All language subtitles for Obituary s01e04 Weapons of Minor Destruction.eng

(wind blowing)

(animal lowing)

(thunder cracking)

(thunder bellowing)

(clanging)

(rain falling)

(music continues)

(computer game buzzing)

Jesus!

(gun loading)

Tell him to sit.

He says to sit.

Now, I'm owed.

It may be buttons to him,
but it's a fortune to me.

He says he's owed.

You said you'd have the field
done in a day.

Weather permitting.

It depends on the weather.

Fuck the weather!
You're not getting a penny.

(clicking fingers)

What's he saying?

What's he saying now?!

Tell me what he's saying!

He says that the safety is on.

Daddy won't pay.

Then Daddy should shut his eyes.

(panicked breathing)

(breathing gets heavier)

(thudding, dishes rattling)

(whimpering)

You're even, right?

My trip here tonight?
That's overtime.

I'm keeping your father's rifle.

That should make us even.

Wait!

(inaudible)

I asked him...
if he would've shot me.

No.

He said he would've given me
the gun,

and asked me to shoot you.

He said all I had to do, is make
it look like an accident.

And then everything would be mine.

I'm sorry...

I'm sorry, I can't hear you.

It's time you learnt to speak
for yourself.

Like I just did.

Singing,
Lord, don't bring me down

(Female voice)
Emerson!

Emerson...

Emerson...

You'll get me kicked out!

(keyboard tapping)

(shower running)

(groaning)

"Ah, yeah..."

Sure I can do that.

(whipping) (groaning)

(sinister music)

(music builds)

ELVIRA V/O: Mal looks on the
outside, like I feel on the inside.

'What gives?'

Now! Thank you. Enjoy!

God, that looks good.

Oh, wanna swap?
I'm a vegetarian!

Well...

.. you do this every time we go out,
I expect it. Gimme.

I seem to have a habit of eh...
stealing what's yours.

'Is she talking about who I think
she's talking about?'

It's just a piece of meat.

Remember,
it's on me, yeah?

Really? I thought it was on
those two auld lads

who left the chip pan on and
burnt their house down? Mal!

(giggling)

I'm joking! You're very good to me.

Yeah, well... you're good to me too.

Yeah, right. Course you are.

Okay, then...

.. what's the nicest thing I've
ever done for you.

I knew it. There is nothing.

You read my novel.

The girls at school got
their hands on it.

Read one page and took the piss,
but...

.. you quoted lines
from the very last chapter.

I liked it.
(chuckling)

It let me into your head.

It was terribly written and
deeply morose.

It made me jealous of you.

You were super smart.
And I was super--

Hot!

Which I was jealous of.

And by the way,
you're plenty smart.

(Mal snorts and sighs)

Smart enough for Emerson?

You two have more in common
than we do.

He thinks your writing is class.
(Elvira chuckles)

Yeah, right.
And ye have journalism.

Whereas we have... (derisive snort)
Sex.

Which I'd take over a Pulitzer
any day of the week.

(laughing)

(Mal bangs the table)

'She has no idea what
a Pulitzer is.'

(phone ringing)

(male voice)
"Hughie, where are ya?"

Clive's garage.
"Really?"

It was open.

"Open or not,
what are ya doing in there?"

(sighing) Clive's laptop.

It belongs to the paper.

It's gone from his files.

"And you think I know
where it is?"

(chuckles) You were his solicitor,
Maurice.

You know where everything is.

"Look, a member of your staff
has it. Emerson Stafford."

(whispers) Christ!

And all the work on Maria Riedle,
also with Stafford?

"Uh-huh."

(exasperated sigh) What are you
gonna do with all this tat?

"Will I send it to your records
room?" Ha!

No, no, no, no.

"You said it yourself, Clive's work
belonged to the paper."

"It'd be a sin to see it go to
waste." (phone line cuts)

(computer game jingle)

Here. Finally!

My... really rubbish novel. Mmm.

Ah...!
What was your favourite part?

This whole novel thing.

Why not call it a book?
Because it's a novel.

What's the difference?
Between a novel and a book?

Well, for one thing,
a novel is fiction.

So why do they call it
the 'Booker Prize'?

(sighs)

'I think Mal needs a win,
so I'll give it to her.'

My favourite part of your
'nov-ell',

was uhm... when the little girl
shot that deer.

(small laugh)

(computer gun firing)

ELVIRA V/O: George Slammon?
The drunk-driving kid-killer.

What? No way!
What is it?

He's out!

Yeah...

Ten years, did seven.
Good behaviour or something.

Didn't you and him--
Mmm...

No, his brother, Leonard.

He stole me smokes
if I let him look at my tits.

Ughhh. What a monster.

I never let him feel them!
No! George.

Over there having
the time of his life.

He's a murderer. He deserves
a noose, not arcade games.

Yes! Come on!

Remind me never to make
an enemy of you.

Ah, yes!

(George continues shooting,
exclaiming)

ELVIRA V/O: Finding my next victim
has been torture.

'And then the world places

a most deserving one
right in front of me.'

'But I need to be sure,
before I kill that...'

(phone ringing)

Who is it?
(hesitates) Dad.

Checking up on us?
EMERSON: "Cracking up, more like."

"What's up?" I need to bring up
Maria Riedle with Hughie. But--

You can't tell him
I told you he hired her.

"Hence the call.
I'm hoping you'll use

that big brain of yours

"to figure a way around it."

Did I ever tell you I did
an online course once?

"In?" Forgery.
"What..."

.. they teach that now?
Yeah.

Maybe I can help you.

(Both) I was looking for you!
Snap.

You first.

George Slammon.
Yeah, I heard he'd got out.

I want to do a prison system
piece. Right.

So I had a look at the obits

for that father and daughter
he mowed down.

This... Patricia Ripley
who wrote them.

Any chance of a word?
She seemed in the know.

(sighs) Older woman.

(tsks) Never met.

Eh... talked via a PO box.

Right. So... that's odd,
because,

I found this stuck
to one of those obits.

It's just a bit informal,
for someone you never met.

I don't remember getting this.

But 'M-R' is...

.. that stands for Miss Ripley.

Yeah, she signed everything
like that.

Well, whoever she is,
I'd love her phone number.

If you have it? Unless...

Unless? Unless she's dead
or something.

(awkward laughter)

Well...

(raps desk)

Oh, you wanted to see me.

Ah, it'll keep. Right.
(door opening)

(sinister music)

(beep)

ELVIRA V/O:
Hello, George.

(pulsating music)

(music quickens)

(beep)

(beep)

(beep)

He's nothing if not consistent.

This prison story.

Mmm. What's your take?

It's how good people do bad
things.

Now, I just need
Ripley's phone number,

whenever you have it.

Drop it. Drop what?

You're on Maria Riedle.

You think Buckley didn't do it.

No doubt you're writing
some shitty book.

Well, it's a shitty book I'd love
to keep you out of.

The sticky on that obit.

Maria worked for The Chronicle.

And you were seeing here.

I'm right, aren't I?

Off the record?
If you tell me everything.

I'll want something in return.
Shoot.

There you go.

You have Clive's laptop.

This town is full of little
birdies.

Well, there's something
on it that I need.

So we're both on Maria Riedle?

That's fine.
The more the merrier.

The week she died...

.. the Guards did door to doors.
Yeah.

The questionnaires
are on the laptop.

They documented the names of
every gun owner in the town.

Plus...

.. the number of weapons
each owned.

And you want a copy. Why?

Cos the rifle is the key
to the whole thing.

Give me a reason why I should
give you what you want?

Because I know what really
happened in here that night.

Why Maria went into the woods.

Mallory stole
her bag and passport.

Maria wanted it back.

Sorry, Hughie.
Still a step ahead of you.

This thing is an iceberg.

And you've only seen the tip.

If you want to see the lot...

.. you'll give me what I need.

(foreboding music)

ELVIRA V/O: An hour spent typing
and deleting.

'What's stopping me from
going through with it?'

'Don't give me this,
'done his time', horseshit.'

'He deserves it.'

(sigh)

Is work doing your nut in?

It's Emerson. He's doing a thing
on prison reform.

Said I'd give him a hand.

That wee lad leans on you too
much. I think he takes the piss.

I wouldn't worry.

I'm not much help. I mean,
it's not like I've been to prison.

You should talk to your man
George Slammon.

He's just got out of prison.
Ah no, that'd be a waste of time.

Why is that?

Yeah, well... people like him
can't be reformed, can they?

I think that's where you and I
differ.

He killed a father and daughter.

Technically.
What-- the man was driving.

Under the influence.

Alcohol messes with your
judgement.

People do things that are
completely out of character.

And the last time I looked,
character matters.

Okay.

Dad... are you drunk now?

I suppose I could be. Why?

Because it messes with your
judgement.

So everything you've said,
I can ignore, yeah?

It's your call. It's not like
I'm an expert or anything.

Yeah, that's for sure.

But I do know someone who is.

(door opening)

Sorry for the short notice.
It's fine. It's quite around here.

Come on in.

So... bereavement counselling.

My mother died the same day
I was born.

I've never really dealt with it.

My dad rarely brings it up.

I think he thinks I blame myself
for her death.

Whereas really...

.. I blame the hospital staff.

And by blame, you mean...

I want to strangle
each and every one of them.

Do you feel depressed?

Like I'm going through
the motions.

Like nothing really matters
anymore.

And before you say it,
I've tried every pill going.

They gave me blackouts. I've lost
whole chunks of my past.

So I'm working on developing
some coping mechanisms.

That's good to hear.

Grief can be
an overwhelming emotion.

But it's important to know
that you're not alone.

That it's okay to take the time--
Is forgiveness important?

Like... how did you do it?

Let's keep the focus on you.

Okay.

Just... I came to you,

because you've been through this.

All I want to know is...

.. how did you forgive George
Slammon?

Say it. Say I've not forgiven him!

Say every day he's alive,
I'm dead!

(inhales deeply)

True. I...

.. became a bereavement counsellor
after what happened.

However, I also earned a diploma.

I'm here because I can help you.

Then help me... be happy.

Let's try a different tack.

Name your earliest memory
of being happy.

(exhales)

ELVIRA V/O:
Talk about pound-shop psychology.

(short laugh)

Mad, what's missing from my mind.

Then it seems we have homework.

Next session,

I want you to tell me about
a childhood memory,

that put a smile on your face.

Elvira, you're a writer.

Research your subject,
in this case you.

(chilling music)

HUGHIE: Who'd have thought there
were so many guns in Kilraven?

God knows what I'm looking for.
But thank you, Emerson.

Don't thank me, Hughie.

Tell me.

(sigh)

Right. Shut the door.

Okay, look the simple fact is...

I killed Maria.
(Emerson laughs nervously)

Is that on the record?
Jesus Christ, Emerson!

I loved her!
Do you love Mallory?

Well...
Well, could you?

(laughing) You know what you
look like now?

Me on my wedding night.
There's an image.

Well, don't do what I did.

Down tools. And find yourself
someone who you can love

with all your heart,
no matter how mad they are.

Look how well that worked out
for you.

Yeah, you're right.

Maria went into the woods.
Because Mallory stole her bag.

Hughie, I know-- Because I paid
Mallory to steal it.

Ah, Hughie no!

(sigh)

I just wanted to stop her from
leaving.

And instead,
I sent her to her death.

Now, I never thought that
I would have the chance.

But this is why I have to solve
her murder.

And why this has to--
Stay between us.

(creaking)

(key locking)

ELVIRA V/O: I need to get to know
George better.

'Then I can decide his fate.'

(latch moving)

'Die or live, George.
You tell me.'

'Shit. This is worse than prison.'

'Maybe he's still doing his time.'

'Just give me a sign.'

'Something that says you're sorry,
that I mustn't kill you.'

'My God.
What type of man are you?'

'Wait. Are you the type
that goes for a jog,

remembers the iron is on and
runs back home to--'

(panting) (sizzle)

(foreboding music)

Hey! Who's there?

Show yourself, you coward.

You wanna kill me, is that it?
Pay you back for what I've done?

What are you gonna do,
shrug me to death?

That yokes dangerous, you know.
It's modified.

Do you even know how to use that?

ELVIRA V/O:
Sexist pig! But no, I don't.

'I mean, is this thing even on?'

(nail gun fires)
(George screams)

(music intensifies)

(nail gun hissing)

(metal clattering)

(thwump)
Hey!

(birds singing)

Fuck!

(panting)

(music builds)

(phone ringing)

ELVIRA V/O: Missed!

(music quietens)

(gunshot)

Look at you,
getting good at this.

(gunshot)
Doh!

I missed.

I wouldn't be so sure about that.

ELVIRA V/O:
My happy memory.

(anxious breathing)

(undergrowth rustling)

(effort grunt)

(birds chirping)

Oh!
Ahh... (grunts)

You don't give up, do you?

(hissing) (effort grunt)

(engine revving)

(music slows)

ELVIRA V/O:
I should be jumping for joy.

'And yet...'

'And yet, nothing!'

(opera music playing)

(music continues)

(opera fades)

(sinister music)

(laboured breathing)

Stop any bad guys lately?

Thanks for meeting me.

This might sound odd.

But remember how I covered
your dad for the paper?

His run for the council?

Now, don't get me wrong.
I liked the man.

Tough. Mmm.

Never claimed to be something
that he wasn't.

Yeah. He should've won.

Only for his ties to the 'RA
kept coming up.

I don't hear the word 'allegedly',
Hughie.

(Hughie chuckles)

Well, for one of those articles,
your father brought me hunting.

He brought lots of people hunting.

Before heading out, I was
presented with four rifles,

and told to pick one.

Now, I hadn't thought about
that for years.

And then I came across something.

Oh yeah? Five years ago--

Let me stop you there Hughie,
right? No.

After the murder of Maria Riedle,

the guards went door to door.

Yeah. And they took stock of--

(thwump)

-of every weapon, in this town
and the surrounding areas.

But your father showed
the guards three rifles,

not four.

Claimed he only ever had three.

Now, I'm not saying your dad
did anything wrong. No.

But my question is...

.. was anyone else on this farm
who shouldn't have been?

Somebody who worked here?

Came across a rifle?

Maybe took it?

No one came onto this farm,

that I didn't know.

So no one came onto this farm,
and took a gun.

Or rifle?

What's this really about Hughie,
huh?

I'm trying to right a wrong.

And I'm trying to finish
a day's work,

so if you don't mind?

(sniffs and grunts)

(sinister music)

(sniffs)

(techno music playing)

(clears throat)

Want some? Oh no, thanks.

I'm on the job.

Did anybody ever tell you,
you have a cracking bod?

The head's good...

.. but that bod.

You should do more with it.

ELVIRA V/O: He's as disgusting
as his brother.

So, this obituary craic.

You wanna know something
George did? Yes.

Maybe something that
no one else knows he did?

He took it up the hoop in prison.
(dirty laugh)

That's not something I can verify.
Verify?

Okay then.

Verify this.

(zipper opening)

George did that to you?

ELVIRA V/O: I knew it!
He did deserve to die!

No. George gave me a kidney.

Say that again? Kidney failure
since I was a nipper.

(zipper closing) George gave me
the greatest gift there is.

A second shot at life.

'I guess bad people do good
sometimes.'

Shouldn't you be writing that
down?

Hey, do you wanna make
an easy ton?

George's eulogy.
You could write it for me?

I wouldn't know where to start.
I just want to sound good.

'I'm not a fucking magician.'
Pick a friend, yeah?

Write about her.

I don't have many friends. Great.

Imagine her dead. Then write about
it.

I'll do the rest.

This morning as I made my way
here from the rectory,

I thought about how Jesus, in order
to save the life of a sinner,

declared, 'Let he who is without
sin, cast the first stone.'

Which is ironic really,

considering the first time
I met wee George,

he was throwing
several stones at me.

Letting Leonard speak,
not a good idea.

The man's a header.

He might surprise you.

ELVIRA V/O: In fact, it might be
the best thing I've ever written.

Now Leonard,
George's brother,

would like to say a few words.

(door opening)

(click clack of heels)

Saved by the bell.

(microphone whistles)

ELVIRA V/O: Perfect.
The last thing they hear

before George is six feet under,
is what a monster he was.

George Slammon took it all
from me.

My husband.

My child!

And my life.

He was--
'Tell us what he was.'

-someone I thought about
every day

for the last seven years.

And every day
of those seven years,

I thought about what I would...

.. say to him.

And now it's too late.

But if I got the chance...

If I could speak to George...

.. I would--
'Finally!'

Say...

I forgive you.

'Say that again?'

I forgive you, George.

'No you don't!'

Rest in peace.

(applause)

'Sit down, morons!'

'Sit. Down!'

(crowd chatter)

Good man yourself.

How's the girls?
How's yourself, Ward?

What are you doing here?

Good, aren't they?

Who? The working classes,
look.

Throwing a couple of bob behind the
bar when one of their own dies.

Course, it's ironic, the guy that
knocked Slammon down...

They found someone?

Yeah. A drunk driver.

There's a few round here
happy about that.

But not you. Two wrongs
don't make a right, love.

George didn't deserve that.

Sorry, excuse me-- I need to get
the fuck out of here!

Come on. But it's just
getting started.

Jesus, it's a funeral,
not a music festival. We're going.

(glass slams on counter)

Have you ever heard the like!

The man slaughtered her family
and she gets up and says that!

I thought what she said was
lovely. Lovely?!

Are you serious? The man deserves
to rot in hell!

Eh, it's not that simple.

I'll think you find it is. Elvira!

Letting him off like that.

Elvira? What?
Uh, well-- What?!

George didn't do it. Eh, yes he
did! No, he didn't.

He did. I said he didn't!

Don't say anything else, okay?
Not a word.

It was Leonard, Elvira.

No, it wasn't.

(music builds)

He was driving, not George.

When George got home,
he said he'd take care of it!

With Leonard's health,

George knew he wouldn't last
two seconds in jail.

And George took the rap.

Now Leonard swore me to secrecy,
so swear you'll do the same!

Why didn't you tell me this before?

Why should I? Because then
I wouldn't have--

ELVIRA V/O: Killed him.

Been so cold to him in his obit.

Eh... you weren't to know!
It's not your fault.

'A good man died. This is on Mal!'

Still... for her to forgive anyone
like that, it's nuts!

You really think that?
Yeah, of course I do.

Then... what about me?

What about you?

Say I did something like that to
you, would you be able--

would you forgive me?

Like what? Hypothetically!

Say I did something to you. Awful.

And I couldn't bring myself
to tell you what it was.

If I asked your forgiveness,

would you give it to me?

(hesitates) I'd need to
know what it was.

So you couldn't?
That's not what I said.

What did you do? Okay.
How about this.

Go on. I know, I cockblocked you.

Cock-what?
So take him then, yeah?!

Take who? Emerson!

He's all yours.
Wait, what do you mean?

I mean then we're even.

And I can stop feeling guilty.

Would you listen to yourself!
Do you like him or not?

He's a friend and a colleague.
(Mal snorts)

Mallory, you've lost it.
Just have him, go on.

Then we're even and
I can forget about all this.

Mallory, I don't know
what you did!

Oh please Elvira,
just fucking forgive me.

I can't forgive you
for something I don't know!

This is your last chance.

Oh is it now? Yeah.

This is how it's gonna be.

I can go home...
and tell him to leave.

Or I can go home and do things to
him that'll mean he'll never leave.

Your call.

You know what, Mal?

Go home and do what
you do best.

Okay.

I offered.

Now we're even.

You've blown this out of proportion.

We're going to talk this
down to drink, right?

Talk it down to whatever!

Only get your own damn man!

Just so you know,
the Booker Prize

is named after the company
that sponsors it.

It has nothing to do with books.

(water hissing)

Oi! You owe me money.

(chuckling)

You wouldn't give us a hand,
would ya?

I poured my heart into those words.

Words I never got to say.

Tough titty. I'm not paying.

(voices talking)

The wrong brother died!

We need to talk. No!

We need to laugh.

(door opening)

You're always blabbing about
how fab her writing is. Well...

Here's a chance to read some more.

Elvira wrote this? Yup.

It's pretty good.
For a kid.

She was seventeen.

It's awful. Now, read it to me.

(contented sigh)

(clears throat)

'It's ironic. For someone
who loves death,

I can't remember the first one
I witnessed.

Like literally,
I cannot remember my mam.'

(Mal sniggers)

(door banging)

(wood sliding)

Bless me Father, for I have sinned.
Don't be so smart!

That rifle you stole from Daddy
back then...

It has history.

Where is it?
Uh... I got rid of it.

I was worried about
my daughter.

Why?

I was scared she was gonna
harm herself with it.

Hughie Byrne is sniffing around.

Jaysus. He knows there was
weapons on our land.

That someone stole a rifle.

And what did you tell him?
Nothing, yet.

Aye, cos you can't, can you?

Your daddy was balls-deep
with the Provos.

Last thing you want is anybody
snooping around your land.

You'll need to deal with him.
I'm an old man.

An old dangerous man,
remember?

Deal with Hughie Ward,

or I'll deal with you.

'The first two shots hit,
but the third spun from the rifle

and flew into the dark
and depraved woods,

where it struck a deer.'

'Evelyn was embarrassed.'

'She felt happiness, not grief.'

'Her father had never seen her
this pleased.'

'Yet Evelyn was convinced that this
fleeting feeling would not last.'

'That her life would be spent
chasing it.'

(page rustles)

'The deer still breathing,

her father took his hunting knife

and ended...

.. the proud beast's life.'

(paper rustling)

Hunting rifle.

Hello, Ward.

I didn't think you'd come back.

Most people don't.

I have a lot of lingering questions.

That's why I'm here.
Now, before we start,

I need a favour.

Okay. In your job,

you visit people
who have lost loved ones.

I've had new business cards
made up. Could you maybe

leave one behind after you
called to a house?

(snort of laughter)

I knew it! What you said
at George Slammon's funeral.

It's lies! You don't forgive him,
because you can't!

My God.

You did whole speech thing to
drum up business.

I believe in what I do here.

Your phone has been off
the hook since, right?

I mean,
I'll be able to fix my pain,

but I can fix others.

I gotta know. Just tell me.
I ask the questions.

Were you happy
when Slammon died?

Answer me,
and I'll never ask you again.

He robbed me of my life.

Now he's been robbed of his.

His funeral was
the best day I've had,

in a very long time.

Finally!

If only the wrong brother didn't
die.

So...

Your best day.
When you were young.

Oh, uhm...

I was 10. I went shooting bottles
with my father in the woods.

And? There must be more to it?

The therapy I'm proposing is about
triggering good memories.

How about going back into
those woods?

And shooting bottles?

No, I don't--

Wait, I...

I already tried that.

Holy shit!

You did? When?

I was... 19 maybe?

You're remembering this now,
for the first time since?

I... I thought it might make me
happy.

But I just felt the same.
I was off my head on meds.

Elvira, take a deep breath.

Inhale through your nose.

I decided...

.. cos it didn't work,

I'd kill myself.

Think back.

Tell me exactly what happened.

Focus on your breath,

and the feeling of the chair
beneath you.

Close your eyes.

I want you to describe what you're
seeing in your mind's eye.

Let the memories come to you.

(sinister music)

(echoing howl)

(gasp)

(gunshot)

(gun loading)

(sniffs)

(gunshot)

(music continues)

(urgent, pulsing beat)

(banging, rattling)

(panicked breaths)

Oh, thank God!

Mal saved me.

(music intensifies)

No...

(gasp)

No...

NO!

(whisper) Elvira...

Leave me here. I need to see
what happens next.

Elvira...

(music fades)

(half-whisper) So that's what Mal
wants forgiveness for.

What happened?

My friend...

Go on...

She left me for dead.

And how does that
make you feel?

ELVIRA V/O:
Like killing that bitch, that's how.

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