"I'VE READ EVERY BOOK EVER WRITTEN, AND A FEW MORE."
BASED ON TRUTHS AND LIES
KUMLA PRISON JUNE 2ND 1980
-Name? -Sussi Korsner to visit Clark Olofsson.
Welcome.
Raise your arms. No sharp objects?
Hi.
Identity card.
Every fucking writer in Sweden was lining up to write my memoirs.
There was so much material to tap into…
Thank you.
…and everybody knew it would be a best-seller.
I picked this babe, her name was Sussi.
Hot as fuck. Am I right?
The whole world was waiting for my story, so it was time to do this book.
THE HUNT FOR CLARK
Hey, what's up? Where did you hide little miss Pretty?
The writer?
Don't tell me you locked her up.
Well, well!
-There she is! All alone. -Hello.
-You managed to slip in? -Yes.
That's what she said.
-Nice to finally meet you. I'm Sussi. -Yes. I'm Clark.
Wow! You smell nice too!
-Have a seat. -Thanks.
So, how are we gonna do this?
Q&A, or should I just run my mouth? I'm really good at that.
-I've given it a lot of thought. -Oh?
-I started writing, if you'd like to read. -I'd love to.
I thought maybe we could write the book together? That would be fun.
Or maybe I should get started on my own--
-Sure thing. -And let's go from there.
You're the writer, that's your call. I respect that. Of course.
Damn, did you get that body from writing?
Let's begin.
So, I'm here at Kumla Prison for my initial meeting with Clark Olofsson.
-The one and only. -It's the beginning of a new decade.
In a few months, you'll be a free man.
-You're in love and you just got married. -Yup.
Your wife Marijke is pregnant with your first child.
-Yes, a lovely woman. -Yes.
And you keep making the front pages.
So, it begs the question… How does it feel to be Clark Olofsson right now?
Hah, how it feels…?
It feels real fucking good to be Clark Olofsson - right now.
Here we are.
Welcome to my crib.
C 316, my home.
My books, I read a lot. This is where I sit and write.
-Aerobics. I try to stay in shape. -Right…
-That's good. -Come here, sit down…
-Right. -Right…
So, what went on at the restaurant after the robbery?
What do you mean?
You chose a restaurant next door to a police station.
-Almost like you wanted to be arrested. -Well, nah…
This place isn't all that bad.
I've spent so much time in prison.
There's peace and quiet in here.
Time to think.
Time to think about what?
Everything.
And what did you come up with?
That I'm leaving this life behind.
I want to start fresh with Marijke.
I'm going legit.
-That's exciting. -Yeah.
You already have two kids, two girls?
Yup.
That's right, I had a couple of them.
One with Ingela, you know, the hot girl in the sauna.
And one with Madou. Remember her?
I ran into her a few years later, and one thing led to another.
Do you ever see your daughters?
Well, it's… We have a great relationship.
They love me.
But here's the thing.
I'm over it, that's bygones and I never dwell on the past, fuck it.
No, I don't want to talk about it. Just drop it.
Well, it's important for me and the book. I want to know everything about you.
Like for instance… You seem to enjoy life in prison.
How come you break out all the time?
What kind of a fucking question is that?
You know what? Never mind all that.
You should write about how I'm starting a family with Marijke,
and that I'm getting out in a few months.
Focus on that! It'll be great.
Don't do anything stupid, Clarken.
-What the hell do you mean? -This is your last furlough.
-I know that. -In a few weeks, you'll be a free man.
There's no way in hell, I'll mess this up.
Kurre the Fox!
Sure you will.
Suck my dick, fucking cop!
SKANSEN - MIDSUMMER'S EVE
Get out of the way, old-timer!
Fuck off!
Here comes Slarken!
Move! Coming through…
What the hell are you staring at?
Asshole!
Bottoms up
Sing hopp faderallan lallan hey
You better drink it all at once
Or you ain't getting half as much
Bottoms up
Sing hopp faderallan lallan hey
What happened? Are you OK, Slarken?
Happy Midsummer!
-Having fun, people? -That's mine!
Happy Midsum--
We're gonna have fun.
Knock it off.
What the hell is this?
Did someone die?
-I want a good old-fashioned… -Let's dance.
-…Swedish Midsummer. -Mommy!
Liven the fuck up!
Play for Slarken!
That's right, sit down!
-Dance! Happy Midsummer. -Slarken gets it done.
-Put her down. Put her down now! -We're celebrating.
What's this? Flowers in your hair?
Fuck off to the Bahamas!
-What are you doing? -Sir…
Check it out!
-I need a beer. -Let's dance!
Come on, god damn it. Dance, for fuck's sake!
Dance…
Come on, dance.
Come on, lady. Have a sausage…
-No… -Here.
Alright. O. P. Anderson, a safe bet.
-Should I pour you one? -Oh no, don't worry, I'll take care of it.
-Excuse me. -Yeah. Hello there.
-Happy Midsummer, old timer. -Happy Midsummer.
Look, I don't think this is the right place for you and your friends.
That's for damn sure.
This party sucks.
Don't you worry, you old fart. We'll get this place jumping.
We would rather that you pack up and get out of here.
We don't want any trouble here at Midsummer.
-I get that. What's your problem? -I'm just--
Where's your sense of humor? We're a fun bunch looking for a good time.
Quit bothering Berit!
We're fun, happy--
Well, we don't exactly appreciate it when
a gang of pathetic, drunken hooligans shows up and scares people to death.
So do us all a favor and leave, Clark.
-You're not completely clueless after all. -No.
Hi, grandpa!
It was like you didn't know who you were dealing with. No fucking manners!
I know you're used to having it your way.
-Right. -But on this Midsummer the fun ends here.
So take your filthy, disgusting, god damned crowd and get out of he--
Don't speak to me like that!
No one tells me what I can or cannot do!
Come over here.
What the hell are you looking at? He started it!
Mommy!
Have a strawberry and enjoy Midsummer. They're delicious.
Let go! Let go!
Slarken!
-Let go! -No, you don't…
Fucking fiddler!
-Kurre! -Let go, damn it!
Dutte!
Let him go!
Let go!
What the hell?
Do you know who I am?
I'll break your fucking nose!
He's got a knife!
Run to the payphone and call the cops!
Grandpa!
Help me!
Slarken…
How dare you hit me in the face with a bottle?
-Kurre! -Slarken!
That's enough!
Slarken!
Slarken! We gotta go…
Slarken, come on…
Call a medic!
Let's go, damn it.
Come on, let's go!
Somebody, help him!
Stop, you bastards!
Call an ambulance.
What the hell?
-Can you hear me? -Don't leave me!
I hereby find Clark Oderth Olofsson
guilty of aggravated assault,
and sentence him to two years in prison.
What the hell? Come on, cut me some slack!
-He started it! -Oh? I started it?
Yeah, you started it!
Besides, it was sort of an accident. He fell on the knife.
And my wife! She's due any day.
I'll miss the birth of my child… again!
Maybe you should have thought of that before he fell on the knife.
Seventeen times!
-What the hell, he's alive. -Yeah, by a god damned whisker!
You were lucky. Like I couldn't have killed him if I wanted to?
I think you should stop talking, Clark.
-Clark, I think something's wrong… -I know, he's an idiot. I'm innocent.
Get him out of here. Immediately.
-Honey, did you piss yourself? -Honey, I think the water broke.
-OK, Clark. Let's go. -No shit? Let me go!
Honey, I… Honey!
-Get him out of here! -Honey, see you soon!
Easy now…
Don't hold back, Marijke. Screaming might help.
That's right, there we go.
Let me get this straight, because you were going to start fresh,
and instead you almost killed a man.
Yeah, so maybe I shouldn't have done that.
But that hillbilly started it.
Yet another birth I missed out on.
But Marijke was fine with it. What about me who missed the whole thing?
What the hell, childbirth is overrated.
No one remembers them anyway.
Huh? As long as you're there when they start walking and talking.
And I'll be a free man by then.
I mean, I'm still here, aren't I?
Not like my father who just disappeared.
Can we talk a bit about your dad?
It's like you're afraid you'll become like him.
Huh?
Here you go.
-A gift? -Sure, it's his birthday.
-Of course I was gonna get him something. -How nice, Clark.
Hi, sweetheart.
A gun?
What the hell, Sten?
-What? -Is it real?
-What do you mean, real? -A real gun?
It's a birthday gift! Get me a beer already.
Damn! Ruining the mood like that…
Getting on my fucking nerves, bitch.
Bang, bang, bang!
Clark, listen. Come here, listen up.
Just between us guys, it's like this: Bitches, some things they just don't get.
Know what I'm saying?
Isn't it nice?
I think it's a really bad idea.
-What do you mean? -Giving a 6-year-old a--
Fucking idiot! It's not loaded, obviously!
What do you think, you stupid fucking--
Wha--
Fuck, this thing packs a punch!
What the hell is going on?
-Damn, are you OK? -You shot me!
In the leg, it's just a scratch, for fuck's sake.
-I'm bleeding! -Yes, you're bleeding!
For God's sake…
I'm fucking sick of this shit!
I can never do anything right!
Fuck it, give me my beer!
I'm so fed up with you guys.
Fucking idiots, go to hell!
-I'm just… -Go to hell!
…in a bit of pain, I'm bleeding a little…
Never mind him. He was a fucking idiot, that's all you need to know.
Now I have a question for you.
It's so fucking lonely in here…
so I was thinking, before you go,
could I have your panties?
I think we will call it a day…
There's twenty minutes left.
-Yes, let's continue next time. -Hey…
It was worth a shot!
No sense of humor whatsoever.
JOURNALISM SCHOOL
Two more years to kill.
While Buzzkill Sussi worked on the book, I applied to Journalism School.
I used to write for "The Concrete Journal" and that went well.
-Welcome, Clark. -Thanks.
And they gave me furloughs, so I could take the admissions tests.
You have one hour, starting now.
You do a lot of reading when you're behind bars.
I've read every book ever written, and a few more.
And that makes you smart as hell.
No one believed I would be admitted.
But how hard can it be?
-What the hell, he aced it. -Yes.
And in record time no less.
So, he's not a total moron.
No, but there will be political implications.
So, I would strongly advise against letting Clark Olofsson set foot on campus.
Thanks. But it's not about that, is it?
-Are we sure about this? -No.
Do you think I want that bastard around? We're not sure but we don't have a choice.
APPROVED
Hah! I knew I'd make it.
And I graduated with honors.
Clark Olofsson.
Piece of fucking cake.
Congratulations, Clark. We were honored to have you.
-Indeed! -Good luck.
Thank you for having me.
CLARK GRADUATES JOURNALISM SCHOOL
-There he is! -Hello.
There you are.
-Hi. -Congratulations.
Hiya.
-Congratulations on becoming a journalist. -Well, thank you.
How did your friends react?
Well… "Fight for prisoner rights", I was told.
They don't think of you as a hotshot now? Is there a downside to the fame and glory?
No, they know me.
How does it feel?
Well… I'm happy, of course…
I'll be even happier in two years and four months when I get out.
Society has always been there for you.
Will you return the money from the robbery in Gothenburg?
-No, I can't. -Why not?
-I don't know where it is. -How much money are we talking about?
-Well, roughly 700,000. -And you don't know where it is?
I haven't got a clue.
What's your specialty? What will you write about?
Right, you assume I'll focus on my areas of expertise.
Which would be crime journalism, bank robberies and sexy ladies.
But… I don't want to limit myself. I'd like to learn everything.
How about meeting your future colleagues like this?
-Well, I've seen them before. -Is this the new look of journalism?
I look a lot better than you guys, that's obvious.
I had no intention of being a journalist or writing about boring people.
Why waste my time on that instead of focusing on myself?
I got furloughs for on-the-job training, so I got my fair share of "training"…
A night at The Cafe, not too shabby, my friends.
The night is young, the night is long.
That's my buddy. Kurre!
This is the place to be, and look who's here…
The rascal!
Slarken… Nose candy!
If you insist.
Let's get fucking wasted!
Right on, it's party night!
-Cheers… -…fior fuck's sake.
The 80's… One hell of a decade.
-He wins it again! -He's so strong right there.
-Tear down this wall! -Cheers!
Don't believe the stuff in the papers. We had a lot of fun. Kicki… I fucked her.
Clark, help yourself.
Prime stuff.
Olofsson!
Tommy Pony!
I'm glad you're taking the time to party.
This thing with you becoming a journalist…
-Yeah? -I told people, he's going to fuck it up.
I was doing great, until you showed up.
It sure looks that way.
Police! Anyone who doesn't leave this room gets booked for drug possession.
Fuck, the cop needs to take a shit.
-Later. -You're staying.
Hey… Stay right there.
Fuck, Clark. I thought you were on the right track.
I am. Everything is fucking perfect.
-Stay out of it! -Hey…
I've known you all your life, and I know…
I know there is some potential in that head of yours.
Come on, make the most of it. Prove to everyone that you're no idiot--
Shut up! Don't call me an idiot!
You're the idiot! No one tells me what to do!
-So, am I supposed to be intimidated? -Yes, you are.
Right. Maybe take a swing at me, too?
Sure, go ahead. Sock it to me real--
Well, he fucking asked for it.
Suit yourself.
What more can you ask for? This is a magical night, just like always!
"Skifsen" is coming up. Party on!
Hold this.
What's in your pocket, Jan?
My name's not Jan, and you've got your hand on my cock.
-I know who you are. -And I know who you are.
Tommy! It's Lena Nyman!
Hi, Tommy!
Son of a bitch!
Michelangelo
Will you let me know?
I love you, Clark!
Kurre! It's Lena Nyman!
Lena Nyman!
…bring your paint and brush Make her your masterpiece
That's right, Skifs! Is he here?
Maybe in the VIP lounge.
Clark Olofsson!
Come here.
Here we go!
You're in for a hell of a ride…
-Take me! -The best ever.
-I can't wait any longer. -Me neither.
-What the hell is this? -Unbutton it. Right there.
That wasn't much of a ride…
Good morning.
Good morning to you.
The world's fastest lover.
I told you I was the best.
I can't wait to tell my friends I fucked none other than Svartenbrandt!
Like hell you did!
Relax, lighten up.
Obviously I know you're the other guy.
-Clark… -Yeah.
The best, of course.
You bet your sweet ass I am!
Is there any grub in this place?
I'll whip something up.
-Hey, what time is it? -Just past eleven.
Oh, shit!
Yes, Furlough Division.
-Sjölander! Hey, it's Clark. -God damn it, Clark…
-I know you've tried to get a hold of me. -Since 8 a.m.!
-Time flies when you're having fun. -Whatever. We have urgent news.
Well, what's the big urgency?
There's no easy way of telling you this, but it's about your mom.
We've been in touch with the hospital…
How would you like your egg boiled? Hard or soft?
The fucking cancer had spread all over Mom's body.
She didn't have much time left.
She was just lying there, waiting…
Clark.
I love you, Mom.
My Clark…
It's so good to have you here.
I'm here.
Yes… I'm so proud of you.
Yes, I know.
It's going to be alright.
Yes, it's going to be alright.
You don't have to say anything.
I did…
I did the best I could…
I know.
I love you.
You're the best.
Yeah…
Yeah, it's alright.
She took her last breath,
and just like that she was gone.
Farewell, mommy dearest…
Those assholes didn't even let me attend her funeral.
Can you believe it?
Just because I got back late a few times.
Oh, fuck it…
Life goes on.
THREE YEARS LATER
Well, Olofsson…
The years went by and I was finally a free man.
As you know, I usually break out of prison.
I've done seventeen jailbreaks, that's got to be a world record.
-Well, guys… -Take care now.
-Go shit yourselves. -Please don't come back.
But this time, I served my whole sentence.
I wanted society off my case and start fresh, go legit.
For real this time. It's like I always say--
My plant! What the hell?
Listen, damn it… Get this thing off me. I can't breathe.
Do you know who I am?
What did I do to you?
Whatever it is, I'm innocent. I promise.
Seriously…
Come on! Hey, what did I do?
Man, I'm really struggling here!
What do you want from me? Huh?
Just ask! I'll tell you whatever you want!
All my friends are idiots any--
Surprise!
Suckers! I knew it was you all along!
We're trying to prank you and you ended up pranking us!
Marijke… Hey, honey. And little Jon, nice to see you.
You guys are amazing!
Sussi Pussi is here! And Pitala!
Party on!
-Sounds good. -That's a great plan.
-Party on. -Party on.
Exciting.
How did you two meet?
-On the train? -Yes.
A couple of old people came in…
It was the first time,
so it was…
-What are you talking about? -Oh, nothing. It's just chit-chat.
-Right… -Marijke told us about how you two met.
Alright.
Adding the perspective of your loved ones will make for a better read.
Sure. Is that even possible?
A better read, I mean. The book is about me!
Just kidding. I've got nothing to hide.
-Nice. -Yeah, it is.
-Do you have a minute? -Sure.
Good.
Why are you speaking to random people? You don't know if what they say is true.
No one knows me better than me.
I remember everything, every detail. You don't need anyone else.
I mean, is this book about Clark Olofsson,
or is it about everybody else?
-The book is about you… -Me…
-But I think-- -OK, sounds great.
Later.
Marijke, we're leaving.
Good job.
Gather, everybody!
I would like to say a few words.
Listen up!
This is a historical moment.
CONGRATS ON YOUR RELEASE
I'm fed up with this fucking country.
As of right now,
Clark Olofsson will reside in Belgium
with his beautiful wife, Marijke, and lovely little boy,
and no more
bank robberies.
Barbecue and drinks on the porch.
I'm working on my potbelly.
Cut it out, Slarken.
And I would like to say to all of you, from the bottom of my heart…
Go shit yourselves!
Cheers!
On to Belgium.
He's out of here.
-Best of luck, Clark! -Best of luck!
Give it up for Slarken!
Thanks, Kurre!
Alright, honey. Seat belts.
-We're going legit. -OK.
Sussi Pussi, you look surprised. You see…
I really can obey the law.
-Well, it's illegal to drink and drive-- -Later!
He's coming back around!
I love you, Clark!
Are you comfortable back there, buddy?
Mom's asleep, it's just you and me.
A pair of night owls.
Alright, don't worry, buddy.
Dad's doing a pitstop.
Why are we stopping?
I just need to stock up.
-Don't worry, I'll just be a second. -Please, Clark…
Like I said. You do what you want, as long as Jon and me are kept out of it.
-It's important to me. -Alright.
I know.
I love you… and him.
Jon.
-I'll just be a second! -Clark, please…
700,000 crowns.
The money from the Gothenburg bank robbery.
That should keep us going for a while.
Alright. Let's go.
18 MONTHS LATER
BLANKENBERGE, BELGIUM 1984
Jon, check this out.
Hey there, Jon!
Here comes the balloon monster!
-Hello. -Sussi, come on in.
Just kidding…
-Hi, Clark. -Hiya, Sussi Pussi!
-Welcome to Casa del Olofsson! -Thanks.
-Take a seat. -Thank you so much, how nice.
-Hi, Jon. -We're celebrating. It's Jon's birthday.
-I know. What a beautiful cake. -I know, I made it myself.
How old are you now?
Good luck with that.
That one doesn't talk.
He's not retarded or anything, but moving to a new country and stuff…
We're giving it time.
Congratulations, Jon.
How's the book coming along?
Well, I think I'm making progress.
-It's going to be a long book. -Yeah…
-You've lived a very productive life. -Yeah, exactly…
Here's what I'm thinking…
A gun?
Bitch!
Useless!
…and I have a few more questions, if that's OK with you. Clark?
Huh?
-Should we stay here or take it outside? -No, here's fine.
I have nothing to hide from Marijke. She can handle it.
Alright…
I know you don't like to talk about your childhood,
but now that you have your own family, what about the family you grew up with?
Your relationship with your mother and so on…
Mom!
Mommy's here. It'll be OK. I love you.
-No! -I'll always be there for you.
Mom!
Good boy!
Well, she was cool…
-Super-cool. -OK.
I've also been in touch with Maria, your girlfriend for a number of years.
-And she told me-- -I told you not to ask around.
Clark, wait…
-What just happened? -Seriously…
Huh?
Why are you focusing on all that crap? Fuck all that!
You have a great story right in front of you.
Clark Olofsson - criminal mastermind, turned family man.
This is a book about your life. We can't pretend your past didn't happen.
All the people you've hurt--
Hey, it's not going to happen today, OK?
We'll do it another time.
You have to leave now, I'm busy. Later!
Jon, the balloon monster is back!
Let's have cake, best dad ever is coming!
This is what Sussi should write about.
Clark Olofsson, best dad ever in his first attempt!
Well, technically my third, but you get my point.
The cops are coming!
I showed them all that I could go legit.
Well, sort of…
Fucking hell…
Going legit and being a family man cost a fucking fortune.
Come on, Jon.
and the money from Gothenburg didn't last long…
Fucking bullshit!
As a precaution, I had launched a few business ventures
with my old friend Kurre, fresh out of prison.
Turns out Kurre had connections in Belgium and with the help of a guy at Televerket,
we came up with a clever way of shipping the goods to Sweden.
The guy at Televerket tapped phone calls to the customs office and the cops.
The press dubbed us "The Televerket Gang".
"The Olofsson Gang" would be more fitting…
-Brilliant, Slarken! -Piece of fucking cake.
…if you ask me.
It was a perfect plan. We were cashing in…
All good, Jon?
…Marijke didn't ask about my business trips,
and I kept my promise, no working from home.
I liked bringing my kid to work.
Hey, stop crying.
Kind of…
I was the best dad ever while I was making money.
Mixing business with pleasure, basically.
Life was good…
…until now.
Come on, Jon.
As usual, they had to ruin everything.
I had north of a million crowns in the bag and I had to get away from the cops.
It was time to take off, and to say "tot ziens!" to Belgium.
Belgium is fucking overrated anyways.
Alright, here's the deal…
I gotta go. But don't worry, Mom will find you.
It's going to be OK. Later!
Oh, what the hell…
Here's some cash, for ice cream and snacks…
So we're cool, you and I.
Alright! Dad has to leave now, I have a few things I need to deal with.
But, uh… I'll see you later.
Fucking piece of shit!
Fine, come on.
Hey…
You are coming with me. Don't worry, it's going to be OK.
There.
It's all good, hold on.
Don't worry.
Fucking hell!
Stop staring at me!
I know you're not happy right now,
but don't blame me the cops showed up.
It could have been much worse, believe me.
Am I supposed to just leave you here? Huh?
This isn't a big deal.
You don't know what my old man did to me.
He did things I'd never do to you.
I know how it feels.
To be abandoned and when nobody cares about you.
But I care about you.
You hear me? Because I'm a good dad.
And I do the best I can.
Piece of fucking cake.
-Your old man still got it. -Dumbass.
I could have sworn you said "dumbass".
Just imagine if that was your first word.
Whatever…
We're off to Sweden.
Fucking hell!
Step out of the vehicle with your hands above your head.
Okay. Now, sir.
Fuck!
Looking good, Clark.
Thanks.
You little shit!
Fucking assholes.
Go…
It'll be OK, Jon.
Go…
Jon, Jon! Don't worry, buddy. Don't worry.
It's going to be OK. I love you.
I love you! Be careful with the child.
It's going to be OK. I'll see you soon.
It's not my bag, I've never seen it before.
Take care of my child!
It's going to be OK, buddy.
I hereby find Clark Oderth Olofsson guilty
of aggravated drug trafficking.
I sentence you to ten years in prison.
Right.
Fucking hell…
-Olof Palme. -What?
Prime Minister Olof Palme has passed away.
A man in his mid-to-late thirties fired two shots at the Prime Minister.
-It's so unreal, I can't believe it. -It's horrible.
KUMLA PRISON
MARCH 1ST 1986
-State your name and purpose, please. -Hi, Sussi Korsner. I'm here to see Clark.
-Hi, Sussi. -Hi.
Palme… Did you hear what happened?
How about this one…
-How do you make a nun pregnant? -I don't know.
You fuck her.
There she is.
Oh shit!
"That was yummy! Look at my tummy!"
Huh? What's your problem? Don't you know who the dad is?
It sure ain't me, cause you never put out.
I take it you haven't heard the news.
-Right? -News? I'm in solitary. How would I know?
Olof Palme was murdered.
Last night.
Fuck…
Oh, I thought I had done something.
Well, it's a good thing I'm in solitary, or they would pin it on me as well.
-We need to talk. -Come on, I liked Palme.
He treated me to a cognac. Did I tell you about that?
Right after Norrmalmstorg, I defused the whole situation,
and I get a call telling me to go…
Pick up that thingie and press "record". It's a great story.
I've finished the book.
Fuck me! I knew you could do it. Great job, Sussi Pussi!
Yeah well, I've decided not to publish it.
Huh?
I've given this a lot of thought.
The world has changed and…
The book doesn't mean anything anymore.
You don't matter anymore.
I don't want to be one of those people who buy into the myth of Clark Olofsson.
Stop joking, you almost had me.
-Good one. -I don't want to, I won't publish it.
Of course you will. It's awesome!
What the hell is your problem? Did I do something?
The more I talked to people who were close to you,
or believed they were close to you,
I realized that you only care about one thing, which is…
yourself.
I've told you not to talk to the others!
Why did you do that? That's stupid!
The book is about me, so you talk to me.
I wanted the truth.
I wanted to know how people around you see you.
Not just your manipulative bullshit.
And I'm glad I talked to them.
You know what, Clark? It was right there for the taking.
So much love, never giving anything back.
You ruined everything time and time again.
You've taken advantage of the system and abandoned your friends.
You've let Marijke down, over and over.
And she's not the only one, there are many more like her.
Your daughters.
Your children, how are they?
How are they doing?
They're doing fine.
You were willing to risk your son's life for some drugs.
You take advantage of people, Clark.
In the name of crime, validation and sex.
When you have no use for them anymore, you kick them to the curb and move on.
You never bother to ask them how they feel.
But I can actually tell you how they feel, because I've talked to each and every one.
And they feel like crap, because of you.
So, I guess I only have one…
Well, one last question.
How does it feel? How does it feel to be Clark Olofsson?
Honestly.
Well…
How it feels?
I'll tell you exactly how it feels.
Like I'm just getting fucking started.
Go shit yourselves.
BASED ON "VAFAN VAR DET SOM HÄNDE?" I-III BY CLARK OLOFSSON
Subtitle translation by Erik Lindberg