All language subtitles for Fargo S03E09 Aporia1

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.