All language subtitles for Irish.Blood.S01E02.Horseshoe.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.H264-RAWR

Sergeant Claude,

someone killed my father.

Just watch.

Hello, Fiona.

Glad you cracked the code...

That it?

Well, there was more...

...but the techie
at the phone shop

said that the file
was corrupted.

Corrupted?

It got wet.

Got wet.

I dropped it the toilet.

You dropped it?

In the toilet?

The point is...

...there was more to the video.

And Declan said that if
anything happened to him,

it was not an accident.

How could he known

he'd be murdered if he was still
alive when he recorded it?

Riddle me that.

After he recorded it

he fell off a cliff.

You don't find that
a little suspicious?

We investigated this.

Thoroughly.

His friends and family said

that your father had been
pure squirrelly of late.

Now,

I'm sorry for your loss.

But whether by accident
or intent,

Declan Murphy
authored his own demise.

Appropriately named.

Our Sergeant Claude.

Clod.

As in dumb as a chunk of mud.

You took my statement
at the hotel.

Garda Róisín Doherty.

Listen, I know what it's like

to have someone treat you
like you're a moron.

Well, I don't think that he
was treating me like a moron--

Oh, no.
That was absolutely his

"feck off ya moron" look.

I believe ya.

Then help me.

I was hoping you'd ask.

♪ Here I am,
Cryin' my eyes out ♪

♪ Wondering when things
will change ♪

Spool of calculator tape.

One airplane boarding
pass dated 2022...

A box of cigarillos.

A... horseshoe.

One sports glove and...

...what looks to be...

...a diary.

Dear Fiona,

it's your sweet 16th.

My little Fifi,

I bet you're lovelier than--

Give me that.

I glanced through it.

It's just a bunch of sappy
bullshit he wrote to me

over the years.

And what's all...

this alleged to be evidence of?

Well, Declan claimed
to be investigating

some kind of criminal
activity in Wicklow.

Yeah, it sounds far fetched,
I know.

If you didn't trust him,

why did you come
the whole way to Ireland?

I came here to give
him a peace of my mind.

Okay.

And then I got here
and surprise!

He's dead, so now I've got this.

Whatever this is to deal with.

Then let's deal with it.

I live for solving mysteries

and Old Claude won't let me

within a country mile of one.

So where do you wanna start?

Well, you could check
police records

to see if there's
anything on Declan.

And... put this somewhere safe.

- Done.
- Okay.

So...

...what you up to later?

Of course, yeah.

Moron.

Sorry.

playing in background

Fiona.

Thought you'd be back
in LA by now.

I made it as far
as the airport.

But I couldn't
get on that plane.

continues playing

A poem...

...in honor of our...

...dearly departed Declan.

Let thy joys alone

be remembered now.

Let thy sorrows go sleep awhile.

Or if thought's dark cloud

come over thy brow,

let love light it up
with his smile.

Unwritten rule numero uno.

Read the other players.

But I have a great hand. See?

She protects us.

Including closet monsters?

Against everything.

Oh, joy alone
should be thought of now.

Let our sorrows go sleep awhile.

Or, should--

- Sorry!
- How rude.

I'm sorry, sorry...

So sorry!

Sorry!

Oh, my god.

Hey, what's up?

Hello? Róisín?

You heard me.

Can I get ten boxes
of your finest

jumbo, magneto tampons?

You know the ones
with the deluxe,

platinum applicators?

If I could get that
urgently delivered

to Garda Róisín Doherty.

Róisín, did you call
the right number?

Never mind, moving on.

I checked our files.

Your dad has no criminal record,

but he did go a bit batshit

at the race course
about a week ago.

Define batshit.

He stole a horse and assaulted
a jockey named Oscar Rafferty.

They got the horse back

and Rafferty declined
to press charges.

- Ms. Fox?
- Oh.

Okay, got it.
I'll call you later.

No shame in being
a woman, Claude.

I was your father's assistant.

Minerva Quilligan.

I spoke with you on the phone.

I have so many questions.

Well, now is not the time.

We're heading over for
the reading of Declan's will.

You should come.

I don't think I can sit
in a room with a family

that doesn't know I exist

and listen to my dad's last
will and testament being read.

He wanted you to be there.

He was...

an unconventional man.

Come or don't come.
It's your choice.

To my brother, Finn,

I leave my 1999 Cork Rebels

All Ireland Hurling
Championship jersey,

a garment he shamelessly coveted
with unabashed longing.

Cheers, Decker.

The household furnishings
can be divided

amongst my family members
as they see fit.

I claim the credenza.

I'm not having that
monstrosity in my house, Mom.

Except for the credenza,

which I leave to
my dear sister, Una.

- Ah, Jesus...
- I win.

Shh, please.

Now...

my cottage on Lough Dan--

Deck had a cottage
on Lough Dan?

Yes...

I leave to...

...Ms. Fiona Fox.

Why would he give a cottage
to an overseas client?

He must have been...

giving her the ride.

What?

Slipping her the lad.

Burying the bishop.

Bumping uglies?
- Oh!

Finn, stop.

No!

None of that.

Declan was...

Declan was my father.

What?

Oh, no.
Declan didn't have a daughter!

He did.

He swore me to secrecy.

Bollocks!

If... if I had a grandchild,

my son would've told me.

You do have a grandchild.

Declan raised me til
the day I turned 10.

I took my mom's name,

but I was born Fiona Murphy.

Her brother's child.

Never thought I'd see the day.

Oh, my god.

It's like a piece of him
is still with us!

Don't you think, Mum?

Where are you staying?

Uh, Foxglove Abbey.

Just outside of town.

No, no, no,
we can't have that.

You'll move in with us.

That's so kind of you.
Thank you.

But I'm comfortable where I am.

Thank you.

What the...

Hey, beautiful...

I remember you.

And you are...

...Lightspeeder.

You know Chicklets
shouldn't race tomorrow.

He's in no shape.

Oscar, he's mine
to race as I please.

You're racing him
into the ground.

I'm gonna sell him anyway.

And who's gonna buy him
in this condition?

I'm Patsy-Fecking-Burgess.

I could sell pimples
to a prom queen, lad.

Oscar Rafferty?

This isn't over.

Pick up the trough!

Trouble?

Difference of opinion.

How may I help ya?

Well, you might have
known my father,

Declan Murphy.

Know that name.

Knew the face.

Don't know what
the hell inspired him

to box my pan in last week.

Regardless,
I'm sorry for your loss.

Thank you.

I'm just trying to understand
his state of mind.

Well, let me first say,
I love horses.

Which is why I was baffled
when he accused me,

of all people,
of being a horse murderer.

He said that?

He rides off
with Chicklets here,

and he bellows out,
"You bloody horse murderer!"

Well, thank you for your time.

Mm-hmm.

Hi, Una.

Yeah, I'm fine. You?

You did what?

Brian at Foxglove's
a dear friend.

When I heard you were
attacked in your room,

I went straight away
and gathered your luggage.

This home is a refuge
for Murphy women.

Stay as long as you like.

I really don't
want to impose.

You'd rather waste a ton
of money on a posh hotel

than stay for free
with us strangers?

Mother.

You're no stranger,
you're a Murphy.

Um...

Let me help?

I really appreciate
the hospitality. It's--

My daughter offered
the hospitality, not me.

I clearly have
no say in the matter.

That's not a teacup.

It doesn't belong there.

Well, um, where
does it belong?

Clearly not with the
fecking... tea cupboard.

Just sit down and stop mucking
with the order of things.

Mother!

She's not just

grieving the loss of her son.

She's furious he never
told her she'd a grandchild.

He deprived her of the chance
to watch you grow up.

She blames me for that?

Please be patient with her.

Her life hasn't been easy.

But she cherishes her children.

At 15, she raised
Declan by herself.

They wanted to ship
her baby off to America.

But instead,
she raised him on her own.

She married my dad years later
and had Finn and I, but...

...Declan.

She fought hard
to keep that baby.

And now he's gone, she's...

And now you're here.

And I know we're a lot,

but I'm so glad
you're here, Fiona.

She'll come around.

Please stay.

It is overwhelming
meeting all of you and...

...finding out that my dad

may have been murdered.

Murdered? No, darling.

That's no road to go down.

That only leads to darkness.

You believe that he fell?

Mental illness is not
a term I use lightly.

But Declan fought some demons.

Mainly depression.

You think he killed himself.

Mother won't agree.

She's agonized over
the possibility of foul play

having something to do
with Declan's death, but...

...suicide's a far more
likely scenario.

I met Rafferty. The jockey.

Declan accused him
of being a horse murderer.

Did a bit of digging myself,

there was an incident
in the 90s.

One of Rafferty's horses died.

A broken leg or something?

No. It's, um...

1998.

Beannacht Ben went
missing from his pen.

A ransom request was made.
The owner paid it.

But two weeks later,

Beannacht Ben showed up dead

in Knockananna Bog.

Oh. Will you send me that?

Sure.

There's an entire showcase
dedicated to him at

Inver Race Course.

That's a horrible story.

Mm-hmm, horse racing
is cut-throat.

Those dodgy types do love
to jab their finger in the pie.

You know a lot
about horse racing?

Know a lot about dodgy types.

I grew up in the factory
district surrounded by...

...colorful characters.

Which is just
a nice way of saying

that I grew up in the slums,

surrounded by dirtbags.

So you know something
about criminal minds?

Hell yeah!

Mandy Patinkin?

As Special Agent Jason Gideon?

To catch a criminal,
you have to think like one.

So... Beannacht Ben...

...was stolen and killed.

And Declan left me this.

Good luck charm?

Perhaps not

for the horse that wore it.

Why did I buy
a manor with six bedrooms

just to have them sit empty?

She's your own blood
and she belongs here with us.

Every time I see that
woman, I think of my dead son...

And I wonder why

he never told me
I had a grandchild.

And my heart cracks open.

Do you think it's true
that he killed himself?

Or was he murdered?

Mum, we all know
the state he was in.

He was despondent, delusional--

Oh, no.
Someone did this to him.

I know. I feel it in my bones!

What was he involved in that
made someone want to kill him?

Mum. You have to let this go.

The Gardaí found no
evidence of wrongdoing.

You mean Sergeant Claude?

That gobshite
couldn't find evidence

if it strolled over him
and pissed in his pint.

Eavesdropping are ye?

No, I just got home...

Isadora, I did overhear
and I'm with you.

I don't think he
killed himself.

Did I ask your
opinion on the matter?

You didn't know my son.

And whose fault was that?

He abandoned me when I was 10.

Dear Fiona, I've
squandered many lonely hours,

reminiscing
over adventures we had.

I wonder if you recall
those days as fondly as I do.

I don't think this
is what they mean

by take your daughter
to work day.

Ah, come on, Fi.

If work's a way of making money,

this... this qualifies,
you know?

Do horses like horse racing?

- Dad?
- Come on!

Dad? Do they like racing?

Ask me after the race, Fi.

Come on! Run!

Dear Fiona,
this was a tragic day.

A glorious creature
was done dirty.

I watched as his once
magnificent form

was dredged from the muck.

All the while cursing the fiend
who dealt him this cruel fate.

Man is easily the most
beastly of God's creations.

You were there.

That's one craic inheritance.

What do you think?

Um...

Wow.

Oh, my god.

This is paradise.

I don't understand him.

I spent all these years

thinking he'd forgotten about me
and then he leaves me this.

He loved you.

And he wanted you to know that.

A phone call
would have sufficed.

Aw...

Don't you wanna go inside?

I don't get the keys
till probate's done.

Alright, well, we'll
save it up for another day.

Do I strike you as a
particularly patient woman?

Gimme a boost.

Okay.

You alright in there?

Hello?

Fiona, hello?

Did you forget about me?

Never.

Always hurting for money.

Must've saved up for years.

Gorgeous.

Can't believe he hid this
from me. From everybody.

But I guess he hid
a lot of things.

Which horse
did you pick this time?

Púcalicious?

What's a Púca?

It's a magical pony
from Irish folklore.

Why do you think he'll win?

I don't.

The thing about luck is,

it comes when
you don't expect it.

Can you drop me
off at the racetrack?

Yeah, of course.

You've been so kind to
me, I really appreciate it...

My heart still aches
after all these years.

Beannacht Ben was a gift

from my parents after
my brother, Benji, died.

Siobhan Donovan.
- Oh.

It's wonderful
to meet you, Fiona.

You know my name?

Word travels fast in Wicklow.

I heard about your father.

My condolences.

Thank you.

And I'm sorry about your
brother and your horse.

Tragedy seems to
target my family.

But we're blessed
in many ways.

I'm not a race person myself.

I'm just here to
support the charge.

I do like a car rally.
Cars don't die.

They just rust away.

Was that the last
photo taken of him?

It was.

But that race was a shitshow.

False starts and collisions.
Créatúr Bocht caused a pileup.

- Créatúr Bocht?
- The horse that came in last.

Poor thing should
never have raced.

Can I get you a drink?

Me? No children, no.

In lieu of a family,
I have a family business.

Donovan Bread and Whiskey.

And that bouncing barley baby

keeps me up all night
just the same.

You?

No.

No kids either.

Leo Travers is rich,
smart, and charming.

Wicklow women
throw themselves at him.

And... who are you?

Fiona Fox.

Leo Travers?

Well, you've been
talking about me.

It's one of my favorite topics.

Fiona is in Ireland to attend
her father's funeral, Leo.

I'm sorry for your loss.

Thank you.

But hey, if you need
a little cheering up,

Siobhan's got my number.

I do not have his number.

- Another of the same?
- Of course, you eejit.

Him too.

You know that guy?

Patsy Burgess.

Makes my skin crawl.

In fact, he owned Créatúr Bocht.

So, someone
kidnapped your horse,

held it for ransom, got paid,

and then still killed him?

Why are you so
interested in this?

Well, Declan accused
this jockey--

Oscar.

He wouldn't hurt a fly.

Well, then,
who killed your horse?

My family have prospered.

And with that comes
people who resent you.

Siobhan Donovan mentioned

another horse
named Créatúr Bocht.

Siobhan Donovan?

Oh, Donovan Bread and Whiskeys?

I'm impressed you've
managed to befriend

such a fancy lady so quickly.

Why?

Because people of Wicklow

would kill to be chummy
with the Donovans.

They've got the fame,
the wealth, the prestige...

They're like the Kardashians,
but without the drama

and butt fillers.

You know this guy?

Patsy Burgess?

If dodgy was an aftershave,
you'd smell him two towns over.

I think he's got something
to do with this.

I wanna know more
about Créatúr Bocht.

Check the online
thoroughbred registry.

It's a thing.
- Hmm.

Aha.

So it looks like Créatúr Bocht

lost every race he ever entered.

And after...

the Beannacht Ben race...

What?

What, what?

He was sold to a foreign buyer
for 850,000 euros.

Why would anyone
shell out that large

for a horse with such
a shite track record?

Pull out a picture of
Beannacht Ben on your phone.

They're like twinsies.

What if the horse in the bog
wasn't Beannacht Ben?

D'you know where I can get
some pepper spray?

Woah there, cowboy!
Y'ain't in America now.

As an officer of the law,
it is my duty to inform you,

that it is in fact illegal
to carry weapons in Ireland.

Thank you.

Woah, woah!
Where are you going?

As an officer of the law,
it's best you don't know.

You're lucky
I'm on my lunch break.

What are you supposed to be?
A fecking ninja?

- I was just going--
- Not my concern

where you're going,
what you're doing,

who you are.

Couldn't give a rat's ass.

Not even supposed
to know you exist.

Isadora,

can we call a truce?

I know you've
lived through a lot

and you're one tough lady.

You take no shit.

Part of me wonders
what it would be like

to have a take no shit
Irish grandma.

I miss my son...

Join your granny in
a glass of Red Clover.

Your dad bought it
for me last Christmas.

Of course.

I'm sorry I lied to you

about Declan
being my accountant.

If I had known, I would've
been pure insufferable.

Crowing to everyone about

my granddaughter,
the California lawyer.

Yup.

On the video, he was like:

"There are bad guys after me,

Fiona and it's your job
to fucking save the world."

My granddaughter has
a fecking mouth on her.

And so do you.

What's wrong?

I missed all your birthdays.

I could've been there.

I could've spoiled you rotten.

There'll be so many more.

You can spoil me rotten then.

On my 10th birthday,
my dad was suddenly gone.

And my mom tried so hard

to smile while she
sang Happy Birthday.

She used to dress up like
a movie star every day.

But after that...

You'd love my mom.

She's so beautiful.

And ferocious.

And when my dad was good...

...he was wonderful.

And they were so in love.

You have us now.

Mm-hmm.

I'd love to meet your ma.

Right now I think
a night's sleep

would do us both
the power of good.

You go to sleep.

And I will put everything away.

Boop.

Night, Fiona.

Goodnight, Isadora.

Shit!

Marjorie Westmuller.

Mrs. Westmuller, Tess. Hello!

Uh oh.

Did you forget what time
our meeting was?

And why are you in the dark?

Because that's where
the magic happens, Margie.

The magic with which

I am going to renegotiate

your divorce settlement

with stingy, old Bernard.

My ex-husband's name is Brian.

Right.

Of course.

Anyways, have no fear.

Fiona is gonna
bring you the Benjamins.

Yeah.

Are you drunk?

Maybe.

But I'm also the best
divorce attorney in LA,

so let's take a stroll
down memory lane, shall we?

Remember when I advised
you not to sign his NDA?

Remember when you disclosed

that Brian had this
creative interpretation

of corporate tax law?

I'll bet the IRS would be

stunned to find out that

um, call girls and cocaine

were business expenses.

Or... he could pay
you what you want!

Relax, Mrs. Westmuller.

I'm gonna make it rain.

Tricky lock!

Is she breaking into
a building?

But I'm trickier!

Sweet!

I gotta go.

Mm-hmm.

They're different sizes.

You...

...were taken from Beannacht Ben

after he won the race.

And you...

Declan took you from
Créatúr Bocht...

...after they found
you in the bog.

Don't sweat it.

I pulled this scam
loads of times.

The champ will be shipped
to your stud ranch

and the dud, Chicklets,

he'll be disposed
of in his place.

It's simple. Yeah, that's right.

Barnstormer's on his way.

Okay. Goodbye.

Let's get
the hell out of here!

- Okay.
- Come on! Come on, hurry up!

Chicklets,
they're gonna kill you!

Run!

Go Chicklets! Run! Go!

Hey, you! Step away
from the horse.

I know what you're doing.

That's too bad for you,
isn't it?

- Stay back!
- I'm shaking.

- Yeah, well, last chance.
- Ooh, scary.

Ah! Jesus!

Fuck!

You will pay for this!

Fuck!

Don't move!

It's actually pretty simple.

Patsy was going to put
Chicklets in the bog,

to make it look like
Barnstormer had been killed.

And then he was going to sell
him to an international buyer

for a fuckload of money.

And collect insurance
for both of them.

- So you're saying...
- Please drink that.

...that Patsy Burgess
stole his own horses

in order to enact
this elaborate ruse.

Mm-hmm.

Go sleep it off, Ms. Murphy.

Declan knew that
this was happening.

And he was trying to do
something about it.

While you sat on your ass
for decades doing nothing!

He may have died for it,

so don't patronize me
for doing your job!

Sir, she overheard
Burgess bragging

that he'd run this scam
numerous times.

We should investigate it.

Bollocks!

You can't prove Patsy
did any of this.

Actually, I can.

That would be Beannacht Ben
in Saudi Arabia.

Beannacht Ben spent a few years

racing for a Saudi Arabian
billionaire.

Then retired as
a lucrative tax write off

on said billionaire's
luxurious 500 acre ranch.

And Declan was gonna
expose him?

Patsy Burgess killed him
to cover up his crimes.

I mean, I don't have
any evidence, but...

Patsy Burgess will get
what's coming to him.

Are you gonna bring
Beannacht Ben home?

Maybe I shouldn't.

He's an old fella

and it looks like he's living
his best life in retirement.

But speaking of horses,

the Gardaí found Chicklets
in a nearby pasture.

I'm taking him.

- Can I visit him?
- Please do.

I'm sure he'd love to see
the woman who saved his life.

Dysfunctional families

are hardly the exception
to the rule.

Yeah.

I thought my father was awesome.

Because he was
the life of the party

and he was basically
my best friend.

But then he was so carefree

that he pissed off
and never came back.

Well, my father believed

there was no act
of childhood malfeasance

that a good smack
in the arse couldn't rectify.

There are so many ways for
a parent to mess up a child.

Can I give you a lift?

Oh, yeah, no, thank you.
My aunt just lives up the road.

Okay. 'Til next time.

- Yes.
- Bye!

- Have a good night!
- Safe home!

Bye!

Evenin', love.
Get in the van!

Stop struggling!

Stay still!

Hurry up! Let's go!

Come on, get in!

Welcome to the bog, Fiona.

Know what this is for?

It's for killing cows.

Works on horses too.

And nosy little lawyers.

- What do you want?
- I'll tell ya what I want.

I want your family to
find your bloated corpse.

Floating in the Knockananna bog.

That's what I want.

You know, Fiona?

Ya don't belong here.
Ya know that.

Please don't kill me.

First and last warning.

Go back to LA.