All language subtitles for the.residence.s01e04.1080p.web.h264-successfulcrab

- I'm bored.
- Okay.

- We aren't seeing anything.
- I'm seeing a lot.

- You see the bird?
- No.

What do you see?

The water. Waves. Clouds. You.

- I thought we were looking for a bird.
- We are.

What's it called again?

- What?
- The bird.

Ah, you gotta remember that.

- Two-a-photo Sand...?
- No.

- Du-a-photo... Sand...?
- No. Stop saying photo.

I can't remember.

Go look it up.

It's all the way back there.

Yes.

Tuamotu Sandpiper?

- You got it.
- Yes.

Where is it?

Haven't found it yet.

- I'm thinking about giving up.
- Oh? Let me know what you decide to do.

I have decided to give up.

He really
wanted to go birding.

We're birding.

And see birds.

Uh, that's not how this works.

If he just wants to see birds,
he should turn on the TV.

He does love that
Planet Earth show.

We are on planet Earth right now,
Aimee. A really beautiful part of it.

And there are birds here.
We're going to find the bird.

- Give it time.
- He's not like you.

I don't want him to be like me. I
just want him to be less like you.

Jesus. Did you
really just say that?

- Yes.
- And you're serious?

- Yes. Bye, Aimee.
- Take care of my son.

I'll have him back by
the end of the year!

I found a crab.

- What's that?
- It's my birding book.

I got one for you too.

It's empty.

Right now. It's
for you to fill up.

With what?

You can do it how you want.
Everyone does it differently.

I like to sketch things I see.
I learn a lot from drawing.

I put down what I saw, where
I looked, questions I have.

We haven't seen any birds.

We have seen birds. We
haven't seen the bird.

- What kinds of questions?
- Whatever question you want.

Where's the bird?

That is a good question.

- What if we don't find the bird?
- We'll find the bird.

- Have you ever given up?
- No.

- Never?
- No.

Never?

No.

Do you ever think
this is unhealthy?

It's a word my mom uses
when she talks about you.

Single-minded. Obsess...

- Obsessive?
- Yes.

Difficult. Stubborn. Uncom...

Uncompromising.

When your mom was your age, she had a
pair of socks with strawberries on them.

- She ever tell you this?
- No.

These were her favorite socks.
She wore them every other day.

If they weren't washed,
she wore them anyway.

- Gross.
- Yeah, I agree.

But they were very
important to her.

Why?

They were a gift
from her brother.

One morning, your mom
woke me up in a panic

because she couldn't find
one of her strawberry socks.

She looked everywhere.

Your mom was pretty good about
keeping track of her things,

so it was a surprise,

especially because she always
took care of her strawberry socks.

But one sock really was
gone. She was very upset.

She was crying. She said she
didn't want to go to school.

I told her she needed to go to school
and that I would find her sock.

I got on the bus with
her to school that day.

Then I got off the bus,

and I walked home.

I spent the entire day
looking for your mom's sock.

I looked in every room,
every drawer, every cupboard,

every closet, behind everything,
on top of everything.

I looked everywhere.

I even looked in places I
wasn't supposed to look.

When your mom came home, I had to
tell her that I hadn't found her sock,

which I did not want to do.

But I also told her
I hadn't given up.

I sat her down, and
I talked to her.

I asked her when she'd last seen
the sock, where she kept the socks.

Had she ever lost a sock before?

I studied the sock that
she still did have.

I saw that it was clean,

freshly washed,

but there was a
single hair on it,

which I knew did not
belong to your mother.

When my parents came home,
I talked to them too.

Not only about the sock,

about everything that had happened
in the house the day before.

Nobody had seen the sock

and nobody said anything had happened
that would explain where the sock went.

That night, I sat in my bed.

I looked at my notebook, and I
studied it over and over and over.

And then I realized something.

My mom, your grandma, had told me nobody
had been in the house the last few days,

but I had seen a blue
casserole dish in the kitchen,

which I knew belonged to Ms.
Guss, who brought us food,

even though my dad said he
didn't want her to anymore.

Ms. Guss lived four houses down and
Ms. Guss had recently gotten a dog.

A puppy. And she never went
anywhere without her puppy.

I had a theory that when
my dad wasn't around,

Ms. Guss came over
with the puppy,

and the puppy took one of
the socks out of the laundry,

as puppies sometimes do.

And that explained the hair. Or
rather, the hair explained the sock.

I got out of bed. I
snuck out of our house.

I walked up the block
to the Guss's house.

I climbed over the back fence.

And I looked in the
doghouse in the backyard.

And I found it.

I brought it home.

I washed it in the sink
with the other sock.

I stayed up late
for them to dry,

and then I put them on the
foot of your mom's bed.

I love your mom.

I didn't like to see her cry

and I told her I was going to find
her strawberry sock and I did find it.

That's what I could
do for your mom.

This is not the only
way to be, but...

it is the way that I am.

- Good morning, Aunt Cordelia.
- Good morning, sir.

- I haven't seen the bird yet.
- Okay. We'll look.

This may end with us
never finding the bird.

It will not end that way.

- You ready?
- No.

- Almost?
- I'll tell you when I'm ready.

- What is that?
- Birding book.

That's not a bird.

Eh, same difference.

Is it?

It was a birding
book with no birds?

Yes.

When Detective Cupp was out in the
field, birding, she kept a journal.

It was the way she
processed information.

It was the way she investigated.

She did the same
thing on her cases.

Did you see inside this book?

- I did. Finally.
- And what did you see?

She had pages with
sketches, notes, lists,

word associations,
maps, questions.

She had an organizational scheme
I could never quite figure out.

But in the front of the
book she kept a single page

on each of the people
she found... interesting.

- Suspects?
- There weren't suspects.

Who did she find interesting?

Uh, at that point,
there was a page

on the Australian Foreign
Minister, David Rylance.

The White House Chef, Marvella.

I am going to kill you!

Didier Gotthard, the
White House Pastry Chef.

- A.B. Wynter.
- She had a page on A.B. Wynter?

Yes.

She had only started on one other
page. The butler, Sheila Cannon.

Are you really telling
this committee, Agent Park,

that Ms. Cupp was sitting there
journaling in the middle of the night

while 200 people, including the
President of the United States

and the Australian Prime
Minister, waited for her?

Yes. That is what
I'm telling you.

Detective Cupp did
things her own way,

on her own time, and she was
ready when she was ready.

Ready.

I was on the third floor.

I can explain if you'll let me.

Nan Cox is a drinker, okay?

That's the first thing you need to
know, so just get that on out there.

Some people, you say, "Oh,
that girl, she likes to drink."

Hell, some people
probably say that about me, LOL.

She's a drinker.

Huge drinker.

Glug, glug, glug, glug,
glug, glug, glug...

But Ms. Cox, and I know, I know
she is the President's mother-in-law...

I shouldn't say anything, but
I'm saying she likes to drink.

Can I smoke in here?

Ms. Cox calls down for
vodka all the time,

and we are under strict instructions
not to bring it up. All the butlers.

That comes directly from Mr. Morgan.
But, see, let me explain this to you:

Ms. Cox don't give a fuck.
She will badger you about it.

She'll lie. She'll
threaten you. She's nasty.

I'm just going to say it. Nasty.

But hell, I like
her. Shit.

I love all these
things about her.

Her son is annoying as shit.

Elliott Morgan, the
First Gentleman?

Yes, sir. But she is tough and nasty and
she wants her drink and I understand.

So we're caught. Either you take
your licks from A.B. and Mr. Morgan

or get disemboweled by Ms. Cox.

No contest.

So she wanted her drink, I
brought her her drink. End of story.

Why was I in the Game Room?

That's what you
want to know, right?

Right.

The reason I was
in the Game Room...

is because...

...I took a shot of the vodka before
I delivered the bottle to Ms. Cox.

Two shots.

Fuck! Three shots.

But I considered it a gratuity,
and I needed it. Sorry, not sorry.

Needed it, why?

Listen, you've had a
job in your life, right?

Like, before doing this.

This is a job.

- Is it?
- I'm not volunteering right now.

Yeah, well, anyway, there is a feeling
you sometimes get when you have a job.

Sometimes, not all the time.

When you feel like you're
a part of something

to the point where it doesn't
feel like a job anymore, okay?

It's weird, but you're
just, like, into it.

You feel like they need
you, and you need them,

and it's an amazing feeling.

But then, just like that, something
happens that cuts you down

and you're like, "Fuck! That's
all that was? A fucking job?"

- This happened tonight?
- Tonight was not great, Ms. Cupp.

I'm gonna be honest, not great.

You want to know what happened?

Okay.

I'll tell you what happened.

Here's what happened:

I was working the dining room,
and I was having a great time.

I was into it.

This is what it's
all about, okay?

This is why we work here.
This is why I work here.

Friends, join me in raising a
glass to the greatest butler

in the history of the
White House, Sheila Cannon.

This is the show, the big dance.

And I just can't tell you, I was
having the time of my life, Ms. Cupp.

I was into it. I was so happy.

And then, all of a sudden, Rollie
Funkiller comes up to me and says...

We don't need you out
on the floor anymore.

- What?
- Come back and help in the backroom.

And I'm just totally
confused, okay?

Like, I have no idea
why he says this.

Zero. None. Like,
are we overstaffed?

Or am I making the other butlers
look bad because of my excellence?

Or... I don't know,

but good fucking sport
that I am, I go back.

I don't ask any questions.

I just go back and help
because this is a job,

and I'm gonna do my job.

And so, when Nan Cox calls down...
like she did... I help her, too.

I'm helping out, baby,

and if I'm swinging a couple drinks back,
then that's just the price of ambition.

Am I right? You gonna
try and knock me down?

Then I'm gonna take a few sips and
pull myself right the fuck back up.

And then everyone's happy.

And that is what happened.

- Not even close.
- Not even close to being close.

If close is over here and close
to being close is over here...

I got it.

Now, it is true I told her we didn't
want her on the floor anymore.

Why didn't you want her
working on the floor anymore?

Oh, we wanted her
working on the floor.

- The problem was she wasn't working.
- What was she doing?

- I don't know.
- No, seriously, what is she doing?

Seriously. I don't know.

What is she doing?

Okay, that? That?

Okay, I should have
explained that.

That was because Ms. Abkin
asked me to sit there.

Former First Lady Kim Abkin?

- Yes.
- Partly true.

You have to back up here.

If you want to understand this, you
have to go back to the seating chart.

- To the seating chart?
- Which was messed up from the start.

Not even just the seating chart.
Everything to do with the seating.

Everything.

The State Dining Room holds
140 people, more or less.

Elliott Morgan made it
clear from the beginning

that he wanted to have
the State Dinner inside.

No tents on the South Lawn.

No tents.

It's the only thing I think I've
ever seen him actually care about.

- No tents.
- I was fine with that. I preferred inside.

Lilly wanted to be
outside with a tent.

But the Morgans kept
changing the guest list.

It wasn't the Morgans.
It was her. Lilly.

I would get a new
list every day.

She'd give us a
new list every day.

Sometimes 180 people.
Sometimes 250. Sometimes 400.

They were very indecisive.
Elliott couldn't make up his mind.

She couldn't make up her mind.

What this meant was, we didn't know if we
were going to be in only the Dining Room,

or maybe the East Room,

or maybe we'd use the
Red Room for overflow,

or maybe we'd even have
to go outside in a tent.

No... tents.

This went on and on
and on for months.

This was going on a week
before the State Dinner.

And the problem is, this is not
just about moving tables around.

This involves the whole house.

You need to know exactly
where you're going to be.

You need to know exactly
how many staff to have.

You have to practice everything.

We finally settled
on 221 guests.

And we would have it in the State
Dining Room and the Red Room.

It was crazy. But we
had it. We had it.

We had a number. We had a
location. We were prepared.

- And then...
- What?

Fuck!

- What?
- Not what. Who.

He turned everything
upside down.

We should be outside in a tent.

No tents.

- What about the Grand Foyer?
- What about it?

We could eat in there.

I kind of love that idea.

- No. What?
- We don't eat in the Grand Foyer.

Here we go again.
"We can't. We won't."

"We didn't do that when I started
working here 150 years ago."

You have to change your mindset.

So important.

The first time I wrote a number-one
New York Times best-selling memoir,

people said, "Ugh, there's
no way he can do it again."

And I started to believe them.

But then my ghostwriter said she
could pump out more books, no problem.

I've now written 14 memoirs.

My latest, "Authentic," is
being launched into space.

- Why?
- I don't know.

But it's cool.

Just like eating in the Grand
Foyer around a fountain is cool.

A fountain?

Where's the money gonna come from? You
don't have the budget for any of this.

Where does the money ever come from,
A.B.? It comes from another pile of money.

That's how money works.

This is not uncommon.
Social secretaries and their people

come in with every new administration,
and they want to do things their own way.

And we've always done things
our own way. In the House.

It's a structural conflict.

Us versus them.

This was just more... extreme.

- You know what I'm saying?
- I do, but we need the table.

- You have an A and a B plan?
- What the fuck is going on?

Seriously, how many people
are coming to the dinner?

Okay, everyone, listen.

Bring the table back.

Anyway, now, because of St.
Pierre, the Red Room was out.

He said red was "bad energy"...

Red Scare. Red Bull. Red Rum.

Rednecks. Red Wedding.
Red Lobster...

The entire dinner would now be
inside the State Dining Room,

which meant they had to cut
75 people from the guest list.

But the even bigger
problem was the seating chart.

Lilly had spent so much time worrying
about where this was gonna happen,

she hadn't given any thought to who
was gonna actually sit in which seat.

I had a seating chart.

She had 15 seating charts!

And because St. Pierre
couldn't be at the actual dinner,

he was calling in changes right up to
the point where people were being seated.

No, no. Worse than that.

To the point that they were seated.
And we were asked to move them.

Hosting is dynamic.

You respond to the
energy of the room.

You see how people are interacting,
relationships being formed.

Listen, I appreciated the
work that they were doing,

but these staff people, some
of them are stuck in the 1960s.

Literally, anything you ask them to do,
it's like, "We haven't done that before."

Well, okay! We're doing it now.

I tried to be nice.

All of this shuffling around
meant there were empty seats,

and that was the problem.

- Because what's the #1 rule of hosting?
- Hide the good wine.

No empty seats.

No empty seats.

There were empty seats,
and they had to be filled.

One of them was next to
former First Lady Abkin.

Ms. Abkin asked if
Sheila could sit down.

I thought that it was more important that
the former First Lady of the United States

have a good time than we have
one extra butler on the floor.

- Extra?
- Why Sheila?

Because she was my favorite.
I know I shouldn't say that,

but I don't live here anymore,
and I don't give a hoot.

When are we going home?

- Depends on what else you say?
- What if I said I killed him?

- That would move things along.
- I didn't kill him.

Whatever you say.

Yeah. It's honestly very sad. I
worked with the man for eight years.

I've worked with people
who I've wanted to kill.

No, no. A.B. Wynter
and I always got along.

They never got along.

First of all, that's not really true.
Everybody got along with Kim Abkin.

It was impossible not to.

A.B. didn't have any issues with
her. But Sheila was a problem.

It's just how it is. The
Lincolns had Tom Pendle.

The Kennedys had Preston Bruce.
Actually, so did the Eisenhowers.

When Wilson Jerman's wife was
sick... Wilson was a butler here...

LBJ sent his personal
doctors to treat her.

Sheila Cannon was the Abkins'
favorite, and it wasn't even close.

Especially for Ms.
Abkin. They were tight.

And that was hard for A.B.
'cause Sheila wasn't his style.

She is loud, a jokester, a
character, a big personality.

She was flying high when
the Abkins were here.

And she
crashed when they left.

- What does that mean?
- It means that people get attached, okay?

I mean, it's inevitable.

I liked Mr. Bush.

When the election returns came in in
'92. Shit. I was depressed for a month.

All those people running around,
playing all this Fleetwood Mac

"Don't Stop Thinking
About Tomorrow."

Well, I was thinking about
tomorrow, and I thought it sucked.

Sheila... ...took
this to a whole other level.

She wouldn't let it go.

Constantly griping about the Morgans
and whining about missing the Abkins.

Ms. Abkin wears beautiful
garments. Jacquard.

But that Elliott? That
Elliott is a mess.

Just as tacky, I'm sure his
clothes are coming from Marshalls.

Beyoncé did not sing at their wedding,
Nelson Mandela didn't give them that dog.

I've never seen
anything like it.

Always trying to impress somebody, talking
about they speak all these languages.

They know good and well they got
Google Translate right in their pocket.

It wasn't just the fact
that the Abkins left

that created tension
between Sheila and A.B.

It was how they left.

There were accusations that the Abkins
had taken certain property with them.

- They did.
- And speculation Sheila helped with that.

- She did.
- It was never proven.

- It was.
- There were hurt feelings all around.

Especially mine.

Well, A.B. felt it too. He
found it highly distressing.

Even worse, Sheila stayed in touch
with Ms. Abkin even after they left.

She would call her, and
she would gossip with her

about everything happening in
the house, which infuriated A.B.

So tonight, probably
because Ms. Abkin was here,

Sheila really let loose.

She felt protected.

There are three rules for
working in the White House...

- Different from the rules of hosting?
- Yes.

Don't
gawk at the guests.

Oh God. It's Hugh Jackman.

It's Hugh Jackman. Does
anybody else see him?

Don't talk to
the guests unless necessary.

Rule Number Three:

Don't hover.

Come on!

Does that really seem
like something I would do?

Whatever. I was having fun.

Nobody likes to
have fun anymore.

I'm surprised the Morgans would even
invite Ms. Abkin, given the history.

They didn't really know the history.

But they saw it
tonight, and they weren't happy.

Which means Mr. Wynter
wasn't happy.

The fight was bad. Bad!

A.B.
didn't like to fight.

And he definitely didn't
like to fight in public.

He'd always try to avoid that.

He'd bring you in. Close
the door. Something.

But Sheila?

She wanted to have it out.
Right there. And they did.

Out on the floor, Sheila?
Sitting at a table?

- Yes! She asked me.
- I don't care!

Maybe that's your problem!

She's the First Lady!

She is not the First Lady.

She is the former First Lady,
and that's your problem,

that you don't understand
that we don't work for her.

We don't work for the Morgans!

We work for this house,

and we take care of this house

for the President and his
family while they live here,

and we should not be doing anything
that brings this house into disrepute!

I don't know what that means!

That means don't sit
while you're working

and get drunk with the guests.

That means stop singing, stop dancing,
and stop flirting with Hugh Jackman.

Wait, wait, wait, wait. Hold on.

Excuse me?

He was flirting with me.

And it's Hugh Jackman!

You're off the floor.

What?

Do not go back on
that floor again.

Well, I need to tell Ms. Abkin.

You don't.

That's rude!

You know what? Fuck you, A.B.!

I am busting my ass here
trying to keep this fun.

That is not your job!

It is not your job
to "keep this fun."

Your job is to serve dinner
plates and refill water.

You're not a fucking jester.

This is not all about your
traditions and protocols.

This house is
supposed to be alive.

I'm just trying to
give it a little life.

Other than that, what is it?
It might as well be a museum.

It is a museum, Sheila.

Half the house is
literally a museum.

Stay off the floor to
the end of the night.

And I want to see you in my
office first thing in the morning.

How did you
feel about that?

About what?

About him asking you to come in in
the morning. Did that concern you?

No, not really.

I didn't even know
what that meant.

And honestly, I didn't
read anything into it.

He's gonna fire me!

- Oh, come on.
- He is absolutely gonna fire me.

He said come in in the morning
and talk. He wants to talk.

Do you know who the last
person he said that to was?

- No.
- Conor Prentice!

- Who?
- You know, the butler. With the hair.

Oh, yeah. Yeah, yeah. I liked
that dude. What happened to him?

He was fired!

- You weren't concerned at all?
- No.

What did you think he
wanted to talk about?

You didn't think your job was
on the line? You might be fired?

Fired? No.

Worst case, I guess I thought
maybe he was going to sit down

and reset expectations.

He's gonna sit me down,
and he's gonna fire me.

- No.
- Yes, he is.

You are not the only staff person who
was sitting out there in the dining room.

Of course I wasn't.

What, really? I
wasn't? Who else?

Rosalind, for one.

Rosalind Chace? The curator?

See? She is right there.

I did her card.

- Oh. Him too, I guess.
- Who?

The guy looking up at the ceiling.
I think he's a contract butler.

Oh, no. He is a guest.
I wrote his card too.

Wh...

You doing okay?

It's been a tough night.

Listen, this
wasn't their first fight.

And it certainly wasn't the first
time Sheila badmouthed Mr. Wynter.

Okay, maybe I'm
forgetting one time,

but I don't think I've ever
said a bad word about the man.

The Undertaker.

Cryptkeeper!

Fussbudget!

Asshole!

And I had heard her say
some unseemly things before.

Corpse.

But this was different.

He's gonna fire me.

Ah. I
don't know, Cannon.

A.B. talks tough,

but I can't think of
anyone he's actually fired.

Well, the guy with the hair.

But I-I think you're gonna
be okay. Really, I do.

I started working at a
Waffle House when I was 17.

I did 50 hours a
week for six years.

And all I ever thought
about was working here.

Did you know that?

I had this dream
about working here.

Except, you know, it wasn't a dream.
You know what I'm saying? I was awake.

That's what I wanted.

That's what I worked for.

And I worked my butt
off to make it happen.

Waffle House to the White House.

How many people can say that?

I love this place.

I'm happy here.

And I don't want to leave here.

And I'm not gonna let it happen.
I am not gonna let it happen.

Okay, good. That's good.
Fight for yourself.

Acknowledge you messed up,
you made some mistakes,

and vow to do better.

Apologize.

He won't fire you if he believes
you and believes in you.

No, that's not it.

He won't fire me if
he isn't here anymore.

Hell yeah!

Whoo!

Oh, yeah, mate.

Ah, these
look fucking awesome.

Look, it's little
boxing kangaroos.

Just grab a few of these.

The fu...

Okay, we did fight. It was bad.

I was taken off the floor
because I wasn't working.

And I said some things
I really, really regret.

Fuck you, A.B.!

I called him names. I don't think
I ever called him Cryptkeeper.

Cryptkeeper!

I might have.

I did think he
was gonna fire me.

And so, for a minute,

I started to think I might
be able to get him fired.

I don't know. I thought I would
talk to Ms. Abkin or something.

That's all I meant. Really.

But I said it. It's terrible. I
admit that. All of it. All true.

But that doesn't change anything
about what I told you, Ms. Cupp.

About what happened up
there on the third floor.

Ms. Cox called down. I
brought her the vodka.

I stopped in the Game
Room, took a few shots.

You can see why now.

And I gave her the vodka.

I get that the way I've acted
tonight might be kind of suspicious,

given what has happened.

But what I just told
you? That is the truth.

Except you didn't
give her the vodka.

Nan Cox told us she
never received the vodka.

I ordered vodka. It never came.

I didn't see any sign
of it in her room.

And Jasmine said she saw you
carrying the bottle to Ms. Cox

after Mr. Wynter
was already dead.

Where are you going?

Upstairs. Ms. Cox.

You're not going upstairs.
There's been an incident.

An incident?

Yes. Put that away. And stay
off the second and third floors.

Can I smoke in here?

Are we really going to listen
to more of this? She's lying.

She's told us 15
different stories.

"I was just on the third
floor delivering vodka."

"That's it. End of story. Oh wait,
sorry, no, not end of story."

"I forgot, I was in the Game Room, too,
you know, where they found the dead guy,

because I needed a drink

because I was taken off
the dining room floor

and I have no idea why I was
taken off the dining room floor,

but I was really sad,
and I needed to drink

and, oh yeah, now I remember why I
was taken off the dining room floor,

it was because I was sitting at a table
getting drunk with the First Lady."

This sounds
nothing like her.

It's an impression.
I'm inhabiting a character.

Daniel Day-Lewis didn't sound like Lincoln
but it was still a great performance.

How do you know he didn't
sound like Lincoln?

Do you know what
Lincoln sounded like?

"And, oh yeah, I got into
a huge fight with my boss,

the one who was murdered, but
I forgot to tell you that,

but anyway it doesn't matter because I
did not think I was going to be fired,

except wait,

I did think I was going to
be fired from my dream job,

which isn't my dream job,

but that doesn't matter either
because I did deliver the vodka,

except I didn't
deliver the vodka!"

That was a tiny bit better.

- Why are you sitting there sketching?
- She was sketching again?

Yes.

And she didn't care
about anything you said?

No, but she didn't care
about what anybody said.

And a lot of people were
saying things at that point.

Ah, Detective Cupp. I heard you were
interviewing Emily Mackil earlier,

one of our Park Rangers here.

Just want to say that Emily, like
everyone in the Park Service,

is a... uh, a dedicated and...

- Is she... is she drawing?
- Yes.

She's drawing? Drawing? Do
you know what time it is?

There are clocks
everywhere. She knows.

Wasn't asking you.
Wouldn't ask you.

Oh! Okay. Oh, I get it.

More shots at the Park
Police from Mr. big FBI man.

Like you're better than us. Like
we don't deserve to even be here.

Well, I'll have you know that
everyone else in this building

has the deepest respect
for the Park Police.

What the fuck are
you still doing here?

Me? You talking to me? I don't
think you want to do that again.

She's lying.

Are you accusing one
of my Rangers of lying?

Oh my God. Please
stop saying Ranger.

I'm getting a lot of
requests for food out there.

But just so you know,

I have been specifically taking care
of Kylie and Hugh. So they're good.

What? You're feeding the
celebrities before everyone else?

Well, it's like on an airplane, putting
your mask on before helping others.

Yeah, that doesn't
make any sense.

Of course. Look, I haven't
actually talked to them.

I was just proposing
we might wanna do that.

He says he doesn't
want anything rich.

He asked if we had any kind of
flaky white fish like a Barramundi?

- Who?
- Hugh Jackman.

What is that tray?

For Nan Cox. She
just called down.

Oh, surprise, surprise. Grandma
wants another drinky drink.

Is Anne Dodge here yet?

No?

Okay. Please let me
know when she gets here.

Who the
fuck is Anne Dodge?

Relax.

Detective Cupp, I can
explain if you'll let me.

I won't let you because
you're gonna lie to me again

and then I'm gonna have to listen to his
impression of you, which is terrible.

- Really?
- I wouldn't say "terrible"...

So let me explain this to you.

You were on the third floor tonight.
In fact, you were up there twice.

The first time, you were so
pissed about having to do this,

you came up with a decanter and
a tray but you forgot the glass.

How do I know this? You put
the decanter on the pool table.

That I know. I don't believe you'd have
done that if you still had the tray.

Which tells me you left the
decanter and took the tray.

If you took the tray, it means you
needed the tray to bring something back.

Something you forgot. A glass.

You went downstairs, got the
glass, came back upstairs,

decided you needed a drink,
deserved a drink, and so you drank.

Not one shot, not two shots, not
three shots. The whole bottle.

You drank the whole bottle.

Now you had no vodka and no
glass. How do I know this?

Well, a few minutes later, Jasmine
stopped you in the elevator

as you tried to bring up a
decanter of vodka to Ms. Cox.

And we know you never made it.

And we know there was a used glass on
the sill. And that is what happened.

At least that is your
story. Did I miss anything?

No.

I'm now going to ask you a
series of questions, Sheila.

And now that you know what I can do and
what I will do if you lie to me again,

I'd appreciate your
honest answers.

Yes, ma'am.

When you were smoking
under the tree tonight...

It's a Cedar of Lebanon,
if you're interested...

did you see anyone out there?

- Yes.
- Who?

There were a couple people that
came through this door here.

They were...

You want me to tell you
what I saw specifically?

No. Anyone else?

Someone came down this way along
the path and went in there.

Did you see who it was?

- No.
- Did anybody see you on the third floor?

No. But I saw them.

Who?

- I don't think they saw me. I saw them.
- You saw who?

I don't know. I was drunk.

Was it a man or a woman?

Really drunk. I'm
drunk right now.

- Where?
- Where am I drunk?

I feel it everywhere...

Where was the person?

- At the end of the hall.
- What time?

9:48. It's a lot of
clocks in the White House.

I have one final, very
simple, very specific,

and very important question,

the answer to which I hope
you consider very carefully,

as it may impact the
rest of your life.

Okay.

Did you kill A.B. Wynter?

Detective Cupp?

Is this a bad time?

Anne Dodge is here.

- 9:30?
- I think that's close.

So he'd been dead a half-hour
when they found him?

- Yes.
- Are you sure about this?

Absolutely not.

- What else?
- I mean, look, this is preliminary...

Of course.

Okay, don't say "of
course," Cordelia,

because the next thing I know,

I am sitting in front of some
fucking Congressional committee

trying to defend what I am telling
you right now, very clearly,

is a very preliminary,
very informal estimate.

And I don't want to be in front
of a Congressional committee.

What else did you tell Detective Cupp
about the state of Mr. Wynter's body?

I told her the toxicology
was still inconclusive,

but there were signs
of non-fatal poisoning.

Anything else?

I gave her my very preliminary conclusion
about Mr. Wynter's cause of death.

Which was?

Blunt force trauma to
the back of his head.

What about his wrists?

I believe his wrists were cut
after he was already dead.

- Those were your preliminary findings?
- Yes.

Did your final conclusions differ
from these preliminary findings?

- I didn't have any "final conclusions."
- Why not?

Because I never had
access to the body again.

If Sheila was telling the truth
about what time she was up here

and if Anne Dodge is
right about time of death,

and Anne Dodge is always
right about everything,

then Wynter wasn't killed in here
because Sheila would have seen him.

- You have no idea what I just said.
- I heard the words.

Sheila told us she
left here at 9:48 p.m.

By which point Wynter had
already been dead for 20 minutes.

Which means she either missed the
dead body in the room with her...

She was drunk, but is
anyone ever that drunk?

Or he was moved
here after she left.

Or Sheila Cannon is lying
because she killed him.

- You believe Sheila Cannon?
- I don't. I said if I did.

- But you do believe her?
- I do.

Why?

Because I think he was moved.

The way his shoes were coming off, the
way his pants were gathered at his waist.

I have always thought
that he was moved.

You believe someone when they
tell you what you wanna hear?

Generally. Yes.

Moved from where?

Dragged.

At least partway.

Isn't it possible that
Wynter was suicidal,

brought the bottle of
liquor and a glass upstairs

where no one could see
him, drank the bottle,

then cut his wrists, fell back, hit
his head on the pool table, and died?

That's consistent with
everything Anne Dodge just said,

but it also explains the suicide
note, which you cannot explain.

So Sheila saw him
and ignored him?

You're assuming Sheila was ever up here,
but what do we know about where she was?

- Sheila admitted she was up here.
- I was on the third floor.

Okay.

Why would Sheila say she
was up here when she wasn't?

Maybe she was trying
to hide something else.

- What about the bottle?
- What?

The decanter. The bottle.

In your scenario, Wynter
drinks himself into a stupor,

slits his wrist, falls, and
dies. So where's the bottle?

- I don't know. Someone took it?
- Who?

- I don't know.
- Why?

- I don't know.
- You need the bottle.

Maybe he took it downstairs
and came back up?

Possible. Weird, but possible.

Also, Anne Dodge said his
wrists were slit after he died,

which means what you
said is not consistent

with everything Anne Dodge said.

Or...

- Maybe he didn't kill himself.
- I agree with that.

- Is this a guest bedroom?
- I have no idea.

Remember the guy who admitted
to being in the Game Room

with his knife and the body and tried to
burn his knife in the broken incinerator?

The guy who makes
pastries. I remember.

- I don't believe him.
- I don't either.

- Sheila said she wanted to kill Wynter.
- He won't fire me if he isn't here.

Well, she was drunk.

Know how many times I've said I wanted
to kill someone when I was drunk?

Four or five?

- Zero.
- Oh.

- Well, for me, it's like four or five.
- Have you forgotten about Marvella?

- No.
- She said she wanted to kill him too.

I am going to kill you!

That's in my book. I wrote
that down. What is your point?

My point is there are a lot
of compelling suspects here,

including Wynter himself.

How compelling is it if
they're all mutually exclusive?

My point is maybe you're making this
more complicated than it needs to be.

You just told me someone with no alibi
falsely confessed to being up here

in a room where a man was found dead,
someone she had clear motive to kill,

because maybe she was trying
to cover up something else.

That feels complicated.
I think he was moved.

- From where?
- What is this room?

I don't know! I don't work here!

What?

- This door was taped.
- So.

- Someone was trying to leave it open.
- So.

You know, less than
a mile from here,

a security guard found a
taped door in a parking garage

that broke open a very big case.

What case?

Watergate.

So.

So, sometimes little things
lead to bigger things.

- The room in the North East corner?
- Yes.

Looks like a bedroom,
it's being renovated.

- No.
- That wasn't a question.

No, the room isn't
being renovated.

I don't know how you define renovation,
but there's stuff in it, so...

- It's fake.
- The stuff is fake?

- The renovation's fake.
- What does that mean?

The Morgans didn't want anyone
else staying overnight tonight,

so they pretended there were renovations
in the only empty guest room left.

That way, they didn't
have to say no to anyone.

- That's really weird.
- Well, Jackie Kennedy did it once.

- I think they got the idea from her.
- Still weird.

No, it's weird that if there
are no actual renovations,

why did I just smell
paint up there?

We definitely didn't
do any work in here.

And that... is definitely paint.

Do you have a scraper?

Detective Cupp! There's someone
who wants to talk to you.

You know, I'm gonna go ahead and say it:
Your timing is consistently not great.

- They said it's urgent.
- Who said it's urgent?

- Someone calling from across the street.
- Across the street?

- Is that White House lingo?
- No.

It means across the street.