Original subtitles

BASED ON ACTUAL SPECULATIONS

HOT DOGS

Hey babe. Look...

Hello?

I get that you don't wanna talk to me right now, and honestly, I...

I don't blame you. I'm sorry for everything.

This has all gotten way crazier than I thought it would.

But I really need you to call me.

I have to know that you guys are okay, that you're safe, alright?

I'd do anything for a second chance. I love you.

I've gotta go. Bye.

We're ready. Are we good to go?

-Are you in position? -Hell yes.

Is shooter one in position?

Yeah. First shooter's in position, the second shooter in position?

Absolutely, yes. Let's do this!

Okay, everyone! Take your positions. Let's go!

-Okay. -Yes.

Okay.

-What do I do now? -Aim.

You're aiming as if it's warm.

-Why does the weather matter? -Just aim above his head.

Okay! And... action!

Aim 50 cm above his head. Pray you don't hit the neck.

-What? -You're responsible.

Björn. I'm starting to think that maybe this is a bad idea.

Björn, can you hear me? Björn?

-What happens then? -It hurts. Never mind that.

I'll count down from five, four, three, two, one!

Björn!

Bang!

How dare you experiment on our kids?

Look, we were just testing a new theory, okay?

Reenacting Palme's murder with teenagers?

I saw you on Veronica's vlog waving a gun around!

Yeah, that's right. I found the gun that killed Olof Palme.

So you are all welcome, okay?

George. That's enough.

It's great that you're making progress with your hobbies.

But what you did in the schoolyard is unacceptable.

"Hobby project"? Are you kidding me? This is living history.

Lucas could have been shot in the eye.

He was wearing ski goggles.

It doesn't matter.

You can't work here anymore.

-Can I just say something? -Of course.

I knew nothing about Olof Palme before George.

That was the best lesson I ever had.

Instead of reading old books, we were outdoors.

And we learned something I think is important.

Something truly paramount.

Paramount. Where did you learn that word?

-He's not qualified to be a teacher. -Well said, Jan-Erik.

Hey... is Johan back?

No.

He wasn't kidding. He quit.

The grumpy old fart.

So we're looking for a new editor. Know anyone?

No, I don't know anyone really that I talk to...

Leffe, we eat lunch together. Well, we sit at the same table.

-Oh, you mean me? -Yeah.

Okay.

Start by calling your friend. Get us an exclusive interview.

Yes.

Right, I should...

And by the way...

Does this mean I get Johan's office?

It's all yours.

So what do we make of George English? Should we take him seriously?

He did manage something everyone else has failed, finding the gun.

-It may not be the real gun. -But it's likely.

It remains to be confirmed. But if so, he's done an amazing job.

Thank you.

Next, someone with a different story to tell about George English.

You could say that.

-Aw, fuck. Hey, bartender! -Yes?

Is there a hockey game on? Can you change the channel?

-I can do anything for you superstar. -Thanks, buddy.

Dude. Johan is in the wind.

-Or at the bottom of a lake. -Who cares, man? I got a promotion.

-Really? Wow. -Yeah.

-Congrats, dude. -Thank you.

-Well... now can you give me a job? -No!

Dude, come on, man. You've got your job, you're at the school.

Well, funny thing about that. Uh...

Me and Björn, we... we tested the two shooter theory.

Did you shoot a kid?

-What? No. -Did you shoot a kid?

-Personally, I did not. -Did he?

-No. -Was the kid shot?

Okay, look. Fine. We used a paintball thing...

-The kid is... fine. -Jesus.

Parents are pissed, but... yeah, and I got fired, of course.

But that's not even the point, dude. The point is that it worked. Okay?

-Alright. What the fuck is this? -Dude, what are you doing?

Maybe you wanna buy me a beer instead?

No way I'm getting you a beer.

They named a drink after you!

You should be... they named a drink after you.

What?

You good?

Okay. Focus now.

Focus, right? 'Cause, here's the thing, right?

We've got the, we've got the picture of Palme's tie.

It's got two holes. Yeah?

Where's the fucking blueprint, assassination thingy, over here?

Which we have tested, to success, at the expense of my job.

You're all very welcome for that. And, what do we got here?

Redacted autopsy. Heavily redacted, I might add,

indicating that they definitely have something to hide.

And at this point, I think we all know what that might be.

That being said, there's only one way

that what we think we know is actually true.

We gotta dig him up.

What? No! No, no we really don't.

-No way. -You smell like alcohol.

That might be true, but this is the only way to finish this thing.

-Come on! -Wait.

Let's assume this is a good idea, which, let's be clear, it is not,

uh, how would you even go about doing that?

-You also smell like alcohol. -But I am not drunk.

That's because we were drinking together. Whatever.

Don't listen to him. I've worked that whole part

of the plan out too. Thank you very much.

So, there's like a concrete slab over Palme's grave?

Yeah? So, here's what we're gonna do.

We dig up the guy to the left, and we just... bang on the right.

Alright, wait. I hear you, but this is right next to Sveavägen.

Apartment buildings all around, and I'm black so cops are gonna show up.

That's why we do it at night, while everybody's asleep.

Wow. That's just the dumbest fucking thing I've ever heard in my life.

-Wh... du... -It is.

-Back me up here. -It's dumbest idea I've ever heard.

Yeah.

Even from him. And he's... you know.

It's a crazy idea. In theory.

Practically, it could actually work.

With the right equipment.

Ah, bitching.

-It's still under construction. -What the hell is this?

Stockholm's underground.

The city is full of tunnels. Water, electricity, plumbing.

Everyone needs them, even the church along the Norrmalm tunnel.

Please don't say..

-You mean we should dig from below? -Exactly.

I'm loving this plan. I probably even have something in the trunk of my car

-that'll do the trick. -What? No, you don't.

-He doesn't. -Of course I do.

It doesn't matter what you do.

If you do find something, you won't live to tell anyone.

Boom Boom will make sure of that.

Boom, shlock-lock, boom.

Stupid, lucky, clever. He appears to be all three.

The American is the talk of the town.

The story has gone global. We need a new plan.

What...

What I could use is an extra pair of hands.

But... okay.

If you say so.

Strap on your boots, pretty boy.

They're sending us De Kant.

-Hi, George. -Don't hang up! Give me a sec.

Hey. Oh, thank God. Where are you guys?

We're on the road.

To where, exactly?

My parents'.

Babe, I really don't think that's a good idea.

I'm not in the mood for advice about what qualifies as a good idea.

Just stay where you are, alright? I... I'll meet you, I'm on my way.

No, George. This has gone too far.

I'll quit. Right now.

You found the murder weapon, George.

You're on the cover of every major newspaper on the planet.

You couldn't back out of it even if you tried.

I didn't say it would be easy, but I can think of something.

I can't do this, George. I'm sorry. I just can't.

What's this mess?

What will the neighbors think? Never set up a tent before?

I wouldn't have to, if I could sleep inside.

It's a security issue. Complaining won't give you access.

What a bad attitude.

We don't have to dig up Palme.

Why?

Norberg got the clean autopsy report.

The man, the legend...

-Good afternoon, sir. -Hello.

-A bit of reading material for you. -Ah, good.

-A little piece of Sweden in a box. -Thanks.

Reading in the car, huh? I read in the car, I get seasick.

You know they call this the Venice of the north, Stockholm.

On account of the water, and the boats.

Not the weather, of course.

Terrible weather.

You've been here before?

-Once. -Really?

Right.

-This is the original? -Yeah. I think so.

-How did you get this? -You don't want to know.

I don't get it. Birthmark on his arm, a Band-Aid on his toe.

-Why redact that? -It's strange.

It's not strange. It's fake. That's obvious.

The official report says Palme's address was number 31.

But that street ends at number 15. That's a fact.

What are we supposed to do? What does it mean?

This is not a mistake.

It's a message.

From who?

Harry Millovich, of course.

Millovich? Palme's pathologist?

He was a close friend of Palme. He knew where he lived.

Maybe he just wrote the wrong number.

Okay, if we try to call this guy, what...

He's dead.

"Suicide."

Oh, that's interesting.

Björn, if this is a fake, and the address isn't a mistake,

then what's the fucking message?

I don't know.

Okay, you know what? No. I... I'm sorry, I can't do this right now.

I've gotta go.

What's his problem?

George, hey.

-You okay, man? -Dude, no. I'm not okay. Sofia left.

I don't know if she's coming back.

Shit man, that sucks. I'm sorry.

Don't be. She was right. You were right.

This was a dumb idea from day one.

Yeah. I should agree with you, I really should,

but I just think this thing, this thing with the autopsy,

I think we should check it out, like we did with cat lady.

Yeah, okay, fine. Why?

We're supposed to just follow the endless paper trail?

Do the same everybody else has done for the last three decades?

But we can't quit now. I don't think backing down is option at this point.

Yeah, I know. Which is exactly why we've gotta dig him up.

It's the only way to end this thing, once and for all.

-The wrong way. -I'm sorry, no. I'm sorry, dude.

-Hey. George, hey. -Sorry. I'm sorry, guys.

Where's he going?

What are you guys doing?

Björn...

-Check that address. -I'm on my way.

What was the pathologist's name?

-Millovich. -I'll check his files. Eva.

Screw this.

-I'm going to take a shower. -Good idea.

-You know what to do? -Yes.

I'll call you if I find something.

OLOF PALME'S GRAVE SITE

Okay, why don't you start off by telling me

how the secret plans you were supposed to destroy

ended up in the hands of the American, and all over the news?

Wait. I really didn't know what was happening before it was all over.

What the fuck were you thinking?

And explain why you had the documents in the first place.

Look, catch and kill sensitive stories, that was my job.

And, yeah, I know that I was supposed to destroy them,

but I mean, it's complicated, you... I don't think you understand.

No, it's not so complicated, it's very simple, really.

It's about leverage. It's about life insurance. Isn't it?

Maybe you even thought you could write a story about it,

if you managed to outlive everyone.

You're a cockroach.

A journalist worse than a politician.

Elmer.

Listen to me very carefully. I want you to go home, pack a bag,

tell your lovely wife Anita to pack a bag as well.

-Step over here. -Bosse...

Your daughter, Jacqueline, also.

How can you know my daughter's name?

-Please, Bosse. -Relax. It'll be over quick.

Bosse, for fuck's sake!

Relax. Breathe.

-Please! -Pick some place warm.

A place where nobody knows you.

And if you ever decide to set foot in this country again...

-Yeah. -Do we understand each other, Johan?

Oh, for God's sake.

Bye-bye.

Okay, so we have Alex Jones, here.

We know where he lives, and we know where he works.

Do you think you can manage to take him off this map,

or is that too complicated?

No, I can do that.

Bozo. Make it clean this time. No weapons.

It's Bosse Bosse Dahlin.

That's what I said.

-Yes? -Where are you?

I'm here. As I said, it ends at 15.

What is behind you?

Is it the House of Nobility?

I'm just going to take your picture for my employers.

Stand on this stool.

Come on. Turn around, you fucker.

31. Bingo.

Millovich, you sneaky bastard.

Excuse me?

What are you doing?

-Well I work here. -I don't recognize you.

Likewise. What are you doing here?

-I'm the head of security. -Right.

The guy who's been following you. He killed Margareta.

-You sure? -Yes, damn it.

-I can see it here on the video. -Okay, good.

I don't think we've been introduced...

Hey!

I'll call you back.

Hello?

What are you doing?

What the hell?

Can I get the police?

No, no.

I want you to pick up the phone and tell him to get here

as soon as possible. Okay?

Hello? Hello?

Help!

Eva? Eva!

Shit.

ALARM TRIGGERED

-Shit. -Hello.

-Move. -Okay.

Okay...

Eva?

Is that you, Björn?

Yeah.

Eva! Where are you? Eva! Shit. Hello?

Is this George English?

Yeah, this is George.

I'm calling from the hospital. You are the emergency contact for

I had it right here... Alex Jones.

He's been in an accident.

Do you know where the trauma center is?

I'm on my way. Bye.

Anything stolen except the keys?

My flashlight. And he made a mess in there.

A flashlight. Okay.

Are the keys important?

They're the master keys. Of course I'm angry.

What did he look like? Any distinguishing features?

He looked like this.

-Excuse me, who is that? -There was a break-in at the church.

-Which one? -Adolf Fredrik's.

This man was involved?

-Where did you see him? -Outside.

-Where Palme is buried? -Among others.

Shit.

Well, if it isn't the fat little whistle blower and her dear friend,

detective Söderqvist.

-Actually, I'm not... -Shut the fuck up!

Cupcake.

First the gun, and now the autopsy report.

I must admit, your little group probably deserves some kind of award.

Did you have a chance to read it?

What a shame.

It's very, very interesting.

No! No, no!

Didn't I tell you to shut up?

Please let him go, I mean, everybody think he is crazy,

no one will ever listen to what he says.

I'm very disappointed with you, Eva.

I thought we were a team, here. What happened?

I got older, wiser, and you killed my friend.

The gun. And the American.

Where is he?

-I don't know. -He'll never give you the gun...

Shut the fuck up or I'll shoot you in the god damned kneecap.

Please, I... I don't know. That's the truth, and...

as Björn says, he will never give you the gun.

You know how persuasive I can be.

George. I told you not to come here.

I know, sorry, I didn't know what else to do.

-What the hell? -Alex is in the hospital.

What?

Yeah, and Eva has disappeared, Björn's not answering his phone...

-What... what's happening? -And I found this on the windshield.

-That's us. -Yeah.

Holy shit.

-Isabella. -Dad!

Hey, peanut. It's so good to see you.

We need to go. Pack your things.

-What about the cat? -He'll have to stay here.

Don't forget your passport.

I'm sorry, where are we going, babe?

-Georgia. -No, no, absolutely not.

-We need somewhere safe. -I understand, but I don't think...

George. Your mother has more guns than most small countries.

Fuck.

Take three deep breaths.

After the rain comes sunshine.

You may open your fortune cookie.

Good luck.

What?

I have eyes on the American and his family.

-I think they're about to skip town. -Interesting.

-Stay with them. -Okay.

-I've wasted my life. -What?

My entire adult life has been dedicated to Palme.

And it ends like this. Executed in the middle of nowhere.

At least you were on the right side of history.

-No one is going to miss me. -I'm going to miss you, Björn.

Assuming they'll only kill you.

Excuse me, where is your phone?

Here, in this pocket.

Good, good. A little tighter.

-Lovely, thank you. -Ouch.

-Fuck! -What's wrong?

-I can't go. -What?

I thought you were coming.

-I'm sorry, but I can't. -What the hell?

Björn and Eva are in trouble.

-So are we! -Yeah, well, not as much as they are.

Listen to me. I just have to do one last thing.

Then I'm on the next plane behind you guys,

I promise, alright? Now please just go.

Take everything and go. Alright? Bye!

It worked. Should I stay with him?

You stay with the family. Get on the plane.

George. Let's skip the small talk, shall we? Hand over the gun.

You gotta let them go, first.

You guys okay?

So-so. It hurts a little.

Here. The car is outside.

No, I won't leave a friend in need.

I don't have time to argue with you. Can you guys please just... go.

Okay.

The gun.

There's a good boy.

Okay, now what?

Go home, get some sleep.

You look like shit, and you smell even worse.

You're not gonna kill me?

Amateur.

They...

They didn't kill you. What a surprise.

She's up to something.

We could have proven everything. Now we're not even worth killing.

We have nothing.

There's no way this is over. Not yet.

-No, George. No. -Listen. It's not what you think.

What is it, then?

You know what? It is what you think!

Just... here. Take this, please. Okay? Here, take these.

Hey, come on. This way.

-Plug it in. -Okay.

This is it.

Wait a minute. This is madness.

-I'm 63 years old. -Yeah, this doesn't feel right.

-It feels wrong. -Yes.

Well, we're getting ready to dig up the body

of your former Prime Minister. That's natural.

-No, no... -Wait, wait..

You got any better ideas?

Yeah, not doing this.

What the hell? Shit. Damn.

Who's that?

Shit.

George, what the hell?

Get down! Hands behind your back!

He ran north, towards Hötorget.

Oh, Jesus.

We got him on CCTV.

You can send out an APB.

You shaggy bastard.

Subtitles: Lily Ray www.plint.com