feet.
He got me a job working maintenance.
I mean, I remember Crystal Clearman.
He was like a celebrity.
Everyone loved him.
He did all sorts of work.
I don't know what exactly, but there was always people visiting the house.
And poor people.
People from the government.
Department of Defense.
He was running a trial for the amount of his department at the college.
Trauma patients.
Testing medication he developed.
Guess that was the perfect candidate.
I was first on the ground in Iraq.
Saw my share of it before taking a bullet.
I didn't know the real damage until I got home.
Just couldn't get it right.
Wade had found me at the VA, set up for his research profile.
What kind of research? Wade.
What if I told you that through medicine and suggestion
you could replace the memory of your trauma Iraq with better memories
or perhaps erase the memory of your trauma altogether?
And I'd say, Samuel,
by activating opposite sides of the brain
can release the emotional experiences trapped in our nervous system.
But before we make that bad memory gone away,
we have to fully confront it.
He said it was effective for dealing with PTSD,
but I was only part of the treatment.
One in the morning.
One before that.
The rest was that medication he developed.
He said it could wipe the slate clean.
What you just told me about Iraq, does that mean the treatment didn't work?
I did it for time.
The details faded, no more panic attacks.
Those pills, man.
They had some fucking main side effects.
I didn't recognize myself anymore.
I blacked out, no idea where I was and how I got there.
So you stopped taking the medication? Mm-hmm.
Yeah, against the professor's wishes.
Where's your car?
I came here by taxi.
You want to ride it?
ASPCA in the city buys one off, that's for the dogs.
You sure?
Hey, man, the seat's free.
You didn't know anything about Laura Baines?
Oh, man, I don't think anybody ever really knew Laura Baines.
Well, we were a thing then.
I don't know nothing about that from what he said.
She just allowed the system nothing more.
I mean, maybe she'd like to be, but if they were, I never saw it.
Not that I didn't see others.
I'd come over to the house every now and then to fix this and that.
There were a lot of women.
You kept a record of them, too.
Not kind of the record.
Yeah, one of those old-school camcorders.
I guess you'd like to revisit his past exploits.
Do Laura Baines have a calling on on him?
No, man, only time I heard them exchange words
was over some research papers they were writing.
But the night he was killed, earned fint.
They came over to the house, and there was some kind of argument.
You need to have a rational conversation about all this accusation.
You're fucking lying!
What were they fighting about?
Fuck if I know, but Finn got real pissed off.
He left.
I went to go out front, talked in, maybe see what's what.
But he was just... gone.
Where he never left.
And Finn stated it.
He says he was home alone at the time of the murder.
Well, I can only tell you when I saw him.
What about Laura? See her leave?
Yep, later it takes you.
So where'd you go? My usual.
Old Warren.
The bartender there.
Diane.
Even she was one of the professor's girls.
He's a good man.
He's lost his way.
I saw him.
I could have it in one of us.
But it's like the Bible says.
Can I judge, especially if you judge me?
Thanks for the lift.
Yeah, it's me.
He's home.
A very, very interesting mood.
Aren't you gonna invite me in?
Can I get you a water?
Maybe some whiskey.
I don't have it in the house.
Doctors.
I can't remember the last time I had a drink.
One of the few benefits of your condition, I suppose.
You can't remember the bad times.
Can't remember the good times either.
That's too bad.
Must be hard.
No memory of friends, family, past experience.
No context for who you are, your place in the world.
I can't imagine what that's like.
To feel so lost.
So alone.
So what did you think of Finn's book? It was.
..
a bunch of bullshit.
So you two were...
never in lovers.
No, that was just his little fantasy.
People make things up all the time.
Lie to protect themselves.
Manufacture histories to appear more than they own.
Because the reality is too painful.
I spoke with Wayne Devereux.
He seemed to confirm a lot of what's in there.
Wow, another reliable witness.
Makes sense though.
Lots of vets who suffer from trauma turn to
escapist invention, video games, pornography.
So did he invent a research study Wayne was working on too?
No, Wayne was a participant in that.
But, if I remember correctly, he didn't respond favorably to the protocol.
He resented what it did to him.
He was prone to bouts of anger, aggression.
You seem to know a whole lot about him.
Well, I transcribe Wieder's patient notes.
All of them.
Sometimes you learn things you prefer you didn't.
He said that Wieder was intending on publishing his findings.
That's what you do.
You work for years and then you publish your findings.
But he died before it was complete.
You feel he was giving you the credit you deserved.
He died before we could work that out as well.
A drug that can help people forget past trauma.
Seems to me someone can make a whole lot of money out of that.
Now you think someone killed him for money.
You may not have memory, Mr. Freeman, but you do have quite the imagination.
People kill for a whole lot of different reasons.
I reached out to Susan Avery, Wieder's D.O.D. contact.
I know who Susan Avery is.
She collaborated with Wieder for decades.
So then you also know that she's taken over this department of war.
You know, this conversation would have been a lot better.
It's a whiskey.
You used to want a drink of wine.
Okay, I'll give you five seconds to unbuckle your gun.
One.
Two.
Three.
We had enough, my boys.
Come on, keep moving.
I want to report a shooting.
Mr. Freeman, I'm going to read you your rights.
You have the right to remain silent.
You refuse this right, anything you say can be used against you.
You have the right to an attorney.
If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you by the court.
You have the right to an attorney.
If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you by the court.
We all done.
Case closed.
Another one off the books.
Let's go celebrate.
I'm fine.
Yeah.
I'll catch you up.
I'll wait for you in the car.
If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you by the court.
Do you understand the rights I just ran to you, sir?
You know, you're one lucky son of a bitch.
Well, the security camera's caught him trying to run you down.
It's going to be a lot of red tape, but, uh...
It'll prove it's self-defense.
That should come down.
Yeah, of course.
Even though things like that were the same thing for me.
CSI found two vials of fentanyl in Deverell's truck.
The same shit that killed Finn.
They called it a homicide.
What?
Deverell killed Finn?
For what?
Stopped him IDing him for weed as well.
Sure.
Makes sense? No. No, it doesn't make fucking sense.
In his own goddamn book, Finn is pointing 100% to Elizabeth Wesley, not to Deverell.
Something's not right.
Yeah, something's not right.
Something's not right with you, Roy.
Isaac Samuel committed this act.
Isaac Samuel confessed to it.
In one month, there will be justice, and he will be dead.
And you can move on and forget about all this.
Was I a good cop?
You a good cop? What.
.. what the fuck are you talking about?
Was I good at my job?
Or was I a bad cop? Was I a shit cop?
Was I a lazy son of a bitch who just marked his car and showed up?
Roy, you're one of the best. You're a great cop.
My name's not on any of the sign-offs.
What?
You know, with your file, my name is not on any of the officials.
Not the incident reported.
Not the witness sheet, forensic findings, Samuel's confession, none of it.
It's just your name.
On all of it.
What are you trying to say, Roy?
I've been going back through 30 years of case files.
30 years.
Every one.
Every document. Every single one.
We cosign.
My name right next to yours.
Except for this one.
Why is that?
I feel you're doing your lie.
You executed everyone else.
Now you're going to accuse me.
Jesus Christ, Roy, you're some fucking piece of work.
You come to my house, out of nowhere, asking for my help.
Now you accuse me.
Fuck you, Roy.
Fuck you.
I hate you! Don't kill me!
You're in rare form tonight.
Hershey.
She won't be coming in for library.
I've been home taking my car, Roy. I'll be bringing it back tomorrow.
What you did.
We're not open yet.
Was there an old gray-haired guy who used to run this place?
Eric? Eric O'Toole?
Yeah, he's retired.
Is there anything I can help you with?
It's my boss' place now.
Yeah, I'm looking for a woman who used to work here, too.
Her name's Diane.
Oh, you mean Diane Lynch.
Yeah, right. Any idea where I can find her?
Yeah, just over at Kevin Catholic.
She died about five years ago.
Oh, you don't say.
Fuck.
Was she a friend of yours or something?
She gave a deposition in a case I was working on. I was just following up.
So you a cop? Used to be.
Well.
..
On me.
My grandfather was a cop.
I just recently remembered to actually...
I like to do this.
Don't yell.
To Diane.
Hey, do you mind if I use your bathroom?
Yeah, just around the corner on the other side of the jukebox.
Thanks.
Excuse me.
From what effect?
You sure I can't get you a glass of water?
No, no, I'm fine.
You said you had something for me.
I don't know where the original is, probably in storage of the DoD,
if I had to guess, but that's the only copy I had for my time there.
A mirror effect.
Weena was quite proud of this work.
He thought it would help people who are suffering
with their trauma. It's a ward-worthy research.
It was never published.
At least not under his name.
I don't understand.
I gather you haven't read her book.
She updated Weena's research with additional findings.
She culled together over the years she was getting a doctorate.
So she stole his work?
Mine happens all the time in academic research.
Besides, it would protest. Weena's dead.
You contracted it.
At least it's not as simple as that.
Before Weena died, more remains came to me with that manuscript.
Yeah, I heard she wasn't happy.
She claimed the work was hers. Weena wasn't giving her the credit she deserved.
This is bullshit! You can't just get away with this!
So how's your option?
We'd been circulating it in a number of the VA
hospitals, but the department's priorities changed.
A few years later, after I started working here, I found her book review.
So...
Why did you go after her?
There was nothing to go after her for. The project was sugar.
We're here and you still live around here, right?
Oh, we're on chestnut. Apparently the house is still empty.
Is there a sign of it?
No. A couple of backs in the garage, though.
One's missing, right?
Carrots over there said we're all signed by all
the famers, so it's probably worth a lot of money.
And the doctor?
Well? Well? Yes, sir.
What'd you got there, Roy?
Never did find the murder weapon from the Weeder case, did you?
You put this here.
Put it back in the hole, Roy.
Boys, get inside.
Why couldn't you just listen to me?
You just couldn't let it go!
Oh, could ya?
What did you do, Jim?
What did I do?
I cleaned this fucking mess up ten years ago.
Don't you remember any of this? What Diane did? Diane.
She told me what you knew.
Dial Inch.
Get away from me!
From your favorite bar? She was one of Weeder's patients.
Enough, Laura. I told you I would take care of this.
You know each other.
I see.
So you're in this together? No, I get it.
I get it, Jimmy.
Your wife got really sick.
You got deep in debt. She comes along, pays you,
and kill Weeder so she can publish your book.
And you, you railroad Isaac Samuel, cover it all up.
No, no, no, no, no. I did not pay you to kill Weeder.
We didn't meet until after your accident.
My life was so destroyed.
I was facing losing years of clinical research.
The name Laura Baines would always be associated with what happened.
Then, your partner showed up, asking all kinds of questions.
I didn't know what he wanted, but he wouldn't let up, and I was so scared.
Oh, fuck you, Laura.
So I... Left.
I moved.
Changed my name, started over.
Completed the research, and published my book.
Hoping I would never see him again.
But then a few years ago, Richard Finn started poking around.
She's an author.
Elizabeth Westlake.
But she changed it.
It used to be Laura Baines.
She wasn't thinking Weeder's work after he died.
You ask me, she's the one who killed me.
And then somehow, your partner found me, and he turned up with his handout.
And this time, it's for money.
I know this.
I hope this is just fucking bullshit, Laura.
I'm not lying.
He blackmailed me.
He said he'd go public with proof my book wasn't my work unless I paid him.
So you killed Richard Finn, too?
In case he got the same idea.
I didn't kill anyone.
She killed Finn the same way she killed Weeder.
Finn's writing a book about the murder.
And he thinks you killed Weeder.
You need to talk to him.
With other people's hands.
I'm telling you, Laura, you can work around all you want, but I'm not.
Never-O was already a trained killer.
But Finn had the way she got him to come after you.
He's home.
Wait until he fades, and then take care of it.
She's a manipulator, Roy.
She's manipulating you right now.
She gets people to come in and do her dirty work.
And then she just skates away.
She has to be held accountable.
It's such a funny thing.
The mind.
The things it can live with.
And the things it just can't bear.
To get the diagner into both.
Not that.
Oh, that is a special kind of bliss.
I did it.
I did it for you.
Breaking news and a decades-old murder out at Waterford College.
As fresh evidence in the brutal killing of psychology professor Joseph Weeder.
Exonerates a man incarcerated on death row.
29-year-old Isaac Samuel was convicted of revenge killing and was
scheduled to die by lethal injection in just one month's time.
But information uncovered in the wake of a double homicide this past
Tuesday at Weeder's abandoned home tells a different kind of story.
Name three objects in this room.
The chair.
The lamp.
The clock.
And three objects not in this room.
Wine glass, newspaper, gun.
Today's date? October 21st.
Your place at birth?
Lawrenceville, Pennsylvania.
Your mother's name? Florence.
Your father's name? George.
Your middle school? So sweet.
Very good.
It seems the treatment's been very effective.
You must be gratifying to be able to remember again.
Yeah.
The former detective who investigated the case ten years ago, Roy
Freeman, was instrumental in bringing the responsible parties to justice.
The uncovered and twisted murder from higher law in the Bronx and
the Washington County Police and the law of her academic community.
Professor Weeder is a doctor.
You do an oath.
Keep them from harm and injustice.
Well, she took an oath too.
We both did.
To have a dog.
A sickness and an health.
She gave it to you six months ago.
About some unresolved trauma.
You know, I just don't believe you.
Her alcoholic father, she was...
She was concerned she was repeating patterns in your marriage.
She was vulnerable.
And he just took advantage of you.
I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you this.
Well, why are you?
Huh?
Just for the fuck out of it.
You want me to believe you're some kind of good Samaritan
who just thought I should know my wife is fucking her shrink.
Is that it?
In case you want an oath.
You might.
Back so soon? I'm sorry.
Let's get it done.