All language subtitles for the.residence.s01e02.1080p.web.h264-successfulcrab

♪ Keep holding on to now, now ♪

♪ Dreaming we'll be
dancing forever ♪

♪ Floating on this
feeling together... ♪

This is why.
This is why! I told you.

It's distracting. I'm trying
to cook. Now I'm breaking shit.

I don't want him in here.

This is David Rylance.

I don't want you in
here either. Any of you.

David. Rylance. The
Australian Foreign Minister...

I am trying to cook.

They need to have a look around
the kitchen. It's protocol.

Well, my protocol is that I'm trying
to cook when I'm trying to cook,

so, uh, unless they cook,

I don't want them in here while
I'm trying to fucking cook!

- Do you cook?
- No.

- I'm not going to poison you.
- Thank you.

Unless you don't leave.

We can come back...

No. Do not come back. I'm not gonna
have you fuck this night up for me, A.B.

I'm not trying to...

I told you there were
going to be flames.

You didn't tell me that. And
it isn't about the flames.

- We're going to leave.
- Good.

- No!
- I told you!

You told Lilly.

Told me what? Oh, there's
some broken glass.

There's broken glass because
these assholes are distracting me.

Told you what? Oh, Mr. Foreign
Minister, so lovely to see you.

Not in here, it isn't.

You didn't tell me she
was making flaming Wagyu.

- I think I did?
- Flaming?

- Yes.
- Flaming? Like it's on fire at the table?

- Yes.
- Well, no, actually.

Prime Minister Roos
would love that.

- Really?
- Yes!

- Great!
- Not great!

- There's a restaurant in Sydney.
- Yes.

- They make a Wagyu Volcano.
- Exactly.

- It would be better if you wait outside.
- No, he's fine.

- It's my kitchen.
- It is her kitchen.

This is a safety issue.

I cannot have flames in
the State Dining Room.

Would you please put that away?

What does it mean - no flames?

You said that flames were okay.

Wait, he's having flames?

Bananas foster.

- You didn't tell me that.
- It's on the sheet.

- I don't read your fucking sheet.
- You told me it was okay.

It is okay. Just
not at the table.

It has to be at the
table. That's the point!

- Bananas foster?
- Yes.

- Who are you? Who is he?
- It is...

Who is he? Jesus. Fuck is wrong
with you? This is David Fy...

Cra...

He's... from Australia.
Don't be fucking rude.

Bananas foster? The
dessert with the flames?

- Yes.
- Prime Minister Roos will love that!

Why are you still
here? Seriously.

Why are you in my kitchen?

The Australian.
Foreign. Minister!

She's from Portland.

It's my kitchen. I
want him out now.

There's broken glass...

No!

Broken glass?

You wanna see broken
glass, Rollie? Huh?

There's broken glass!

There's more broken glass!

I am trying to do
something interesting here.

You definitely are.

Something great. But you
have never understood that.

You just want me to serve

the same old bland, boring
country club bullshit.

Because that's
all this place is.

It's an old, shitty country club

where nothing ever changes
except the President,

but you can't even tell 'cause
they're all fucking dudes.

I'm not gonna do it. This
is my first State Dinner.

I am going to serve
my food my way.

That's what I was brought in to
do by Elliott and the President,

and that is what
I'm going to do,

and if you get in my way again,

I am going to kill you!

Well. Uh...

Okay, uh...

I think we've had a chance to look
around. Yeah. Thank you all very much.

No flames in the
State Dining Room.

No flames... in the
State Dining Room.

You killed the Chief Usher of the
White House to avenge a flaming Wagyu?

I didn't kill the Chief Usher.

- Why is he wearing your bloody shirt?
- I'm getting to that.

- I have diplomatic immunity.
- That's what they tell me.

No, I mean...
...I do.

- Okay.
- Whether they tell you or not, I do.

- Okay.
- Just wanna be clear on that.

- Right.
- Are you clear on that?

It's clear you've told me
you have diplomatic immunity.

Everything I tell you
here is confidential.

She got her start
with a food truck.

Did they have food
on the food truck?

It's a bit like a
child's plate, isn't it?

I saw
her during dinner.

She was obviously still upset.

The invitation
said dinner, right?

I... I guess I just...

I just wanted to tell her I was
sorry about what had happened.

For my role in it.

Did you find her?

The fuck are you doing in here?

Yes.

- This stays in this room, right?
- Yes.

Well... not really.

♪ Keep holding on to now, now ♪

♪ Dreaming we'll be
dancing forever ♪

♪ Floating on this
feeling together ♪

♪ Yeah... ♪

Australians.

Okay, you know...

That's not fair.

I was really following her lead.

Come here.

What about the blood?

I'm afraid to ask.

She was, uh...

...enthusiastic.

I got a bloody nose.

Look, um... I'd appreciate
it if you don't tell anyone this.

About the bloody nose
or sex with the chef?

We didn't have sex.

How do you define sex?

I define it as a thing I enjoy
more than talking about real estate

and less than looking at birds.

Anyway, I have
diplomatic immunity.

- Okay.
- Appreciate it if you didn't mention it.

He got a bloody nose while
having sex with the chef.

- Huh?
- And there's more.

Feels like after that
there should be more.

He said that there were
other people outside.

What people?

I don't know. I just...
saw some things.

Wait, wait, wait. There's...

...someone. Oh yeah.

Wait, there's
another person...

- I was uncomfortable.
- Well...

Like we
were being watched.

It's the White House.

I went back inside, and
that's when I ran into him.

Who?

Mr. Wynter.

Mr. Foreign Minister.

- Everything okay?
- Yes, fine. Just, uh...

...getting some air.

You're bleeding.

- Am I?
- Yes.

Right. Yes. It's a bloody nose.

- Are you alone out there?
- Yes.

Let's get you cleaned up.

He took me upstairs.

Through the back.

How did you know we had
traded shirts, anyway?

The shirt Mr. Wynter
was wearing didn't fit.

Nobody as meticulous as Wynter
wears a shirt that loose.

And when I opened his jacket, I
saw a single white bone button,

which is the trademark of renowned
Melbourne shirtmaker Whistler & Fox.

I spent two months in Melbourne
on the Kyrgios murder.

That was you?

The blood on the shirt had been dry
longer than the blood on his jacket.

The switch had been
made before his death.

And when we met later, I
could see your shirt was snug

and not of the quality of the suit,
which is D.H. Redican of Sydney, correct?

Remarkable.

You know, I was living in Melbourne
when Orin Kyrgios was killed.

He lived one block
over from my ex-wife.

You might've even interviewed her. She
was home the day they found his body.

Huh. Oh, you should've seen
it. It was absolute chaos.

Well, I saw it on the news.

I wasn't there, but she called me
'cause she was in a tizz.

That's not uncommon,
though, for us...

Thump.

No, it was a friendly divorce.
Look, we were young...

Okay. That it between you and
Wynter, then? In the office?

No.

No?

Well, he was an attractive man.

Yeah, but no, no,
no. Not that. Um...

There we go.

He got a phone call. I couldn't hear
what the other person was saying,

and I was trying not
to listen, of course.

Hello?

But Mr. Wynter insisted
I stay in the room.

I think it would
be good. You know that.

Give me five minutes.

Gotta be honest,

kind of a... dud ending to an
otherwise very entertaining story.

No, no.

It's what he said after that.

After he hung up.

I am going to be dead
by the end of the night.

- Those were his exact words?
- Yes.

"I am going to be dead
by the end of the night."

Yes.

Okay, we understand the shirt though.
Why he's wearing A.B.'s shirt.

Why A.B. had blood on his shirt.

- We solved that mystery.
- We didn't solve it.

And, look, we don't know
what A.B. meant, right?

I mean, it's just...
something he said.

It's something people say.

"I'm gonna be dead by
the end of the night?"

Yes.

- Who says that?
- Dead people.

Has anyone here ever said, "I'm going
to be dead by the end of the night?"

Yeah, uh, the one time I
went camping, I said that.

- What do you want to do?
- Trace that phone call to Wynter's office.

And I want to confirm the blood on
his shirt came from Mr. Rylance.

- I want toxicology from Wynter.
- We'll have to move the body.

- That's fine.
- Anything else?

- Not right now.
- Okay. Well, good.

Uh, I'm gonna go
let everyone go...

- Hang on, Mr. President.
- Mr. Prime Minister?

Someone was killed tonight,
during our State Dinner,

and you point the
finger at one of us.

Now we're gonna all
walk out of here?

So when the world finds out
about this, which they will,

they'll think some crazy Australian
murdered somebody in the White House.

Yeah.

No, mate. That
doesn't work for us.

- Nobody's gonna think that.
- Why not?

What else are they
gonna think? Huh?

Does anybody here have any
idea who killed Mr. Wynter?

Uh, we think it was a suicide.

Oh, you do, Detective
Hollinger? Does she?

- Do you?
- No.

So the only
actual detective here,

one who solved an unsolvable
case in Australia,

known to be one of the greatest
detectives in the world,

doesn't think it's a suicide,
and she's here to investigate.

So, why don't we let her
investigate? Like, right now.

Would it be helpful for you to
talk to everybody here tonight?

Yes, of course, but...

Stephen! This isn't your call.

Perry, it was my call not to come to
this fucking dinner at all, but I came.

Instead of a Wagyu Volcano,
I get a bloody murder.

No, it's just like an
actual bloody murder.

Uh, anyway, uh, you were saying?

So, what I'm saying is,

as bad as things are between
our two countries right now,

shit is gonna get
a whole lot worse

if we walk out with the
stink of this on us.

What I'm saying is, let
her get the job done.

- Find the killer, and then we all go home.
- I am home.

Well, maybe you
should be more worried

about having a murderer running
around your house right now.

But, you're right.

Your call.

I need your help.

- How?
- I need to talk to everyone here.

And the only way I can do that is if
you have the Australian delegation stay.

I can't do that.

Then I'll have to make the most
detailed and persuasive case possible

as to why it's necessary.

You're saying if I don't
get our delegation to stay,

you'll tell them
about me and the chef?

- She has a name.
- I actually don't know what that is.

- Marvella.
- Marvella?

Really?

Marvella what?

I think it's just Marvella.
She's from Portland.

If I can convince the Australians to
stay, you won't tell them about me and...

...the chef.

For as long as I possibly can.

Uh, that was the deal, yes.

- She told you this at the time?
- No. Later.

- When?
- When she started to trust me.

- When was that?
- Later.

But she told Chief Dokes.

That is true.

And what did you think
when you heard it?

I thought Foreign Minister
Rylance would never agree to it.

And that even if
he did agree to it,

he would never convince
Prime Minister Roos.

And if he did convince
Prime Minister Roos,

Prime Minister Roos would never
convince President Morgan.

Meaning that even
after all these years,

I still made the
ridiculous mistake

of underestimating
Cordelia Cupp.

Uh, folks, there has been
a serious security incident

in the White House this evening.

Uh, I can't go into the details,

but, unfortunately, this
means before anyone can leave,

the police need to
talk to some folks.

And that might include any one
of you. It might include me too.

So I'm asking for your
cooperation, your patience.

I know how inconvenient this is.

I can assure you that we have the
very best people working on this,

and it is being handled as professionally
and as expeditiously as possible.

Wait. Stop. Hold on.

I... I... Let me
get this straight.

- Senator Bix.
- No, no.

I just want to make sure I understand
what I'm hearing right now.

So Detective Cupp wants to continue
her investigation that evening...

especially in light of what
she learned from Mr. Rylance...

but she knew that President
Morgan and Harry Hollinger

would never let her do that,

because they wanted to call this a
suicide and let everyone go home.

So she doesn't even ask.

She doesn't even
pretend to wanna stay.

Instead, Ms. Cupp, a
consulting detective

with the Washington D.C.
Metropolitan Police Department,

strikes a deal with the
Foreign Minister of Australia

to keep his sexual escapade
with the White House Chef secret

in exchange for him
convincing his boss,

the Prime Minister of Australia,

to manipulate the President
of the United States

into holding 200 people at
the White House all night

so she could finish her work.

And then, having done that,

having made it look like it was
the Australians who wanted to stay,

she goes outside birding
for a few minutes.

Do I... do I have
that all right?

Yes.

God, I love this woman!

Oh, thank you.

I just wanted to make sure
I wasn't missing anything.

Please, go on. Thank
you, Senator Filkins.

Uh, we set up three
interview areas.

One in the State Dining Room,

in the China Room, and in the Green
Room, which is where we started.

- What is that?
- Paper.

- For what?
- Writing.

- Writing what?
- Words.

Okay, great. Thank you.

How do you want to do this?

Right. Yes.

Okay. I'll ask the
questions. You don't talk.

If you feel you have something
you really want to say,

try to make that
feeling go away.

If at any point you want to leave
the room for any reason, please do.

Can you write your name
and job title down for me?

Yeah, and then if you could
hold that up, that'd be great.

Need a way to remember
everyone. Thank you.

Okay?

So, now what?

Do you have any
questions for me?

Anything?

I'm guessing you want
to know about A.B.

Sorry about whatever
happened, but

I don't know anything.

So...

if that's it,

can I leave?

I'm gonna leave.

Last time I saw him? That's
what you want to know, isn't it?

Okay.

This evening. Bruce got
called in. Bruce the engineer.

There was so much
shit tonight, okay?

You have no idea. Bruce got called
in, and I'm looking for Bruce,

and I go by Mr. Wynter's office
because I thought Bruce might be there

and I hear Mr. Wynter
arguing with someone.

No, you're not
going to talk to me like that! No!

I'm going to expo...

This was
around, maybe, 9?

Y... you're asking me,
so I'm telling you.

Who is he arguing with, and
what is he arguing about?

Fuck if I know.

I don't know.

I know it wasn't Bruce because
I saw him right after that.

That's all I know and
that is all I'm saying

and you can just sit there looking
at me or whatever this shit is.

I'm leaving.

I have never heard Mr. Wynter sound
that agitated before. That angry.

I've been here 17 years.
He keeps it under control.

Kept it.

But he was worked up.

He started yelling, "I'm
gonna tell them everything!"

I am going to
tell them everything! Everything!

Shit bothered me.

I'm good with you
asking the questions.

Last time I saw A.B. tonight?

6:30? 6:45? In the basement.

8. On the Ground Floor.

8:45. Old Family Dining Room.

Who?

Yeah. I saw him in
the hallway just now.

- Didn't I?
- You did not.

It was around
9. In the Grand Foyer.

- I saw him coming out of the East Room.
- By himself?

- No.
- Who was he with?

Okay.

I never left the East
Room. Who said that?

- Someone.
- Someone?

- I was watching the concert.
- The whole time?

Yes. It's Kylie
Minogue. Why would I leave?

To go kill A.B. Wynter.

Did you see A.B.
Wynter in the East Room?

No. When?

- Tonight, during the concert.
- No.

What about
Foreign Minister Rylance?

No, I didn't
see him either.

You didn't see him get up during
the concert and walk out of the room?

No.

And you didn't see
Mr. Wynter follow him?

No.

- And you didn't leave?
- No.

Maybe I went to the bathroom.

He was gone for 22 minutes.

Was Mr. Hollinger the one Mr. Wynter
was yelling at in his office?

That's the question?
I can't say for sure.

What I can say is that after I heard
Mr. Wynter yelling, I ran downstairs.

And Mr. Hollinger
was right behind me.

- Not true.
- You weren't in Mr. Wynter's office?

- No.
- Were you on the third floor tonight?

I live on the third floor.

Were you on the third floor
between 9 and 10 o'clock?

Not that I recall.

Not that you recall.

I didn't see anything
on the second floor, no.

I didn't ask about
the second floor.

He's on his way.

Nice shoes.

Uh, I was in bed
at 9:30.

Did you see or hear
anything after that?

Not until grammy next
door started screaming.

Hey, can I get some
muesli or something?

Why didn't you go to the dinner?

- Uh, why didn't you go to the dinner?
- I wasn't invited.

- Same.
- You're the President's brother.

- And you live in his house.
- It's not his fucking house.

- Why didn't he invite you?
- I don't know. Because he's an asshole.

And he wanted to have the most
boring fucking party imaginable.

Well, that clearly didn't work.

Yeah.

- What about Marvella?
- What about her?

- Shouldn't you be starting with her?
- Why?

Because she said she
wanted to kill him.

I am going to kill you!

- Maybe she wasn't the only one to say it.
- But she did say it. Why not start there?

I start by listening.

To everything. You learn that when
you're out trying to find birds.

You have to watch and listen
to as much as possible.

You have to take it all in. Otherwise,
you start focusing on the wrong things.

Pro tip, Special Agent Park:

Don't pick up your binoculars until
you know what you're looking at.

Let me ask you, Ms. Haney. When Ms.
Cupp was conducting these interviews,

what was happening in
the rest of the house?

Everyone was downstairs,
of course, Senator.

On the first floor, mainly.

But we were told we could
use the Ground Floor too.

If we needed anything from
the basement, food or supplies

or anything from housekeeping,

we had to go with one of the FBI
agents who were brought in later.

They didn't want anyone together who had
been in the house when Mr. Wynter died.

For obvious reasons.

Were people upset
at being held there?

For the most part, no.

Not in the earlier
part of the evening.

Well... some were...

I hate Australia!

But... most people were okay.

We, the staff,

we tried our best to
keep people occupied.

One hand, up, flat palm.

Flat palm, waist level.
Up, very good. Thank you.

Jacqueline hired Aaron Shikler
to do this of her husband, JFK.

The one thing she asked is that
he would not look piercingly

directly at the camera, and he
wouldn't have bags under his eyes.

I said, Jimi, come on, man.
Don't stiff me like that.

I know you play a right-handed
guitar upside down.

But it doesn't matter. I
can play it either way.

Of course, Mr. Jackman
was the best.

You are tap dancing in
the White House! Remember that.

This is bigger
than Carnegie Hall!

I think most people were just
anxious about talking to Ms. Cupp.

I got called in to the third floor to
fix the plumbing in Tripp Morgan's room.

Anything eventful?

In Tripp Morgan's toilet? Yes.

Otherwise, no.

- Did you mind being called in?
- It's my job.

- Some people don't like their jobs.
- Well, I used to like mine.

What time did you leave
Mr. Morgan's room?

Hmm, about 9:30.

- Did you see him?
- No.

He said he went to bed at 9:30.

Hmm.

I'm just the engineer.

- Were you on the third floor tonight?
- No.

- You have an office next to the Game Room.
- Yes.

A.B. Wynter was found
dead in the Game Room.

Yes. Okay. I'm sorry.
What are you suggesting?

Do you like games, Mr. Gotthard?

Was I on the third
floor tonight?

No.

- No.
- No.

- Were you on the third floor tonight?
- No.

Mackerel or sardines?

Tell me about the night.
Did anything unusual happen?

- Other than my boss dying?
- Other than that, yes.

It was lovely. Until now.

It was fine.

You know the flowers
were messed up, right?

The First Lady of Australia
is allergic to bottlebrush.

You know what I had
in every arrangement?

- It's too easy if you say bottlebr...
- Bottlebrush. Nobody told me.

Oh...

There did seem to be something
going on with the seating.

I didn't see that.

I was kind of focused on Hugh
Jackman though. I'll be honest.

Have you been drinking?

Am I under oath?

There was something
wrong with the food.

The thing wrong with the food
was that there was no food.

There was no entrée.

There was an entrée.
It just wasn't served.

Oh, okay.

Also, there was no dessert.

Not true!

I wouldn't say the evening
was going, uh, poorly.

I have sung "Can't Get You
Out of My Head" seven times.

It's a State Dinner. There
are bound to be issues.

Seven fucking times.

Little things, mostly.

No entrée.

The man sitting
next to me was odd.

Like, really odd.

The calligrapher
was having issues.

Well, um... hasn't
been a good night.

- I'm sure you heard about the accident.
- The accident?

There was an accident.
Outside. Talk to Chuy.

Talk to Sylvia.

You should talk to
George McCutcheon.

Oh no. You want the
other George McCutcheon.

No, you want the other
George McCutcheon.

Yes, there's Big George,
and Little George, and me.

And there were two other George
McCutcheons before any of us.

My great-uncle George McCutcheon
was a butler under President Truman.

Now he originally worked
for the railroad...

- Do you know anything about an accident?
- No, I didn't see anything.

I was inside at that
point. Maybe talk to Emily.

Is there only one Emily?

Far as I know.

Yes, I was outside.
I heard a crash.

A Secret Service van ran
into the south gatehouse.

A few people came running
out. A.B. was one of them.

A.B. was never outside tonight.

It was probably 15 people.

Including A.B.?

No, definitely not.

I was with A.B. when
the accident happened.

Well, next to him. He was
fighting with the florist.

Why was he fighting with the florist?

He wasn't fighting with the florist.

He was fighting with the
former First Lady. Kim Abkin.

No, no. He was arguing
with one of the butlers.

It was a woman.

A man.

An argument? No, no,
they were laughing.

No way. Never.

I literally never saw
the man laugh. Not once.

That's not true.

A.B. and I enjoyed a
good laugh many times.

Someone
crashed the party.

So if you just
give us a moment...

Two people crashed the party.

Lorenzo, let me
handle this. Hi, how are you?

The music didn't show.

No, no, no. No. Helen,
do not fuck with me.

Kylie Minogue was a guest.

We have a cancellation. We were hoping
you would perform for us this evening.

The First Lady of
Australia almost died.

I almost died.

I am going to be dead
by the end of the night.

Listen, I've worked every State Dinner
since Ronald Reagan's first term,

and this was easily the most
stressful, the most unorganized,

the most dramatically
incompetent one I've ever seen.

- Whose fault was that?
- How long do you have?

Thirty seconds.

Oh shit. You... you're serious.

Whose fault was it? It
was my fault. Of course.

I'm the White House Social Secretary.
I bear full responsibility.

But if you're asking me who I think is
really responsible for this disaster,

it's these people
all around you.

And I don't
mean the Australians.

This house is a
fucking mess, Ms. Cupp.

A.B. did the best he could, but they were
constantly making his life miserable.

- They?
- The people who work here. The staff.

And this didn't all start
tonight, okay? Not even close.

You want to understand tonight? You
have to go back. To the holidays.

To the terrorist
attacks on March 4th.

That way.

To Moving Day.

The day the old President moves
out and the new President moves in.

It was a nightmare. It
was bad for everyone.

But A.B. was constantly
under assault.

And I'm not sure he ever
really clicked with the Morgans.

With Elliott Morgan
in particular.

Elliott is indecisive.

"Uh, well, uh, uh,
that's... that's tricky."

"I, uh..."

Say what you will about
A.B., he was decisive.

This is very upsetting.

I'm sorry about the hour.

No, that he's dead. It's
upsetting that he's dead.

Yeah, right, of course.

Did you
see him this evening?

Yes, many times.

- Anything strike you as unusual?
- Unusual? Um...

Well, um, uh, that's...
that's tricky.

I, uh... You know what?

He did seem distracted.
I will say that.

Yeah. A.B. was an unusual
character, Ms. Cupp.

He wasn't especially warm.

He could be very uncompromising.

My husband, Perry,
the... the President,

um, he and A.B. did
fight a few times.

- I will be honest.
- Today?

Today... yes.

Other days.

Look, I liked A.B. Yeah.
Uh, not everyone did.

Mr. Wynter's old school.

That could rub a lot of
people the wrong way.

And did. But I respected him.

He respected me.

We made it work.

Like I said, a lot of people in
this house had issues with A.B.

But me? No.

No. A.B. and I got
along great. Always.

We were just trying to
navigate this shit together.

I can honestly say I hate literally
every fucking person in this house,

starting and ending
with my brother.

But me and A.B., we
were always super cool.

I had no issues with
A.B. Wynter. Ever.

- I had the utmost respect for A.B.
- I cared deeply for the man.

We never had a cross word.

He brought me great joy.

I don't think I ever
met a finer person.

He was like a father to me.

I want to emphasize that I
would put Hugh Jackman first.

I loved A.B. Wynter.

Meh. Not my favorite.

But I vastly preferred
him to my son's husband.

The President of
the United States?

Did A.B. and I get
along? Okay, truth?

We had different styles. But he
was all right. Always had my back.

I definitely appreciated
him. Most definitely.

Most definitely?

- Yes.
- You threatened to kill him.

- When?
- Tonight.

Oh, that? You mean
in the kitchen?

I am going to kill you!

- You threaten to kill him in another room?
- That's just the way we spoke.

- Did he threaten to kill you?
- I should say that's the way I spoke.

I'm just saying that
it wasn't unusual.

It wasn't unusual for you to
threaten to kill A.B. Wynter?

That's not really
what I'm saying.

- That's what you said.
- That's not what I meant.

- Where were you after dinner?
- When?

After dinner.

What the fuck is this?

- Were you ever outside tonight?
- No.

Let me ask this a different way:
Were you ever outside tonight?

That seems like the same
way. How is that different?

And the answer's no.

No.

No. No!

- I don't feel comfortable lying to you.
- You shouldn't.

- Like you know that I'm lying.
- I do.

I was outside tonight.

I know.

- With some dude from Australia.
- He has a name.

I honestly don't
know what it is.

David Rylance.

Right.

Um...

It was a mistake. I guess.

I was frustrated. I had a
lot of energy. He was there.

I just need to burn that shit off
sometimes, you know what I'm saying?

Don't you ever
just need to fuck?

No.

Where did you go after
Mr. Rylance went back inside?

I... I went around the
east side of the house

and in... in through
the basement.

Did anyone see you?

- I hope not.
- That is definitely not what you hope.

Because I've heard 1,000
different things tonight

and the only thing I'm sure of is that
you threatened to kill A.B. Wynter

and that you can't be
accounted for after 9 p.m.

And that the White House
Calligrapher is having some trouble.

I didn't kill A.B. Wynter.

- Okay.
- And someone did see me.

She came in that door.

It was around 9:15, 9:30.

How long
was she down here?

I don't know. But
it was a while.

Did you talk to her?

Do you understand how
traumatizing this is for me?

This man worked
here for 23 years.

He gave his life to this house.

He was a good man.

He was my best friend.

And now he's dead.

I'm sorry.

Please. Take as
long as you need.

Actually, we're in a
bit of a time crunch.

Do you think A.B. Wynter could've
hurt himself, Ms. Huggins?

I'll be honest. I knew the man,
but I didn't know the man. You feel me?

I mean, I found out things tonight
about A.B. that I didn't know before.

Things? What things?

Personal things.

Whatever he was going through,
it went inside those books.

- Books?
- Notebooks.

His journals. He wrote
everything down in them.

- You haven't found those?
- No.

Do I think he would kill himself?
That's what you're asking?

He was enormously
stressed and frustrated.

I know that.

He felt like bad things
were happening here,

and that hurt him deeply.

He felt responsible
for this place.

After tonight? I
don't know. Maybe.

Maybe he could have.

Did Detective Cupp identify
any suspects during these interviews?

- Suspects?
- Yes.

Detective Cupp didn't really think
in terms of "suspects," Senator.

She said she found
people "interesting."

Did she say she found
anyone "interesting"?

And when I say people,
I mostly mean birds,

but, uh, yes, she did.

It wasn't during the
interviews, though.

After we went upstairs, Detective Cupp
started poring through everything.

Looking at pictures,
thinking through the stories.

Not just from the interviews.

Everything she had seen and heard up
to that point. And... it was a lot.

It was the only time the whole
evening I saw her frustrated.

Like, she just couldn't get
any traction on anything.

- I'm just looking around.
- He was gone for 22 minutes.

- Where's Marvella?
- Haven't seen her.

- For how long?
- An hour.

Someone crashed the party.

- Thump.
- I'm just the engineer.

She wasn't going to solve the
case at that point. She knew that.

But she was ready to start. She
had listened, and she was ready,

but she didn't
know where it was.

She told me at one
point earlier in the day

that this sometimes happened in the
field, when she was out looking for birds.

She said that the only
thing you could do was wait.

And that it would come.

And then it did.

Detective Cupp. We traced
the call to Wynter's office.

And?

What is this place?

It's used by the grounds crew
and the White House Gardener.

- Emily?
- Yes, Emily Mackil.

- Do you want me to get her?
- No, not right now.

I am going to be dead
by the end of the night.

Let's check it. Just in case.

There's more broken glass!

- Have they moved the body?
- Wynter?

- Has anyone else died?
- They're moving him now.

- Where?
- Out the back.

No, no, bring him out the
front. Through the Grand Foyer.

- Grand Foyer?
- That's where everybody is.

Exactly. He needs to
come out the front.

Well, I don't
know about this.

Why did she want them to bring
Wynter's body out the front?

She wanted everyone
together in one place.

Why? Why did she want
everyone together in one place?

Uh... because of the falcon.

- The falcon?
- Yes.

Is that like The Penguin?

Totally different kind of bird.

No, I mean, is it a nickname for
someone? Like The Penguin in Batman.

Oh, no. This was
an actual falcon.

Earlier that night, I
asked Detective Cupp

if there was anything on Teddy
Roosevelt's list of birds

that she really wanted to see.

The falcon. It's not a rare
bird, even here in D.C.,

but it would be amazing to
see one at the White House.

She said she loved the
falcon because of the way it hunted.

They can identify even
the most imperceptible weaknesses

in their prey.

If you look up what a
falcon ends up killing,

you'll almost always
discover something like this.

The slightly damaged wing. The broken
leg. The inexperience of youth.

The unfamiliarity
with the terrain.

There will be something.

They'll pick a single bird
out of a flock of thousands.

The odd one.

The weak one.

They'll find it.

She knew there was a place to start, she
just didn't know where it was exactly.

Who it was. And the
falcon helped her find it.

She realized after talking to everyone,
after hearing and seeing so much,

that she needed to
see everyone together,

in the same place, at the same time,
and then she could pick that person off.

And that's where
she would start.

She was hunting.