All language subtitles for Silent.Witness.S16E01.Change.Pt.1.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-NTb_track3_[eng]

All you need to remember is
that I am not going anywhere

and neither are you.

We've had some trouble,
that's no secret.

We've all read the papers.

And the bank's not
making life easier--

why would they?

We are going to
get through this.

This place is my life.

It's my name on the label.

So let me make it clear,
from the horse's mouth--

Horse's ass.

You're not wrong.

But at least I'm
your horse's ass.

So with your help and the help
of Kenny Barber and his union--

your union--

--we are going to
fight for this place.

AWA, yeah.

AWA!

AWA!

You've squeezed
me and squeezed me

till there's
nothing left, Kenny.

Don't you sell us
out, you greedy bastard.

Do you know what
kind of a fight I'm in?

I'm trying to keep
this company alive.

He made you rich.

30% pay cut and
30% job losses.

You tell your membership--

You're just dressing it
up to sell, aren't you?

I'm trying to save it, Kenny.

Mr. Briggs is this way.

Hello, Annette.

Good evening, Michael.

John.

Any luck?

I'm trying to stop
them, but they're

going to print the story.

They say it's in
the public interest.

Prurient bastards.

I'm not going to keep
you a secret anymore.

They say you trade
on a family image.

Can we get an injunction?

Kusie thinks it's unlikely.

It's Kenny Barber and
his union behind this.

You're just dressing it
up to sell, aren't you?

Listen up, gentlemen.

When you fight,
nothing on the floor.

Absolutely no elbows.

Do you understand?

All right.

Separate to your corners.

You know Peter Hornsby from
the bank and Emmett Schwartzman

from Weatherby Capital.

Fight.

Mr. Schwarzman is
interested in the brand.

While Hornsby thinks it's an
old fashioned brand, don't you,

Hornsby?

That's why the bank
turned the taps off.

I'm sure Mr. Hornsby
and Mr. Schwarzman

have had a good chat about it.

I never said the brand was--

It don't make any difference
at this point, does it,

Hornsby?

As long as the price is right,
you can say whatever you want.

Have you seen my offer?

Hm?

I'm not going to let you
rape my company the way

you raped those care
homes you bought.

You like that?

Pathologist?

Forensics.

Victim.

He hit the corner of the
table as he fell, instinctively

put his hand to his head--

it's bleeding.

Transfers the blood to his
hands and when he falls again,

he leaves it on the carpet.

He's trying to get to the door.

I guess it's plausible.

I try not to guess.

Isn't that a relief.

His name's John Briggs,
owns the candy company--

well, used to own it.

65 years old, good shape.

He's had some help.

Big night?

Car accident.

Not yet.

Don't want to
contaminate the scene.

Paramedics thought
it was a heart attack.

Police think it's a crime scene?

Mm.

You do?

Yes.

Lots of people
unplug telephones

in their hotel rooms?

He owns a big company.

He's used to giving
instructions, not

doing things himself.

Why doesn't he tell
reception not to disturb him?

He could have.

He didn't.

Old man gets on his hands and
knees, crawls under the desk,

unplugs the line.

Why was he trying
to make a call?

He knows it's unplugged.

He forgot?

he panics, he forgets.

He's having a heart attack,

he panics, he forgets--

plausible.

Where is the photographer?

Tried to call you last night.

How did the dinner go?

Did they make a deal?

I should have been
there, Annette.

Why did he exclude me?

I left messages for him.

He's never called me back.

Your brother's dead, Philip.

They found his body in his
hotel room this morning.

I need to contact his daughter.

That's great.

Thanks.

Good morning.

Detective Sergeant Seetha Gold.

This is DC Gus Cook.

Nikki Alexander.

Forensics?

No.

That's--

Jack Hodgson.

Nice face.

Sorry.

Oh.

No problem.

So was he staying with
the room by himself?

According to reception.

Hotel desks are
pig, aren't they?

Next of kin, all
that guilt-- would he

have been all right if
he'd have stayed at home?

No sign of forced entry.

Oh, love these.

No.

It's a crime scene.

I'll decide if
it's a crime scene.

Drug use?

No paraphernalia.

I'll know more later.

Kinky sex?

Not that I know what
counts as kinky.

Found by the chambermaid.

Yeah.

Blunt trauma
injury to the head.

He fell.

I'll know more later.

The victim is John Briggs.

John Briggs, yes.

Already on the web.

One of you on retainer or do
you tip them off a la carte?

You're not really insinuating
that one of us would--

Of course not. could
be the chambermaid or one

of the girls on reception.

Not a policeman?

I'm just trying
to break the ice.

It's broken.

We're making cuts
across the board.

There's no escaping
it, Professor Dalton.

The Lyle Centre will
need to change or die.

Apt choice of words.

I'm sorry?

Oh, yes.

I see what you mean.

They told me that the Lyle
Centre needed to change or die.

Harry must have known
that, probably why he left.

Oh, that's rubbish.

Harry was offered a full
professorship in New York.

As much as I love you, if
they'd offered it to me,

I'd be calling Virgin Atlantic.

Oh, well, that
really cheers me up.

No, no.

What I'm trying to
say is that it's

nothing to do with
you and everything

to do with him, end of.

OK.

So?

We change.

Well, we're not
going to die, are we?

We change, Leo.

There's nothing to be afraid of.

Everything changes.

We change.

How are we going to change?

No idea.

Can I help you?

Swipe card entry to the rooms.

Hotel employees
use their ID cards.

We'll need the
electronic records.

We can compile a list of
suspects based on access.

Jack.

I'll also need any CCTV
covering reception and access

points to the upper floors.

Jack.

Presumably, there's a
phone record for calls

in and out of the room.

Jack?

Yeah.

I admire your enthusiasm.

I wouldn't call it
enthusiasm, it's just normal.

Enthusiasm was a euphemism.

Was it?

I'm the detective and
you're the scientist.

I tell you what to do,
not the other way around.

Have you got it?

Got it.

You know, I thought
you were more robust.

DS GOLD: Robust?

Yeah.

It's a euphemism.

For what?

Not an arsehole.

Try the telephone.

Television remote.

Bag 'em.

I didn't know you'd be here.

Well, I thought I should be.

We're family.

I'm-- I'm sorry
about your father.

Thank you.

He'd been trying
to reach out to you

over the last few months.

I know.

Your father left
explicit instructions

in the event of his death.

He left his shareholding
in the family trust to you.

You run the company.

Why?

I don't know anything
about the company.

Why would he do this?

It's his final
insult to me, isn't it?

I've drawn up a
document appointing

your Uncle Phillip as
chairman and chief executive.

The funds set aside for you
and your sister in the trust

will be released upon
the sale of the company.

My sister?

I didn't know about a sister.

Did my father remarry?

PHILLIP: No.

I wasn't speaking to you.

ANNETTE: Not that I'm aware of.

Just here.

It's important that we affect
the transition of leadership

quickly.

Your father was in the middle
of selling the company.

We don't want any delay
in concluding the agreement.

They might withdraw the offer.

ANNETTE: I also
need your signatures

on the documents with
Weatherby Capital.

They're the buyer.

The company was his life.

Do you want to sell
the company, Phillip?

Absolutely.

I think it's the right thing.

It's the only thing to do.

And I sign here and it
puts Phillip in charge?

That's right.

I haven't seen
him in 19 years--

19.

I counted them on the train.

He never spoke about the
business, never involved me.

You've worked here
all your life.

He knew you wanted to sell.

Why am I here?

Why has he put me here?

It's me.

There's a photo of
me in the paper.

What's this about?

Just call me back.

Phillip.

I'm very sorry.

Thank you.

But you don't have
to pretend, Michael.

Schwarzman called,
sends his condolences.

That's good of him.

The headlines could damage
the value of the company.

You need to sign the heads
agreement right away.

He's put his
daughter in charge.

His daughter?

I didn't know--

I thought you knew
everything, Michael--

everything about everyone.

You contacted his daughter?

We had to--

corporate governance.

And how much does she know?

Well, Mr. Briggs
was going to tell her,

but she never responded
to any of his messages.

I-- I don't know
how to handle it.

Will she sign them?

Do you think he suffered?

Sorry?

In your professional opinion,
do you think he suffered?

I don't know.

I don't know, either.

I can't decide if there's
any point in knowing.

I mean, the suffering's
over now, for him.

Have you lost a parent?

Both.

Snap.

I mean awful.

Mind you, I lost him
a long time ago--

or rather, he lost me.

Snap.

I don't feel anything.

Is that strange?

NIKKI: Not so strange.

Did you feel?

Eventually.

Peace, so deceptive.

It almost looks as
though he might be good.

Hi.

How did you get in?

Loading bay.

Door was locked.

They lock it for a reason.

Really, not just
to be awkward?

You read that?

I'm done with it.

Do you want it?

Reading that is
like sniffing glue.

Why would I want it?

Filling myself in on Briggs.

Quicker than asking
the detectives.

Apparently, we're doing
everything in our power.

I already knew that.

He had a taste
for escort girls.

Is that right?

There's a photo of a girl
coming into the hotel lobby.

Apparently, she was
going to visit him.

Have the police found her?

How do you think
they go that photo?

They didn't know he
was going to die.

Private detective
following him, extortion?

What do you think?

You like conspiracy theories?

I wouldn't say I like them.

From his bathroom.

Oh, thanks.

When's the post mortem?

Uh, this afternoon.

Why?

My theory is falling apart.

NIKKI: To be fair, it wasn't
really built on very much.

True.

Does Detective Gold know?

She wasn't really a
believer in the first place.

No.

I think you were the
only one that was.

Cash tap's closing fast.

I have to get budget sign-off
on every test I want to run.

Sure sign they're
letting this one go cold.

No evidence of murder and
that's what Gold said.

Two sets of towels used,
organic material on the sheets.

I'm sure there was someone
in that room with him.

Doesn't mean that
he was murdered.

The guy lives in
Surrey, he has a driver

but stays in a hotel.

A lover?

A hooker.

How does that
get you to murder?

Do you know how bad you look?

JACK: Yeah.

I'm guessing that's why your
security guard wouldn't let me

in.

Sometimes it's best to
let a very thin theory go,

particularly if there's
no science to support it.

There was absolutely
nothing on the phone jack--

no fingerprints,
nothing organic.

Nothing?

Well, that supports your theory.

Somebody's DNA they should be
on it, even if it's the guy who

installed the phone.

Unless he consciously
decided to wipe it.

NIKKI: And that's
what you think.

There were no fingerprints
on the furniture,

the TV remote, any
of the flat surfaces.

Get something of the sheets?

Possibly, but it
won't prove intent--

not the sort I'm after, anyway.

Your theory's not
falling apart, it's

just not getting you anywhere.

They have to get under the
desk to unplug the phone.

They get down on their hands
and knees, it's carpet.

The last person to
touch the carpet

would have been the one
to unlock the phone.

I've got to go.

Did you really not think about
sampling the carpet for DNA?

Of course I did.

I'm very sorry to
hear about your father.

What do you do?

I work with the media
helping with image and brand.

My name's Michael Trenter.

I was your father's advisor
on the sale of the company.

I see.

Will you make lots of money
when the company's sold?

I think I need to update you
on where we are with the bank

and the kind of pressure
your father was under.

The heart is enlarged
and diseased, although not

beyond what might be
expected in a man of his age.

And we found high levels
histamines in the heart;

edoema in the larynx and
glottis causing restriction

to the airways; dilation of
the peripheral blood vessels

and the arms and
legs all contributing

to strain on the
heart, leading me

to believe that the most
likely cause of death

is anaphylaxis, shock caused
by an allergic reaction.

Shock?

Were there elevated
levels of MCT?

Yes.

Origin-specific
immunoglobulin A?

Just trying to help.

He died of an
allergic reaction?

Yes.

A lack of oxygen to the
organs would have caused shock

to the heart, stopping it.

But the underlying
reason is anaphylaxis.

Something he ate?

Possibly.

I'll run tests on
the stomach contents,

allergy tests on the body.

How much will that cost?

You'll need to speak
to Professor Dalton.

What are these marks?

Hyper pigmented macular
skin markings, possibly

as a result of
blunt trauma injury.

And it appears that he might
have been whipped in the past,

or more--

Whipped?

Yes.

I looked at the carpet at the
crime scene, ran some tests.

Who authorised the tests?

There's not enough
probable cause for--

How did the newspaper get
the photograph of the escort--

Can you let me finish?

To feel comfortable making
additional expenditure--

Do you know who she is?

They could be
making the story up.

They don't like Briggs.

He threaten to sue one
of the tabloids last year

and they've had their shock
troops on him ever since.

NIKKI: It might be
worth following up.

To what end?

Can we place her at the scene?

Well, it would help
if we knew who she was.

I don't have any
fingerprints or DNA

on any of the flat
surfaces in the room, none

on the telephone itself.

You've got no evidence.

Now, when did a lack of
evidence become evidence?

Are you saying he
died of an allergy?

Allergic reaction.

Well, that's bad
luck, not a crime.

NIKKI: If the phone
plug was wiped,

then it must show intent
to prevent detection.

We found the unknown DNA on
the carpet by the phone jack.

It would be useful if you
find the unknown escort

girl the newspapers
are banging on about.

Sorry to disturb you.

Did my father really
want to sell this?

He wanted to protect it, so
he was willing to let it go.

Did you know my father well?

Yes.

Yeah.

Yeah, I guess I did.

I didn't.

Did he speak about me?

Yes.

To lots of people?

ANNETTE: Uh, to me.

Did he think I'd let him down?

He thought he let you down.

Wouldn't it be nice if he'd
he told me that before he died.

Did he tell you why?

You know she's not my sister.

Yes.

I have her phone number.

How?

How--

She contacted your
father five months ago.

Then, um, what-- what did
my father tell her about me?

ANNETTE: I'm not sure exactly.

So you've, uh, drug me out
on a miserable night, taken me

to a shithole of a public
house to be served by farmers.

So I'm clutching at
straws that there

might be something at
the end of all this

that makes it worth my while.

Bit more than a glass
of fizzy water, eh?

Shall we play let's make
a deal, Mr. Schwartzman?

You can start.

I've come to listen to you.

Can you hear that?

It's me sensible brain
telling me to go home.

No point staying any further.

Oh, uh, sorry about
your brother, Phillip.

No, you're not.

He's right, I'm not.

Nasty piece of work, that one.

He was a nasty, mean
little man lurking

behind the family brand.

Bollocks.

Sound as though he
died like he lived.

Still, at least we won't be
getting home by him again.

So you think about what
makes my members happy

and, uh, you give me a call, eh?

Gentlemen.

Is he coming back?

What do we know about him?

What do we know we
can use, Michael?

ANNETTE: Miss Briggs?

I'm going to head home.

You can call me Geraldine.

Do you need
anything, Geraldine?

Um, did Phillip
know about my sister?

John told him she was a love
child who had tracked him down,

but that's all he knows.

A love child.

OK.

Good night.

It's OK.

Have you seen what
they're saying about me?

You've got to make them stop.

Why don't we take a walk.

I think the best thing
is you go away for while.

I'm in every newspaper as the
escort darling to John Briggs.

If I go away, they're
going to start

thinking that I killed him.

It's the story of the moment.

It will soon pass.

Besides, you need to go
away to get over your grief.

Right.

Well, I'm going to
need some money.

Of course you do.

Wait.

I didn't do anything.

If they start saying
things, you've

got to tell them the truth.

No one needs to say anything.

You're a secret.

You do realise that,
Deana, a family secret.

You know it's a Pandora's box.

There are certain questions
that we're better not to ask

and other that we're
better not to answer.

Silence really is golden.

Yeah.

It's going to need to be.

Leave it with me.

Why don't you go
someplace with a beach

till this has passed, OK?

Don't speak to anyone.

When Pandora opened her
box, all the evil escaped.

Do you know what was left?

You're messing with me, right?

Hope.

That's you, Deana.

For Geraldine
Briggs, that's you.

Morning.

Seen this?

Some journalist has
got an inside track.

Somebody needs to talk less.

Yeah.

How would you go about
ascertaining a deadly allergen

in somebody who's
already proved it to be--

well, you know, deadly?

Briggs?

Definitely a victim
of anaphylaxis.

I want to isolate the allergen.

Do you need to?

Well, something's not right.

I think it's possible
it's foul play.

Instinct?

Not just mine.

The other detective's?

No, forensic bloke.

Forensic bloke?

Well, scientist.

The one who lost the fight.

I guess.

But you should
see the other guy.

Actually, I think the
other guy came out of it OK.

Ah.

Any good?

Jury's out.

See if you can narrow down
the potential allergens.

Speak to relatives,
family, work colleagues.

They may know something--

particularly if the allergy
was potentially deadly.

OK.

And then when you've
narrowed down the list,

you can test the body.

So he wasn't murdered
by an escort girl.

No, an allergic reaction.

The escort girl sounded
so much more exotic.

I wondered if you might
know what had caused it.

He couldn't eat nuts,
couldn't have peanut butter.

Ironic, isn't it?

You know, one of
our biggest sellers

is Briggs' Balls, peanut butter.

His first product he couldn't
actually quality control.

Our first ad campaign
was "lick our balls."

Funny.

Well, my brother
was a church-goer,

had a living relationship
with God, whatever that means.

So the ad shocked him.

Took me months to convince
him to go with it.

We ran an ad in the
magazine "Nuts,"

a whole page, one
issue, then pulled it.

We got more press from
actually pulling it

because it damaged the
family image of the business

than we have been
able to afford.

Genius.

You know they actually study
it in advertising courses.

Something to be proud of.

Do you have any idea
why he had dinner

that night before he died?

Hello?

Deana?

DEANA : Who's this?

It-- it's your mother.

Oh.

Uh-- sorry.

I don't really know what to say.

Um, I would like to meet you.

Would you like to meet me?

Yeah, I would.

Um, I'd like it a lot.

Great.

Um, uh, well, can you come now?

DEANA : Uh, OK.

OK.

Well, let's meet at
the Briggs Building.

Yeah.

I can see you there.

OK.

Well, I'll see you soon.

OK.

GERALDINE : Yeah.

Bye.

Sorry.

When do you need me?

Soon.

Uh--

Very soon.

As soon as you can.

Yeah.

I'll be right there.

Sorry about that.

Are you going to invite
me to interview with you?

Of course, when I get
down to the short list.

How's it going?

Um, slowly.

We'll put the gastric
fluid through a sieve

and then we'll test the
blood for specific antibodies

to nuts.

And how are you getting on?

Fine.

Not too much on them?

No.

Nothing.

I'm sure it's been
difficult without Harry.

Who's Harry?

I miss him, too.

No one I interview
comes close to him.

Leo.

No.

I can't help but compare them.

We agreed to move on.

We did.

So move on.

I am.

Not fast enough.

Nothing.

No indication of allergen.

No indication of allergen.

Jack?

Yes.

Leo Dalton.

Professor Leo Dalton?

That's right.

Holy shit.

Sorry.

It's just this is a
great honour for me.

Well, that's, uh,
that's very kind.

When I was at
university, I was

at Imperial, we studied
several of your cases

and that people you wrote,
what, 20 years ago assessing

the benefits of amalgamating
forensic pathology

with the other
forensic scientists.

Very interesting
to see how allied

the separate disciplines are,
how they reinforce each other.

You were always being called
a forward thinker in lectures.

So do you actually do science
anymore, work in the lab,

get your hands dirty,
or are you stuck

in an office pushing papers?

Oh, no.

I, uh-- no, I get
my hands dirty.

I can't believe it.

You're a legend.

I'm standing here
talking to a legend.

I don't quite
know what to say.

Probably better
not to say anything.

You can only go downhill.

You know what I mean.

Absolutely.

You don't read this, do you?

Me?

No.

No, no.

Nor do I. Don't mind if I--

Of course.

Hiya.

Hi.

You two have met?

It's nothing he ate.

How he came into
contact with it may help

us understand whether it
was an accident or not.

It feels like or not.

Does science
really feel, Jack?

Test everything he may
have come into contact

with in his hotel room--

sheets, towels, soaps.

I'll get started right
away, Professor Dalton.

Professor Dalton.

He's a nice lad.

Well, I like him.

Ah.

Thanks very much.

We'll be in touch.

Thanks.

DS GOLD: Dr.
Alexander, Mr. Hodgson,

am I closing this file?

The fact that they
haven't found the allergen

does not mean that it
wasn't an unlawful death.

No, of course not.

But we're not able to do
anything about it, are we?

Jack, it could have
been a tragic accident.

He was profoundly
allergic to nuts.

He was allergic.

I'm more inclined
to think it was

a result of multiple insults.

JACK: You said he
had heart disease.

Common at his age.

The phone, the lack of prints?

A reasonable theory.

Come on, it's
more than a theory.

Not much more.

DS GOLD: Bedsheets?

Briggs' DNA.

Only Briggs?

Someone that was
in the room with him.

That alone doesn't
mean anything.

JACK: Then why are
we making forward?

Do I have a suspect?

No.

We agree on something.

Dr. Alexander is right to
push for scientific facts.

But here's what my gut
says, the sweets which

you liked so much--

Peanut butter ones.

--were put out in an open bowl
to try and lead the forensic

pathologist astray in the hope
that even if anaphylaxis was

identified as the
cause of death,

its allergen source as a
premeditated act of murder

would not be discovered.

That's something
I hadn't considered.

Professor Dalton?

Yeah.

I'm just listening.

Have you checked the
sweets for DNA or prints?

Hasn't been authorised.

And it may have
been contaminated.

You have a possible suspect
you haven't found or spoken to.

How can you close the file?

DEANNA : Is
that the incident room?

Yeah.

That woman you're looking
for, her name's Deana Collier.

Yeah.

I know where you can find her.

Deana?

Oh.

I never wanted to lose you.

You-- you have to believe me.

I-- I was made to
let you go and--

oh, I am so glad
you've come back.

Do you think Jack Hodgson is
telling stories to the press?

No.

But he's-- I hope not.

Is that no or
is it I hope not?

Let's stick with no--

I hope.

Now try.

Thank you.

PHILLIP: Day after day of
salacious stories in the press

about Briggs and the company.

None of which is
true and I'm trying

to work with the editors.

It doesn't matter if
it's true, it's damaging.

Reduces the company's ability
to meet its obligations.

It's not impacting
on the sales.

We won't be able to
extend you any further time

on the restructuring.

You have seven
days, at which time

I'm afraid we'll ask that you
be put into administration.

Why isn't Geraldine here?

She's got to sign.

She has to sign.

Somebody has to
explain it to her.

Now, where is she?

She's with her daughter.

I didn't know
she had a daughter.

Excuse me.

Detective Sergeant Gold.

Hello.

We're looking for this woman.

We believe her name
is Deana Collier.

We had a phone call to say we
might be able to find her here.

I'm Deana.

She's my daughter.

I was looking for
my birth mother.

I had tried when
I was a teenager,

but I didn't get very far.

I knew that I'd been
a church adoption

and I knew vaguely
the area and the date,

and I narrowed it down.

I wrote letters.

One was to Mr. Briggs and
then Annette contacted me.

He didn't want anyone
else in the firm to know.

He wanted it kept private.

Mr. Briggs loved her.

He loved her like a daughter.

Granddaughter?

We've got Briggs' DNA.

She should turn up
as a familial match.

She doesn't think
she touched anything.

She remembers?

Briggs' granddaughter.

Now it's confirmed.

Anybody want anything?

No.

No, thanks.

That's peculiar.

Got to go.

Cheers, mate.

Yeah.

See you on the weekend.

Want a coffee?

Tea, please.

NIKKI: What?

Nothing.

You could use a moniker.

Do you mind me asking
how you really got your--

I like to fight, sport.

I see.

You're a beginner, then?

Yeah.

What do you
think you're doing?

Being a good daughter.

You look nervous, Mr. Trenter.

Why don't you go
someplace with a beach

while I pour a little
hope back into my mother.

You're making a mistake.

Am I?

It doesn't feel like it.

You'll get found out.

You worrying about
me or about you?

Pleased to meet you.

Come this way.

Your a union hotel?

Allied Workers Alliance.

Everyone?

Front of house,
cleaning and housekeeping.

You know that photo of Deana
Collier, the one the newspapers

were all using?

It's taken in the
lobby of your hotel.

That employee is
no longer with us.

What, AWA?

Yes.

Not worried.

Gross misconduct, they
won't cause any trouble.

Perhaps they already have.

Have we got the printout
of the swipe card entry

to the room?

Yes.

I'll get it for you.

Here she is coming in.

And leaving.

There's Briggs
leaving for dinner.

And then-- and this.

What do you need, Phillip?

A little support, Michael.

Too much to ask?

Where'd she come from?

MICHAEL: Who?

The girl,
Geraldine's daughter.

Oh.

I heard John was
looking for her.

She tracked him down.

So they were both
looking for each other.

Mm.

Convenient.

As if she suddenly
appears out of nowhere.

I'm going to find
out about her--

everything about her.

Well, if there's
anything I can do to help,

just let me know.

This company should be mine.

Me and my brother built it up.

I should be making the
decisions, not rehearsing.

Just because of that girl.

Do we want to sell
the company, Phillip?

Let's just stay focused on that.

Getting paid too much.

It's onto your firm.

I'm Phillip.

Oh.

I don't think we've met.

I'm Deana.

Geraldine's daughter.

DEANA: Yeah.

Family secret.

Every family has secrets.

They lie to each other and
to themselves, don't they?

My brother had
plenty of secrets.

We're particularly good
at them in this family.

You're John's brother.

Do you think the long lost
granddaughters of poor people

bother to track them down?

Phillip.

I don't want you to speak to
my daughter, be alone with her,

or try to develop any kind
of relationship with her.

You know, when I lost you my
father gave me this bracelet as

though it may somehow replace.

There's a charm for
all of my memories,

all the places
I've been and all--

all the things I've seen.

Um, and I'd like to give
these memories to you.

Think it was an accident?