Original subtitles

Man, do you know how close I was

to being off the clock when you called?

Yeah, I thought about waiting ten minutes,

dumping it on the day shift,

but for the victim's sake

I thought we'd go with the "A" team.

Oh, boy, she looks really young.

16. Just got her license.

Name's Debbie Logan.

Nevada plates.

Is she local?

Let's see, the address is in Rowan.

That's, what, another 30 miles out?

Yeah. Car's registered to her parents, same address.

No money,

no phone...

Could've started as a robbery.

Yeah, someone whacked her in the head real good.

But I don't think it happened in the car.

There's just not enough blood.

She was definitely on the ground at some point.

Her clothes are dirty.

She's got what looks like blue tinsel in her hair.

Put a call in to her parents.

Didn't even know she had left the house.

Thought she was still in her bed, asleep.

Hmm.

Algebra books,

Bible study books...

I don't think she was a runaway.

Makes you wonder

where she snuck off to last night, doesn't it?

Yeah, but what I really want to know

is how the hell she ended up way out here.

♪ CSI 14x15 ♪ Love for Sale Original Air Date on February 19, 2014

== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man

♪ Who... are you?

♪ Who, who, who, who?

♪ Who... are you?

♪ Who, who, who, who?

♪ I really wanna know

♪ Who... are you?

♪ Oh-oh-oh ♪ Who... ♪

♪ Come on, tell me who are you, you, you ♪

♪ Are you!

It always takes a little out of me

when I see them this young.

I know what you mean.

And I'm afraid the story only gets worse.

Found skin under her fingernails.

I went ahead and ordered an SAE kit.

And...?

Wet mount revealed the presence of semen.

That, along with

vaginal bruising and the abrasions she sustained...

I'd have to say she was sexually assaulted.

Is this wound the cause of death?

Blunt force trauma

and the attenuating brain injuries.

Time of death, somewhere between midnight and 3:00 a.m.

Any thoughts on a weapon?

The margins

are irregular and jagged,

so nothing with a blade or sharp edge.

And this cut on her knee?

Pre-mortem or post?

Well, let's have a look.

There's some sort of paper fiber stuck to it.

Probably bathroom tissue.

Maybe somebody

dabbed at it to stop the bleeding.

In which case, the cut was certainly

prior to the fatal blow.

Hold on.

There's something else.

It's embedded much deeper.

Huh.

Looks like a piece of glass.

It is.

I'll get this off to Hodges.

You-you all right?

Finn? You all right?

Yeah. Yeah, just...

Just a...

16-year-old girl

having to face the horror

of being raped and killed...

Just never understand it.

We didn't even know she was out.

We thought she was still asleep.

And then the detective called.

Was it like your daughter

to sneak out of the house? No.

Not at all.

Did she say anything last night

before she went to bed?

I... I-I don't know,

I wasn't there.

I was ministering to some parishioners.

No, she didn't say anything.

It was just a normal night.

She did her homework and she went upstairs.

I don't understand.

Why would she have left the house?

Where would she go?

Did she have a boyfriend?

No. She never even

talked about boys. That wasn't her thing.

Well, uh... what was her thing?

I don't know. The usual

for a 16-year-old, I guess.

She hung out with her friends, she went to school...

She didn't call to say she was in any kind of trouble, did she?

Actually... we have her phone.

We took it from her.

And not because she was bad.

Her grades had slipped.

She was supposed to earn her phone back.

Uh, look, Mr. Russell,

I know what you're thinking.

I minister to families all the time

whose kids are out of control.

And that is...

That wasn't Debbie.

She worked hard in school,

she helped out around my church,

she taught Bible study to the preschoolers.

She really was an angel.

Seatback to pedal is 44 inches.

Way too far back for our victim's height.

Whoever dumped the body probably adjusted the seat.

Someone tall.

Judging from the distance, around six feet.

You manage to

pull any prints off the button that controls the seat?

No, so far everything's been smeared.

I'm guessing either the killer was wearing gloves,

or he wiped everything down before he bailed.

It rained yesterday, right?

Yeah. For a while.

This flyer isn't weathered or faded.

Might have been put on the car last night.

"3.99 breakfast special.

Patty's Diner." Here we go.

Finally.

You got a print?

Yeah, big and juicy.

Could be from the last person

who touched the car.

The killer.

Hey.

I know what you're going to say.

"I want to be dazzled."

Oh, let's not set the bar that high.

What do you know about

the glass fragment?

Well, for starters, it's old.

Oh, how old?

At least 100 years.

X-ray fluorescence revealed

revealed a significant amount of manganese.

And manganese was eliminated

from the glass-making process

prior to the start of the First World War.

Interesting fact:

manganese glass is actually clear when it's produced,

but then over time, sunlight turns it purple.

What else?

Well, the glass fragment is curved.

And extrapolating from the curve,

I have determined that your piece

came from a bottle with a base radius

of a little over an inch...

something like one of these apothecary bottles.

Not bad, Hodges. Hey, guys.

I processed the semen from the sexual assault kit.

Semen DNA matches DNA

from the tissue found under the victim's fingernails.

So she fought off her attacker. Yeah, but

the DNA profile isn't in the system.

Sorry.

Oh... me, too.

Were the parents any help

figuring out where their daughter was?

They weren't, actually. It's kind of strange.

I never got any sense of connection from them.

I mean, the father's out on church business all the time,

but-but the mother...

She didn't seem to have a clue

about who her daughter really was.

Well, we may have something...

I found a print on the passenger-side door handle

of the victim's car.

It matches a set of prints on this flyer.

What are you thinking?

Well, someone might've tried

to break into the victim's car last night.

You know, guy goes around putting flyers on windshields.

Gives him the perfect opportunity

to check inside for valuables.

Well, I'm thinking that he saw something

inside the victim's car,

because he tried the handle.

Hey! What're you doing?

Get away from my car!

Ernesto Peña.

Talked to your boss at the diner.

She said that she pays you

an extra $50 bucks a week

to distribute flyers after work each night.

That's not a bad way to make

a little extra scratch, huh?

Every little bit helps, you know?

But you also found another way

to make some extra scratch, didn't you?

You lost me, man.

I don't know what you mean.

All of these were in the trunk of your car.

And my guess is, when we search your apartment,

we're gonna find

a whole lot more.

It's a big step though,

going from breaking into cars

to rape and murder.

What are you talking about, man?

I never hurt anybody.

You did more than just hurt her, Ernesto.

Hell no, man!

You got the wrong guy.

I didn't do that.

You left your fingerprints

on her car door handle

and the flyer.

That's how we found you.

And when your DNA comes back a match

to what we found on that girl...

Fine.

Fine, you want to test me?

Test me!

You'll see, you're wrong.

I did not do that.

I didn't even break into any cars last night.

Then why did we find your fingerprint

on her car door?

I might've stopped at, like, one place

on the way home.

All right?

There were maybe a dozen cars,

but nothing in there worth stealing,

so I tossed the flyers

in a trash can and went home, man.

Please, man, I'm telling you the truth.

Okay, where is this place?

Where was the girl's car?

Some building, man, off the highway, man,

way out in Brime County.

How about you tell us exactly where?

What is this place?

I don't know.

I don't see any signs.

Yeah, and I don't see any restaurant flyers

on any of these cars, either.

Well,

Ernesto said he left most of the in the trash.

No, empty.

You know, maybe this guy is just jerking us around.

Then again,

maybe he's not.

Well, what do you think?

Should we check it out?

All right.

You must be the Harris brothers?

You're a little early.

Yeah, well, there was no traffic, so...

I'll take you guys in.

Suzanne will probably be a couple of minutes,

but you can get started on your selections.

There was a piece of this in the victim's hair.

She was here.

Now, I can take your drink order whenever you like.

Just let me know, but in the meantime...

...why don't you have a look at your choices?

Well,

so much for our wholesome little girl.

Teenage Bible Studies teacher

spent her last night alive in a brothel.

Hi.

Sorry, ladies,

but, uh,

we're here on business.

You know, we have a law enforcement discount

every day until 10:00.

That's good to know,

but, uh, not today.

Oh, come on.

You must see something here that you're interested in.

We don't want to waste your time, ladies.

This isn't gonna happen.

I'm serious.

You heard him, girls.

Gentlemen.

Clearly, you're not the Harris brothers.

We're CSIs; we're from Las Vegas.

We have reason to believe that there was a young girl here

last night named Debbie.

16 years old.

This is a legal, licensed brothel.

Having a minor on the premises

would be against the law.

I would never allow that.

Would you mind taking a look at her photo?

Sure.

She wasn't here.

Don't suppose there are any,

uh, security cameras around here?

Footage from last night

that might back up your story?

Cameras are bad for business.

My customers aren't breaking any laws.

Doesn't mean they're not breaking any vows,

if you know what I mean.

So, we'll just have a look around?

Absolutely.

But under one condition.

If you see anything that excites you...

...you let me know?

Yes, ma'am.

He's right there. Oh.

It's hard to imagine our victim in this place.

She seemed so innocent.

Well, I guarantee you,

every one of the girls that we just met

has a father at home who'd tell you the same thing.

Oh, we'll wait on that one.

Okay.

We got, uh,

the schoolroom,

the red room...

...Western room...

...and, uh...

...jungle room.

Which do you prefer?

Hey, Nick,

come in here.

So, the victim had

antique glass in her knee.

Dust void here.

Bottle's missing.

Mm-hmm.

There's no broken glass in the trash can.

Well, I got some here, and it's purple.

Hey, I've got blood.

Everybody out!

This is ridiculous.

I told you, this is a legal brothel.

All of my girls are certified and licensed.

Except for the 16-year-olds, right?

Watch your accusations, Detective.

I have friends in high places. Oh, good.

After we're done, you might want to give one of them a call.

I won't have to wait that long.

Roger, please!

Do something!

This way.

Officer...

No, no, Rog, Rog,

that's gonna be okay.

Uh, we're not gonna need your help right now.

I'm Roger Ridley.

I'm Brine County Supervisor.

And I know, Suzanne can come off a little rough sometimes,

but I'm here to tell you, this place is 100% above board.

And is that your official position, Mr. Ridley?

Or are you speaking as a satisfied customer?

Both.

I mean, I've known Suzanne a long time.

I helped her get this place licensed.

So I'm just asking that you set aside

some of these prejudices against prostitution.

It's just a business,

like any other business.

I'm not here because I have a problem with prostitution.

I'm here because I have a problem

with 16-year-old girls being murdered.

Look what I made with the Helping Homes Project.

Not bad, right?

You didn't think I could do it, but this is, like,

the third one of these houses I've built.

It's a lot of fun being a Helping Homes volunteer.

I guess if I flunk out of school,

I could always become a construction worker.

What're you doing?

I'm torturing myself

I'm going through the victim's computer,

looking at her e-mails

and her Friend Agenda page.

I'm just trying to figure out how does a girl like her

end up in a brothel and then dead

in a car on the side of the road?

Everything about her is so positive and wholesome.

You know, Detective Crawford is

about to bring the brothel owner in.

Maybe you want to be there.

Okay.

Mm, brought a woman with you, huh, Detective?

Is that so us gals

can... relate?

Oh, I doubt we have much in common.

Sex business make you uncomfortable?

No, trafficking in young girls

does do something bad to my stomach.

What kind of person do you think I am?

We have DNA proof that Debbie Logan

was in your brothel.

Then she turns up dead, having been sexually assaulted.

You want us to believe there's no connection?

I run a legal business.

Yes, you do run a business.

You like to make money, right?

So let's say a client comes in

and offers you a whole lot of money,

but he likes them young,

and you're someone who always delivers,

so you deliver Debbie Logan.

We already have enough

to shut you down.

If you know who killed that girl,

it's a good time to talk.

Unless you want us to hang

a murder charge on you as well.

I don't know who killed her.

She was dead the first time I laid eyes on her.

My bartender, Rex, he found her.

Suzanne, there's a girl outside.

I think she's dead. What? Where?

She was outside in the parking lot.

I don't know anything about her being inside the brothel.

That is the one and only time

I saw her.

So, um, this is the spot.

She was right here

next to her car.

I-I didn't see her

until after I threw the trash in the Dumpster

and was headed back inside.

Why didn't you call it in, man?

What the hell is wrong with you?

I went and told Madam Suzanne.

I thought she'd call it in. But she didn't.

No, she told me to get rid of the body, just get it

anywhere away from here.

So that's what I did.

I found her keys in her purse

and I put her in the car.

I did what I could to cover up the blood,

so no one would know,

and then I got her the hell out of here,

away from the brothel.

I drove her up the highway, parked the car

and... and hitched back.

You're an idiot.

You know that?

Come on, I...

I didn't try to hide her.

I... I put her where I knew she'd be found.

Blood, yours.

Cigarette butt, mine.

Oh.

A 1926 penny.

That's got to be worth something by now.

I'm sure it's probably doubled

or even tripled in value since then.

Hey, you know, there's a rumor going around the office

that you visited a brothel once.

Is that true?

Many, many years ago.

It's a long story, and not one with a happy ending.

No pun intended.

Aha.

I will see your two cigarette butts,

rusty pull tab and penny,

and raise you one piece of turquoise.

Don't say I never gave you anything.

So I talked to the girls.

Several of them said that the bartender

was only outside for a minute--

long enough to dump out the trash--

then he came running back in, looking for Madam Suzanne.

So if we believe the girls, Rex isn't the killer.

Well, we still need to find the murder weapon.

Hey, check this out.

Shoe impression.

Looks fairly fresh.

Pointed, like the toe of a boot.

Or a high-heel. Plenty of those in there.

Ah.

Or...

the killer left it behind when they were getting rid of this.

Consistent with the victim's head wound.

Only thing harder than getting blood from a stone

is getting fingerprints.

Nothing there?

Nothing usable.

Too smudged.

Killer probably was wearing gloves.

You still running the prints from the brothel?

Yep. I already processed about a hundred lifts.

Probably have at least that many still to go.

Brothel turns out to be quite the popular place.

What a surprise.

Interesting clientele, too.

I've already had two city councilmen,

a former child actor

and an over-the-hill rock star.

That's interesting. One of the prints from the brothel,

the Western Room-- it's a match

to one of the exemplar prints we collected

before processing the victim's car.

You got a name?

Let's see.

That's the girl's father.

His prints are all over the brothel.

He was there.

It's almost a cliché at this point--

a revered man of the cloth indulging in carnal escapades.

I checked with your secretary, Mr. Logan.

You clear your schedule

for "personal reasons" every Tuesday night.

Right about the same time, your bank records show

you withdrawing $500 cash-- week in and week out.

Kind of brothel regular, aren't you?

There's nothing illegal about my going there.

A bit hypocritical though, don't you think?

What happens there is between me and God.

You're missing the point, Mr. Logan.

We don't really care what goes on between you and God.

Or you and your favorite hooker,

for that matter.

Our problem is: you frequent the very same brothel

where your daughter was killed

two nights ago.

That's our problem.

Wait a minute.

Debbie was at the brothel?

Don't act surprised.

We don't buy it.

You can't think I had

something to do with Debbie's death?

No, I'll tell you what I think.

I think Debbie figured out

what your Tuesday nights are all about.

She caught you in the act.

Daddy, how could you?

We have to talk.

You are a hypocrite! Listen to me!

Everything you are is a lie!

This has to only be our secret!

No, no, listen to me!

Fight started in the Western Room.

That's where Debbie cut her knee.

At some point, she ran outside.

I'm guessing you followed her out there

'cause you knew you had to stop her.

Debbie, if you tell, I'll lose the church.

I'll lose everything.

And your mother-- you really want to hurt her like that?!

Don't even talk to me! You should've thought of that.

Don't you walk away from me!

I don't know what sick twisted world you live in.

But I could never, ever, lay a hand on my daughter.

You don't have to take my word for it.

I wasn't at the brothel Tuesday night.

There was an emergency.

One of my parishioners died,

and I was ministering to that family

all night.

This is their number.

You call and check if you don't believe me.

Okay, so we're only testing shoes and boots

with pointed toes.

Okay, so sneakers, anything with a round toe, we don't need.

This is such a waste of time.

Can't Prince Charming here just test the shoes on his own?

Why do we have to be here?

Because the impression will be different

with the weight of your foot

inside of the shoe pressing down.

Okay.

Uh...

Actually, I only need the right one.

You can have a seat.

Okay, stand up.

Try to stand still.

All right, now lift up.

Great. Take your shoes off and just leave them right there.

Hey, Finn.

Yeah?

Take a look at this.

There's glass stuck in the sole.

That looks a lot like the glass we found in the victim's knee.

You know, when I interviewed the girls earlier,

Kirsten said that she had never

been in the Western Room.

You lied to me.

You told me that you had never been in the Western Room.

That's not true, is it?

Wow, a hooker who can't be trusted.

Shocking, right?

I don't think this is something to joke about.

Who's joking?

I know about your two drug busts.

It'd be really easy for me to make a call right now

and have your prostitution license revoked.

Unless you have some other job skills

that I don't know about...

Fine, all right?

I saw her.

She showed up at the back door, and I let her in.

I put her in the Western Room

so that Madam Suzanne wouldn't see her.

She'd blow a boob if she saw a kid in this place.

Why was she here?

I don't know.

We get girls like her sometimes.

Runaways usually.

They think the glamorous life of prostitution

is gonna be the answer.

Well, she wasn't a runaway.

Whatever.

Told her she didn't belong here.

And when she broke that bottle, I showed her to the door.

That was the last time I saw her.

Wow, that's the lamest lie I've ever heard.

Do you know that girl was only 16 years old?

Someone raped and assaulted her,

and then beat her over the head with a rock.

So, I don't know what your life was like

or what was done to you,

but nobody deserves to have that happen to them.

Kirsten!

Don't say another word.

What are you doing here?

I called an attorney.

She doesn't have to talk to you.

I guess we're done here.

Kirsten.

Saved her from a confession.

Not even a "thank you."

You ever wonder

why you even bother?

I mean, are you gonna pay for her attorney, too?

If I have to.

Why would you do that?

Well, because he's in love with her.

She's Miss Tuesday Night, isn't she?

She's my daughter.

But we thought that Debbie was an only child.

No. She had a sister.

Kirsten was 17 when she ran away.

We've been estranged ever since.

So you coming here every Tuesday night...

It's the only chance I get to talk to her.

I have to pay for her time, just like anyone else.

At $500 a week?

$500 is nothing for the chance

to sit down and talk to my daughter.

I have never given up on her.

And I'm never gonna give up on her.

Mr. Logan,

we have reason to believe that Kirsten may have been

involved with Debbie's murder.

Then you better get the evidence.

'Cause I'm gonna make sure she has the best defense available.

So our preacher has two daughters, right?

One a hooker, the other,

as far as we can tell, practically an angel.

Okay? All right?

So let's say that Kirsten is our killer.

What's her motive?

Jealously, right?

Yeah.

Kirsten's stuck being a hooker,

paying the bills on her back, while her little sister is

at home being treated like a princess.

Mom has written her off completely.

Dad still pays a weekly visit,

but he probably just preaches at her,

tells her she should be more like her little sister, right?

Yeah, that could make her snap. Right.

Cracks a rock over Debbie's head.

Hey, D.B.?

Well, I've been working on an I.D.

for the guy who sexually assaulted our victim.

I don't have a name yet, but I was processing

DNA samples brought in from the brothel, and I found a match.

Specifically, to DNA on bedsheets

that came from the Asian Room.

So the last customer in the Asian Room...

Same person who raped Debbie Logan.

So I met this bozo at the brothel;

he's a friend of the madam's.

Close the door! Close the door!

Run! Call the cops!

Help!

Somebody call 911! He's got a gun!

Who's got a gun? Ridley?

No, no. The reverend.

He's gonna kill him!

Move! Let's go! Everybody clear out!

Hurry up! Come on, you guys!

Bastard.

How could you do that

to a little girl?

To my baby?!

Mr. Logan, drop the gun.

He has to die.

I have to kill him for what he did to Debbie!

Come on, now, Jim. You can't do this.

He raped and killed my little girl.

For God's sake, I did nothing of the sort.

Stop lying!

Look, there's the proof.

- She fought for her life. - Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Listen to me, now.

Now, you know this is wrong. How is this wrong?

- He deserves it! - No doubt he does,

but let us deal with it, okay?

Not you.

No...

I have to do this.

Hey! Hey! Listen...

Now, I can't quote any scripture...

yeah, I don't have any godly words for you...

but I do know this: If you shoot him,

detective Crawford, right behind you,

is gonna pop you right in the back of the head.

Man, nobody wants that.

So how about...

...I reach up and I take that gun from you...

All right?

Nice and easy.

Good man.

For God's sake, you should've shot him.

Shut up, fool. Come on.

Don't you even move.

He did those things I said.

He's the one responsible.

We know.

But how'd you find out?

Kirsten told me.

Debbie explained everything to her the other night.

Is that why Debbie went to the brothel?

She was looking for her sister?

No, no, no, she was there to see me.

She thought I was there with Kirsten.

She was upset and she wanted to...

tell me what that piece of crap had done-- how he raped her.

Excuse me. Out of the way, please.

You can put those away.

We're all Code Four here.

It's okay, Jim.

Give this man a set of bracelets,

and walk him out to the car for me.

But sit on him for a few minutes, okay?

He's gonna be riding back with me.

Boy, I hope you guys are smart enough

to realize he's delusional.

It must be, uh, just the grief or something.

I tell you what: we'll take a look at the evidence.

We'll draw our own conclusions.

Eh, that's the ladies at the brothel--

they don't hold back.

Yeah. You know what I mean.

Sure.

Open up.

Pardon me?

Your mouth. Open it.

You know what this is gonna reveal, right?

That you raped a 16 year old.

Rape?!

There wasn't any rape!

If anything happened, it was consensual.

And, for the record, I thought she was 18.

You knew she wasn't.

That's why you killed her; to keep her quiet.

Come on! You guys are way off base here.

For starters, let's not paint this girl

like some kind of angel.

She wasn't no virgin.

You know that's a lie.

She got paid for it.

If you don't believe me,

why don't you go ask the woman who pimped her out?

What are you talking about?

This Madam Suzanne?

Not Suzanne; I told you--

Suzanne's on the up and up.

Okay, then who the hell are you talking about?

Can somebody please tell me what I am doing here?

I'm supposed to be at a memorial service for my daughter right now.

This is... unconscionable.

Mrs. Logan, we've been talking with a...

an acquaintance of yours--

Brime County Supervisor Roger Ridley.

He's downstairs in a holding cell, as a matter of fact.

He signed a sworn statement

saying that he paid you $1,200 and, in return,

you arranged for him to have sex with your daughter Debbie.

That's disgusting.

That is a horrible thing to say!

Why do you think he said it, then?

I have no idea.

I... I-I don't know.

I... my husband and I were pretty vocal

opposing Mr. Ridley's election last year.

I-I-I can only think that he's trying

to get back at us somehow?

I mean, you're not gonna take the word of a...

of a dirty, horny pedophile over...

...mine, a preacher's wife.

Well, you weren't always a preacher's wife, were you?

These are LVPD arrest reports,

one from 1989 and two from 1990.

Solicitation for prostitution.

Okay.

So what?

I was a prostitute.

It was a long time ago.

You were young.

You were really young.

But then your husband came along

and rescued you.

"Rescued me."

That's funny, actually.

You ever know one of those people--

someone who rescues lots of animals?

Then you see them with their pets, later, and you realize

they don't give a damn about the animals.

They just want the whole world

to think they're someone special.

That's Jim.

All his charity, all of his missionary work,

the hours and hours he spends helping out his parishioners...

So you don't think that was genuine.

He just wants everyone to think he's a great guy.

Gets off on the pats on his back.

Well, he obviously helped you

turn your life around.

You sound just like all the rest of them.

I should be so lucky to have him.

My life before Jim was just fine.

Being a prostitute, you mean.

Good enough for you, good enough for your daughters, right?

How old was Kirsten

when you first started pimping her out?

Fifteen?

Yeah, how old was she?

When I was 15, I was working.

Mm-hmm. I guess Kirsten was too scared to run to her dad.

Kept her mouth shut.

Too bad Debbie couldn't do the same.

After she was raped by Supervisor Ridley,

she ran to the brothel to tell her father what had happened,

and tell him what you had been doing.

Yeah, lucky for you, he wasn't there.

But you were.

You were waiting outside...

Mom...? Oh, you bitch!

You think you're better than Kirsten!

You think you're better than me!

This is all a lie.

You can't prove any of this.

Oh, yes, we can.

We have a pair of shoes that we found in the trash

behind your house, with blood on them,

and I am sure that, when we test them,

they are going to match the shoe impression

that you left at the murder scene.

Also found a turquoise stone,

in the gravel, outside the brothel.

Matches perfectly to a bracelet

that you had in your dresser drawer, so...

yeah, yeah, we can prove this, Mrs. Logan.

They're not my girls; you know that.

They were adopted.

Jim's idea.

Two more rescues.

I never wanted 'em.

Mr. Logan...

your wife will remain in custody.

She's gonna be charged with murder.

I'm sorry.

So it's true?

She killed Debbie?

Yes, sir.

And then...

what Ridley said, too?

She was selling the girls?

Kirsten, for years, until she ran away, yeah.

And she was just starting with Debbie.

All this time, Kirsten... never told me.

Or maybe she tried and I didn't see it.

I don't know how I could've been so blind.

It's, you know, it's...

been overwhelming.

All these people in my parish are in need and-and...

...and I neglected the ones who needed me the most.

And now I've lost them.

Well... maybe not all of them.

You could still save your daughter.

I think she'll be saving me.

== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man

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