Hi. My name is Merritt Tryon.
I'm 27 years old.
And when you're as big as me, not much fits.
But I think I am the perfect fit for your show.
- Nope. Do not do it like that. - Mom!
No. No, no, no.
- You sound a mess. - Mom! Please.
You sound stiff, like a robot.
"My name is Merritt. This is my story."
And why you got this filthy hospital curtain up here?
Okay, it's my backdrop.
Let's record again. Do not interrupt me.
Okay, Miss Diahann Carroll.
I won't say nothing.
Take two.
Ugh.
Ever since I was a little girl,
I've had a problem with food. I mean, or...
At least what I thought was a problem.
It was what I ran to when I felt scared, sad, or trapped.
But I'm starting to realize that maybe...
that food wasn't the only problem.
It was that anxiety and depression.
Christ on a cracker.
All right, you're done.
Thank you. No, thank you.
Merritt, why do you have to debase yourself? Why?
- They want a story. - Tell 'em how smart you are.
Tell 'em you graduated at 16.
Tell 'em you got a perfect score on the SAT.
Wanna know why? That is a story.
They don't wanna hear that. Okay?
They-- they wanna hear about adversity and hardship.
Okay, I've seen a lot of victims in life, Mer.
And believe me when I tell you, baby, you are not one of 'em.
Mmm.
Well, you can go. Thank you.
- Oh. - Please go.
Okay. I will.
Mm-hmm.
Let the Goddamn light in and let everybody see
how wretched and horrible your life is.
Mm-hmm.
All right, go.
- You're still here. So, that's funny. - Mmm.
Okay, baby girl. I'ma go.
But mama is literally cooking you up something you gon' love.
Mmm. Hmm, hmm, hmm.
So, wait. Lemme get this straight, you're making me a turducken.
You bet.
- Mm-hmm. - Wow.
We have the makings of a fresh, full-fat turkey
with a layer of andouille sausage stuffing,
then, a very good Muscovy duck
carefully deboned and gently placed within the turkey's cavity.
And then last, but certainly not least,
an organic free-range mother fucking chicken within that,
all layered with this andouille sausage stuffing.
If you dare.
Oh, I dare.
How did you learn how to make a turducken? And why did you wait so long?
Listen, I told you, I would help you actualize your dreams of worldwide fame.
This dish has over 12000 calories,
so if you eat that over four days, that's like--
- It's like 3000 a day. - Ding, ding, ding.
But I intend to eat this in one, possibly two days.
Here's the deal.
You don't give me shit about what I like to drink.
You understand me?
Vodka, martinis, any of it.
In exchange, I'll help you get where you wanna be weight-wise.
Take it or leave it.
It's a deal.
Can I watch you make it?
Can you fill her up first?
I don't wanna get raw poultry on the vodka bottle.
You gon' love this next part.
This is where it gets delicate.
You need steady hands,
like those of a trauma surgeon.
We gotta make it look like a turkey again, not flattened roadkill.
So, we...
sew up the back.
Then we truss the fowl, like roping a calf.
And finally, a simple shoelace knot.
And voila!
One engastrated turkey.
Wow.
Wait, I'm sorry. You said castrated?
Engastrated.
It means, the remains of one animal are stuffed inside of another animal.
How do you even know that?
Lately I can't sleep at night, so I read cookbooks, girl.
Huh. That's interesting.
Well, how long is this thing gonna take because I think I will need a snack.
Will you, now?
About three hours.
But if that's too hard for you,
I can make you an omelet or something.
Ooh, yeah, what kind? I think we got some morels left.
A little mascarpone, a little chive.
Pour mama another drink,
could you?
Mmm.
This is the greatest thing ever invented
and the kindest thing you've ever done for me.
Well, I was gonna make cherries jubilee for dessert, but I can't.
It's okay.
I'm gonna have some more of that turducken for dessert.
Okay.
Mmm.
So, what's this all about? I mean...
Uh, you used to put out a frozen lasagna, if anything.
Okay, relax.
Now, my domestic skills, I admit, were slow to develop.
I do miss your father's cooking though. All those layered flavors.
See? I knew you missed him.
I know you miss him. You have to.
Okay, I miss certain things about him that made me stay as long as I did.
I mean, those are things from long, long ago.
That's nostalgia, baby.
Well...
Tell me the story of how you and Daddy met.
Oh, my God.
Why do you wanna hear that story again?
Because I wanna hear it again.
I've told you this a thousand times before.
Make it a thousand and one.
- Okay, okay. - Thank you.
I...
was working in Riverside, near the university.
Taking classes during the day, working at night.
Ooh. I loved being there.
I could have done this for a living.
And Marshall comes in with his students, like every Friday night.
Which I started really looking forward to.
...into the real. That's when the truth--
Got you some extra dumplings.
You're a goddess, Lois. You're a goddess.
And was Lacan right in his notion that we are the words we speak?
Lois, are we not the words we speak?
You're a wise woman.
I don't know about that, but I do think you get the face you earn
and the ass you work for as you get older.
Who had the extra chili paste?
You? You want one, too?
Your kindness is noted.
I love his table.
His students love him, they light up the place,
- laughing, happy. - Hmm. Now, where were we?
Cheers, Ms. Lois.
To the end of the day, the end of the night.
And he would stay after so we could talk.
- We loved it. - Mmm.
Maybe we were the words we speak.
That's good.
Wait a minute.
I saw you on campus the other day, didn't I?
You're a student there, aren't you?
- I am, indeed. - Mm-hmm.
My daddy wants me to be a lawyer,
and I'm straining to be interested.
Prelaw.
Why don't you just change your major to something else?
Like philosophy?
I love philosophy.
- I know you do. Hmm. - People need it.
They don't realize it,
but they do.
- I am interested in the law. - Mm-hmm.
Just not interpreting it, parsing it, using it.
I would much rather defend it.
You're the lone ranger in this mad, bad world.
- You bad girl. - Yes.
There is something about the idea of a woman with a badge and a gun,
it's just powerful.
I agree.
We should go on a date.
- When? - Now.
- What? - Right now.
Now more than ever, baby.
Ooh.
And then, we were together.
Nobody looked at me like he did.
Be careful.
I told you I would be done with this puzzle before dinner was ready.
You did, you did.
The last piece is never as much fun as the first.
I think every piece is fun for you.
You know,
you should be a detective.
You'd be wasted as a lawyer.
- Maybe. - Mm-hmm.
You don't wanna waste that little squirrel brain of yours
on torts and depositions.
You like to get underneath things,
you like to root around in the dark.
Cheers to that.
Ready? And he was so right.
All I've ever wanted
was to live in a universe of order.
Solve all the chaos.
I don't, I don't know
how he knew that about me right away, but he did.
Truth is, I know what it is now.
I'm hypervigilant.
I see everything everywhere.
It's no fun.
You listen to me.
You be on guard, to be careful about what love can do.
It can turn a soft soul hard,
or a hard soul soft
when it needs to be brutal.
That makes me sad for you, Mommy.
It is sad.
But it's also survivable.
God. All of it. All of it's survivable.
I just don't know whether or not that's a good thing.
So what, you just...
you-- you curl up like a pill bug and...
and die?
Sometimes, obviously.
Well, I know I'm not allowed to, um,
speak of your drinking...
uh, but does that apply to, um...
all love or...
just romantic love?
If you asking me if I love you,
most days, I do.
And even when I can't, I want to.
- Stop drinking. - Stop eating.
Mom. Mom!
Mmm.
Answer the phone. That could be the hospital calling about Dad.
Oh.
Hello. Lo, It's Cranburn.
It's five. We have another body.
Text me where.
Mmm.
Fuck me.
Yep.
Let's do it.
I don't know, it's like a Frankenstein.
How did they even get in there to do that?
Just slow down, Officer. Would you?
The doors, the exits are closed inside, there's no signs of B&E.
I got it.
Okay.
What is it? - Shh.
Let me think.
Who are they?
Who are? - The body parts, son.
Who do they belong to?
Hmm? We don't know. We don't know.
The DNA will take a few days.
Can somebody cut that music off?
And these fucking lights! Jesus!
We're working on it right now.
- We have to locate the controls somewhere. - Lois.
It's a... It's a crime scene, you can't just--
Lois, you cannot be here. Not like this.
I can't be here?
Can this be here, Jack?
'Cause it is.
That shit is real.
And it's right in front of our eyes, Jack.
You are not in control.
You reek of vodka, which is hard to do.
Lo, stay away. Go home. Sleep it off.
I'm sorry, but I have a duty to the force, to the community.
Exactly who in the community do you have a duty to, Jack? Huh?
Jessica Holt?
That who you're talking about?
You got a duty to her?
Drea Rhymes. Nini Lynn-Taylor. Danny Cotter.
- Who are you talking about? - Them!
The body parts.
How dare you not know who they are?
Drea was a part of the Broadside Motel Crew.
Pimp had got physical with her, she was afraid.
She came in.
You took the goddamn report!
And then what did you do, Jack?
You locked her up!
She came to you for help.
- How do you know-- - Jesus.
Jack, she had a tattoo on her ankle, cherry blossoms.
A symbol of transience, fleeting beauty,
the fucking irony.
That's her leg.
Danny Cotter.
Used to wander all the time between 7th and Camino, looking for dope.
I shot that boy with Narcan more times than I can even count.
He told me how he got the scar on his chest.
Had open heart surgery when he was a baby.
Six months old. Mitral valve.
Rheumatic fever.
Nini.
All the girls went to her for ink, for piercings.
She used to say to me all the time,
"Officer Tryon, give your husband a thrill.
Let me pierce you down you-know-where."
And I said, "Child, no.
The only reason I'm saying that is 'cause my man don't deserve a damn thrill."
And you want me out of here?
For the community, Jack?
You don't know the community.
And you don't love these people.
You would just as soon wait three days for the DNA to come back.
Tag 'em all "Does", throw 'em in a mass grave
with a headstone made out of concrete
'cause they ain't worth the price of a rock to you.
Mm-mmm.
Then you go home.
You go home and you watch the news, and you see what's going on
elsewhere that's so bad. So, so bad.
But what about right here, Jack?
That's how you love the community.
You.
Did you get all those names? Yes, ma'am.
I wanna know every person that they spoke to in the last two weeks.
I want pictures of everything.
I want it tagged and bagged and on my desk in an hour.
Do you understand me? Yes ma'am.
The monster is out there.
And after the night he had,
he's tired as a motherfucker.
And he's slow right now,
so we might be able to catch him.
So move. Move, people!
You heard her. Move, people.
I apologize
for my hostility.
No, I fucking don't.
Stop pouting, Jack.
'Cause you know I'm right.
You know it.
Come on, Sister. We're up.
What do all these cases have in common?
These are all well-known sex workers in town.
I mean...
All of you have collared them at one point or another.
Do you have collective amnesia?
With all due respect,
what the hell is the nun doing here?
Is she a confidential informant or something?
Because she has the insights we lack.
Or you lack.
It's because you're not using your imagination.
You're always two steps behind.
Sister, you have the floor.
Preach.
Killing as an art form.
This is a language he uses,
an essay,
taking something from his unconscious,
making it real, so we can use language to describe it.
- Read Lacan. - Exactly. Bingo.
I'm sorry, read who?
We need to decode the language he's speaking,
and then we'll have him.
Think of it as hieroglyphics,
the bodies, and what's on them.
Bam! Exactly!
The tattoos.
On the shoulder, a shamrock.
The arm, another clue, a lily.
Two flowers.
One, the symbol of mourning.
The other, the symbol of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.
Are you hearing this?
People, are you... Do you see what she's saying?
By their ink alone,
I can tell who every recidivist in this town is.
If I could,
all of you, I would fire for not recognizing those people.
Okay, Lo. I admit, we're lagging.
It's a surgeon.
Or coroners.
Someone who knows anatomy...
and knows how to sew.
A trauma surgeon, a medic.
Check the army and Air Force bases.
And it's someone who knows me.
Detective Tryon is being taunted.
Explain, please. - Oh, Jesus.
Because of my relationships with the sex workers.
I've helped all of them.
I've driven them to clinic, taken them to detox,
fought for, advocated for...
Protected them even when I was arresting them.
This is known by him.
He has a...
deep contempt for me.
He hates sex.
It's filthy.
Steeped in sin.
He's a cleaner.
A prophet trumpeting the coming of the end.
Bam!
Listen to her.
Lois.
Find the surgical thread he used.
Who supplies it?
What size was the needle?
How did he get his construction there? How did he hang it?
Check warehouses. You gotta...
find connections.
Sniff it out, smell it.
Unravel the string.
Lois.
Come on, Chief. How much more before this becomes an IA issue?
More like an AA issue.
Did you smell her? She reeked.
And why is the creepy nun all over it all the time?
Why?
Who's this Lacan person? Does anyone know who he is?
Yeah, he's a fucking French philosopher.
Dead, so he didn't do it.
- Don't you know anything? - Jesus.
You're all so eager to get rid of her.
Her husband is in a coma.
And, guess what? She's right.
She's being taunted by this killer.
She's Lois Tryon.
She's closed more cases than all of us.
Show some goddamn respect.
- Yeah, but she's sick. So-- - She needs our support.
Maybe she'll solve this case.
She's a once-in-a-lifetime detective,
and you'll miss her when she's gone.
Bye. Dismissed.
Fuck off. Go.
Charles, dear boy. You've done wonderful work.
It's not that, it's more granular and nuanced.
It's a matter of where your energies can be better focused.
The morbidity of the reporting, it's too much.
We would just like to put the newspaper to bed for a bit.
I think that this is exactly the wrong moment for that, Bishop, Mother Superior.
Have you seen the throngs,
the readership mushrooming?
Bill, you've seen the subscriptions multiply.
This paper is profitable finally.
First time in decades.
The stories are pornographic.
Exactly. And what's so bad about that?
Nobody but us is discussing the implications of all of this.
Politicians win by capitalizing on the great fears within the populace.
The church used to do this, by the way, quite effectively, I might add.
You burn a witch, people flock toward you.
And then everyone is trembling before the doors of the church.
Maybe he's right, you know.
The numbers are proof in a way.
Donations up, attendance is up.
And the newspaper is driving that.
This desert town,
military bases, farm workers, retirees,
its low hope, its low income, its low support.
And here we are,
we don't stop publishing, we publish more!
Maybe a Spanish edition.
That's not a bad idea.
Charlie here makes a lot of sense.
We tell 'em more than the local papers and the local news does.
My neighbor, Rabbi Chabon,
he said his congregation, Beth Shalom, are all reading it.
Maybe because we offer exactly the kind of blinding vision that we should be,
and that no one else is.
Because make no mistake, these murders are parables. They are.
Proverbs 4:25, 26.
"Let your eyes look straight ahead.
Fix your gaze directly before you."
And "Give careful thought to the paths for your feet
and be steadfast in all of your ways."
Do you have any notes, Bishop?
Okay then, keep going.
"Cast your bread upon the waters," son.
But with a little less relish perhaps?
I am so... I am so sorry.
- Less relish? - Yes.
No.
No, more.
With all due respect, if the church does not modernize, it will die, Bishop.
Spinning classes, online.
OnlyFans for the God-fearing.
For couples of faith perhaps.
Oh.
Hello there. Salutations.
It's Sister Megan.
Yes, I know that from your caller ID that popped up.
Oh, right, I'm a dingalong, of course. Sorry, Father.
How can I help you, good Sister?
Um... Well, gosh, golly, I'm working on tomorrow's story.
And let me tell you, it's a pip, a killer story.
She's got puns. Give me the headlines.
Um, sure. Okay, that's why I'm calling.
There are things I wanna publish here and, I mean, it's something.
Something...
Uh, graphic. Not for the squeamish.
I feel it's heretically controversial,
and I need to know I won't get fired if I run this.
An example please.
I'm not a mind reader nor a mystic, Sister.
Um. Sure. Okay, hold onto your communion wafers, Father. This is bold stuff.
"At the crime scene,
bodies of dismembered sex workers were arranged in a terrifying tableau.
Male and female hookers on the stroll..."
I like that. That's very clever. Um...
Me too.
Um. "Hookers on the stroll were snatched from their street corners
or darkened Internet spots of sin and shame,
slaughtered and then arranged in a stomach-churning Catholic mise-en-scène."
Were there any suspects?
Yes, um...
Lois strongly believes,
and I concur, that a freakado doctor, a nurse or medic
is involved here, someone specializing in surgical precision.
Interesting. There's precedent for this.
Precedent?
In the 1980, I believe, in New York City,
there was a medical professional who came under great investigation
connected with the West Village Murders.
It was a horrible case.
All the victims were members of the homosexual community.
They were viciously tortured...
before being stabbed.
Strange fellow, this...
murderous man, he was a sodomite nurse.
Oh, yes. Yes.
An anesthesiologist who specialized in spinal taps.
Oh, and did you know, Father,
this Cruising killer was actually featured in the movie The Exorcist?
It's great movie. It's one of my faves.
He was the one the director hired to give Regan her spinal taps.
This is great reporting, Sister.
Um, what I'd like you to do is bring a hard copy for me to redline in one hour.
And, um, this is great, Sister.
You're doing God's work.
Come in.
Would you mind closing that door? Please.
Well, that was quick.
Is that a Bioré pore strip on your nose?
Cleanliness is next to godliness.
Isn't that what they taught us?
Mm-hmm.
Is that the article
for my approval?
Yeah. Here.
If I may be so bold--
We have that in common.
Why did you have me deliver this story in person?
I could've emailed it to you.
This is excellent.
This is incredible.
- Thank you. - Gripping.
Maybe I like seeing your angelic face.
It lifts my spirits.
Would you mind?
Drying my back?
Let's go to the press with this.
You have my permission.
Sister.
No.
No!
"For all that is in this world,
the desires of the flesh, the desires of the eyes,
the pride of life come not from the Father...
but from this world."
Oh, my God.
Don't just stand there gaping.
You are a detective. You must have seen worse than this.
I can't hold him and do this at the same time.
What is it and where's your team?
My team?
My team are all spread out. Spread out and spread thin.
It's a bloody huge bedsore.
We better pray we're not too late to stop sepsis. Come and hold him.
Hold him!
For God's sake, help me.
God's sake.
How come this is the first time you're noticing this?
Because we'll be damned if we're the only ones caring for him
while you drink yourself into oblivion.
Jesus.
- I can't. I'ma be sick. - Shh.
Now, don't you dare vomit your boozy bile, Detective.
You'll kill him if it gets in there.
- I gotta sit-- - No, no, no, no, no.
Not yet. Not yet. Not yet.
I can't. I can't.
I need to dress this!
All right. Only get the dressing on.
All right, you can let him down now.
Gentle, gently.
How come you let this happen?
You should be ashamed of yourself.
There she sits, doing nothing,
simply wringing her alcoholic hands,
weeping vodka-filled tears, negating any responsibility.
Well, Officer, this is a tiny small town hospital,
and you terrorize the staff and you berate us.
People flee when you come around. They flee!
So this is what happens when you bully the people trying to help you.
The time has come.
The time has come for a talk.
Paging Dr. Mason. Dr. Mason.
I am not unsympathetic.
You, hunted by this demonic killer, it's hard.
But still, there are things that must be accomplished,
and I'd like to offer one way.
- What is this? - Give me power of attorney over Marshall.
You just can't do it, can you? Not like this.
Are you insane?
Have you lost your mind?
Why would I?
Because I care about him more than you do, and you know that to be true.
So just let him go. Hmm?
Walk away. Nobody will blame you.
Everyone will understand.
You're in an alcoholic's haze.
You should check in to our rehab. It's just here.
28 days.
Oh, yes, 28 days.
With nothing else but drying out
on your poor-addled mind.
No?
No.
It's my husband.
I'm not gonna abandon him.
But you already have.
Look, I have my ways.
I could get a court order.
I could get you declared incompetent.
Have you held. You'd lose your job.
This case that you're on. This case that is all you seem to care about
as if this killer were an atomic bomb waiting to be detonated.
He is.
I think you'll sign this power of attorney...
or else risk losing so much more
than our dear Marshall.
Thank you, handsome.
What's your name?
Ed.
Ed Laclan.
But you can call me Eddie.
Eddie.
Something tells me
when you're done with your little ciggy break here,
you're gonna wanna get the hell out of here.
And I don't blame you.
But should you be driving?
Probably not, but I'm going to anyway.
- Of course you are. - Of course I am.
- Windows down. - Mm-hmm.
- Hair blowing in the wind. - You know it.
Li'l Earth, Wind and Fire on the radio.
Don't act like you know me.
I know little something.
You wanna go with me?
Only if I can drive.
Ms. Sassy-pants.
Flirting with orderlies.
Whoa, whoa. Who is the one flirting?
You are lighting cigarettes in the wing
and smiling like a cartoon cat.
- Mr. Eddie Lac... Laclan? - Laclan. Yes.
You are oddly beautiful.
Or beautifully odd.
I can't seem to figure it out. But I sure want to.
Do you now?
Mmm. And does that line always work?
"Oddly beautiful, beautifully odd."
- Only when it's true. - Talk your talk.
Ms...
Lois. Lois Tryon.
It's like heaven, isn't it?
It sure is.
But we're not allowed out there, Lois.
In that case,
I'm gonna leave, Fast Eddie.
Listen, I really don't think you should be driving right now.
I can tell your reflexes are off a little bit.
I don't want you to have any regrets.
Who doesn't have regrets, Ed? Come on now.
Lois.
Lo.
Mmm.
Lo.
Oh, God.
Am I actually handcuffed?
You were arrested. Blood alcohol 13.
Highway patrol found you on Pearl Blossom.
Oh, God.
I'm trying to make it go away.
Why would you do that?
'Cause none of the other assholes at the precinct can solve this one.
Hello, ma'am. I have something for you that looks like it's meat loaf.
Enjoy.
I have to go and try and explain to highway patrol why this should go away.
So, congratulations, you've managed to do
what countless bribers and politicos couldn't,
you turned me dirty.
Damn it.
Ouch.
That was rough. How you doing?
Notice I didn't say, "I told you so"?
You just got here.
There's a key ring in my purse. It has a cuff key on it.
Use it. I'm police.
I just figured that one out. Yeah, thank you.
And you want me to be complicit in a crime with you too now?
Tell me why should I help you?
I'm trying to catch a killer.
On the hunt, huh?
- That old excuse. - Yeah.
Try something else, Sassy-pants.
Come on.
Fast Eddie.
Please.
Help a sister out.
I'm such a sucker for you problem-child types.
Just there is something about you.
Powerless. Totally powerless.
Thank you.
Mm-hmm.
Um...
Can you help me get out of here?
Help you get out of here?
If you make it quick.
'Cause any moment, some asshole is gonna barge in here...
with a lot of orders and a bunch of testosterone,
and that's just the candy striper.
Now where're your clothes?
Over there.
Mmm.
Okay.
Need any help getting that on?
I do not.
I just, um... If you could turn around.
I got it.
All right.
And don't peek.
- Come on. - I'm coming.
- Let's get out of here. - Oh.
- After you. - Thank you.
You are a gentleman, aren't you?
You have no idea.
Whoo!
Yeah!