Original subtitles

You want some pop? Sprite or something?

No.

This is Deputy Gloria Burgle,

Meeker County Sheriff's office,

with an interview of Emmit Stussy,

March 16, 2011.

First up, I'm curious about something.

Your house is an hour's drive from here.

There's three St. Cloud metros near your office.

Why come all the way down here?

You gave me your card.

Okay, then.

Well, I got a lot of questions,

but I guess, maybe, you should just start.

I want to be clear about something.

If anybody comes here, claiming to be my lawyer,

don't let them in.

-Like who? -Anybody.

I'm saying, I'm here on my own proxy.

Want no contact with the outside world.

Don't trust anyone who comes,

if they do, which they may not.

He was right, you know?

-Who? -Ray.

I tricked him.

Or not tricked, but...

A lie is not a lie if you believe it's true,

do you think that?

It's not my story.

I think that.

Or I did, I guess.

I don't know what I believe now.

He played tennis.

Ray?

Our dad.

At his club, rain or shine, every Saturday.

He had that thing all dads have

after 30 years of wearing socks,

where the hair gets worn away,

so he's basically bald from the shins down.

I was on the drive, you know, throwing

a ball against the house, a tennis ball.

Wasn't supposed to, but he was gone, so...

And Ray's someplace, kitchen probably,

he was always eating, that kid.

Real chubby.

And then, Dad's home.

He had this old Mercedes diesel,

you could hear it on the come.

So I hide the ball and he pulls in.

Not out of the car ten seconds,

when down he goes, flat on his face.

One minute, he's waving hello, the next, just drops like...

Like the lights go out.

I killed him.

-Your dad? -Ray.

First I tricked him,

then I killed him.

Like no days had passed.

Like one thing goes and then another.

Like you whack a tennis ball back and forth.

Killed him where?

In the den of a shithole apartment.

Framed picture-puzzle in the wall,

like some six-year-old,

so proud, he had to hang it up.

Christmas Eve.

You think there's a special level of hell

for people that killed their loved ones on Christmas Eve?

I wanted the stamps, see?

My dad gave me a car, but I wanted the stamps.

What 17-year-old boy wants stamps

when he can have a cherry-red Corvette?

But I did.

And Ray, like I said, he was a chubby kid.

15 years old, never been laid,

never even felt up a girl, so...

I let it slip.

How this car, well... It's like a magnet, isn't it?

Like catnip for kitty cats,

and if you turn up to school Monday

in this thing, well, it's a done deal.

And now, he's begging me.

"Emmit, please, take the damn stamps, give me the car."

Like it's his idea.

What's that old quote, that...

"The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled

"was convincing the world he didn't exist."

How did you?

I cut his throat.

Blood everywhere.

"Exsanguinate," that's the term,

the cause of death.

But how, exactly?

One stamp left.

I sold the rest and used the capital

to get things rolling,

but I kept the two-cent,

hung it on the wall of my study.

Like it was my first dollar I ever made.

But think of it from his point of view,

my brother.

Like a stick in the eye, every time he...

'Cause I won, see?

I won.

And he spent his days watching scumbags piss on his shoes.

So, I go to him and, "Enough's enough," I said.

"This dumb feud, let's put it in the past."

And I give him the frame,

but he's still mad and he tries to give it back,

so we start shoving and the frame breaks.

And a piece of glass, stuck in his neck.

You hit him with it?

No, I didn't... I...

I didn't mean to...

It was just one of those, "What are the odds?" moments.

Murder though, I'm not saying it wasn't.

Hmm.

Thirty years I've been killing him.

That was just when he fell.

I'm not sure one's gonna do it.

I got another picked out, closer to the precinct.

What matters is he signs those papers.

And we get him out of that precinct

before he gets too chatty.

I can monitor the radios,

see if there's a workaround to the new security.

No, let's move shop, go to stage four. No mistakes.

Shit!

Hello.

Hope you got you r checkbook handy.

Who's this?

You first .

Madam, it's just lazy to steal from someone

without knowing their name.

Yeah. That's what I am. Lazy.

Oh.. .

The Swango. Our recidivist.

Bingo.

Mr. Cayman Islands XXJJ19462SK.

Or should I say Switzerland ZZ91482S?

No, account numbers mean nothing

without their passwords,

without the answer to six security questions.

Was it six? Thanks. Thought it was five.

What do you want?

Your name, for starters.

V.M. Varga.

What's the "V.M." stand for?

How much and where?

Not sure that tracks alphabetically.

Look, if you're gonna be clever,

I'm gonna go for a nice lie down.

Two million. Lobby of the Clarion Hotel, 4:00 p.m.

Come alone.

Nice sweater.

It's a cardigan.

Lopez.

Yeah.

-Hello? -Yeah.

...hear me?

Hello?

Yeah, it's me. It's Gloria.

Oh, hey, there. I was just thinking of you.

Yeah? Hey, let me ask you something.

Yeah, strangest thing, I'm here on a case.

A new case, just this morning, a homicide,

and you'll never guess the vic's name.

When you talked to

this Goldfarb lady at the restaurant,

she gave you a full alibi for Emmit.

Yeah, that's it. Spoke for 20 minutes at least.

Nice lady, real sophisticated.

Said they'd been there since 6:15 approx,

maybe even 5:55.

Her and Mr. Feltz and Mr. Stussy,

which, like I said, you'll never guess what.

Well, thing is, he just confessed.

-Who? -Emmit.

Just walked in off the street, told me the whole story,

even named the murder weapon. So I'm wondering,

how come this lady alibis him when he says he's guilty?

It's a puzzler.

Maybe bring her back in and ask her yourself.

Yeah, sounds right.

Wait, you were saying something before

about a new homicide?

Yeah. Guy's throat was cut.

They found a piece of glass on the linoleum.

What guy?

Dentist, lives on a nice quiet street,

but get this, his name...

Marvin Stussy.

Okay then.

Okay then.

Hey, there.

Hey.

Brought burgers.

Aw. Aren't you sweet?

Ron drive you?

No, took the bus.

So, how's it going?

Good, you know.

Think I might put this thing to bed.

-Oh, yeah? -Yeah.

Hmm.

You know, I was thinking,

maybe drive up to the lake this weekend,

do some canoeing? Like when you were little?

-Mom. -I know, but it'll be fun.

Rather go to the mall.

The mall?

Yeah, with my friends.

Oh, I was thinking for us.

Okay.

No, no, if you wanna go to the mall, that's...

Lake sounds...

And I know you're not little.

I mean, you're practically all grown up.

Phone's for you, Chief. Nope, Deputy.

-Hey, Nathan. -Hey, Donny.

Burgle.

Oh. hi, thanks for calling me back.

That'd be great, if you don't mind.

Really help me out.

Super, see you then.

Due diligence. Just kicking the tires

on Emmit's alibi witness.

- Oh.

Heck, I think I might finally put this thing to bed.

What do we got?

Victim's a white male, late fifties.

Wife found him in the kitchen.

Jesus.

Prints?

Yeah, we got a good one on the fridge.

Moron got glue on his finger and he wiped it on the door.

What's his name, again?

George.

His last name, asshat.

Stussy.

George Stussy.

Donny?

Yeah, Chief?

Come here, so I don't have to yell.

I think he pooped.

Check with St. Cloud,

see if they found prints at their scene.

-That one was a stabbing. -I know.

-Broken glass, right? -Yeah.

This one's asphyxiation, just like Burgle's dad.

I'm thinking he's alternating his kills

to throw us off the scent.

-Who? -Killer.

Killer, singular?

This guy must really hate Stussys.

Chief, neighbor says she saw a maroon Cadillac

hauling ass out of here right before the wife got home.

-She get a plate number? -You betcha.

About time.

Mrs. Goldfarb? Thanks again for coming in.

I was very clear with the other officer last time.

You realize memories fade.

Oh, you'll do great.

Why don't we talk in my office?

So, like I said, I'm just checking up on a few things.

We've had some developments in the case.

And this is a murder?

Yes, ma'am.

Mr. Stussy's brother Raymond, killed in his own home.

-Awful. -Hmm.

If you don't mind me asking,

how did you end up having dinner

with Mr. Feltz and Mr. Stussy that night?

It was a... A mutual friend introduced us.

And what was his name?

Buck Olander.

He's a banker. St. Cloud.

So, this was a business dinner?

Well, I'm new in town and Buck agreed

to introduce me to some people.

New from where?

Does it matter?

St. Louis.

And you're aware what happened to Mr. Feltz, subsequently?

His illness?

I heard. Quel dommage.

When it rains, it pours.

Sometimes it drizzles.

It's a saying.

When it rains, it pours.

Like a penny saved is a penny earned.

In your statement you said

that Mr. Feltz and Mr. Stussy arrived separately.

Yes, I think that's right.

Who was first?

Mr. Feltz.

And how soon after...

Um...

How soon after...

After...

-Excuse me a second. -Yeah.

Perp admitted.

Yep. Donny.

-What's up? -Manhunt's over.

-There was a manhunt? -Yeah.

For, like, 30 minutes. Real exciting.

You were right about this case,

it's a real twister.

-I'll let new chief explain. -My...

Did you tell her, Donny?

Well, I solved it.

Solved what?

Your murders.

The old-timer in Eden Valley and then the dead PO.

Don't even.

I got the Parking Lot King in holding, he confessed.

To both?

No, the...

We already established there's proof

Maurice LeFay killed Ennis,

Ray's parolee, and now Emmit's basically confirming

that the Ray murder was tit for tat.

But we have two new murders, here and St. Cloud,

both surnamed Stussy,

both picture perfect doubles of your earlier crimes.

Glass-in-the-neck bleed out,

my stiff with his nose and mouth glued shut.

How about that?

And your theory is what?

A serial killer with two MOs?

-How does... -Good going, Chief.

-How does that make sense? -Just listen.

When we arrested this piece of shit,

he had some mail in his trunk from your stepdad's house.

Yeah, that's right.

And a framed photo of Ray and his scofflaw girlfriend

from their domicile.

Also, the trunk,

full of broken glass, blood, superglue.

Those are facts.

I got... Hold on. I got different facts.

Maurice LeFay's fingerprints--

He confessed.

My guy. In the car ride over. All four murders.

-He-- -Cried like a goddamned baby.

You should've seen it.

I mean...

Who the hell is this out-of-the-blue guy even?

Donald Wu.

Served 22 years beating a guy's skull in

with a tire iron.

Been out six months, living under the highway.

Get this.

Said his mom's boyfriend, named Stussy.

Used to diddle him in his closet after lights out.

-Chief... -Mmm-mmm.

No.

You said yourself,

the Parking Lot King's got a two-witness alibi.

So what you're looking at here is psychology.

He feels guilty, all those years

fighting with his loser brother...

Finally, guilt gets to him, in he comes.

You believe it

'cause you got a hard-on for the guy

and you wanna believe it.

Okay?

Cut him loose, Deputy. We got our man.

That's an order.

Is it gonna be much longer?

I gotta be downtown in an hour.

No.

No. You can go.

Actually, just so I know,

how soon after Mr. Feltz did Mr. Stussy arrive?

Five minutes, maybe.

In your statement you said a half an hour.

Well, I'm sure that's what it was then.

You know how the memory can play tricks.

That's another saying.

Are you covering for him?

I'm gonna go.

If you have any more questions,

let my lawyer know.

It's done. They're letting him out.

Doyle'll drive you to meet the Swango,

I'm moving to stage five.

Loved you in Death of a Salesman.

Hilarious.

I'm going to have some tea. Would you like some tea?

No, thanks.

You know why I chose this place?

Were you born here?

Don't be mean. Am I being mean?

We could've used a real grenade.

No, you're right. My apologies.

It was the Wildcat Regional.

Third runner up, me and Ray.

That's why we're here.

That's a bridge tournament.

How quaint.

I've never understood this

repulsive affinity of playing games.

Oh, Bridge isn't a game.

58 octillion possible deals.

Then you got the human factor.

Symbiosis with your partner.

The cheats and tells of your opponents.

Strategy.

That was my strength.

Yeah, I can tell.

You sure I can't tempt you?

It's my mother's recipe.

No? Well...

You got it?

Yes.

I have it,

but I'd like to offer you something else instead.

A job.

Remind me what you do again.

I work for a company called Narwal.

No, you don't.

You tell people you work for a company called Narwal

'cause people look past middle management.

But I know a boss when I see one.

Very good.

You just added a zero to your salary.

That's okay.

I already got a job.

Blackmailing you.

All right now.

And tell me.

How do you think that's going to play out

from a strategist's point of view?

Well,

there's a 60% chance that briefcase

is full of your dirty underwear.

And since I don't see your associate,

I figure he's out there somewhere watching us.

Maybe even with a rifle.

Go on.

And if I brought the books and the hard drives with me,

you're gonna give your man a signal

and he's gonna take the shot.

And did you? Bring them?

The problem is

this is a public place with a lot of witnesses.

And you're a pretty distinctive-looking guy.

Am I?

Look around.

Nice.

There, you see,

I'm guessing the Wildcat Regional

was an amateur affair.

Semi-professional.

See, you got cocky.

Forgot to count all the pieces on the board.

The cards I'm not showing.

So now it's just me and you.

And I want my money.

You just added another two zeros to your salary.

What's in the briefcase?

Where are my things?

Well, now, Willy Loman,

I feel I ought to punish you

for not doing what you were told.

So maybe I share one of the hard drives

with the police.

You...

You can't win this game, you do realize that?

I thought you didn't play games.

I'm offering you a fortune,

you're asking for a piggy bank, pourquoi?

Because I wanna hurt you.

Not be your pet.

I wanna look you in the face

and rip out something you love.

I didn't kill him.

You do know that? It was Emmit.

Wasn't Emmit who came for me in the precinct.

Wasn't Emmit who flipped that bus.

You know,

I didn't have any feeling about you before,

but now I'm starting to really dislike you.

Good.

I'll give you till tomorrow to get my money.

You want me to stay?

Should I sit?

Got married straight out of high school

to a guy I knew since fifth grade summer camp.

Summer wedding.

Guests were mostly mosquitoes.

We had a baby boy, then a toddler,

now a teen.

Last year, my husband phones me at work,

tells me he's got a boyfriend named Dale.

Says they're moving in together.

Says he's sorry.

He loves me, but not like that.

"What else is there?" I say.

You think the world is something,

then it turns out to be something else.

You're free to go.

What?

No, I'm...

I told you what happened, what I did.

I want no special treatment just 'cause I'm rich.

You treat me like every other felon.

No, you're not getting it.

Somebody came, just not who you thought.

What are you talking about?

Since you confessed,

two other fellas named Stussy have been murdered.

The first with the copycat approach

mimicking my stepdad.

The second made to look like your brother's neck puncture.

Whoever it was, planted evidence in both places

to make it look like all this is the work of a serial killer

who hates people surnamed Stussy.

Are you saying that people are dead

because they've got my name?

Yes.

But the real beauty of it is

they gave us a suspect and he confessed.

He--

Confessed to all four murders.

Some three-time loser

who couldn't make it in the modern world.

What must they've paid him?

Must've been a heck of a price.

But it worked.

That confession, combined with the evidence I mentioned,

means he goes to prison the rest of his life

and you go home.

Who is he?

Who?

The master pulling the strings.

That fella I met in your office

who said he sold ladies shoes,

this is him, right?

His work.

I'm...

I'm...

I...

I'm sorry.

The problem is not that there is evil in the world,

the problem is that there is good.

Because otherwise, who would care?

Reinforcements have arrived.

Whiskey or beer?

Well, you're not supposed to drink during ovulation,

but at the same time,

if I have to look that thing in the eye

sober one more time,

I may jump out a window,

so Moscow Mule and make it ornery.

Still punching the clock, huh?

With all the romance of two lumberjacks chopping wood.

Thank God for K-Y.

So when you called, well, I can't say I was sorry.

One more.

To showing up and fighting back.

Except...

It's over. The good guys lost.

For the present, but we all know Jesus wins in the end.

I'll drink to that.

You know, before you got here,

I was thinking, see Ennis, my step-father,

he wrote these space books...

And I read one of 'em.

The Planet Wyh with the "H" at the end.

And it was about this android, I guess you call it, who...

His master died and he wandered

the universe alone for two million years.

-Jeez. -Yeah. And...

And all he could say was, "I can help."

But he couldn't, or at least he never did.

But he kept on saying it. "I can help."

And he kept on failing.

Which is, if I had to define it,

the way I feel most days.

Come on now.

And the other days,

if I'm being honest, how I feel is...

Invisible. Or not invisible.

Unreal.

Does that make sense?

No, ma'am.

Well, there's the fact that automatic doors

never open for me,

and the sensors on, like, the...

The sink or the soap dispenser never sense me.

And when I make a call, no one can ever hear me.

So I got this theory, in private,

that I don't actually exist.

Right.

I got a whole speech I could make.

Oh, please don't.

Here's what I think you need. Stand up.

-Why? -I wanna show you somethin'.

What?

Okay?

Better get to the ladies and clean yourself up

'cause we got some heavy drinking to do

and I can't have people thinking I forced you.

Thanks.

Yeah.

We got the bond of the uniform.

Plus, I like you.

I like you, too.

Ugh!

Great.