Original subtitles

Previously on Velma...

- This is who I am. - That's not true. It can't be.

Because it's not the unknown that freaks me out.

It's idiots like you who ignore facts and science that do.

What do you mean Daphne's brain is missing?

Hey! Put me down!

I'm the serial killer.

And I will keep killing until I get what I want.

- Who are you? - We're your parents, Daphne.

In the wake of the revelation that the serial killer is yet another woman,

Crystal Cove also elected Merle Cogburn as sheriff.

I've experienced plenty of tense situations in my day.

And now you die, Velma.

So, what'd you think of my improv show?

But no situation is more tense

than when I'm stuck between my mom and Sophie.

Front door is open.

You installed an alarm.

Afraid someone will wreck your home while you're out?

It's so nice you're able to drop off Velma.

Still no job?

Most of the time, keeping my mom and Sophie apart is easy.

I can't believe you lost. The Nate Silver jinx strikes again.

Hey, if you need anything, we are here for you.

Hey! Oh, Diya's here.

We're just not here for you right now. Bye.

This is your newly elected sheriff, Merle Cogburn.

Since we now know the serial killer is a woman,

at 8:00 a.m. tomorrow, all women in Crystal Cove

will be temporarily relocated to the Crystal Mines.

How will the men know when to get haircuts?

And is it all of us? Or just the evil, manipulative ones?

But sometimes, keeping them apart isn't possible at all.

So ladies, leave your interpersonal issues at home,

'cause it's gonna be tight down there!

Good morning. I'm live at the Crystal Mines

as women prepare to move underground with a serial killer.

Tell me, are you scared? Or just kind of resigned,

like, same old shit different day?

A mix of both. But we'll get through this with organization, determination,

and highly functional alcoholism.

Oh, what a surprise.

The woman who took my house is turning a blind eye to injustice.

- What's that? - Go get my inhaler from the car.

If I die in front of these other moms,

they'll never let you hear the end of it.

You're not wrong about that.

Help me keep my mom and Sophie apart in the mines.

I'll do your laundry for a month.

A week. One load of towels. But still. Please.

Pass. We suck at everything.

We lost the election and we didn't even hear Daphne sneak off

to Gigi's cabin last night

to walk in the woods like Hillary Clinton.

Dr. Perdue said Daphne would be back in her body and home by now.

Hey, girlie. Nope. Can't even pretend.

I'm back in my body and everything hurts.

Okay, but why did you leave that note?

You said Daphne would be home by now. Is she okay?

Yes. But she's busy.

Have you found her brain yet?

Anyway, you need to focus on learning

whether all the murders are connected to Project SCOOBI.

I know, I have my file.

The one good thing about being sent to the mines

is the amount of people I can talk to.

But are you sure Daphne's okay?

We had a big fight and I'm worried

that's why she won't get on the phone.

Yep. She's not talking because she's mad at you.

This is your fault, not mine. Bye.

Wow, this is really just so nice.

I love it and can already think of so many uses for it.

But I'd really just like to get home.

Is there any chance you guys could return me...

Now don't you worry, ladies.

You will only be in the mines for 48 hours. Why?

That's how long it will take for the killer to pick us off one by one?

No, Velma. Thanks to me, we have a recording of the killer.

And now that we can focus on it instead of losing our dongs,

we'll figure out which of you is the killer in no time.

This isn't Merle's first day as Sheriff.

It's his second.

Okay, but where do we go if we don't identify as female or male?

Already thought of that. I respect all gender identities.

And I don't want to get yelled at on social media.

So I am paying for you and yours

to skip town for a couple of days.

The rest of you, get in that mine.

Well, see you in 48 hours.

Until then, enjoy watching a man in a suit do the weather

instead of a woman in an extremely tight dress,

you dumb assholes.

Will you be okay without Mom?

- Do you have enough weed? - Weed?

I don't need weed to be away from your mother.

I need something much stronger. Want some?

Thanks, but I need to be alert.

My hallucinations may have an external trigger

and I'm gonna figure out what it is. Oh, God!

I sure hope so. Even I'm getting tired of this...

Hey, my eyes are up here, pal.

What? No, I'm just looking through your hole.

You killed me, Norville.

Oh, gosh!

Wait, that's it. I know how to get rid of you.

Offering me tap water?

Fred, you trigger my hallucinations.

And you trigger my disdain for nerds.

No. Look, I think I hallucinate

because I'm the only one who can tell you the truth.

My grandma couldn't have possessed your mom

because my grandma is still alive.

That's impossible. I've accepted my mom wasn't great,

but no way she wanted to replace my brain.

She was possessed.

Whoa, this is nice.

Throw pillows as far as the eye can see.

Free continental breakfast? These ladies thought of everything.

There's even a place to brag about

how discounted the sweater you just bought was.

Sure, but where do you complain that the person you bragged to

wasn't impressed enough? Oh, there.

Serial killer.

Sorry, I know we're jumpy from being locked in here with the killer.

Just wanted to give you your welcome packet,

along with your chore assignment,

camping location, and most importantly, drink tickets.

Mommy loves wine more than me.

A Baby Babble Box?

Wait, right, you all hang out with Sophie.

Yeah. We're in a mommy group together

where we measure our babies against each other.

I'm the precocious-est.

But don't worry,

we know to camp you two as far from Sophie as possible.

This is campsite Rose.

You're all the way over at campsite Frose.

Phew! I'm worried enough about the serial killer.

I don't need my mom and Sophie also trying to kill each other.

- Thank you for telling them, Olive. - It wasn't me.

These nosy bitches are just up in everyone's business.

Perfect. Once I get Mom settled,

I'm gonna get these women talking

like they just saw a trailer for a new Jake Gyllenhaal movie.

Velma, speak up. Muttering in public is low-class,

and I don't want to get moved to campsite Canned Rose.

Hello? What happened?

Where am I?

Wait, am I dead?

But I haven't even gone through my blonde phase yet.

- This is unfair. - Daph, you're not dead.

Your jar fritzed out.

Meaning you have no sensory input

and are trapped in your mind until someone finds your brain.

What? If this is my mind, what are you doing in here?

I never think about you guys. I'm a teenager.

I barely even think about the parents I love.

Okay, but you put yourself in a jar to figure out who you are.

And who better than your birth parents to help you

search your memories for the answer.

Literally, anyone. And if I'm controlling this,

why can't one of you be Velma and the other one a hot tub?

Oh, you don't think we'll get to Velma?

I don't know what you mean.

You will soon enough. Anyway, from this classic white void,

there's a couple of ways these memory-inspired journeys can go:

trial, chased by a giant pencil,

go to a meaningful place where each thing is a memory.

Oh, that one sounds nice.

- It isn't. - The Crystal Mines?

Welcome, ladies!

Hope you don't mind sleeping next to some old bats.

And I don't mean the Chiroptera flying above us.

It's bad enough we're stuck down here with the serial killer,

but we're also stuck with the loser moms

because Sophie got the good ones.

- Of course. - Good ones?

In your phone, you have Maxine and Susan listed

as "Evil gossip monster. Do not answer while drunk."

And at least, we're nowhere near Sophie.

- Velma. - Oh God.

The cool moms and I haven't seen Daphne in here

and I wondered if it's because you guys are still on the rocks.

What? I didn't know that you and Daphne were on the rocks.

You didn't? Weird.

I mean, it's been like that since the seance.

Seance? What?

Velma, do you tell Sophie more about your life than me, your mother?

How long has this been going on?

Did I not tell you, the highest regard you can hold for Sophie is

"aunt who gives good presents"?

You did. It's just sometimes easier to talk to Sophie

because I actually care about your opinion.

When I tell you about Daphne,

you just criticize me and assume it's my fault.

Because most things are your fault.

And it's my job to point that out.

I know, but talking to Sophie never hurts.

It's like talking to a wall.

She only responds in lame framed quotes.

Your responses are like framed quotes in male dorm rooms.

- Aggressive and frightening. - Excuses don't get results, bro.

Okay, I see what you mean.

And this whole situation really is Aman's fault.

He's the one who told Sophie I'd abandoned him

when I was actually kidnapped.

Maybe I could be nicer to her.

Thank you. And I actually have something only you can help me with.

Fine. I guess it's time.

When two people love each other,

or it's your husband's birthday...

No! I need to get info on the murder victims from the moms.

But if I do it, the serial killer might figure out I'm onto them

and go even deeper into hiding.

Yes. It will be like that other mystery we solved together.

Who keeps forgetting to feed the cat?

Who would have guessed it was both of us?

I'm the serial killer.

And I will keep killing until I get what I want.

I got it. I know who it is.

The guy sitting next to me looks like James Marsden.

Of course. Now, any thoughts on the serial killer's identity?

Fred, please, you have to listen to me.

My grandmother is alive.

Yeah? Where? I'd love to meet her.

Grandmothers love me. I remind them of a simpler time.

She's wanted by the government, so I can't reveal her location.

So I just have to trust that she exists?

I already went down this road with the Catholic Church, bro.

But hot nuns are only in the movies.

Hey, hey. We're trying to catch a serial killer.

- Quit squabbling. - We have no choice but to squabble.

Okay, well, we've been working hard.

I guess we could take a little break to settle an argument.

But we're gonna settle it like men.

- Endless litigation. - No.

With the women gone,

I'm emboldened to revive an older, more honorable way

for men to settle disputes.

Chili cook-off.

Wait, to figure out if my grandma's alive and Fred's mom's a killer?

Works for me.

Each crystal holds a memory.

Though most of these are just you doom scrolling social media.

It's when I'm happiest.

But I need memories that will help me figure out who I truly am.

A popular girl? A Wiccan?

Maybe someone who signs their emails, "Cheers"?

You didn't put your brain in a jar to figure out if you're popular or not.

You want to know if you're a good person or a bad person.

No, I don't. I know I'm a good person.

I post on my socials whenever there's an election.

Well, I heard Moira wanted to get rabies from that bat.

A flying carrot? Now I've seen everything.

How funny. Wow. Amanda,

do you have a precocious quip too?

Carrot? More like parrot.

Because it flies.

Remember, sweetie, if you have to explain it, it's not funny.

Here comes the drama.

Cameras down. We're not here to fight.

We've just realized we're at a low-enough point in our lives

to start gardening and have questions.

Really? That's great.

Gardening is such a wonderful stress reliever.

It alleviates my anxieties, so I can be a better mom and homemaker.

Happy to teach you.

Easy, Mom.

Then, sign me up.

Though, I heard the coroners had the best garden.

Or does gossiping about the men in town not interest you?

Are you insane? The coroners' garden was incredible,

but they were so nasty whenever I asked about it.

Can you be more specific about their nastiness?

Where was it on a scale of one

to how we treat actresses we feel are too famous?

They told me to "stick to succulents".

And they only got meaner over the past two months.

- They will not be missed. - Well, neither will Father O'Rourke.

He pushed Sammy's baptism a whole week

because of some "work thing".

Maybe we should've elected the serial killer Sheriff.

She's taking out the trash in this town.

Okay, not to be that person,

but as two people who were almost killed by a serial killer,

this hits a little close to home.

- Who called the fun police? - Yeah, Diya, it's fun.

If you're a sick freak.

A serial killer is never funny. And she might not even be in here.

Our husbands could be dead, and no one is there

to sprinkle cornstarch on the blood stains, you monsters.

Thank you, Sophie.

You're right. That was insensitive.

But looking at chore assignments,

we have all the help we really need with meal prep.

Would you three mind scraping the bat shit off the playground equipment?

Talk about a crappy job.

Why did you bring me to this memory?

I've learned what I'm supposed to learn.

Life is about the little things and Christmas is important.

- Let's go! - No.

We brought you here because on this occasion,

you made a very important moral choice.

It was either showing you this, or every time you chose to eat meat.

Enjoy terraforming Mars, jerk.

But this was still pretty bad, don't you think?

That seance did not go well.

And while I don't care what people think of me,

I know you do.

So I really mean it when I say, "sucks to be you."

It went badly because of Velma.

She's just jealous of you and had to ruin something I cared about.

Like when she made me look up

"friendship bracelet sweatshops Taiwan."

Velma does have a lot to learn.

Yeah. Hey, maybe we should teach her a lesson?

What do you mean?

Let's go someplace more private.

Are you sure?

Stop doubting me, that's Velma's thing.

No! Stop!

You can't erase the past, Daph.

Fine. But you heard me.

It was Velma's fault. I was justified.

It's okay. Your parents are no good.

Makes perfect sense you're no good too.

But you're not even my parents. You're just projections of me. See?

Oh, what the hell? We were kidding,

but now we think you really are a bad person.

Now some might call this an act of procrastination

by a man who has realized

he has no idea how to catch a serial killer.

But they would be wrong.

By more efficiently settling disputes,

I will have more time to find the serial killer.

Now you've all been simmering for six hours. It's time.

And the winner is...

- Fred. - Yes!

Norville, it's decided.

Your grandmother is dead and her ghost forced Fred's mom

to commit those heinous crimes.

This isn't fair. A chili contest with a single judge is tyranny.

Mmm, good point.

Everyone, try the chili and we'll take it to a vote.

Then we'll find the serial killer.

Yeah, I'm not procrastinating, just being fair.

Norville's tastes weird.

Must be the sleeping pills.

Oh, hey, Diya. Little cleaning hack.

If you scrub in a circular motion,

you'll go faster and tone your triceps.

You're welcome.

Oh, you just think you're so perfect, don't you?

Oh, here it comes.

Well, I tried to keep them from killing each other.

Perfect? Wait.

Are you mean to me because you're jealous of me?

Of course. You have a career. You made my house better.

And your baby's more socialized than mine will ever be.

That's crazy. I'm the one who's jealous.

Aman and I are total opposites.

I'm constantly worried he'll want you back.

You're both grumpy, and okay with bad dye jobs.

That's crazy. You're perfect for Aman.

You don't even care that he keeps his porno mags

in a box labeled "Aman's treats."

Hey, as much as I love hearing about this,

I'm trying to investigate.

Stop. You're only investigating to get out of working.

Ugh! She always does that.

"Velma, unload the dishwasher." "I'm investigating."

"Velma, brush your hair." "I'm investigating."

No, you're right. Doing chores is more important than saving lives.

That's why every kid dresses up as Alfred

and not Batman on Halloween.

- Velma, don't be so thin-skinned. - "I'm investigating."

It was better when you hated each other.

You here to take this job from us?

Oh, how far we've fallen.

No, I'm escaping some exceptionally dorky mom bonding.

- I'm watching you. - What? Who said that?

- Don't you recognize my voice? - It's the serial killer.

Oh God! Where's Amanda?

The serial killer? Run away.

Hold on, Amanda. Hold on, baby.

Oh, God! What do we do?

It's okay. I have an idea. As long as this rock holds...

Crap. I'm out of ideas.

We got this. We just ran to get our stun guns.

That's why Linda yelled "Run away."

Sorry if it was misleading.

Stun guns? No, it's Amanda down there.

We don't know where the serial killer is.

Oh, my God. That was amazing. I'd love a turn if there's time.

No, of course. Amanda, where's the serial killer?

No killer. Just me pretending. But I slipped.

Wait, you were pretending to be the serial killer?

Why? And how?

I thought funny?

Holy crap. Do you know what this means?

Yeah. It means that while Amanda's still not funny,

this situation is hilarious.

Velma? Velma! Why can't I find Velma?

Is it because I am bad and bad people don't deserve good things?

Not at all. I hit my wife's lover with a car

and the next day, found an uneaten container of fries on a bench.

Velma!

What's happening?

It's because you can't look her in the eye, Daphne.

Because my conscience won't let me.

And only good people are hampered by their guilt.

I'm good. Oh, God! I'm good.

Which means I have to tell her what I did.

- Crap. - You finally get the point.

Pencil joke.

Okay, I learned my lesson. How do I wake up?

Even if she never talks to me again, Velma deserves the truth.

And I maybe deserve some sort of award for being so good and brave?

Wake up?

Daphne, don't you get it yet? You're in hell.

Kidding. But if this is anything like a bad dream,

usually you wake up at the worst part.

Don't say I never did anything for you.

Velma!

Velma!

Oh, you were all holier than thou

while we were talking about the serial killer.

Then you let your daughter go play a sick joke like this?

She only did that to keep up with your thirsty baby's early onset

theater kid disorder.

I'd be careful what you say.

I write blind items for the gossip column of the paper

and I'm not afraid to put you on blast.

Wait, you write those? You told the whole town I huffed paint.

Only my family is supposed to know that.

Wait, that's it.

- We know who the serial killer is. - What?

Wait, is it you? Because I raised you better than that.

No. I mean we collectively know who the serial killer is.

Look, women are hella observant.

We know everything about everyone. So instead of attacking each other,

maybe we can use our skills of observation to solve the case.

But you said talking openly would tip off the serial killer

who, if she's listening, is super-hot and cool and please don't kill me.

I think the killer disguised their voice using a Baby Babble Box.

It could be a man.

Hmm, what happened? How did I get back in my body?

The cockroaches brought you back.

You really have some fans in those guys.

They made you a crown out of rotting fruit and hair.

- Do you want to keep it? - No.

What? All I know is that I need to find Velma.

Wait, Fred? What's he doing here?

Where am I?

Norville, if you're trying to human traffic me,

my dad already tried and the guys just said, "too clingy".

My grandson apparently thought it was a good idea

to sneak a friend into my top-secret hideout

to solve a personal dispute.

Fred, this is my living grandmother, Dr. Edna Perdue.

What? Oh, God. No.

My mother wasn't possessed and really was a killer.

That means I'm half-killer.

Or full-killer, if you go by Judaism rules.

Norville, have there been any changes in your hallucinations?

I think that worked.

She's fading faster than my dad after one hard seltzer.

Yes. That did it!

She's gone.

Wait, what's going on? What am I?

Let's pool what we know to figure out how the victims are connected.

Does anybody have anything I could use to tape this up?

- I have some thumbtacks. - I have tape and glue.

I have six years' worth of receipts.

Okay, so to start,

does "Project SCOOBI" mean anything to any of you?

Yes. Don usually doesn't like to talk about work,

but one day he brought home the Baby Babble Boxes

saying he made them at the office.

Project SCOOBI was written on the box.

You said you invented those.

And you said you finished that Jonathan Franzen novel

before our book club meeting.

No fighting.

A few months ago, I took my daughter for tutoring at Mr. S's.

He was on the phone when we arrived

and I heard him say Project SCOOBI.

I remember because I was staring at his mouth

and thinking disgusting thoughts.

Hey, stay on track.

I'm a nurse at the hospital and I was kicked out of the morgue

because the coroners had an appointment with a lawyer

and all these other men.

Which is strange because only surgeons need lawyers

for when they operate drunk.

Okay, so not only were all the victims aware of Project SCOOBI,

they took a meeting with a lawyer at the hospital.

Do you remember what he looked like?

Yes. It was your dad.

What?

Good evening. Just moments ago,

the women exited the mines facing zero resistance.

And now we know why.

What's more, Aman Dinkley has been identified

as a person of interest in the recent murders.

I'm not saying a thing.

He can't be the killer. I have an app that tracks his location,

monitors his heart rate, and records all his conversations.

He's lucky to have found you, Sophie.

'Cause I would have just told them to fry the sucker.

- Daphne, you're back! - Velma, what's going on?

It's my dad. He's somehow involved.

But, Daphne, look, I am so sorry about what I said at the seance.

I don't care if you're a witch.

I don't even care that you're friends with Amber.

I just want to be with you.

Velma, I have to tell you something.

I really like Amber.

Okay...

But I like you more.

And that's it. That's all I have to tell you.

Cheers.