All language subtitles for Obituary.S02E05.1080p.WEB.h264-EDITH_track3_[eng]

(tense music)

There are some people in town
who think Hughie didn't do it.

I'm going to make the real
killer crack.

What a pathetic way to go.

Not one thing in your pocket
but a betting slip.

Alma Birch, my mother,
owns this newspaper,

which means soon, bone cancer,
I'll own this newspaper.

Done... for...

Not done for, Dunford.
'For over three decades,

Agnes was the heart
behind this paper's obituaries.'

'Agnes is survived by her brother,
Michael Dunford.'

Tell your mother to drop the
embezzlement charges against me,

without them I'm on release.

Albert threatened Denis's ma,

he's gonna hurt her if
Denis doesn't give me up. Fine!

I'll write the story
and he'll come after me.

I'll lure him here and then we'll...

(ferocious grunts)

Kill him.

I'll sort this place out.

This whole thing stinks.

I don't know what it is
but something is off here.

Guess what,
Mrs Birch came good.

(silence)

(slow music)

(knocking)

(door opening)

Good to have you back.

(door closing)

Good to be back.

How was your little break?

A little too long for my liking.

Says the actress to the bishop.

You wanted to see me?

No more sneaky smokes
in the building.

Use this instead.

What's next? No dirty jokes?

Actually, there has been
a complaint. Let me guess,

that old dragon
from behind the death desk?

She's probably watching smut.

Considering her fading eyesight,
that'd be pointless.

(door opening)

(keys tapping on keyboard)

Just finishing this email.

May I?

"Ta Time
with Hannah Eustace!"

Welcome back, folks.
Today I have the pleasure

of speaking with Agnes Dunford.

Now Agnes, the obituary my
listeners are most excited about is...

My own.
Have you written it yet?

My successor will write it.

Then the person who follows them
will write theirs, and so on,

until the end of the world,
or we stop printing papers.

What if the work were to dry up?

(snorts)

You know, my listeners suggested
that you might start killing people.

What a grim thought.

(heavy breathing)

(laboured gasp)

(chatter, laughter)

(pained breathing continues)

'Ah, come on, Clive,
tell us a real joke.'

What's the difference between
a genealogist and a gynaecologist?

The genealogist looks up
the family tree,

the gynaecologist looks up
the family...

.. bush!
(raucous laughter)

(banging)

Christ's sake, Clive!

The dirty jokes!
What did I tell ya!

She's dead, you fools.

(logo slam)

(supermarket muzak)

Hey, Hughie!

What do you want?

Argh!
You're a murderer.

And you're lucky
that's chocolate.

(mumbles) Fuck's sake.

Talk about embarrassing
for you.

You said the killer
wouldn't kill again.

That Albert skipped town,
there was nothing to worry about...

and that it was okay for her
to go home alone.

Elvira can take care of herself.
'It's like I've told this story'

a million times.
One more time won't hurt. Mm?

Albert threatened my mother's life.

He would've killed all of us.
Elvira saved us.

(voice trembling)
Thank God for Elvira.

(door slams)
She phoned me.

I had a look for her car,
but I couldn't find it.

That usual?
That I couldn't find a car?

That someone's car was stolen
and they called you?

Well, considering the pig's ear
you make of everything,

hardly expect them to call you.

Let's go over it again.

Sure, I took the photos.
Yeah.

I hid out at Ruby's place.
Which was my idea.

Elvira had no choice but to act
because you lot botched it so badly.

Look around, this town's
breathing a sigh of relief.

As you should be.

Argh!

(phone buzzing)

I was beginning to think
you'd never call.

Denis and Oisín match up
with everything you've said.

"It's over, you've got your man."

Great. "But I still need help shaping
his motive for Ruby's murder."

That would be confidential
information.

So would me mentioning your
connection to Albert in my article.

What connection?
"He fed you info about other dealers."

10 arrests made last year,
all non-nationals.

"Impressive, Rose."
Fine.

Here goes.

Albert's laptop,

the guy was a regular poster on
a forum called Celtic Cross,

knock off Nazi website
for overweight Irish men.

When he wasn't ranting about
foreigners on his turf,

he spent his time attacking
the mainstream media,

mentioned The Chronicle a lot.

Print that and in the minds of
your readers this is case closed.

So, Albert and me,
our little meetings...

I am the keeper
of all that is hidden.

My paper, Rose, will reflect
the outstanding work you've done.

Have a good day.

Poor cow thinks she's
in the clear.

And you know what happens
to people who think

they're in the clear, Mick?
They fuck things up.

(clock ticking)

(shrill burst of music)

(knowing laugh)

Whoever you are, I've found
you the perfect fall guy.

So quit while you're ahead.

And move on.

(tense music)

He wants to keep me
out of harm's way.

Ever since Albert he's been saying
the same thing over and over.

I should've been here.

Do you hear me?

I should've been here.

What, so you could help me
kill him?

You don't want that in your head.
Try me.

There's more blood than you think.

Piercing the skin, that's easy.

Muscle on the other hand--
I meant...

.. how did it feel?

To take a life?

Everything became a frenzy,

like... time was fast-forwarding.

And after he was dead,
I closed my eyes

and opened them and I'd be on
the other side of the room.

Were you scared?

I felt...

.. in trouble.

Do you feel guilty?

It was him or me.

Do you feel okay now?
Yes.

Because you're here.

(passionate inhaling)

(belt buckle jangling)

(passionate breathing)

(groaning)

There's something else.

Something only you can know.

During the whole ordeal,
there was a moment...

I can't pinpoint it but...

What was it? What was it?!
I felt like...

Like...

(he grunts)

(sighs)

God!

Exactly.

'Elvira! Elvira...'

Hey! I got a heads up from
someone at the supermarket.

Someone said Hughie collapsed,
they thought it was a heart attack.

And?
No, he's fine, he's fine.

He probably won't open the door
to me but...

I should visit him.

♪

Hughie needs to go.

Saying goodbye to your editor is
a traumatic experience.

For all his flaws, our editor
was the guiding force

behind the Chronicle,
known for his sharp intellect

and keen eye.
But what truly set him apart

was his ability to nurture talent.

This is a cutthroat business.
He made us see

that everyone must fight
for their place at the table.

Especially me.

(knocking)

Before finishing up here,
I thought I'd get to make

some grand editorial gesture,

like in the movies,
you know?

And what in tarnation
does that have to do

with you, you might ask.

Well,

Rose's quote puts you
over the top.

Legal is content.

Your article tying Albert
to the murder goes to print

this Thursday.

And?
And right before it does,

I'll inform the staff that you're
the paper's new editor.

Now, if you don't mind,
bow your head, please.

Got it made in case I had
to stay on a little longer.

Now, one more thing.

Your very generous salary

means that a staff member
will have to go.

First order of business Thursday,
you'll terminate someone.

Kate will get a great reference.

A toddler covered in chocolate
could do a better job than Kate.

However, she gives me
the wiggles. So no.

Kate stays.

Who'd you have in mind?

You can't make me do that.

I'm sure you'll see Emerson
gets a great reference.

I refuse!
Think of the alternative.

If I don't give you this job,
I'll give it to him.

Ask yourself, can you risk
that he won't fire you?

Now... avanti.

For all her flaws our editor
was the guiding force

behind The Chronicle,
known for her sharp intellect

and keen eye.

Spin! Fuck it!

But what truly set her apart
was her ability to nurture talent.

This is a cutthroat business,
she made us see

that everyone must fight
for their place at the table.

Especially me.

How you feeling?

Tip top.
Keeping busy?

Well, if you must know, I just
finished reading a book

about serial killers. Oh!

Did you learn any tricks?

The book is from
the perspective of their wives.

Those poor women.

Living under the same roof, sharing
the same bed as a murderer,

you don't get over that.

Wouldn't wish it on anyone.

Mm.

Look, I need a favour.

Agnes Dunford's email password.

You're the only one who has it.
Why do you need it?

It might be nothing.
Then why are you here?

Because you have the password.
Which you need.

Right. And I have.
Also right.

Then let's stop beating
about the bush.

Is that what we're doing?

I'll give you the password.
You will?

You just have to beg me for it.
Beg you?

Beg me.
As in... on my knees?

Don't be dramatic.

(chuckles)

In your own time.

Hughie--
I'm all ears.

(chuckling)

I beg of you...

May I have Agnes Dunford's
email password, please.

No problem.

Thank you.

When you admit that you sent
an innocent man to jail

and that your career is built on
a ten-foot-high pile of lies.

Good to see ya.

(phone ringing)

Denis... Denis,
give me something.

"I told ya, that password
can't be cracked.

Either he gives it to ya,
or you're fucked."

(phone goes dead)

Beg me.

I fucking did it!

(song plays on radio)

Agnes Dunford...

(dynamic music)

(tyres scraping gravel)

(car door slams)

(tense music)

(noise from television)

(laughing)

(game show voices)

(tense music)

'He kindly offered to administer
my diabetes medication.'

Ward!

(gasps)

(chuckles)

(voice from television)

(door creaking)

(chuckling)

♪

(sigh)

(laboured breathing)

My God.

Alma Birch in the flesh.

Kind of.

Power takes many forms,
but...

.. is this one of them?

(coughing)

(door opening)

(phone ringing)

"This is Emerson, leave
a message."

(air pumping)

(footsteps approaching)

How's she looking?
She'll live.

That's the whole idea,
isn't it?

Well, I'm running life support,
not a charity.

(classical music plays)

I'm sorry, okay?

Next week's pay, I swear,
will be on time.

You'd better hope so.

(door slams)

So, Vivienne is keeping
Alma alive.

This changes everything.

Wowzers.

In my line of work,
this stuff is the holy grail.

♪

(phone ringing)

"I know you're eager to get me
on my knees again,

but I'll remind you
this isn't prison, Hughie."

Listen carefully, Emerson.

I know who killed Maria Riedle.

"This again."

It's the same person who killed
Sylvester McHugh

and Veronica Sloane.
(Emerson sighs)

"Your list keeps on growing."
Well here's a new name to add to it.

"Who?"

Agnes Dunford.

♪

(engine turns over)

(mysterious music)

She's been in a coma
for months.

And yet here she is,

all that time,

writing her weekly article.

Vivienne's
been impersonating her.

(snorts)

You know what
that sounds like to me?

Leverage.

'.. let her ask her own question.
Let her...

'Oh, speak of the devil.'
Firing Emerson, I don't think so.

Bitch, have you been
spying on me?

Of course not.

Well then you're telepathic,

because I was just about
to haul your hoop in here.

Just off the phone with
our favourite killer,

the one with
the room temperature IQ. Who?

The poor person's
Harold Shipman.

His place, today.

He's gonna spill.
You mean...

.. Hughie? I mean that exclusive
I've been chasing.

Be at Hughie's at 2:00,
and when you get in there

I want all gas, no brakes,
you hear me?

You need to nail this guy.

At least we agree on that.

Oh, and this time I want clean,
pristine prose.

Your last obit was on
the fuzzy side.

Never act in anger.

Now, outski.

First Hughie,
then Vivienne.

I have to call my mother.

Hi. Just thinking about you.

Are you taking your meds?

Oh, um, each year I update the
advance obits for staff members.

Just wondering if there's anything
you'd like added to yours?

Something clean and pristine,
perhaps?

How about...

what horrified her most
was fading into middle age

with nothing to show for it.

(snort)
I can work with that.

Oh also...

She had a wonderful ass.

Hi. Feeling okay?

(door slams)

(clears throat)

(keys jangling)

(air hissing)

Ah, a fuckin' flat.

This stuff induces
a nice, clean heart attack.

The beauty of it?
Undetectable in autopsies.

As I said, the holy grail.

(tense music builds)

How about over there,
so I can see you better?

I made us a pot of tea.
Milk and three sugars, yes?

When I went into prison

I planned on getting swole.

Prison talk for putting on muscle.

Of course,

me fight for freedom
kind of got in the way.

(snort)

Back door parole.
Mm?

It means someone who
died in prison. Oh!

And then there's, err, slop slot.

The slot in the door
where they deliver food?

And of course...

.. looper juice.

Medication they give you
when they deem you...

.. mentally unwell.

How was it?
Not as nice as this tea.

I intended to take notes,

practice my shorthand.
Like I taught ya.

It's a dying art. Yeah...

Then I thought,
let's let it die.

You know, for the life of me, I can't
figure out which of us is stalling.

You're right.

Let's get down to it.

(music builds)

(hard splat)

Oh God! Jesus!

It's that bitch
with the milkshakes again,

nearly gave me a heart attack
at the supermarket the other day.

Looks like banana this time.

(needle rattling)

I'll clean it up after you've gone.

Me new information's
far more important.

What new information?

You're still claiming someone
else killed Maria Riedle.

Name them.
I'll print it.

It's more complicated than that.

See, the killer killed other people
in the town.

Along with Maria, they murdered
Sylvester McHugh,

Veronica Sloan and...

.. Agnes Dunford.

From The Chronicle?

The Agnes I replaced.

What makes you think
anyone would want to kill her?

♪

I trawled through Agnes's emails.

Every week she sent one
to her brother in Australia.

Agnes had diabetes.

It affected her eyesight,
making it hard

for her to inject her medication.
Thankfully,

somebody else started visiting
and administered it for her.

Yet,

Agnes told her brother,

her condition only worsened.

Because this good Samaritan
was actually injecting her

with duds, placebos, whatever!
Not her actual meds.

That's why she died. And the only
person to know this?

Was her brother.

Who stopped replying
to her emails.

He had a stroke.
Only when he recovered

did he read them and discover
what had happened.

The poor old man even went
as far as getting on a plane

two and a half months ago
and come here.

You know him as James Doe.

My James Doe?
I know him as Michael Dunford.

Okay.

McHugh, Sloan, I can almost
understand them.

Hardly the most popular people
in town,

but why would anyone
want to kill Agnes?

So you could replace her.

Funny, I thought you'd laugh
at that part.

Let me get this straight.

You think someone killed
Agnes Dunford

so I could take her shitty job?
Elvira...

You never viewed that job
as shitty.

You wanted it long before
you got it, and when you got it

you gave it everything.
Fine!

Assuming what you've said
is true...

.. name them.

Who killed Agnes?

(buzzer rings)

Are you expecting someone?

It's open!
Who is it?

Hey.

Hey yourself.

Now, Elvira,

I want you to know that Emerson's
only looking out for you.

It was my idea for it to happen
this way.

So did you get it?
Someone tell me what's going on.

He didn't tell you?
Tell me what?

I was waiting for you.
Tell me what?!

Agnes's killer.
Well, go on then!

Get it over with, say it!

(music builds)

(cup smashing)

Please, for me,

would one of you grow a pair.

It was your father, Elvira.

Ward.
He killed Agnes.

Dad?
And the others.

(distant church bell rings)

Have you got anything, um,
stronger than tea?

How about an email
from Agnes to her brother?

In it, she describes how
her diabetes has taken its toll,

causing her eyesight to
deteriorate.

Thankfully a kind young man named
Ward Clancy started visiting.

Ward's daughter, Elvira,
wanted to become an obituarist,

so Agnes offers
to review her work.

She was honest with Ward,
maybe a little too honest,

saying your efforts
weren't up to scratch.

Bitch!

Ward asked her
when she intended to retire.

Agnes said you'd have to
wait your turn, she had no intention

of giving up her job any time soon.

Even suggested that you look for
work in the city or in England,

Ward's greatest fear.

She does end on a positive note,
though,

saying that Ward now visits daily

to administer her medication.

And that all going well, soon,
she'll be back to full health.

Nah. Elvira--
No!

We should take a break.
This...

Whatever this is,

it still doesn't explain
the others.

Agnes took a break from the paper.
Maria replaced her.

Looked like it was gonna be full
time, meaning no work for you.

Meaning Ward killed Maria.

And as for Sylvester and Veronica?
Well, I admit, I had a hand in that.

It, that's not, that's not true.
No, I made the call

to pay Elvira per obituary, I had no
idea work was going to get so slow.

Ward must've killed them
so that you could get paid,

so that you could survive.
You mean so he could drink!

Hey, look the man did what he did
and he ended up paying for it.

Dad got sloshed and drowned.
So we all thought.

Right, I didn't know where
to start here,

so I just started with what we had.
This is the only item

they found in Ward's pocket
when they discovered his body.

He placed that bet at 1:33
and the horse came in,

it was a nice bit of money,
but he never claimed it.

So, I went down to the bookies.
Right, I took a chance,

I tried to claim
the money for myself.

And it took me a while to break
down the woman who worked there

but she eventually told me
why she didn't call the Guards.

Why would she go to the Guards?
Just bear in mind-- Emerson!

He told her that if he won

but didn't come back
that she could keep the money.

Dad never placed a bet
without making that joke.

I know.
And I'm afraid it doesn't end there.

He asked her to check her phone,
he said he was running late

and he needed to find the shortest
route to get somewhere.

And the somewhere was... ?
Saint Michael's Bridge.

The bridge Dad fell from.

Well, not to hammer home
the point but...

.. check the back of that slip.

(tearfully) MD, 2 pm.

Michael Dunford.

And then at the bridge,

Michael confronted Ward
about his sister.

They fought, Michael pushed Ward
over the ledge,

and into the water,
and then he fled.

I'm trying to leave but my legs
won't work.

Yeah, we're not finished yet.
But I am, finished.

Ruined, when this gets out,
I'm...

.. done for. Not so fast!

Because there's a plan
in place to protect you.

During his acceptance speech,
I'll have Patsy announce

that he has new evidence
in the Maria Riedle murder case.

He'll call for the whole investigation
to be re-examined

and declare Hughie innocent.
Coming from an elected official--

Carries more weight than
me saying it.

They'll have no choice but to look
into it. That still doesn't help me.

No it does, it does,
because when they ask him

where we got the evidence,
he'll say it came from you.

Right, now think how brave
and honest you'll look.

Yeah, a woman exposing her
own father like that.

Outing Ward and throwing your
support behind me, I'll be free.

Yes, your father's reputation
will be tarnished--

There's an understatement.
Jesus Christ, Elvira!

You're not listening!
Ward was a killer!

Right, this, all, all of this,
it has to end!

Look, look, I get it,
I get it, I do.

Right now all you see is
someone betraying your dad.

But, believe me,
look long enough,

and eventually all you'll see
is someone protecting you.

Before I say something
I might regret,

could you please leave, Emerson?
No, no--

That wasn't a request,
that was a demand.

You're in shock.

Drink some more.

Accepting what Ward did
will take time.

Look at that smug,
fucking smug face.

No, no, no.

That's the thing though...

I can't accept it.

The truth will out, Elvira.

It was me, Hughie.

I did it to get paid.

I'm the murderer.

I killed them all.

(burst of tense music)

Do you hear me?

I'm a murderer.

(music builds)

It's okay.

It's okay.

It's not okay.
I'd do the very same.

Kill people?
Lie about killing people

to protect my father.

Oh my God,
you don't believe me.

I believe people
do what they need to do.

I know I did.

So I understand
where you're coming from,

and I will be here for ya.

Tell Vivienne I cancelled.

By the time she tries to send me
back to prison,

the truth will be out.

You'll see, kid.

We'll be fine.

(short laugh)

(tense music)

(church bell rings)

I know, it's a little early
in the day.

What can I say,
I learned from the best.

More than that, I think you
taught me everything!

Just by being my father,

you gave me this darkness.

Darkness that I always
thought meant

that if anyone got to know
the real me...

Eventually I'd have to kill them.

Mm, I'm not so sure
about that.

Deep down,
you knew the real me.

Do you think I'd kill you?

Don't answer that.

I'll have the man I want,

the job I want.

Rose will look like a fool.

And Hughie would be
none the wiser.

Let Patsy make his speech,

and it's over, Dad.

Home free, in the clear,

out of harm's way.

All I have to do...

.. is let them blame you
for everything.

I dunno.

Maybe if you were here to tell me
what to do, you'd say no.

But you're not here, Dad.

You got caught.

And I'm never getting caught.

Okay.
Well, what can I say, folks?

We're about to put
another beauty to bed.

He's lucky he won't get the sack
when I'm editor.

But before I press send
on this week's edition,

I'd like to make
an announcement.

If you're a leader without
followers,

you're just a woman
taking a walk.

That's right, I see you all
as my followers,

with this paper as my church.

Alas, to quote Charles Manson,

"All good cults must come
to an end".

Let the coronation begin.
So...

.. as of today...
(phone rings)

One second.

"It's Mick. Hannah Eustace from
Krvin FM was killed last night.

Rose has opened
a murder investigation."

(whistles)

(dynamic music)

About Emerson getting
the boot,

I think when you hear what I have
to say you'll change your mind.

Sorry babes, looks like
we're back to square one.

What?
The gig, it's not quite yours yet.

No, no, no I, I've had enough of
these stupid fucking games.

Spicy, I like it.

Now watch this,
you're really gonna like it.

Hey, fuck-sticks!
I've always wanted to say this.

We need to change our
front page...

(screams) Stop the presses!

(scream echoes)

So much for Albert being
my fall guy.

Oh, this is like that scene
in a movie where someone

screams their lungs
out in their car.

I've always hated that scene.

(sharp rapping) (gasp)

(angry exhale)

Two nights ago from sunset
to sunrise, where were you?

The night of the murder?
That's right!

Where were you, Elvira?

My father's grave.

The entire time.

Can anyone confirm this?

Anyone at all?

Gee...

.. talk about bad luck!

(hollow tapping)

(siren)

♪