Let us out!
What happened?
Oh, my God. You scared the hell out of me.
They took our phones and--and your meds.
I'm so sorry. I messed up.
-I need my pills. -We'll get through this.
I don't know if you know this,
but I have a panic disorder,
and people with panic disorders--
Give him his damn pills.
You break into my business and make demands?
What are you gonna do...
kill us...
on your property,
right after you set fire to your other property?
I have a simple solution.
Delete the files that you copied, and I let you go.
Don't, and I don't.
Piss off, Alejandro.
-That's not happening. -Oh.
Look at him, Bell the Avenger.
I wonder what Tyler would say about this.
He must miss his mother.
Don't do it.
Cammie, no.
Llévatelo.
Vamos. Vamos!
You said you'd let us go!
I embrace discomfort.
I confront my fears.
I embrace discomfort.
I confront my fears.
-Kind of works. -It's ironic.
Ten days ago, I tried to hang myself,
and now that I've decided to live, I'm going to die.
That attitude does not work for me.
Ah, it's the curse of the Prescott men.
They die young, they die badly--
bull goring in one case-- well, two cases.
Father and son matadors. It's a funny story.
It involves Hemingway.
You're not gonna be the latest tragic Prescott.
And I'm not abandoning my son.
Because you were abandoned?
The thing is, the name Cammie Lorde
only appeared 12 years ago
with an application to replace a social security number.
I don't want to play this game.
And just as Cammie Lorde came into the picture,
another identity with the same birth date--
it's a rookie mistake-- went fallow.
Layla Roberts of-- drumroll, please...
Brooklyn.
We're not doing this.
Life is meant to be faced, Cammie.
-I learned that from you. -No.
Roosevelt High's firewall was no match for Skramstad.
It turns out all of Layla's paperwork
was signed by her guardian, Tanika Sway.
Worked for a lawyer who represented Black activists,
one of them a young couple
implicated in a 1985 bombing of Brooklyn Detention.
They didn't think anyone would get hurt.
Tell me what happened.
Tell me your story, Cammie Lorde,
because death is around the corner,
and I don't want to dwell on that.
The guy who planted the bomb...
his name was Milandro Vee.
He wanted blood.
Five people were killed, two cops.
My parents turned state's evidence against Vee.
For a while, they...
they thought they were fine.
I was born.
But then Vee tracked them down,
and they had to run, so...
They left me behind.
They killed cops, and you became one.
Life is complicated, isn't it?
You came to Florida to find them.
Was that them at the diner?
Vamos.
Afuera!
No!
Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.
Eh, cuidado.
Assata Finay.
My name is--
My name is Assata Finay.
92
I think it's a lovely name.
I like Cammie, but chamomile--
I mean, speaking as a Bellwether, I try not to judge.
Okay, shut up, shut up.
I-I read how to get loose from zip ties.
Half the time you can just-- you can shimmy free.
Why?
Let's say it works.
We get loose, storm the deck, they shoot us.
Better than drowning.
-Is it? -Yes.
I thought the end of "Titanic" was beautiful.
The way what's-his-name let go, drifted down,
it looked soothing.
He froze to death.
It was soothing because he was dead.
Oh, we'll wash up in Cuba in about 12 hours.
Vida always wanted to see Cuba.
No.
This is a twist.
Toma.
Vamos. Toma.
Más!
He wants you to OD.
Toxicology will show I was high.
Tomar más!
It'll look like an accident.
No más.
No más!
Benzodiazepine's a muscle relaxant.
My heart...
it's just a big old muscle.
It's also a central nervous system depressant,
so as I take more--confusion.
Stop. Stop that.
Bell.
The endgame...
is coma...
cerebral damage, death.
I wish I'd kissed you, Cammie.
Layla.
Assata.
Bell? Hey, hey!
Uh-huh.
Gran puta.
Wake up.
Hey, hey, listen to me.
I need you.
Vida needs you.
Okay.
Help me find something to cut me loose.
There, there, there.
There's a corkscrew, Velcroed to the wall.
Okay. All right, you're okay. You're okay.
-Get up. -Oh, this carpet is soft.
Now I see why cats like this.
Oh, I wish I was a cat.
Oh, my God.
Chasing mice and licking things
with my scratchy tongue.
Please. Please just try.
Just--
If it wasn't for my tolerance,
I'd be dead by now.
You see, there is a happy side to addiction.
Bell. Bell!
I see someone...
familiar.
Hey, we've got a problem with our fuel tank.
And our radio's out.
Hey, that's Sheriff Grant.
You mind if we come aboard and use yours?
No comprendo, amigo.
The answer is no.
Hotsy-totsy, there's gunfire!
Now I see why people leave the house.
It's exciting out here!
Ahora.
Cover me.
Bellwether Prescott, get me that goddamn corkscrew now!
Go.
Yes! Yes, yes, yes. Okay.
Please, carefully, just...
Drop it.
Suéltala.
Terminada.
Looked like you needed some help.
Yeah, my wingman's a little nearsighted.
I don't know how you found us, but thank you.
You might want to cuff him.
Yeah, and you might want to fish that other one
out of the water.
Sheriff Grant.
Hola, amigo.
188
♪ Just a dream and the wind to carry me ♪
♪ Soon I will be free ♪
♪ Fantasy... ♪
How many pills you say he took?
Enough to kill a normal man.
Enough to kill him in 30 minutes.
Hmm.
-You got a bilge pump? -Sure.
Both of you are damn lucky I had eyes on El Calvero.
I appreciate what you did, out of jurisdiction and all.
Which is why those two cubanos
are gonna float their asses home
instead of going to prison.
Look, I know you told me to lay off the Vida Prescott case.
I'm sorry.
It's okay.
We all have cases that, uh, eat at us,
tell us to keep digging when no one else sees it.
It just means you're a good cop...
mm, ex-cop.
Just, uh...
tell me that you found evidence to nail the Perezes
for drug trafficking.
It's not drugs.
It's sugar.
Is that some kind of slang for--
Actual sugar.
Don't worry. We'll get them.
Trust me on that.
You guys okay?
Your mother was so worried about you,
I had to give her a sedative.
You're welcome.
Watch yourself, Cammie.
I mean it.
Hey, what happened to the beater car?
Uh, Bell's gonna buy you a new one.
Go dig up some coffee cans, okay?
All right, cool.
Oh, uh, you guys still have that sex doll lying around?
-I could take it off your hands. -No, we don't.
-Sorry. -It's fine.
I was worried about you.
Oh...
I'm fine.
I mean, I didn't down a bottle of benzos.
Really.
It was crazy, but...
it was good.
Good 'cause of, like, the adventure or...?
Are you trying to ask if Bell and I hooked up?
You putting words in my mouth.
Mm-hmm.
But did you?
Just second base.
We made out. He touched my boobs.
Over the shirt, though.
Really?
No, not really.
I nearly got killed.
What the hell is wrong with you?
Tough day?
We lost, Vida.
It was all for nothing.
Can't breathe. Too tight.
Sorry, baby.
I just really missed you.
-You good? -I'm good.
Yeah?
Give me two minutes on the computer,
and then we'll do Legos, okay?
Okay.
Stay right there.
Don't move that face, all right?
I need to see that cute little face.
Come on, Marcus, you haven't changed
your password in years.
Shit, shit, shit, shit.
Come in.
I had a feeling you might stop by.
You got something for me?
Have a seat. We can discuss.
Be like old times.
Old times sucked, Marcus. Give me the files.
I needed an emergency backup. You were it.
What do you want?
Well, Perez Sugar burns down.
You're stealing files.
So I want to know what the hell's going on,
since now I'm an accessory and all.
I hid the files in your Dropbox.
In case something happened, the story would come out.
Just give me the files and a little time, and it's yours.
Not good enough.
You get the story.
I want Tyler every other weekend.
Oh, absolutely not.
I was hoping we could make this a win-win, but if not,
I do have evidence of my son's mother engaging
in a pattern of dangerous behavior.
What the hell?
You broke the law.
You have our son cleaning guns
and walking around with animals that could swallow him whole.
Okay, in Florida, all that's normal.
You can have your files.
But this isn't a negotiation.
297
-Fancy a tipple, Cammie? -No.
We're still using the nom de guerre, correct?
You doing okay?
Well, while I appreciate the check-in,
I don't particularly want to see you right now.
What's this?
Open it.
You deleted these.
I watched you.
I had a backup plan.
I sent them to Marcus--
the tox reports, um, the employee records,
everything.
Still want me to leave?
We did it.
Yeah, we fucking did it.
-I'm gonna call Sheriff Grant. -Oh, no, no, no, no.
-Grant? -Yeah.
I mean, he saved our lives.
No, we need something more satisfying
than the county hall monitor.
What are you talking about?
I'm feeling...
vindictive.
-Hello? -Alejandro.
You'll never believe where I'm not calling from--
a morgue!
What the fuck?
Glad to hear you sounding well.
Is there something specific you called to say?
As a matter of fact, yes.
I'd like to say cadmium.
Also, phosphorous, chromium, sulfur.
We have the file, Alejandro.
The one you thought Cammie deleted.
What do you want?
Money, land, the sugar plant, what?
Dinner.
You and the whole family, tonight, my place.
Let's say cocktails at 6:00.
What was that?
We had it in the bag.
And then you took the bag and shit in it
and put it on the counter and lit it on fire.
Now my house is on fire, and it smells like shit!
No. We're drawing them into a trap.
"Drawing them into a trap"?
This isn't "Clue."
You're not Sherlock Holmes.
That's ridiculous.
Those are two totally different universes.
This was my investigation.
You remember that Alejandro just tried to kill us, right?
Or did you just leave that out of your memory palace?
Oh, you're angry with me
because you're afraid of intimacy.
-Oh, my God. -And you haven't been
-this close to a man in years. -No! No!
I'm angry because this was supposed to get me
-my job back. -And it will.
I have a plan.
Can I tell you my plan?
All of it.
I will weave the facts into an undeniable order
and trap them into telling the truth.
But it will require everyone's help.
Why are you so sad?
Wow.
You really dug into those feeling words, huh, Bug?
Come here.
Getting heavy.
All right, the thing is, Ty,
I came here looking for something, all right?
But I got you instead.
That's way more important than anything I was looking for.
So...
maybe it's time that we moved on,
try something new, new adventures, hmm?
Don't you like it here?
You like Bell.
Sort of.
But maybe it's time that we leave Florida, okay?
Hey. Hey, hey, hey.
We'll talk about this more
when I get back from the Prescotts', all right?
A very long time ago,
you told me that the truth would heal.
Now we are going to test that hypothesis.
Welcome, everyone.
Thank you for coming.
Roasting a whole pig-- how very Cuban.
Since you forbade it at the wedding,
I figured, "If not now, when?"
Wait till you taste dessert.
Officer Lorde, nice to see you again.
Yeah, I bet it is.
Oysters?
I'll pass.
You look familiar.
Oh.
Yeah, you tried to have sex with me
when I worked at the Show-N-Tail.
Yeah. Did we...?
No.
You wanted me to put on five-inch heels
and step on your balls?
-Did you...? -I did not.
I don't get what you're up to here, but I love it.
My friend, in the words
of the immortal Bachman-Turner Overdrive,
baby, you ain't seen nothing yet.
Cordials are served.
I would like to thank you all for coming.
My desire isn't to escalate a conflict.
It is to end one,
which is why we start with cordials--
a word derived from the Latin
"of or pertaining to the heart."
You pretentious prick.
Just tell us what you want.
Always to the point, Alicia.
As you know, we have files pertaining
to certain El Calvero activities.
The information is undeniable and damning.
Someone in a vengeful mood would use them to destroy you.
What do you want, Bell?
I don't know who killed my wife,
but I believe one of you does.
Tell me, and I make those files disappear.
Dinner is served.
I thought that went well, don't you?
No, I don't.
What was that?
That was not a part of the plan.
The plan was to force them to confess
and then secretly record them
and not get sucked into a Vida vortex.
That's a very negative spin to put on a moment
of unadulterated glory.
No. No.
I will not be a part of covering up a major crime.
I have planned this night in excruciating detail.
The Perezes are going down.
If you want to call Sheriff Grant,
go ahead, be my guest.
I can't stop you.
Or you can trust me.
We will get to the truth.
447
Before we begin...
a toast.
To this fine aged El Calvero rum,
with bewitching notes of maple,
pineapple, and, uh...
mmm, one last thing.
Were some of my employees doing cocaine?
What a scandal that would make in Florida
That's not cocaine.
That's sugar...
that we found on your truck,
put there by your son
right after your husband tried to kill us.
Your rum that claims to be smoothed with age
is instead smoothed with sugar
straight from the vat to the shelves--
pure fraud.
Clearly, Bell's delusional.
He's agoraphobic-- totally different issue.
I didn't know anything. I didn't.
Look, we were in the hole after Hurricane Irma.
That rum was a symbol of integrity.
Come on, Alicia. "Integrity"?
How many of Quique's lovers did we have to silence with cash?
Oh, careful, Alicia.
Perez woman who try to uphold the family's integrity
tend to die.
You will not put that on us.
You're responsible for Vida's death.
Am I?
You're the one who drove her into the swamp.
Actually, she died on the beach,
just down from your beach house.
That doesn't make any sense. Vida was found in the swamp.
Well, the tidal surges carried her body
up the estuary to the swamp,
where she was found, not where she was killed.
Vida had been carrying two terrible burdens--
me and the secret she learned from her subpar lover,
Jeremiah Cedar.
That's who told her the ugly truth
about her whole family--
that the sugarcane operation,
which my father entrusted to you,
had poisoned its workers from neglect and greed.
Stolen files prove nothing.
No, but this does.
Time for the appetiser--
locally sourced and freshly harvested.
What is this? Shit?
Oh, it's worse.
It's mill mud.
But you knew all about it, didn't you?
You thought you could bury it with money.
I have no idea what you mean.
A check you signed to Jeremiah Cedar,
because you knew if he talked,
this would all come out.
Do you know how many employees we have?
I don't know each person.
But you knew Jeremiah,
because he was sleeping with your daughter,
which is why Vida called the family meeting--
to confront you.
When did she tell you that?
The other morning when you were humping the pillow?
I'm glad you asked.
I call to the stand Olav Skramstad,
king of the hundertrout,
kind enough to join us from Norway.
Mr. Skramstad, tell us,
were you able to discern Vida's movements
the day prior to her murder?
I-I don't understand the point of this.
Indeed. Track with me.
Vida drove Interstate 10 from Boggsville to Tampa.
Her trip terminates here, at El Calvero.
You serious? It's not a courtroom.
Shut up.
The phones of Alejandro and Yasiel Perez
in direct proximity to Vida for 42 minutes.
She couldn't tell me because I was too drunk
and too self-obsessed to listen.
Instead, she confronted you, and it led to her death.
Your Norwegian day player is bluffing,
unless he's with the NSA, which seems highly unlikely.
You're right.
I'm not a spy, madame.
I am a curtain salesman.
At least that's what I told
a certain search engine company.
When I told them I wanted to buy geolocation-specific ads,
they were so excited, they sent me data
on every phone in Florida.
God bless American free enterprise.
Get some sleep, Skramstad.
Oh, and rook to queen four, mate in two.
Ah.
Time for the main course.
So...
Vida left the meeting devastated.
She came home.
She wanted to tell me,
but it was the anniversary of my father's death,
so I had drunk a lot and passed out.
I didn't wake up until the next morning.
Vida had come and gone to Jeremiah's place.
He gave her what I couldn't.
To be clear, he was not nearly as proficient
at making love as I am.
But he listened,
and they decided she should talk to a lawyer.
We knew she was there from the parking ticket
she got outside the lawyer's office,
where she explored the idea
of going public with what she knew.
Only problem was,
Harold Joffee, Esquire, was a man that could be bought.
How much did it cost to buy him?
A lot.
Because two weeks later, Harold closed his practice
and moved to the Caymans.
Vida came home, tried again to tell me what was going on.
We fought, and she ran to the beach house...
to meet one of you.
-You don't know that. -Actually, we do.
We know the killing happened at your beach house
because that's where the murder weapon came from.
The murder weapon was never found.
A real cop would know that.
Oh, ouch.
Oh, now you're hurting my feelings.
The weapon was found.
It's an antique machete
with a 12-inch blade.
Hand-forged.
But you know that already, don't you, Alejandro?
Because you planted the weapon here,
at this house...
the night that you came and talked to Bell two weeks ago.
This is getting exciting.
So you found the weapon that killed my daughter here,
and you haven't arrested this monster?
Let's go.
Oh, whoa, wait.
Oh, oh, oh, perfect timing.
I call my next witness.
Checotah...
Can you please tell us where you got these machetes?
From the Rosemary Beach place,
not 30 minutes ago.
Holy shit.
-You broke into our home? -No.
You signed up for hands-free, no-signature deliveries.
I have the access code.
I got you a little something nice.
It's a Britney Spears megamix.
You're gonna like it.
Let's see.
Yep, I confirm
that the murder weapon used to kill Vida Prescott
matches these.
They're part of the same set.
One of you killed Vida...
and killed an innocent man to cover it up.
Well, not that innocent. He was sleeping with my wife.
So which one of you was it?
Was it you, Yasiel,
who, according to numerous sources,
is one of the most depraved spatchcocks
from a depraved clan?
Or was it you...
Alicia?
You gave me the photo of Jeremiah
to flush him out.
Or was it you, Ramon,
the one she trusted,
the one she never would have seen coming?
It wasn't me.
I know it wasn't you.
It just felt weird leaving you out.
I bet...
it was you,
the man torn between
two charismatic women--
a wife driven by prestige and profit
and a daughter repulsed by her family's amorality
and determined to make amends.
Enough.
You're weak and drunk like your father.
He was not weak!
-Bell. -You broke him!
He sold you the company
when he found out workers were getting sick.
-You told him you would fix it. -Bell--
When he found out you lied,
he did the only honorable thing he could think of!
He hanged himself from the rafters of our barn!
And that is on your head.
648
Bell li--lied to me.
He wanted me to think it was an accident.
I know it was wrong, but he...
he was probably just trying to protect you.
At least you know the truth now.
The truth?
Tell the truth.
If you killed my daughter,
I will cut you right here, right now.
Make her stop.
Listen to me, cariño, I'm no angel.
There's people that I would kill,
but never our daughter.
You lied about everything else.
I'm done with this.
You lost me a daughter. You won't lose me a wife.
What the fuck are you talking about?
Take Bell's deal. Just--just tell the damn truth!
Alicia...
put down the knife.
Vida did come and see us that day.
She left angry.
I wanted to go after her.
But Yasiel said, "I'll handle it."
I thought she would listen to her brother.
But after he left, I started to wonder,
"What the hell did he mean by he'd handle it?"
I tried to call him, and I got no response.
I called, and I called.
And after the next day, when I didn't hear from him still,
I went to the beach house.
A storm had knocked out the power.
But it was brutally clear what he meant.
One of the machetes was gone.
And there was blood.
No.
No! No.
Vida. Mi Vida!
You always thought the worst of me,
both of you.
-I didn't murder my sister! -Stop.
Okay?
I'm not a criminal, which is a fucking miracle,
given who my parents are.
Evening, folks.
Yasiel Perez, I'm placing you under arrest
for the murder of Vida Perez.
Based on what?
I've been monitoring via phone connection
with Officer Lorde here.
What? You told me to either trust you or call him.
I did both.
Okay, party's over.
No.
No, this is bullshit!
Yasiel.
Yasiel!
Request backup, Prescott compound.
Cálmate.
The gator's fine, but this one got a little chewed up.
A fucking gator tried to eat me!
Darn. I forgot to feed Moseley.
What kind of lunatic keeps a gator for a pet?
A Prescott lunatic.
That's actually the first time he's come in handy.
Yasiel didn't do it, and I can prove it.
Yasiel called me
halfway between Tampa and Rosemary Beach.
Whatever he was gonna do after Vida walked out,
he got shitfaced and wrapped his car around a pole.
I arranged for a tow before the cops could find him...
or my dad could.
Yasiel wasn't even in Rosemary Beach
the night Vida was killed.
He was in Tampa, with me.
Then what the hell did you mean by "I'll handle it"?
I meant that I knew Vida was cheating.
I was gonna tell her if she didn't lay off
the Perez Sugar bullshit, I'd tell Bell.
Okay, I'm an asshole! I'm not a killer.
Why have you kept this secret?
Because I thought Dad killed her!
-You thought it was me? -You thought it was me!
Don't you love how this family talks things out?
I think it's kind of touching.
You're all liars.
You lied to me about the death of the only decent child I had.
Alicia.
Bell.
You were right.
Leaving this up to me was a disaster.
No, you got nearly everything right.
They're destroyed.
And I still have no idea who killed my wife.
All right, you two need to come with me.
Our lawyers will have us out in an hour.
-Everything I've got on them. -Wow.
Those, uh, cases, the ones I told you about,
the ones that eat at you,
most times, we don't get them solved,
but you did good.
I'm impressed.
You're not even a police officer anymore.
This is Florida.
No one gives a shit.
Tell me...
what kind of a mother lets her son hang out with a lunatic
like Bellwether Prescott?
Oh, you got some parenting tips to share with me?
Really?
They're free to go.
I told you it would end this way.
Nothing just ends, Alicia.
We lost a daughter. That's enough.
So crawl back to your swamp.
You know, I met your father once.
You're a lot like him.
You think you're invincible.
Ahh.