Original subtitles

Previously,

on Penny Dreadful: City of Angels...

Now open your arms, sister. I'll give you many souls today.

You are the first Chicano detective

in the Los Angeles Police Department.

I guess I should say, welcome to Homicide, Detective Vega.

The transportation committee

has voted in favor of the Arroyo Seco motorway.

Construction will continue Monday morning.

This is our home!

We will fight for it.

What we want is to make you the mayor of Los Angeles.

I won't betray my country.

Of course you will.

There is a prophecy.

A time will come when race will devour race...

when brother will kill brother...

Raul, no!

Until not a soul is left.

Whispering prayer in Spanish.

Get out of here! Get out of the way!

Hey, hey. Hold on.

I can do this. Go home.

My brother's in there.

Those motherfuckers only see a brown face,

same kind shot them down.

Go round back.

I do that, and I'm gonna go round back

for the rest of my life.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

No fucking way this cunt goes inside.

You want me to bleed to death all over your brogues?

Get out of the way.

You...

Hey, leave it! Leave it!

- Come on, Reilly. - Easy.

Not here.

You all right?

My backswing's screwed, but yeah.

Who shot you? Did you see?

Shit, no.

I was crawling inside my own tush trying to hide.

So much tear gas everywhere, who the fuck saw anything?

Four fucking dead cops, and no one saw anything.

Lancaster lost a goddamn eye.

- How many dead Mexicans? - Don't fucking even.

You get patched up, then you two come and see me.

This needs sorted out. You hear me?

Go find your family.

I'm fine.

Lewis...

You know who shot you.

No, I don't. Neither do you.

No one saw anything. No one did anything.

No one shot anybody.

You hear me, partner?

Oh!

Give me my flask, huh?

Thank you.

I'm the one who should be thanking you.

Go to your family. I like to drink alone.

We took care of the officers first, of course,

but got to him without much delay.

He had swelling on the brain,

so we had to open his skull to release the pressure.

Is the bullet still in his...

It glanced off his skull, but bone fragments

shattered and lodged in the brain.

But he's alive?

He's being kept alive. Look, I'm sorry,

but you have to start making plans.

You'll have to remove him from the respirator.

When?

Two, three days at the most. I'm sorry.

Praying in Spanish.

Whispering prayer in Spanish.

Easy, easy.

It's okay.

It's okay, amor. Tranquila.

Mateo.

Look what they did to him.

Mamá.

How about I call Father Nuñez?

He's not gonna die.

No, señor.

Mamá, the doctor and I talked, and he...

Let me tell you what I know.

Two floors up, right in this hospital,

I brought him into this world.

He will not die here.

Praying in Spanish.

Stay with her.

I'm gonna call Father Nuñez, and...

I saw what you did.

If he dies...

you are not a part of this family.

So now we're looking at a Mexican uprising.

Come on. Don't you think that...

Don't... don't.

We have a white family from Beverly Hills butchered

in some kind of a voodoo ritual.

Now we have a mob of Mexicans

shooting down cops in the street.

City Hall needs this resolved,

and resolve it we shall.

How do we do that, sir?

You need to conclude the Hazlett case.

Follow up on the victims, do any fucking thing you want,

but bring me a Mexican head on a plate.

Any Mexican head?

Just to be clear,

you want us to conclude the Hazlett case,

not solve it?

That is entirely correct.

We'll swing by my place, and I'll change.

Then...

What the hell do we do then?

We know Hazlett wasn't killed at the house,

but we know the places he went... his office, the temple,

the construction site, the country club.

Neighbors said he didn't drink, didn't smoke,

didn't run around with women.

Who goes to the trouble of murdering someone

so fucking boring?

He was a goddamn choir boy.

Then maybe we ought to check out the choir.

Well, the transportation committee

is well and truly fucked.

Excuse my French.

How do you see that, sir?

The Arroyo Seco's finished.

The spics took care of that.

And with Hazlett dead, we got no one

to build the damn thing, anyway.

Don't we, though?

A firm with your best interests at heart, perhaps.

What's it matter, Alex?

After today, it's too politically sensitive.

No one will touch it,

and I go back to zoning goddamn crosswalks in Torrance.

Forgive me for saying so,

but four dead police officers

isn't just a tragedy.

It's an opportunity.

The people of this city are terrified right now.

They're locking their doors and turning out their lights,

scared their gardeners are gonna hack 'em to pieces

with their machetes.

What the people need

is a champion...

to defend their interests,

to be their voice,

to channel their fear and anger into something constructive.

Like the motorway.

It's not just a motorway anymore.

- It's a symbol. - And I did want

to get on the radio more.

Even more so, the newsreels.

Oh, I look pudgy on camera.

Oh, we'll take care of that... Your Honor.

We can't exploit a bunch of dead cops for politics.

Not exploiting.

Honoring, healing.

Now drink that down like a good boy.

Hello?

Understood. Thank you.

Go ahead, Mr. Nichols.

We'll need the mustache trimmed as well, if you please.

Yes, madam.

So this is Hazlett's church?

A little grandiose for my taste.

The yellow dresses are nice, though.

We don't exactly fit in.

Cops never fit in.

That's why we're cops.

Come on, partner.

Let's go buy us some snake oil.

You think she's a fraud?

I think everyone's a fraud.

Welcome to Joyful Voices Ministry.

May I help you gentlemen?

We need to see Sister Molly.

I'm sorry. That's impossible.

What did you say to me?

We just need a few moments of her time, sir.

- That's all. - I'm sorry.

She's preparing for her service.

Son, she'll be preparing for a fucking search warrant

if we don't see her in the next two seconds.

Let me get Miss Adelaide.

My daughter is communing with the Lord,

preparatory to her sermon.

I will not allow you to disturb her.

Sure, sure, "communing with the Lord."

I get it.

Tell us about James Hazlett.

His passing was a great loss to the temple.

Uh-huh.

Did he have some kind of job here?

Why do you inquire?

It's a simple question, ma'am.

He was a deacon in our organization

and had various obligations commensurate to that position.

- Such as? - He was one of our bursars.

One of the money guys. Must have been a busy fella.

Without the donations of the faithful,

we could not carry out our good works.

I'm all for good works.

Detective, I don't know what more I can say.

Mr. Hazlett was a valued member of the church.

There's nothing more to add.

Did he have an office here?

Well, he has a construction business downtown.

But did he have an office here for his bursarial work?

Yes, but the public is not allowed back there.

Now, if you will excuse me...

Then how about you just show me, just real quick?

My partner will stay here.

I just need to take a gander at his things,

got to be thorough, dear.

You wouldn't believe all the forms I have to fill out

back at the station.

My life is paperwork. Everybody thinks that...

Please take your seats,

ladies and gentlemen.

We'll be on the air shortly.

Ladies and gentlemen,

and radio listeners across this land,

we thank you for your attendance.

Now prepare yourself to feel the power of the Lord

and take flight on the musical wings

of our blessed angel!

Ladies and gentlemen,

may I introduce you to your righteous Sister Molly

in the battle with Satan,

armed with but a song and a smile!

Ladies and gentlemen,

your own Sister Molly!

Yesterday I met a gentleman on the street,

and a gentleman he was...

A fine-tailored suit,

sharp arrow collar, and ten-dollar Florsheims.

And he said to me,

"Sister, I'm what you call a diplomat."

I've traveled all over the world,

and I've looked high and low for the Lord,

but where is he?

I didn't find him in Rangoon.

I didn't find him in Caracas.

"I didn't even find him in Des Moines."

"Where the heck's He hiding?"

Well, I was enthralled.

A diplomat. My word.

That's a first for me.

So I said, "Brother, tell me more."

And this is what he said to me.

Doesn't she have a pretty voice?

I keep meaning to pick up one of her record albums,

but then I think, "Eh..."

"radio's free," right?

Mr. Hazlett have any enemies?

It was Mexicans, wasn't it?

Sure it was, just got to cross all the Ts.

He have any enemies?

Not to my knowledge.

Did you ever go by his house?

We don't socialize with our congregants, not ever.

Uh-huh.

That makes sense.

I'm gonna borrow these.

There a problem with that, ma'am?

Listen here, Hymie.

You may think you know what you're doing here,

but believe me, you don't.

This is the Lord's house,

and we are sanctified in the blood of the lamb.

Right now I'm a little more concerned

with the blood of these two kids.

Take a look, honey.

You ever seen Beau Geste?

- What? - Beau Geste.

Beau Geste, the movie.

These three guys are in this French Foreign Legion fort

in the middle of the desert,

and all these Arabs are about to attack.

All the other soldiers are already dead, right?

So they put the dead bodies around the fort

so the Arabs will think that there's a shitload of them

defending the place.

It's a con, right?

That's what this case is.

The bodies all painted up and left in the LA River,

the Mexican crap, the words written in blood

on the fucking wall...

Come on. It's all too much.

It's fake.

So, in all that distraction, we never ask the one question

you're supposed to... Who has something to gain?

Who wanted Hazlett dead?

Something to do with the money?

Five will get you ten.

I'll start going through these

and then swing by Hazlett's office downtown

to grab his records.

Something's got to shake loose.

I'll keep on Sister Molly,

find some way to talk to her privately.

Take your time. Find the right moment.

Slowly, slowly catchy monkey, right?

And let me tell you.

I know when I'm being warned off.

That lady has something to hide,

and, pal, we're gonna find out what.

I'm telling you.

It won't look right unless we have a parapet.

What the heck's a parapet?

It's a wall up at the top for the places for the soldiers.

You're so ignorant.

He's not ignorant, Tom.

He's ill-informed.

Stay here, boys.

Trevor, mind your brother.

If you're going to the place, will you get me a Yoo-hoo?

I will not.

Hello, Mrs. Branson.

Why, Dr. Craft. Hello.

What a surprise.

Ja, for me, too.

But don't you work on Mondays?

My day off, you see.

And, uh, I have no taste for the golfing.

Ja, the beach is where we go, Frank and me.

The sun is good for him, you see... his breathing.

It is, ja.

I'm here with my boys.

Would...

Would you like to join us?

How kind you are.

Ja, it's good for Frank to make a friend.

We're right over here.

Praying in Spanish.

She can't be on the floor like that.

It's unsanitary.

Hey.

Want a bottle of pop?

I'll be right back.

Boo-fucking-hoo.

What are you crying about?

What?

You heard me, boy.

What are you crying about? Huh, Pancho?

Some of the cops your people killed today, huh?

You crying for them?

You wetback cocksucker.

My partner got his fucking eye shot out.

Yeah.

This eye.

How's that feel?

Fucking cry now.

Fucking scream.

Go on.

Scream for me.

Officer Reilly.

I would like to buy a soda pop.

Not your problem, Rico. Stay out of it.

A grape Nehi.

There's four of us, pal.

There's a city of me.

One day, Rico.

Why didn't you scream?

I was too busy pissing my pants.

I'm Fly Rico.

You know me, ese?

My uncle's upstairs.

Ese pendejo was there today.

I told him not to go, but he won't listen.

So now they're picking shotgun pellets

from his numbskull ass.

What are you doing here?

My brother's here.

You know The Cat?

Find me there.

Why?

Because you didn't scream.

You're a Pachuco, baby.

Play nice, boys, huh? Be good.

Frank, be nice.

Beau Geste, it's foreign. Beau Geste.

Did you see that?

No.

It's the middle of the desert, right?

And this is a fort.

And these guys over here are all Arabs.

They're the bad guys.

And these guys here, on the parapet,

are all dead.

Then they should be lying down.

Dead people lie down.

Well, they stood them up to make

the Arabs think there's a lot more of them,

a lot more good guys.

Okay?

All dead.

Jeez, all right. Anyway...

so these Arabs are getting ready to attack...

It's not as good as everyone says,

but, uh, all war books are the same after a while.

Ja, they are making the movie.

That will be better.

I was in Berlin after the war.

You wouldn't make a movie of that.

That was the same in Essen.

Our poor country has bled, has it not?

Ja.

At least now we get up from our knees and stand.

Where's your wife?

Um...

um, my wife is, uh, not complected for the sunshine.

She burns so.

So, too, is Mr. Branson, and he is a large man,

so he does not fit easy in the bathing clothes.

Frank and I love the beach.

You look at the ocean, you know, and you...

you dream of going.

- Going where? - Anywhere.

Sail off in a boat, Frank and me.

Tahiti.

Maybe we go to Tahiti.

After the war, I was living in the basement of a shoe store

with my baby sister.

There was no food in Berlin...

So we had to leave...

leave or die in the street, ja?

We went to the country where there...

there should've been food,

but there was only soldiers.

That's where I met Mr. Branson.

He was not handsome in his uniform.

He was... he was fat even then.

But he had food.

And I needed food.

Forgive me.

I'm... I'm nothing but a silly woman.

Not at all.

Who wouldn't want to sail away one day?

And where would you go, Doctor?

Yeah, I think Tahiti for me, too.

You sure I can't give you a ride?

It is no trouble.

You are too kind already.

Frank, please thank Dr. Craft for the Yoo-hoo.

- Thank you, Doctor. - My pleasure.

So then, I, um...

I see you in the office on Friday, ja?

Ja.

Good-bye, then.

Say good-bye to your new friends, Frank.

Hmm.

Bye, Tom. Bye, Trevor.

It was really fun playing.

Come along, boys.

27 years old.

27 years old, Officer Maynard West.

This is how they murdered him.

This is his widow...

Mrs. Gloria West.

They have a four-year-old boy at home.

His name is Nicholas.

His mother will have to sit down with him tonight

and tell him he'll never see his father again.

God forbid we ever forget it.

The city of Los Angeles has never lost four police officers

in a single day.

The animals that assassinated Officer West and his brothers

must be brought to justice, for this city can no longer

live under the shadow of their anarchy.

They fired first.

They shot our boys down in cold blood.

They had no mercy, and we can show none to them.

Let every Mexican in Los Angeles know

this will not stand.

And what was the cause?

Why did they kill Officer West?

Why did they leave Nicholas without a father?

Not for money, not for food.

They did it because of a road...

a motorway they don't like.

Well, I say that very road must now be

a symbol of something larger.

It is our golden pathway to the future,

and no pack of dogs will stop it.

Tomorrow I will introduce a motion in the City Council

to rename it the Maynard West Memorial Motorway.

For Officer West, for all of us...

I will build this road.

I will build this road!

Sister Molly.

My name is Detective Santiago Vega.

I'd like to ask you a few questions, if I can.

Oh. Uh...

Of course. M-may I continue?

Yes, ma'am.

I'm here about James Hazlett. You knew him, I understand.

That's right.

He is, um...

Was a deacon at our temple.

A fine, tall man.

I feel his loss greatly.

He was involved in the finances, wasn't he?

I believe so.

Uh, my mother oversees that part of the business.

I do other things.

Yes, I-I know that. I saw you earlier today.

How was I?

Uh, great, and the songs were great.

Everyone likes the tunes.

- Do you think he was tall? - Hmm?

Mr. Hazlett... you said he was "a fine, tall man."

I-I meant tall as in upstanding.

That's what I meant.

Hmm.

Did you know him well?

Oh, not especially.

Um, we had dinner at his house once last year.

Oh, no, um, it was the year before,

my mother and I.

But I found it's difficult

getting too close to the parishioners.

Why's that?

They become attached.

Did Mr. Hazlett?

No.

He was always very levelheaded.

Even-keeled, I'd say.

But as I say, uh, we don't like to get too friendly,

lest they become attached.

Aren't they attached to you anyway, your parishioners?

Well, to the temple, not to me.

I'm "that woman on the stage"

or "that voice on the radio."

Otherwise I don't really exist.

Hey, fella, get back to the truck.

No, it's fine.

We're just talking.

Go on, Randolph.

He's here to protect my virtue.

How come you're not out front, where more people can see you?

Oh, well, it becomes a distraction.

I'm too famous, it seems.

And I like it back here.

Why's that?

You are a detective.

It's quiet back here.

My life is...

Well, it's busy.

I tour, I do the radio show,

and record the songs.

But I didn't get into it for all that.

My calling is pastoral. I-I just want to help people.

Same reason you chose to join the police force, I suppose.

I guess so.

But you're not sure?

No, I'm sure.

I didn't have much of a choice, really.

My mother had me on the revival circuit when I was four.

I would sing a song, and she would pass the hat.

"Lullabies and the Lord."

We went from town to town all over Nebraska.

Sooner or later, the faith just found me.

Have you been saved, Detective?

Are you offering?

Uh, can you get me those plates?

You read the paper?

They say it's gonna be Bette Davis now.

Bette Davis?

This is a teenage Southern belle.

You explain that to me.

I couldn't even lift the damn book, it's so heavy.

And the Civil War... pfft... Like I care.

All I'm saying is, they cast Bette Davis, I'm out.

What do you have against Bette Davis?

It's the principle, Lewis.

Casting a movie is like tailoring trousers.

You got to be specific on the leg,

on the inseam, on the cuff, on the break...

I get it.

You cannot tell me that Bette Davis

is an 18-year-old Southern belle and a virgin.

- That woman is no virgin. - Exactly.

And you know this how?

You mean Scarlett or Bette Davis?

Scarlett's the virgin, at least to start.

Everyone's a virgin to start, Sam.

Six-letter word meaning "given to fright."

- Scared? - Starts with C.

- Cowardly. - No, six letters.

Hey, hey. Here they come.

Who's this?

We seen him before?

He's new.

What? They met someone inside?

He's just a kid.

I'm telling you, Lewis.

You should call the FBI.

You think Hoover gives a shit about the Jews?

Ask Emma Goldman.

- Call the Army or something. - I don't trust them.

You, I trust... more or less.

So a bunch of old Jews are gonna prevent the Third Reich

from invading America?

We should be playing goddamn canasta.

Sam, you and Anton take your car

and follow the Nazis.

- We'll take the kid. - What are you talking about?

- I'm a tailor, not Mr. Moto. - Just don't get too close.

Stay in the other lane. Go on.

- Jeez, what next? - I'm sure they're just going

back to the ambassador.

Don't worry. Go, go!

Come on.

Don't ever embarrass me like that again.

I'm your wife, not some San Pedro tart.

Yeah, sorry.

His mother asked me to go visit him.

It was the top floor of the hospital.

Took the elevator all the way up.

His room was way down at the end of the corridor.

I went in.

He was in an iron lung,

uh, looking up at me through the mirror.

I told his mother I can't heal people.

I told her that's not within my power.

But she begged.

What happened?

I prayed with him.

He was so weak, he just mouthed the words.

He was on the edge, you see.

One step more, and God would take him.

I'm sure you brought him comfort.

I don't know that I did.

I think...

I think he saw through me.

The dying have a special grace,

and I think he saw straight into my heart.

Honestly, I didn't want him to live.

I wanted his suffering to end and for him to be with God

where he could walk again and... and be happy.

I wanted...

I wanted him to die.

My brother's dying.

I'm so sorry.

He's in the hospital.

And we need to, um...

take him off the respirator.

Probably tomorrow.

Do you pray for him?

I don't really do that.

Do you believe in miracles?

No.

Do you believe in God?

No.

Are you sure?

When I was a kid, I, um...

When my father died...

I thought I saw Santa Muerte.

Are you sure you didn't?

If your brother is on the edge...

help him find grace.

But find it in yourself first.

When that little boy looked up at me...

I couldn't find the grace within myself.

So I...

I...

How could I help him?

What happened to him?

Well, he died...

Two days later.

I had to do a radio show that night.

And then I went home and cut my wrists.

If your brother dies,

then come to me.

Thank you, Sister.

Please call me Molly.

Sister is the woman on the stage.

And that's not you?

This is me.

I'm here every Monday, up to my ass in dirty dishes.

Molly Joan.

The car is waiting.

Mother, this is Detective Vega.

We've met.

Come along now.

If you must speak with my daughter again,

you do it through our lawyer.

You're too close.

What, you want I should lose 'em?

What the hell's he doing up here?

Going to the ambassador?

Does it look like he's going to the ambassador?

He's going up into the Hills.

Where are we?

Pasadena.

Who's gonna notice two old Jews in Pasadena?

You're too close.

What the heck is he doing up here?

Is he gonna go deer hunting?

Where's this now?

- Caltech. - Where, now?

Dottie, turn up your ears. It's Caltech.

Holy Angel,

mother of the dead,

hear my plea.

Speaking Spanish

speaking Spanish

speaking Spanish.

Craven.

- What? - Craven.

Six-letter word for "given to fright."

Starts with a C, "craven."

Write it down. I got to tell Dottie.

How am I supposed to do that? I got no paper.

In the glove box. In the glove box.

Hey, hey, hey.

Holy Angel,

mother of death, hear my plea.

Holy Angel, mother of death, hear my plea.

Praying in Spanish

speaks Spanish