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What'd you think, you
paired up with him?

What'd I think?

Well, you don't pick
your parents,

and you don't pick
your partner.

You know, they used to call
him The Tax Man for a while?

He'd come out of Texas,
so nobody knew him.

Seemed a bit...

raw-boned to me, edgy.

Took 3 months till we got him

over to the house for dinner.

Around our big 419.

That's what y'all want
to hear about, right,

Dora Lange, kids in the woods?

Yeah, sure,
but, uh, talk about Cohle.

We heard some stories.

Kind of a strange guy, huh?

Strange. Uh-- heh, heh, heh.

Yeah.

Rust would pick a fight
with the sky

if he didn't like
its shade of blue,

but when we finally got
him over to the house--

this is when that case
was hot--

poor bastard looked like
he was on his way

to the firing squad.

Dora Lange.

Yeah. Occult ritual murder.

You can thank
the "Advertiser" for that.

Could you, uh,
hold off on that?

All right. Yeah. You can't
do that here no more.

- Huh?
- Uh-uh.

Don't be assholes.

You want to hear this or not?

Vermillion sheriff requested
assistance with a 419,

cane fields outside of Erath.

I'd been on the job
about 3 months till then.

Two previous cases
were open and shut.

It was January 3, 1995,
my daughter's birthday.

I remember.

Hart and Cohle, State CID.

Who found her?

Farmer and his son.

This spread wasn't
scheduled for a burn.

Let's keep them here, and
let's tape off this road,

and give me your log.

You take the log.

Yes, sir.

Make sure you get
everything down.

Go ahead.

You ever see
something like this?

No, sir, in 8 years of CID.

Them symbols, they's Satanic.

They had a "20/20"
on it a few years back.

ID?

No, sir.

We're gonna need
more men for a grid search,

set up a perimeter wide as
possible on those 3 roads,

post up, take license plates

of anything that passes.

I-23.

Go ahead,
I-23.

We're gonna need investigator
assist on that 419,

all you can spare
for a canvass.

Roger that, Detective.

CID is taking over. Get
anybody who's free up here.

Okay. Tell me
what you see.

Ligature marks on her
wrists, ankles, and knees.

Multiple shallow
stab wounds to the abdomen.

Hemorrhaging around throat,

lividity at the shoulders,
thighs, and torso.

She'd been on her back a while

before he moved her.

That's why
they called him The Tax Man.

The rest of us had these
little note pads or something.

He had this big ledger.

Looked funny walking door to
door with it like the tax man,

which ain't bad
as far as nicknames go.

Yeah. Of course
I've always taken a lot of notes.

I mean, you never know what
the thing's gonna be, do you?

A little detail
somewhere way down the line

makes you say, "Ohh!"
breaks the case.

You know, I've seen
all the different types.

We all fit
a certain category--

the bully, the charmer,
the, uh, surrogate dad,

the man possessed
by ungovernable rage,

the brain--

and any of those types
could be a good detective,

and any of those types could be
an incompetent shitheel.

Which type were you?

Oh, I was just
a regular type dude

with a big-ass dick.

A lot of it had to do
with how they manage authority.

There can be a burden
in authority, in vigilance,

like a father's burden.

It was too much for some men.

A smart guy who's steady
is hard to find.

I was all right,
better than some,

but, you know, I knew how to talk
to people, and I was steady.

Rust-- now his
Texas files were classified

or redacted,
and he wasn't big on talking

except when you wanted
him to shut up,

but he was smart.

Yeah. Second week
we were together,

I saw where he was living.

Kind of made me feel
for the guy.

I'd offer you a seat,

but, uh...

Don't mention it.
I, uh-- I can't stay.

Yeah, I'll tell you guys--

and believe me,
past a certain age,

a man without a family
can be a bad thing.

We'd
encountered a meta-psychotic,

which I had to
explain to Marty,

what meta-psychotic was.

This is gonna happen again,

or it's happened before, both.

Go on.

It's fantasy enactment, ritual,

fetishization, iconography.

This is his vision.

Her body is
a paraphilic love map.

How's that?

An attachment of physical lust

to fantasies and practices
forbidden by society.

You get that from one
of your books?

I did.

Her knees are abraded,
rug burns on her back.

Cold sores, gum line recession,

bad teeth.

There's decent odds
she was a prost.

He might not have
known her, but...

this idea goes
way back with him.

You-- you got a chapter
in one of those books

on jumping to conclusions?

You attach an assumption
to a piece of evidence,

you start to bend the
narrative to support it,

prejudice yourself.

Wait and see on the ID.

All right.

This kind of thing does
not happen in a vacuum.

I guarantee this
wasn't his first.

It's too specific.

Uh...

listen, uh-- ahem,
this is

a...

stupid time to mention this,

but...

you've got to come to dinner.

Can't put Maggie off anymore,

so you just got to.

All right.

Gordon, thanks for coming.

Marty.

Yeah. So...

Anyway, that
evening, wasn't even sundown,

he decided it was a good time
to invite me over for dinner,

which I got a problem with,

all right, because I'm
thinking about Marty's wife

and this two kids and how
it's my daughter's birthday,

and I know...

there's nothing I can
do about it,

maybe not today,
maybe not tomorrow, but...

I'm gonna have a drink.

Let me get up!
Heh, heh!

Daddy!

You're gonna meet him.
I got to get the door.

Hey.

Santa Claus is coming!

Aah! Jump!
Ha, ha, ha!

People out here,

it's like they don't even know
the outside world exists.

Might as well be living
on the fucking Moon.

There's all kinds
of ghettos in the world.

It's all one ghetto, man,

giant gutter in outer space.

Today, that scene,

that is the most fucked
up thing I ever caught.

Ask you something?

You're a Christian, yeah?

No.

Well, then what do you got the
cross for in your apartment?

That's a form of meditation.

How's that?

I contemplate
the moment in the garden,

the idea of allowing
your own crucifixion.

But you're not a Christian.

So what do you believe?

I believe that people
shouldn't talk

about this type of shit
at work.

Hold on, hold on.

Uh... 3 months
we been together,

I get nothing from you.

Today, what we're into now,

do me a courtesy, okay?

I'm not trying to convert you.

Look. I consider myself
a realist, all right,

but in philosophical terms,
I'm what's called a pessimist.

Um, okay.
What's that mean?

Means I'm bad at parties.

Heh. Let me tell you.

You ain't great outside
of parties either.

I think human consciousness

was a tragic misstep
in evolution.

We became too self-aware.

Nature created an aspect of
nature separate from itself.

We are creatures that should
not exist by natural law.

Huh. That sounds
god-fucking-awful, Rust.

We are things that labor
under the illusion

of having a self,

this accretion of sensory
experience and feeling,

programmed with total assurance
that we are each somebody

when, in fact,
everybody's nobody.

I wouldn't go around spouting
that shit, I was you.

People around here
don't think that way.

I don't think that way.

I think the honorable
thing for species to do

is deny our programming,

stop reproducing,

walk hand in hand
into extinction,

one last midnight,
brothers and sisters

opting out of a raw deal.

So what's the point of getting
out bed in the morning?

I tell myself I bear witness,

but the real answer is that
it's obviously my programming,

and I lack the constitution
for suicide.

My luck, I picked today
to get to know you.

3 months, I don't hear
a word from you, and--

- You asked.
- Yeah.

And now I'm begging you
to shut the fuck up.

I get a bad taste
in my mouth out here.

Aluminum, ash,

like you can smell
the psychosphere.

I got an idea.

Let's make the car a place
of silent reflection

from now on, okay?

_

What should I bring for dinner?

A bottle of wine would
be nice, I guess.

I don't drink.

Well, no, of course not, Rust.

Listen. When you're
at my house,

I want you to chill
the fuck out.

Don't even mention any of that
bullshit you just said to me.

Of course not, Marty.

I'm not some kind
of maniac, all right?

I mean, for fuck's sake.

What'd you hear?

Ask Cohle.

You mean The Tax Man?

You know, he's IA.

This is State CID Homicide--
Detective Geraci.

Yes, ma'am.

I'm calling to ask
about that night...

I mean, you never heard
any shit like this before.

She had...

antlers. Um...

Fuck.

This is-- this is
the real thing,

some "Halloween" shit.

Well, we're gonna have to
do a press conference.

What about him?
What do you think?

Smart...

aloof.

Doesn't care
about making friends,

but he's already
running with it.

He's got a real--
real mind for it. Yeah.

So you'd keep him on then?

Both of us, yeah.
I would.

All right.
You're still lead.

The incident room is yours,

and, uh, you do
the briefing tomorrow.

Yes, sir.
Thank you.

Hello, sir.

Fuck that prick.

Yeah. No. I couldn't
hear you there.

Antlers and shit.

That's my point,
I wanted you to see her.

Yeah, you don't mark
up a body like that...

She had antlers?
What does that mean?

It was a crown.

We'll do the briefing
tomorrow, guys, early.

My guy does the AP Wire
asked about Satanism.

It got Speece here. You're
gonna have his nose up your ass.

Major was saying something
about a press conference.

Well, guess I can count
my blessings, fellas.

Thanks for that.

Hey. You mind
if I skate? Ahem.

I got some names
from Vice, prost farms.

Check around on our DB.

You want me to go with you?

Nah. Just something to do.

Yeah. You go ahead. I'll
take care of the paperwork.

Like I said,
I'm feeling a lot of stuff

hit me at this time--

my daughter's birthday,
this dead woman,

and, um...

figured I'd work
the case, you know,

till DiCillo called
or we got an ID.

State Vice gave me
some addresses to follow up on.

So far, nobody'd--
nobody'd talked to me.

Evening, ladies.

I was hoping to ask
y'all a few questions.

Oh, come on, man.

I'll get the next round.

Heh. You making
trouble for us then?

No. I'm just looking to
get some information

on a woman.

Might be you know her.

Who's that?

Hold on.

Mmm. We'll take two large
Long Island ice teas, please.

Ma'am.

I'm Rust, by the way.

I'm Anette, she's Lucy.

Either one of you know a woman

about your age,
works the same place,

about 5'5", blond like you?

What kind of tits she have?

Medium, a little larger
than yours,

proportion to the body natural.

Hmm.

Gee. I don't know. We
see a lot of girls

like that around.

Any girls like that

you haven't seen around
lately, missing like?

People come and go.

What do you want them for?

I wouldn't bust
somebody for hooking

or drugs.

I'm murder police.

Somebody got killed.

There's a girl named Liza,

another called Destiny,

but I seen Destiny
yesterday at McDonald's.

What about Liza?

She's here.

Anette, go get
a couple more drinks

from the bar, will you, please?

All right.

You get pills pretty easy?

Relax. I want some.

Speed?

No. Quaaludes,
anything-barbital.

Uppers are easier to get,

and they last longer, too.

Yeah, but it's not like that.

What's it like?

I don't sleep.

Hey.

Oh.

Hey, Lone Ranger.

Hey. Ugh. Dreaming.

Why you out here, huh?

Why didn't you come to bed?

Um...

Caught a... bad one
yesterday.

Just couldn't sleep.

You got that woman from Erath?

- Yeah.
- Yeah?

Saw it on the news.

Girls will be up soon.

Missed you the last
couple days.

Oh, shit.
I got to shower.

Got a debriefing today

and maybe
a press conference later.

And if Speece calls,

tell him I'm debriefing
the squad all morning.

Well, Marty said
he was doing that.

He is.

Hey, beautiful.

Morning, baby.

Marty, how you want
your coffee, doll?

Strong and black just like you.

Prints came back.
Dora Kelly Lange.

Priors for shoplifting,
possession, and...

solicitation.

Address outside
of St. Martinville.

Landlord says she hasn't lived
there in almost a year.

She's got an ex Charlie Lange,

who's doing 8 in Avoyelles
for bad checks,

mom's outside of Breaux Bridge,

DMV license expired,

and DiCillo called.

She was washed clean,

not a print on her.

We got ligature marks
on the wrists and ankles,

was bound
by a half-inch rope,

maybe 10, 20 hours.

Evidence
of vaginal intercourse.

Bound upright,

hadn't eaten in a
day, maybe more.

Toxicology hit for lysergic
acid and methamphetamine.

That's crystal and LSD.

How much LSD?

Hard to say.

Got to wait for a mass spec.

So she was drugged, bound,

tortured with a knife,

strangled, posed out there.

Yeah.

What about this stuff?

Well, the crown, for
lack of a better word,

rose thorns, early
cane, switchgrass

wrapped around a bent branch,

and the horns are deer antlers.

Again, no prints on anything.

Symbols are painted
with acrylic basic blue

using a thick glove finger.

Ideas what any of this means?

I don't know.

And it's all primitive.
It's like cave paintings.

Maybe you ought to talk
to an anthropologist.

Lot of trouble
this guy went to.

Seems real personal.

I don't think so.

Was iconic, planned...

and in some ways,
it was impersonal.

Think of the blindfold.

This place is
like somebody's memory

of the town,
and the memory's fading.

It's like there was never
anything here but jungle.

Stop saying shit like that.
It's unprofessional.

Oh, is that what
I'm going for here?

I just want you to stop
saying odd shit,

like you smell a psycho's fear

or you're in someone's
faded memory of a town.

Just stop.

Well, given how long
it's taken for me

to reconcile my nature,
I can't figure

I'd forgo it
on your account, Marty.

Ahem.

You get any sleep last night?

I don't sleep.

I just dream.

Occult.

Now, I don't know if this shit
is anything but crazy,

but Speece
and the Superintendent,

they're paying attention,
the newspapers are making hay,

church groups.

Detective?

Ahem.

All right, here's
what we got so far.

Deceased's name is
Dora Kelly Lange, 28...

You stay busy now, the business?

Well, yeah,
I got the security firm,

PI stuff. Routine.

Lotta guys leave the job,

cemetery within 10.

No family, idle hands.

Some advice, you make it out,
you stay busy.

Hit the corners.

Ask about anybody
she was seeing...

regular customers,
meth dealers,

and rough johns, anything.

Any questions?

You believe in ghosts?

What'd we say about
silent reflection?

You happen to hear
anything out of the ordinary

between 10 and 1 AM, out back?

No, no, but, uh,

sometimes they, uh,
dove-hunt out there.

They found a woman?

Is it the Fontenot girl?

Who?

- And why would you ask that?
- Don't know.

Went missing
around here years back.

Last time something happened.

Just thought maybe it's her.

How old was she, this girl?

I don't know.
Little.

You know where
the family lives?

Had a place
couple streets down.

They moved out, though.

Do you know the Fontenot
girl, one went missing?

Her?

Her family come to our service

once or twice,
5 or 6 years back.

Is that the girl?
Oh, Lord.

No, sir, it's not.

Excuse me.

I want to ask y'all
something. Y'all think

maybe this have something
to do with those cats?

What cats?

Two of 'em-- one,
and a couple

of weeks later, another.

Somebody cut 'em up,

turned their insides out,
then nailed them

to the front door, twice.

Now, I called
and told the police,

but we're predominantly African
American congregation.

I asked for it
to be investigated.

We're not those type
of police, sir.

Well, who is, then?

Can I ask you something?

Any of these look
familiar to you?

- Seen them anywheres?
- No.

No, they look like
something that might be

carved into a tree
or something.

Mm-hmm.
How about these?

Now, that look like
something my old auntie

taught us how to make
when I was a tyke.

What are they?

Some folks call them
bird traps.

Old Auntie told us that
they were devil nets.

You put them around the bed, catch
the devil before he get too close.

That's interesting.

- Hmm.
- She was a wonderful woman.

Loved her some Jesus,
but had a bit

of that Santeria
in her, you know?

I always just thought
it was something

for children to do,
keep 'em busy,

tell them stories why
they're tying sticks together.

Then that's all
we got on the Fontenot girl.

There was nothing in there.

Says, "Possible
report made in error."

Now, that was 5 years ago.

Ted Childress was
sheriff back then.

He's set up in Gulf Shores
now, I think.

Ten-year-old girl goes missing
and that doesn't go state-wide?

Now, hold on now.
My understanding,

the little girl went off
with her birth daddy.

Now, did you check
her mom's record?

Possession, solicitation.

I believe Ted knew the family,
and the feeling was

the little girl was
better off with her daddy.

Mom seemed to agree;
she filed a complaint,

then never bothered
with it again,

took off with her boyfriend.

R&I said you had
a complaint these parts

around December--
little girl

getting chased
through the woods.

Oh, yeah, I pulled
that one for you, too.

What the hell is this?

Little girl said
a green-eared spaghetti monster

chased her through some woods.

Now, we had her work
with a sketch artist,

and she told us
that looked exactly right.

Now, you want to call an APB
on that, you go right ahead.

Listen, boys.

I'm gonna have to call
a timeout, make a beer run.

Well, why don't you hold
off on that for a while?

All right, well,
why don't you get it, then?

We really don't want
to do that.

Well, is this supposed
to be admissible? Huh?

If you want to pick
my brain, work a room,

you buy me a cheeseburger
and a Coke, don't you?

I'll take a sixer
of Old Milwaukee

or Lone Star, nothing snooty.

Why is this so important
to you all of a sudden?

'Cause it's Thursday
and it's past noon.

Thursday is one of my days off.

On my off days, I start
drinking at noon.

You don't get to
interrupt that.

Ahem.

I'd appreciate a little
hustle up on that.

Yesterday,

at approximately 6 AM,

civilians came across
the body of a female

in a sugar cane field
outside of Erath.

Now, this person,
we believe, was murdered,

and we are not yet in
a position to

release the identity
of the victim or to offer

details of the crime.

Our investigators

have several leads,
and hopefully we'll--

we'll have a suspect
for you in custody soon.

Now, this perpetrator

will be apprehended,
and he will know

swift Louisiana justice.

- Charlie?
- Mm-hmm?

Let's talk about
your ex, Dora Lange.

You want to talk Dori?

What's she said I've done now?

Nothing. We're just
curious if you knew

what she's been up to and
maybe where she's living.

Nope.

Got her divorce papers
pushed through

after I been here about a year.

I don't blame the bitch.

She got a habit?

Yeah, a few.

Weed, meth, juice.

Name it.

Charlie,

how'd y'all meet?

Growed up together,
dropped out the same time.

Hitched up way too quick.

You know how it is-- you want
a wife, but only half the time.

Hmm.

Why are you saying
you hadn't heard from her?

She called up here
for you not too long ago.

She couldn't help me
anyway, man.

She sounded all fucked up.

You see, that's exactly
the kind of thing

that we do want to know
about, though, Charlie.

Oh. All right.

Uh... I needed
some scratch for my store,

and Dori owes me money,
she ain't got no fuckin' phone,

so got a number to
her friend Carla, got her

to call me back, and she ain't
made no fuckin' sense.

Ahem. Carla's full
name and phone number.

What you mean,
she didn't make sense?

Like she could duck-hunt
with a rake.

High, yeah.

Talkin' 'bout
she's gonna become a nun.

- Why a nun?
- I don't know, man. She was high.

Fucked up, uh,

talkin' 'bout...
she met a king.

Shit.

Anyway...

I don't need no
snitch jacket up in here.

Give me a break.

This is Avoyelles.

It's a goddamn day camp.

Spend some time in Angola.

Surprised you even got
Aryan Nation here.

What'd Dori do?

Dori's dead.

Thank you, boys.

We almost had a moment there.

Mmm.

So you want to talk the whole
case through or just the end?

No, whole story

from your end, you don't mind.

You know, like he said,
files got ruined.

Hurricane Rita.

What he didn't say is that this
is about something else.

Something new. That one
in Lake Charles, maybe?

Now, why you say that?

Get the details
out of the paper.

Yeah, we did.

You know anything about that,
about Lake Charles?

Well, let me see

what you got, jog my memory.

Well, let's hear
your story first,

see how it fit
with what we got.

Well, your dime, boss.

Talking Cohle,
what about that dinner

you mentioned,
he turn up drunk?

Oh. Yeah.

Well, ahem.

That dinner,
that was a bit later.

It was kind of funny.

The flowers, you know?

Like, he read somewhere that
if you get invited to dinner,

you're supposed
to bring flowers?

The hell?

You can barely stand up.

What is it?

You don't drink
with me or the boys,

and you got to get a load on

before you visit my family?

No, Marty, it's not like that.

And I didn't mean to,

all right?

And I don't drink
'cause I've had trouble

with it before;
I didn't mean to.

I was checking on a CI.

I ended up hanging
around a bar.

I was sitting there.

I couldn't think
of a good reason not to.

Usually I can.

Don't worry about it.

Have some more coffee

and just try to make 10
minutes of conversation.

You got it.

I'll call Chris or somebody,

get you out of here.

Marty.

I'm sorry, man.

Forget it.

We'll try this some other time.

Well, uh, Rust, it is
so nice to finally meet you.

Sorry it took so long.

Well, I tried to tell her
you aren't big on socializing.

I said that your life's

in this man's hands, right?

Of course you should
meet the family.

Well, not quite
as dramatic as that, hon.

I've never fired my gun.

Have you fired your gun?

Audrey.

Yes.

You shot people?

Macie.

Ahem.

Dad's never shot anybody.

Well, that's good.

You don't want to shoot people.

But you have.

Marty says you're from Texas.

Yes, south Texas.

I grew up in Alaska.

Just been working here
the last 10, 12 years.

What kind of work?

Narcotics, mostly.

Um...

was on the Robbery Squad
in Houston until '89.

Ahem. Oh. Be right back.

Y'all keep eating.

Do you like your job?

Not exactly,

but it's worthwhile.

I'm good at it.

You're not married?

Once.

- Uh, not anymore.
- Mm-hmm.

Did you do this
while you were married?

Hey, Chris.

Hey, thanks for the page.

Yeah, well,
he'll appreciate it.

Well-- all right,

then I appreciate it.

Children?

One.

She passed.

Marriage didn't last
long after that.

Sorry.

Ahem. Chris Demma's
on the phone for you.

Something about a CI or...

Back there to the left.

- Excuse me.
- Of course.

Ahem.

What was that?

What were y'all talking about?

Your job.

What do you know
about him, Marty?

Um, not a lot.

He could be a good detective.

He's running on this
thing, but, uh...

uppity.

What?

Jeez. Have you ever
asked him about himself?

Baby, trust me.

You do not want to pick
this man's brain.

What was that?

Oh, some details
on the CI. Ahem.

Thank you for dinner, Maggie.

- This looks great.
- My pleasure.

I don't like that broccoli.

Mind your manners.

So you, uh, need to go or what?

No, it's nothing can't
wait till tomorrow.

Rust, uh, what
you were saying before?

Oh, we can find something
nicer to talk about.

Marty, I saw
your table in there.

You fly-fish?

Little bit.

So you
and Cohle went bad in '02, huh?

Heard about that.

Yeah, well... what happened
between me and him

don't have nothing to do
with Dora Lange.

I worked with Rust Cohle
for 7 years.

People change.

Relationships change.

You stay in touch?

No.

No, I haven't talked
to Rust in...

10 years.

Yeah.

Look, however we...

he was a good detective,

and it don't matter how
he ended it. I mean...

I can say that
because it's the truth,

and I don't hold grudges.

I believe that's the shit

that leads to cancer.

But why am I talking
about dinner?

Y'all want to walk through
the Lange case, fine.

This other stuff--
well, what's going on?

Sorry. We just heard
some stories.

Well, personally,
I heard he was

an ace case man, right?

I'd like to understand
his process.

"His process."

Sure.

The other landlord
says she trashed the place,

so she lost her deposit.

And the neighbors check out.

Those that remember her
said that she, uh,

used to come in early
in the morning,

if she came home at all.

You guys canvass the bars
pretty good today?

You know, up your ass, Cohle.

Why don't you do your
own fuckin' leg work,

you rat fuck?

Say it again, rummy.

Hey.

You know what, man?

Fuck you,

Tax Man.

What the fuck?

Ahem.
Back to point.

Got 3 hits on working girls.

No one close to her, naturally.

A few names recognized
her as occasional.

Like she tricked
now and then, show up

at a couple of truck stops
when she needed cash.

You got some names.
Which ones?

I heard from my AP guy,
Ray Fontenot.

Said her uncle's
Danny Fontenot--

the pitcher, LSU.

Yeah, I watched him
play. Great player.

- Well, he lives close by.
- Ahem.

Well, thanks, guys.

What about you two?
Did you get anything today?

- Not much, sir.
- Well...

You might know
the Reverend Tuttle.

He runs our state-wide
charity drive.

This is Detective Hart,
Detective Cohle.

Pleasure to meet you, Officers.

Nice to meet you.
Cohle.

Your case has a lot
of people taking care,

doors locking where
they used to not.

Eddie's been speaking
to me about it.

Concerned, very concerned.

We've been discussing
the viability of a task force

to investigate crimes with
an anti-Christian connotation.

You what?
Really?

Yes.

I don't mean to tell men
of your positions,

but there is a war
happening behind things.

Thank you for doing your part.

- Thank you, sir.
- Yeah.

Well...

Eddie's going to be
very, very pleased

to have such good men
working on this.

Are you kidding me?

Un-fuckin'-believable.

"Anti-Christian."

Fucks. And who
the fuck's Eddie?

Huh?

Is he serious?

Well, he doesn't
have a television.

- Who's Eddie?
- And he's from Texas.

He's the fuckin'
governor--

- Edwin Tuttle.
- Ah.

They're first cousins.

Well, that makes sense.

Yeah, that's the
sound of The Big Machine,

Cohle, that's gearing up
to pound your ass.

Heh!

The sound of a gaggle of hens.

Yeah, you better
watch your mouth

or they're gonna
peck your eyes out.

- Hi.
- Hi.

I am looking for
Detective Hart.

I have a stack of
depositions for him.

Judge Sutpen told me to
make sure and give them

to Detective Hart
and no one else, so...

- Oh.
- Is that the, um--

The, uh, depositions.

I thought I should
walk you through them.

Oh. Great, great. Let's
just find a place to talk.

Thanks, Cathleen.

- Thank you.
- You're welcome.

Right through here.

Your victim was Dora Lange,

but you all checked
on Marie Fontenot.

Why?

Missing girl, 5 years gone,

report made in error?

She had an uncle
who lived nearby...

and call it intuition.

Sometimes he's more responsive.

I'd like to help.

Mr. Fontenot all the way.

Uh, ahem.

We met,

oh, maybe 7 years ago.

I was visiting Skip Hays.

I'd played for USL.

Thing of beauty, sir,
watching you throw.

Hmm.

Danny, this man's a detective

with the police.

Uh...

I'm actually--
Ahem. Sorry, uh,

we wanted to ask you
about your niece, Marie.

Hmm.

"How much could You put on
one family?" I ask the Lord.

We try to get by.

Did you know Marie's
birth father?

Len?

Len Stroghes was her daddy.

Hmm.

It's okay.

We're asking because, uh,

we had heard that Marie
ran off with him

and that... she wasn't
really missing.

That's what Debbie said.

Oh. Well, uh...
anybody heard from Len?

Anybody maybe knows
where he's at?

Uh, sorry.
The last thing.

Do you know
where Debbie is now?

She married another man.

Not the one she's
with when Marie...

She was in Vegas,
last we heard.

Marie must have loved it here.

Yeah.

All this for her?

Danny loved her so much.

We weren't her legal guardians,

but she played here
all the time,

more than her Mama's.

I can see why.

What is it Dan has,
if you don't mind my asking?

All they ever told us was
"a cerebral event."

Series of strokes, like.

Marty?

Excuse me for one sec.

Inside on the floor
on the right.

I don't know what that is.

I haven't looked in there
since the police first came.

Bet you want
to hear the hero shot, huh?

That place we carried
the kids out?

Eventually, sure.

So what did she look like...

that one in Lake Charles?

Can you, uh, tell us

anything about that,
Mr. Cohle?

That looks a lot
like the one from '95,

but... well,
you knew that already.

Yeah, there are specifics
consistent to the '95 case,

details that weren't
public knowledge.

You were off the grid
for 8 years, right?

- Show back up here 2010.
- My question is--

How could it be him...

if we already
caught him in '95?

How indeed, Detectives?

I figured you'd be
the one to know.

Then start asking
the right fuckin' questions.

Sync and corrections by n17t01
www.MY-SUBS.com