All language subtitles for Riverdale - 04x16 - Chapter Seventy-Three_ The Locked Room.SVA.English.C.orig.Addic7ed.com

The weirdest thing about
pretending to be dead

is that after a while,

you actually start
feeling like you're dead.

As in, "dead as a doornail" dead.

For starters, I was
underground, as if in a tomb.

Granted, I was hiding out
in Dilton's doomsday bunker

and not in a coffin, but still.

Two weeks, no sunlight,

with no sense of time or its passing?

It's gotta be what
limbo feels like, right?

Other similarities to being dead.

Not one, but two
obituaries about me ran.

A rather perfunctory one
in The Riverdale Register.

A second, more irreverent
one in the Blue and Gold.

I liked that one.

I had a funeral. Well, a wake.

I watched it on my laptop.

Live-streamed from a camera Betty
had set up in the living room.

Betty and I suspected that
the Stonies would show up,

and, sure enough, they did.

We wanted to study them

to see if anything they
did was suspicious.

Not that there was any doubt
in our mind about their guilt.

The Preppies had stone-cold murdered me

and were trying to pin it on Betty.

We just couldn't prove it.

Not yet.

Meanwhile...

The hardest part of playing dead
was letting everyone believe

I was in the semi-sweet hereafter.

Our family, our friends.

The lies we had to tell.

The things we had to do
to sell that illusion.

Like pretending that my bereft
girlfriend had found comfort

in the strong, steely
arms of my best bud.

Which turned out to be the
greatest misdirect of them all.

Of course, we needed to let
some people know the truth.

Except in one case.

My kid sister Jellybean?

Didn't have to be told.

Oh, you found the fake
blood. Thanks, Jellybean.

Do you need it for Jughead?

What? What do you... What do you mean?

Do you need it to help my brother?

Jellybean, do you know where Jughead is?

I heard you whispering on the
phone to Charles last night.

The walls are super thin.

You don't have to tell me where he is,

just that he's okay.

Is he? Okay?

Can you keep a secret?

We brought my dad
into it pretty quick too.

Betty.

I, uh...

I gave that bloody rock to Charles,

he said the FBI is gonna have it tested.

And when they do, they will
tell you that it's covered

in fake blood that you
can buy at a drugstore.

The hell are you talking about?

I don't want you to worry anymore.

Mr. Jones, I'm really sorry
that you've been worrying.

Jughead's fine.

He's... Okay, he's not
fine, but he's okay.

Hold on, you know where Jughead is?

Yes.

I will tell you everything, okay?

But we really, really
need your help, please.

I'm afraid to ask,
but what kind of help?

For starters,

a search party.

Archie went rogue and told his mom too.

Mom, I have to confess something to you.

And then there was
Veronica's sister, Hermosa,

who was sniffing around,
looking for bones.

All right. What do you wanna know?

Let me ask you straight up, hermanita.

Did you help Betty kill her boyfriend?

What? No, why would I do that?

Because that's the kind of
thing that secret girlfriends do.

They kill each other's boyfriends
so they can be together.

Okay, I don't know
what kind of crypto-lesbian

pulp fiction you're conjuring, Hermosa,

but Betty and I are just friends.

Well, then, what did happen
to that dead Torombolo?

Either you can tell me
or I'll just keep digging.

- Don't forget, I'm a licensed...
- Private investigator, right.

Not sure why I didn't
think of this before...

but maybe you could
help us with something.

Me, Betty, and Archie.

How much do you charge, Hermosa?

And is there a discount
for family members?

In the months that
followed, people will ask us,

"Did we need to do it?"

Go to such extreme lengths?

Maybe, maybe not.

But this I did know...

If I was going to recover without
the Preppies trying to kill me again

and figure out how to
solve my own murder,

I needed the illusion to be
perfect to buy myself time.

So while above me, a
world without Jughead

continued spinning forward,

I pored over every scrap
of evidence we'd gathered,

went over every detail of
my time at Stonewall Prep,

looking for hidden
patterns, hints and clues.

But this was a different kind of mystery

than the ones we'd tackled before.

This wasn't a "whodunnit."

This was a "whydunnit."

More psychological.

I needed to get under my suspects'
skin, inside their heads.

I had to let my intuition take over

to draw these disparate
strands together.

The missing Stonewall Four.

The "accidental deaths"
of DuPont's classmates.

My attempted murder. How
were they all connected?

A key piece of information
came from Hermosa.

Which was that Donna...

Jug?

Jug?

Are you okay?

Yeah, sorry, I was just going
over everything one more time.

- What's up, did they find him?
- Yeah, yes. We did.

- Well, I mean, Charles and FP did.
- And did he agree?

Completely.

He's showering as we speak.

- So are we doing this or what?
- Oh, yeah.

We are gonna blow Stonewall
Prep out of the water.

- Synced and corrected by Firefly -
- www.addic7ed.com -

Crime and Punishment.

A novel of murder and
its psychological toll.

The floor is open.

Any thoughts regarding
Dostoevsky's take on morality?

Hey, guys.

Well, what, did you even miss me?

You gotta be kidding me.

Mr. Jones.

I... I don't understand.
We all thought...

That I was dead? Well...

Yeah, actually for a
minute there, I did too.

Yeah.

Hey, what's that
oft-used Mark Twain quote?

"Rumors of my death have
been greatly exaggerated."

What is happening right now?

It is called "getting
your comeuppance", Joan.

You guys are reading Crime
and Punishment, huh?

How apropos.

You know, the one kind
of crime story that

we never really touched
upon in this seminar

was the time-tested genre
of a locked room mystery.

Where all the suspects
are sequestered in a room.

One or more of them could be the killer,

but the door is not unlocked
until the identity is revealed.

Betty, could you do the honor?

The next bell doesn't
ring for half an hour.

So for the next 30 minutes,
your asses belong to us.

I knew you weren't really dead.

Good job, Donna.

And yet since you failed
to prove it or find Jughead,

we had time to figure out
all the twists and turns

of this murder-mystery

that we've all been living
for the past few months.

I have no idea what
you're talking about.

Don't worry 'cause
I'm gonna take you through it,

- step by step.
- No, this is ridiculous.

Mr. DuPont, I'm calling security.

Shut the hell up, Bret. Like I
said, for the next 30 minutes,

we're in charge. So,
give me your cellphones.

- Why the hell...
- Joan, just do what she says.

We have nothing to hide.

I'd get comfortable if I were you guys

'cause I'm going to take you
through it from the very beginning.

Starting with that very curious fact
that both Moose Mason and myself

were invited to Stonewall
Prep during our senior year.

Jughead?

Moose!

What the hell?

It's good to see you.

Was it like that when you met my
grandfather, Forsythe the First?

He was asked to study at Stonewall too.

You were roommates with
him, weren't you, Mr. DuPont?

Yes.

And you're very much
like him, Mr. Jones.

Your grandfather was
an arrogant fool too.

Why do you say that, huh?

Because he had the gall
to consider himself worthy

of your little inner circle?

The first iteration of
Stonewall's Literary Society.

What exactly is this proving, Mr. Jones?

That this is not a story about a murder.

This is a story about grandparents
and their grandchildren.

Of the sins from one generation
being passed on to the next.

Cycles of violence.

Which brings me neatly to my next point.

Halloween.

When I was drugged by you psychos.

I think I...

I think I need some air.

No.

You need to lie down.

Say hello to the Stonewall Four for us.

Only to wake up in a coffin
and be let out a day later.

To return to my dorm.

Moose, you are not going
to believe what Bret...

And find that Moose had vanished.

So naturally, I assumed he
went out the same way

as the Stonewall Four,

that group of students
that mysteriously vanished

while attending Stonewall
Prep over a few decades.

Oh, here we go again.

Now, Moose's fate was more
banal. He joined the Army.

But there's a twist!

Mr. Chipping was the one who
encouraged Moose to enlist.

But it was more like forced him to.

He was encouraging me to leave.

Until Halloween night, when it
became more than a suggestion.

I mean, he practically
shoved me out the door.

So, what was the connection
between Moose and Chipping

that would make him take his advice?

He recruited me. To play football.

Wait. Mr. Chipping's the reason
why you went to Stonewall Prep?

Chipping had recruited Moose
the same way he had Jughead

and then ran him out of Stonewall Prep.

Meaning what, exactly?

Meaning Chipping knew Moose
was going to get murdered

and was trying to save his life.

And I would remember that next
point. It's gonna be on the qu...

- Oh, Mr. J...
- Shut up!

Mr. DuPont, as they say
in Lord of the Flies,

I have the conch.

Now, after Halloween is when
things got really interesting.

See, that's when you announced
the writing competition.

Chipping has written the last
four Baxter Brothers books.

It's time he pass on the torch.

And someone in this very room

is going to be anointed
the next ghostwriter.

You had already taken a
shine to me, Mr. DuPont.

You were asking about my
father and my grandfather.

Your grandfather was
an excellent writer.

Tell me, how's he doing?

Does he still write?

So imagine my surprise...

when I found out that my
good-for-nothing drop-out grandfather

had actually written the
original Baxter Brothers novel.

Which a young Francis DuPont
would then steal from him.

It was a 100% legal transaction. A sale.

It's highway robbery.

A measly five grand for an idea
that generated millions of dollars.

You exploited Forsythe, Mr. DuPont.

You took advantage of a kid from
the wrong side of the tracks.

And if that secret ever came out,

can you imagine the damage that would do

to the very valuable
Baxter Brothers brand?

Hell.

Someone might kill to keep that secret.

Which is exactly what we thought
happened with Mr. Chipping.

I told Chipping about my gramps.

And then he talked to you, Mr. DuPont.

And the next day, well...

I think we all remember
his dive out the window.

I thought you had urged him to do it.

I thought you had some
leverage over Chipping.

I mean, you guys were all part
of the same secret society,

Quill and Skull.

But it was actually you guys.

It was your blank expressions

as you watched him jump.

Call an ambulance!

I just couldn't shake it.

That's when I knew there
was a deeper game afoot.

No, Chipping suicided 'cause he
was messing around with Donna,

she ended it, and he short-circuited.

Except...

they never really had
a physical relationship.

Isn't that right, Donna?

We had an affair and it got out of hand.

Mmm-hmm.

Yes, an affair that went down exactly

like the affair that
you had with Mr. Kotter.

- Uh...
- Except, I looked into it and...

turns out there is no Mr. Kotter.

- Rupert, Rupert had demons.
- Oh, he did.

Mrs. Chipping filled
us in on all of those.

Yeah, she said that he
had been drinking more.

And having trouble sleeping.

... complaining about the
Baxter Brothers books.

Wishing he'd never gotten the contract.

So then, we started to ask ourselves,

what would turn the
opportunity of a lifetime,

winning the Baxter Brothers
contract, into a burden?

An albatross? Any ideas?

Your ghostwriter challenge was
to devise the perfect murder.

What if the real challenge,

the real price that someone had to pay

was to commit the perfect murder?

In order to prove that you could
write it, first you had to do it.

I mean, it kind of makes a
twisted, pathological sense, no?

And that's what was
tormenting Mr. Chipping.

The guilt of what he had done,

the blood that he had shed,
in order to win the contract.

Mr. Chipping invited Moose to
Stonewall Prep to be the next victim.

To be killed by the next
ghostwriter. One of you.

And Moose was the perfect candidate.

I mean, he was a messed-up
kid, he had no family,

he couldn't handle the stresses of life.

After my dad was arrested for
impersonating the Gargoyle King,

it, uh, kinda blew up my
life, my family, everything.

I even ended up in a facility
for a couple of months.

Chipping ran Moose out of town.

You said it yourself.

Good, you remember.

Okay, we think Chipping
couldn't go through with it.

And-or, maybe he just wanted
to atone for what he had done.

I mean, whatever the reason.

He ran Moose the hell
away from Stonewall Prep

and then killed himself,
it was his only escape.

Pure demented conjecture.

Well, yes and no. Chipping's
behavior is hypothesis, but if proven,

it shows a pattern

of how the previous
ghostwriters won their contract.

Same year, same month as
Chipping was awarded his contract,

a Stonewall student disappeared.

One of the so-called Stonewall Four.

We believe this student was
murdered by Mr. Chipping.

Ryan Allan, the previous ghostwriter,

who took up the mantle the same month

another one of the
Stonewall Four disappeared.

The sequence holds true for every
ghostwriter who preceded them.

It's... It's actually incredibly simple.

Which brings us

to a couple months ago,
when I was awarded the contract.

But why?

To put a target on my back.

Probably because I was
already circling the truth,

so he gave you guys a new challenge.

To commit the perfect
murder, against me,

and be awarded the contract.

So, the million dollar question is...

who was going to kill Jughead? And how?

So, which one of you
heartless bastards killed me?

It was actually Mr.
DuPont that gave me a clue.

When I asked who had re-written
my Baxter Brothers novel,

you told me they all had a crack at it.

Well, actually,

all of your classmates
collaborated on it.

And that suggested to me

that each one of you
had a hand in my murder.

- Oh, this should be good.
- Donna, you kept Betty busy.

Oh, good, you made it.

Bret, you led me deeper into the woods,

where I took off the bunny mask I
was wearing and put on my beanie.

And was it that beanie

that kept my head from being
completely cracked open

when Joan crept up behind me...

and hit me with a baseball-sized rock?

What? How do you know it was me?

Why couldn't it have been Jonathan?

Well, I don't recall Jonathan
wearing your perfume.

Yeah, where... Where is Jonathan again?

Or did you kill him because he
started to develop a conscience?

He had food poisoning, he
still has food poisoning.

Okay, Jonathan aside,

you had a fool-proof
plan, air-tight alibis.

It all should have worked
so perfectly, but it didn't.

- Why?
- Because in all your plotting,

all of your lurid conspiring
and your brilliance,

you didn't kill me.

I mean, whose job was
it to check my pulse?

Jonathan!

Oh, you Einsteins.

All you had to do was hit
me in the back of the head

hard enough with a rock.

You failed spectacularly.

Yeah, meanwhile, Donna was
blowing Devil's Breath in my face

to set me up as the ultimate fall-girl.

Devil's Breath? Really?

Yeah, the technical
term being scopolamine,

which leaves a person highly
suggestive and in a drunken state.

Which is why I don't remember when
Donna led me into the clearing

where Jughead's body was and
placed the bloody rock in my hand,

leaving me literally red-handed
with the murder weapon.

After which, the four of
you returned to the party

and ran into Archie and Veronica.

Hey, have you guys
seen Betty and Jughead?

I think they went that way,

into the clearing behind those trees.

Thanks.

And pointed them to where
you knew they would find me.

Standing over Jughead's corpse.

Oh, my God, Betty, what happened?

Jug! Is he breathing?

He's dead.

At which point, one of two
scenarios could've played out.

One, Archie and Veronica
could turn me in.

Two,

they could help me cover up the
"murder" that I had just committed.

Either way, I'm damned if
I do and damned if I don't.

But honestly, you guys could've
gotten away with it too.

Yeah, except, again...

You guys didn't kill me.

- Archie...
- Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

Betty, what happened?

All right, start pounding on
his chest. Right now, okay?

Vee, use the beanie
to stop the bleeding.

Go, one, two, three, four, five.

- Come on, Jug.
- ... four, five...

Come on, come on, Jug! Come on!

- Betty, he's...
- Come back to me, Jug.

Jug, hey, hey, hey.

Hey, we're gonna get
you to a hospital, okay?

No... No hospital.

Hey, stay awake,
stay with me, please, Jug.

Hey. Stay awake, okay?

Though I didn't regain
consciousness for another 36 hours.

The worst 36 hours of my life.

Why would you say that, Jones?

"No hospital." Why would a
man on death's door say that?

I honestly don't know.

Maybe I had some small feeling

that you were going to
try and frame Betty.

And I wanted her to
have a fighting chance.

I'm... I'm calling Charles,
I'm calling Charles.

- What? Why?
- We can trust him. He'll help us, okay?

Hey, Jug.

Charles, I'm in the woods
with Archie and Veronica.

Jughead, he's hurt really
badly, we need help.

We need your help, please!

We carried Jug through the
woods to the old postal road,

where my brother Charles was
waiting for us with an FBI med-van.

- What happened to him, Betty?
- A head wound.

We slowed the bleeding, we
did chest compressions and CPR.

You think he's gonna make it?

We're gonna do everything that we can.

What about us? What do we do?

Go back to where you
found him. Clean the scene.

Make absolutely certain

that you don't leave
anything behind, all right?

Also, your clothes
are covered with blood.

You need to get rid of those
and get washed up, okay?

Okay.

And then we did what Charles asked.

We went back to the clearing.

Threw the bloody rock
in the swimming hole.

Took off our clothes
and started a bonfire.

What happens if he doesn't make it?

He'll make it.

But what if he doesn't?

He will.

But if he doesn't, then...

Archie... Archie?

- Archie! You listening to me?
- Yeah, yeah. Yeah.

We have to burn all of our
clothes including Jughead's beanie.

We'll rinse off the blood
in the swimming hole.

After tonight, we never
speak of this. Ever.

Not to each other, not
to our parents. No one.

We'll finish our senior year, graduate,

and we'll go our separate ways.

That is the only way
that we won't get caught.

Do it.

That is how it'll have to
be if Jug doesn't make it.

But it won't come to
that. He will pull through.

He has to.

And then, we went home.

And what happened next
was a waking nightmare.

Not knowing if or when
Jughead was going to wake up,

and wondering if I had
actually been responsible.

Wait, but we saw Jughead's
corpse at the coroner's office.

Was he in on it?

Who? Dr. Curdle Jr.?

Yeah, mmm-hmm, yeah. We go way back.

You see, Bret, in a town like Riverdale,

everybody's got a price.

And that includes our friendly
neighborhood doctor of death.

And while Betty

was keeping you guys busy
with a game of cat-and-mouse,

I was in the underground bunker

untangling this Gordian knot of a year.

And it is crazy how much
untangling you can get done

when everyone thinks you're dead.

Which brings us, basically, to today.

So, Mr. DuPont,

the floor is open. What do you think?

Oh, Mr. Jones...

"A" for effort.

If nothing else,

this fiction is significantly
more entertaining

than anything you ever
produced for my class.

Oh, did I forget to mention

that Betty and I went and saw
the Baxter Brothers ghostwriters?

And when we told them our theory,
they all asked for their lawyers.

What if you did track them down?

And even if you found
one who corroborated

your wild theories in some vague way,

then you will know that I
never explicitly directed

my students or mentees
to do anything criminal.

Oh.

What a canny serial
killer you are, Mr. DuPont.

But we haven't even
gotten to the best part.

Specifically, the three members of
your original literary society...

who you murdered.

Jane Dallas Brown, Charles W.
Chickens, Theodore Weisel...

There it is.

Let's loop back to the
original sin, shall we?

When Mr. DuPont stole,
and I do mean stole,

my grandfather's original
Baxter Brothers novel.

A fact known to you, Mr. DuPont,

and of course, Jughead's grandfather

but also to your inner
circle, your classmates.

The corrupt secret at
the heart of an empire.

Although it wasn't an empire just yet.

It was a house of cards that
you built over many decades.

And the bigger it got,

the more worried you became that
one little slip of the tongue

would send the whole
thing tumbling down.

Your life's work would
be revealed as a lie,

and you as a fraud.

And a thief.

A man of dishonor.

So, you started going after
people who knew the truth

and started staging
their accidental deaths.

You cut brakes. You
tampered with fuselages.

You compromised oxygen tanks.

Until there was only one living member

of your literary society left.

Betty, I think it's time
we let in our guests.

With pleasure.

- Forsythe.
- Live and in the flesh.

Hello, Francis.

Why don't you tell him
what you told us, Grandpa?

Weisel came to see me before he died.

He hadn't slept for days.

He told me that you
killed Charles and Jane

'cause they were gonna spill the truth

about the damn Baxter Brothers.

He said we knew too much and
you were gonna off us, too.

You and I both know Theodore
was a paranoid drunk.

But two days later,

the expert diver
drowned in shallow water.

So he was right, and I was next.

So, I went out for a
pack of cigarettes...

and never came back.

What were you doing
off-grid since 2002, exactly?

Collecting evidence
that linked Francis here

with the murders of Charles
and Jane and Theodore.

I started by calling hotels and
motels near the accident sites.

You know what the one
thing I couldn't figure out

at first was, Mr. DuPont?

That if Moose was invited to
Stonewall Prep to be the next victim,

then why was I also invited?

I was bait

to lure my grandfather out of hiding

so you could finish the
job that you started.

Took off like a coward
after Jughead found me.

But, to my old man's credit,

when Charles and I found
him the second time,

and he heard what
happened to his grandson,

he figured it was finally
time to take your ass down.

While you were in
here playing Agatha Christie,

my team was combing through
DuPont's house for the last hour.

Now, given the trophies of your victims

that we found in your hollowed out OED,

and your ghostwriters lawyering up,

not to mention Forsythe's
detective work...

Well, why don't you tell him?

It's over, Francis.

You... call me a thief and a coward.

I'm not.

I'm a builder.

I built the Baxter Brothers franchise

and with that money, I
helped build this school.

Without me, neither would exist.

Francis DuPont, you have
the right to remain silent.

Anything you say can and will be
used against you in a court of law.

Never. A writer's power is in his words.

Only the meek and the
timid choose silence.

Oh, I am a man of honor.

To the end.

After that, it was a matter
of dotting I's and crossing T's.

We obtained these text exchanges
between you and Donna.

Donna was manipulating you, Joan.

She tricked you into
doing her dirty work

so her hands would remain clean.

Don't protect her.

I'll see to it that you
get a reduced sentence.

Agent Smith, you have
nothing to offer me.

Reminder, my father is an ambassador

and I have diplomatic immunity.

If you leave the country now,

you won't ever be able to return.

And your friends,
they'll take all the heat.

They're not my friends.

Hey, why did you lie to Jughead?

You told him Bret had diplomatic
immunity, but it was Joan.

I... I lied to Jughead

because I was trying to keep
him from antagonizing Bret.

You know it was Bret's
idea to kill Jughead.

Uh-huh. How did you get
Mr. Chipping's tie pin?

And don't tell me that
you were having an affair.

No one's buying that story anymore.

Mr. DuPont gave it to me.

Said I had to lie to the headmaster,

so that Mr. Chipping's death
would be ruled a suicide

and people would stop asking questions.

But I'm just glad that the
real monster behind all of this,

Mr. DuPont, has paid for his crimes.

You have a known history
of antagonizing Jughead.

Witnesses saw you walking
with him into the woods

the night he was attacked.

Have I actually been
charged with a crime?

You're facing hard time
for both attempted murder

and the creation and possession
of illegally recorded sex tapes

featuring fellow students.

Including Jughead and Betty.

Now, I'm willing to reduce your
charge to only attempted murder

if you turn over your
collection of videotapes.

Here's my counter-offer,

reduce my charge to
conspiracy after the fact,

which my lawyer will plead
down to community service,

or Betty and Jughead's puerile sex tape

will be released to the world wide web.

Hmm. Let me think it over.

That was quick.

What the hell is this?

The counter to your counter.

I understand you've decided to
co-operate with our investigation

and reveal the location
of your illicit videotapes.

Is that correct?

Hidden in a secret compartment
behind Stonewall's crest

was a treasure trove of dark secrets.

Illegally recorded videotapes,

more fuel to add to the firestorm
of controversy that is consuming

one of the country's oldest and
more prestigious prep schools.

For now, Stonewall
Prep's doors remain open,

but its secret society Quill
and Skull has been disbanded.

For RIVW news, this is Alice Smith.

It's good to be back, Riverdale.

Thank you. Thank you very much.

Your report came out really good, Mom.

Oh, thanks, honey. I had a lot
of help from an inside source.

- Mmm-hmm.
- Mmm-hmm?

- I'm gonna head out.
- Yeah.

Wait. Where are you going?
We're about to have cake.

Um, I will be back soon, okay?

I just have one last T to cross.

Hello, Donna.

Going somewhere?

If you must know, I'm
transferring to a new school.

Well, I'm glad I caught you then.

I wanted to congratulate you personally.

Jughead and I heard that you're
taking over the Baxter Brothers.

The brand is relaunching.

As Tracy True.

Jealous?

Your plan worked, Donna.

You managed to get everyone
else to do the actual dirty work.

Hell, even DuPont's dead.

You covered your tracks extremely well.

Betty...

Are you really so delusional

you would believe I
would mastermind some

elaborate conspiracy

that caused the deaths
of multiple people

just to win a YA book contract?

No.

But you would do it for revenge.

Oh, really?

- Revenge for what?
- The murder of your grandmother.

Jane Dallas Brown.

One of the classmates DuPont killed

to cover up the ugly truth that he
didn't create the Baxter Brothers.

She was your grandmother.

How could you possibly know that?

A friend of a friend told me.

You dedicated yourself to
getting into Stonewall Prep

and getting into Chipping's class

and each step brought you ever
closer to your grandmother's killer.

You wanted revenge.

So what was the original plan, Donna?

Win the contract no matter
how many people had to die?

And then stage an accident
that would take care of DuPont

so you could tear down
the house that he built?

Fascinating theory, Betty.

You've left out one minor detail.

DuPont didn't merely
kill my grandmother.

He stole from her.

The same way he did from Forsythe.

Tracy True.

The female teen detective

who was introduced in the
Baxter Brothers' books.

She was your grandmother's invention.

Now I've taken Tracy back and
DuPont is rotting in a grave.

Huh.

How did you really find
out about my grandmother?

A private investigator.

At my behest, Hermosa put her
private eye skills to good use

and did some digging on
those Stonewall WASPs.

And your gal pal Donna is not so sweet.

... who supplied us
with the medical files

that confirmed that you are the
granddaughter of Jane Dallas Brown.

Which gives the police a motive

and links this entire
web of death back to you.

It's circumstantial at best.

But I'll play one last round.

What do you want, Betty?

I want you to walk away
from the Tracy True contract.

Why in God's name would I do that?

Fictional though she may be,

Tracy deserves better,

as does the memory of your grandmother.

And you certainly
don't deserve to profit

off the near-death of my boyfriend.

Or...

don't walk away. That's fine.

But I will make sure every
newspaper of every major city

gets a copy of that medical file.

You play nice from now on, Donna.

I'll be keeping an eye on you.

Months at Stonewall Prep away
from you guys, what a waste.

Jug, okay. We put a stop to
DuPont, we solved eight murders,

and we gave closure to every
family of every missing child.

I would not call that a waste of time.

I know. It's just...

- I feel...
- Cheated?

I know.

I know.

You'll find a meaning to
all of this at some point.

Okay?

So, Jughead Jones back from the dead.

Color me completely not surprised.

You're not?

No one ever really dies
in Riverdale, do they?

But what about you and
Archie canoodling then?

Yeah, that was just pretend.

I don't know, cousin. That
looked pretty real to me.

Yeah, that was the point.

Right.

All I'm saying is, your
secret's safe with me.

Toodles.

What did Cheryl want?

Nothing. What did Mr. Honey say?

Well, I don't think
he's too happy about it,

but he legally has to let
me back to Riverdale High.

- That's great!
- Yeah, I just really hope

my credits transfer.

On the bright side, no one's gonna
try to kill me while I'm here.

Don't jinx yourself.

Hey, boy. Betty.

Hey.

Um, I'll be right down.

Grandpa, I thought you left.

Oh, not yet.

Joining us for dinner?

Ah, Betty and I are actually going

to meet Archie and
Veronica at Pop's. So...

- Unless you want me to stay.
- No, go have fun.

Yeah.

Should I say goodbye?

Oh, no.

I expect your father and I will
still be talking when you get back.

Hey, hold on.

I don't know what's gonna
happen with him and me.

But, uh, we're talking,
so that's something.

So, thank you. You made all this happen.

- Have fun.
- Yeah.

Betty?

Maybe something good did come
out of this whole Stonewall mess.

My dad and my grandfather talking again

for the first time in 30 years!

Who would've thought of that?

You think your dad will forgive him?

Oh, I don't know. I mean,
they have a lot of bad history

between each other, but...

I hope so.

All right, guys.

Let's make a vow.

I know.

I know.

The last time we made a vow
to have a normal senior year,

everything went to hell pretty quick.

But we only have two, three months left.

Let's end it on a high note.

Are we just gonna ignore the fact

that Archie and I will probably
not be graduating with you guys?

Jug, okay.

Do you really think Vee and
I are going to sit idly by

and not help our boyfriends graduate?

Archie Andrews and Jughead
Jones, you will graduate.

Even if it takes a thousand tutors,

you will set aside everything.

No more mysteries.

And make graduating your
sole purpose in life.

Why does that sound like a threat?

Because it is.

To going out on top together.

- Cheers.
- Cheers to that.

Guys, guys, just a reminder.

I'm posting the sign-up sheet
for the variety show tomorrow,

you all have to perform.

Even you, Jughead.

- Count us in, Kev.
- Oh, no.

Yeah.

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