All language subtitles for mr-mercedes-s03e01-720p-hdtv-x265-minx

I'm having second thoughts.

Then don't think.

And maybe don't talk...
so I can concentrate.

You know for a fact
he's got money?

You know this
for an absolute fact?

What I know for a fact
is that he hates banks

and he's made
a shitload of dough.

He's got it stashed.

Just saying, a crazy-ass recluse

living out in the woods
and shit?

He figures to have weapons,
maybe a dog or two.

Watch out!

That there was an omen.

That's what that was.

A sudden obstacle in our path.

- Carl...
- It's just a bad idea, Morris.

I know it in my bones.

Stealing cars and shit,
I can do.

- Breaking into homes...
- This man is 86 years old!

He's frail.

At 2:30 in the morning,
he also figures to be asleep.

You just need to relax, buddy.

Breathe.

One more.

There it is. There it is.

There's the turnoff
to his house.

Kill your lights.

Stop, stop, stop,
stop, stop, stop, stop.

I just have this bad feeling.

Look at me.

Even in failure,
you're about to meet

the greatest American author
that ever lived.

Okay, masks on.

Once we go, we go fast...
Very fast.

Forgive me, Father.

It's been three months
since my last confession.

What are you doing?

I'm confessing my sins

just in case something
happens in there

and we don't get to later.

Would you put
your fucking mask on?

- Can I just say one thing?
- I wish you wouldn't.

Four or so years ago,
the night we met,

the night we somehow didn't get
squished like everybody else

at that job fair,

we looked each other
in the eye and we agreed.

God spared us.

He spared us for a reason,

and I don't think it was
to break into some guy's house

and rob him.

The reason we were
in that job fair to begin with

is, we were godforsaken.

Four years later, we still are.

You want to pray on something?
Pray on this.

God helps those
who help themselves.

Let's move.

There he is.

Mr. Rothstein.

Sorry to disturb you, sir.

Get the fucking light off,
would ya?

What's going on?

Huh?

First, I am a huge fan.

And second, I will kill you
if necessary.

And third, who the fuck are you?

That's not important.

- It's not important?
- You got a name?

Oh, bullshit,
everybody's got a fucking name.

I mean, what'll they put
on your tombstone?

'Cause right now,
all it says is,

"This is the dumbest shit
that ever fucking lived."

Take me to your safe.

Oh, fuck off.

I will... kill you.

This is the moment
where your plan gets fucked.

I suspect it was faulty
from the very beginning,

but I've had a grand life.

I mean, I lectured
at universities,

won a Pulitzer.

I even... Fucked Marilyn Monroe.

How about that?

Now, when's the last time
you and the other little turd

did anything like that?

- Mr. Rothstein...
- Look, I'm not finished.

You know what I don't have?

I don't have a proper ending.

I mean, living in the woods,
languishing in arts.

But being murdered,
now, that's something.

You think I leave my door
unlocked by mistake?

I've been waiting for this
fucking moment my entire life.

Pull it, pussy.

Have a little courage.
That's it!

- You know what?
- I am going to shoot you.

But not to give you
your special,

magical storybook ending.

No, I'm gonna shoot you
for being a total hypocrite.

You fear going out small.

What about what you did
to Jimmy Gold?

For Christ's sake.

He goes into advertising?

Advertising?

House in the suburbs,
wife and two kids.

One of the greatest characters
in American literature,

and you...
you shit all over him.

Well, if you believe that,

then you never understood
a fucking word I wrote.

Pull it.

Pull it, pussy!

Oh, why so afraid?

Huh?

Isn't this your happy ending?

Bullshit.

You are afraid to die,
just like the rest of us.

Only let me tell you,

you've already died small,

hiding out from the world
like a rat in a hole,

and you made Jimmy small.

I found the safe!

Okay, Mr. Rothstein,

you are gonna give us
the combination.

We are gonna leave you alive,

and then you'll be free
to call the police

and say, "I've been robbed."

That'll make you relevant again.

I found the combination
on the wall!

Open it!

Maybe this'll be
your final epitaph:

"Too senile to remember

the combination
to his own safe."

Do me a favor.

Take your mask off, please.

I want to look into the eyes
of the guy who's gonna kill me.

- Jimmy Gold said that...
- in "Street Runner."

Oh, go fuck yourself,
and take Jimmy Gold with ya.

Oh, fuck.

Holy shit! Oh, my fucking God!

These are 50s and $100 bills!

Well, good luck spending them.

- They're all marked, asshole.
- Right.

How would you spend it
if it's all marked?

What is this? Manuscripts?

No, no, those are
just scribblings, man!

They're rantings,
an old man ranting away.

- This is a manuscript.
- I take notes!

- Jimmy Gold.
- Huh?

There's more Jimmy Gold?

Take the money

and get the fuck out of here.

Those things are worthless.

You think they're worthless?

I care to disagree, my friend.

- Oh, really?
- Yeah.

You might as well
try and sell a Hemingway

or a Picasso, for Christ's sake.

There's no money
in that for you.

Is that what you think?

This is millions
and millions of dollars.

Shit!

No.

No, no, no. No!

Oh!

Oh, God.

No, no, no, no! Shit!

God! God!

Oh, fuck.

Oh, Jesus.

Carl?

Fuck.

Fuck! Fuck!

You stupid bastard.

Come here. Come here.

Come here.

Oh, Jesus.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Holy shit.

Okay, okay, okay.

Oh, my fucking God.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

He gave me no choice.

He gave me no choice! Fuck!

Oh, shit!

Oh!

Crowd: Let Lou go! Let Lou go!

Let Lou go!

Detective Hodges, can I get
your reaction to the case?

You may not.

A big day for the woman
who shot Mr. Mercedes.

A big day for the city
of Bridgton

and, I suspect, a big day
for you as well.

- We're up to speed, then.
- Lot of big days.

Crowd: Let Lou go! Let Lou go!

Mr. Hodges, nice to see ya.

How's she doing?

Good days, bad days.

I'm meeting with her
right after.

Gotta warn ya, they may not
let her have other visitors,

which might be for the best.

Well, why not? It's only me.

She's emotionally fragile.

I need her constitution
to be solid going into trial.

You said this would never
get to trial.

- We drew a tough DA.
- What can I say?

I'm still hoping
we'll reach a deal,

but I have to get ready
for trial.

Gotta prepare for the fight.

You don't sound
too upset about it.

We should probably get up there.

Case number 62324,

People of Ohio
vs. Lou Linklatter.

Okay, there'll be
no talking in here.

No talking.

Could you call the office

- and let them know...
- No whispering either.

And if I see a cell phone
come out,

oh, my God.

Okay, I-I have counsels'
pretrial statements.

I have a witness list.

I got the exhibit list.

It's what I-I-I don't have
that worries me.

Where's the meat, people?

You know, any outstanding
motions for the court?

No, Your Honor.

No, Your Honor.

- Amendments to pleadings?
- None from the People of Ohio.

Nor the defendant.

Affirmative defenses?

None, Your Honor.

I'm not satisfied!

I'll see counsel in my chambers.

I'll be right back.

What am I supposed to do?

Come on! Today!

- What the fuck is this?
- I'm sorry?

You seriously think
you're gonna get

a murder one convict?

She's a folk hero,
for God's sake.

She could fucking run
for office.

And maybe get elected.

Doesn't mean she gets
to shoot people in the head.

The facts support murder one,
so that's what I'm charging.

Mm-hmm.

And you? Hmm?

Why not insanity?

My client is not insane,
was not insane.

If anything, she acted out
in a burst of extreme clarity.

So this is how
it's gonna be, huh?

Dump all this shit on me?

Make me the chump
who convicted the hero

or set the killer free, huh?

Heavy is the head that wears
the crown, Your Honor.

Oh, shut the fuck up!

You two...

are messing
with the wrong donkey.

I'll tell you,
better plead this thing out

like God and the good
People of Ohio want you to.

Whoa. Whoa.

You fucks.

Okay.

Okay.

Murder two.

Eight years.

It was an assassination.

I won't go
for murder two either.

Well, what's it gonna take?

- Five years.
- Credit for time served.

Not a chance.

It was premeditated murder.

I'm not satisfied.

Maybe you should
recuse yourself.

- On what grounds?
- On the grounds it seems

you have a giant bug up your ass

and we should safeguard
your intestinal well-being.

Did you just say that to me?

Huh?

Oh, I am not satisfied.

Oh!

Fuck!

Damn it. Okay.

Fuck!

Fuck!

So what are we gonna do
about Big Bernie?

He's not our problem.

The DA, however, is as talented
as she is principled,

and she's obviously not budging.

So... What does all this mean?

It means you're going to trial.

Hang on a second.

She can't go to trial.
She'll get convicted.

Nobody knows
what a jury will do.

Look, if you want
to argue insanity,

I need to enter it now
as an affirmative defense.

- Well, why don't you, then?
- I mean, what else do you got?

Do you mind?

The problem with insanity is,

in victory,
she's institutionalized,

maybe for the rest of her life.

Well, temporary insanity.

There's no such thing.

We'd lose with diminished
capacity, my opinion.

You methodically planned it
and carried it out

with an efficiency
government could only envy.

We can't win if we insult
the jury's intelligence.

The best argument
is that Brady Hartsfield

deserved to be dead.

It's less a legal theory
than a populist appeal.

- Can that work?
- No.

- Potentially, yes.
- Depends on Big Bernie.

If he strongly instructs
the jury to follow the law...

Then I'm fucked.

- But...
- he also sees you as a hero.

He said as much in chambers.

And he hates the DA
more than he hates me.

What about self-defense

or defense of others?

- The victim was unarmed.
- So what?

Brady Hartsfield was still
capable of killing people

while he was in a coma.

It stands to reason

that he'd be able
to keep killing them

while he was in prison as well.

Doesn't stand to reason
with the People of Ohio.

But I like it.

He was inhabiting people,
for fuck's sake.

He was no less of a menace
in prison.

Again, that's a lot
for Ohio folks to bite off.

I need to think about it.

Basically both sides
are playing poker.

The DA is betting that
they won't set her scot-free.

Finkelstein is thinking
they won't send her to prison.

Well, is he right?

He might be.

Or he might just believe
his own bullshit

and think he can win.

DA is even worse...

got a stick up her hole
the size of a cannon barrel.

Okay, that will cost you $10.

For what?

Oh, you know very well.

"Stick" isn't a bad word.

Neither is "hole."

I'm not throwing money
into your "fuck" jar

every time I have an opinion.

No, it's not about opinions.

It's about decency, okay?

This is a reputable place
of business,

and we will not have
our founder waxing on about

sticks the size of cannons
being shoved up a woman's...

Orifice.

Orifice.

$10.

Fuck me up the ass.

And I'm not paying for that.

I got dominion
over my own orifice.

- Jesus balls.
- Thank you.

Just the man I'm looking for.

- Yeah, I missed you too.
- How we doing?

- Good, everything's been...
- Rhetorical.

- Oh.
- Your office.

Before anything else,

we need to discuss
Lou Linklatter.

Why are you coming down hard
on her?

My office does not
have it in for Lou.

We'd sooner throw a parade
than prosecute.

Well, then what the fuck?

Sarah Pace, the ADA,
she's on a bit of a mission.

You can't get her
to soften up, no?

Reduce the charges
to manslaughter.

I'm sorry, but manslaughter
is a mockery.

That was beyond premeditated.
She planned it.

She printed out
a fucking 3-D gun.

This was textbook
malice aforethought.

She did society a fucking favor.

- Bill...
- Not to mention

it was you and me
who wound her up.

We convinced Lou
to meet with Brady,

to give testimony against him...

We did not suggest
that she kill him.

You know where I'm going
with this.

We took a young woman

in a fragile
psychological state,

we put her into a situation,
and then shit happened.

That shit's on us.

Agreed. I'll talk to Sarah.

Thank you.

- Now...
- for the reason that I'm here.

Aye.

You ever heard
of John Rothstein?

Is this a joke?

Who hasn't heard of him,
especially in this town?

Yeah, well, he was murdered
last night.

What?

Yeah, a home invasion
gone to shit,

multiple intruders, we think.

Rothstein even killed
one of them.

He's dead?

- Rothstein?
- Yeah.

They don't come any deader.

Are you... are you okay?

Shit, did you know him
or something?

Was he a friend of yours?

In a way.

I read every word
that man wrote.

Oh, so what is this, like...

like, fan grief?

Bill, are you okay?

No.

I'm sorry.

Anyway, obviously
when this thing breaks,

which will be shortly,
a lot of shit is gonna fly.

And there's gonna be
a lot of pressure

to catch whoever did this.

And given the victim,

I'm expecting some bigfooting
from the FBI.

Some U.S. attorney jack-off
is gonna cherry-pick this case

to make a name for himself,
so it's important

that the local police
make this arrest

and I prosecute so I can make
a name for myself.

And I would be a household name

if I got the chance
to prosecute Brady Hartsfield,

which I didn't
because of your girl Lou.

So this here is my new
career lottery ticket.

All about the justice.

Look, there's gonna be
a lot of gossip

flying above and below
the radar on Rothstein,

given the personality
that he was.

Look, if you hear anything
at the bar, at the church,

at your fucking goat yoga class,

do me a favor: Let me know.

I'll talk to Sarah Pace.

You keep me
in the grapevine loop.

Okay?

Shit, you look like
you're gonna fucking puke.

Holy shit.

- Oh, God.
- Hang on.

All right, hold on, brother.

We're gonna get you some help,
all right?

Don't you die on me.

- Don't you die on me. Come on.
- Ow, ow, ow, ow.

Come on, come on.

Hey, Dad. Where's Mom?

On her way to work.

Why aren't you in school?

We got teacher conference day.

I got to go later, though,
meet with my college adviser.

You doing okay?

Yeah, why wouldn't I be?

Mm.

Do me a favor: Take the dog out.

I don't know if your mother did,

and I don't need him shitting
on the carpet again.

Okay, come on, Boogers.

Why is he doing that?

Well, he's clearly upset.

But why?

Evidently John Rothstein
was his favorite author

on the planet.

He seems to be
taking it personally.

Yeah, well, Irish people
get that way about authors.

It's a thing.

I heard once that Colin Farrell
screams "James Joyce"

when he orgasms.

Holly, that's at least
20 bucks in the jar.

- S-sorry.
- At least.

Boogers!

Here, pup.

Boogers!

Here, buddy. Come on, Boogers.

Boogers!

Come on. Stay.

Boogers, here. Stay.

Sit.

Oh, shit.

Lee?

Lee? Lee?

- It's Michael Lee.
- It's Michael Lee.

Michael Lee?

Michael Lee? Is...

Yes. Yes.

Sorry.

Do you know what happened?

I was hitchhiking.

Last thing I remember
was high beams.

Okay. Oh, no, no. Rest.

Rest, Mr. Lee.

Okay, you have
a few bruised ribs,

a dislocated shoulder,
which we reset.

But no internal bleeding.
Organs are good.

- Okay?
- When can I get out?

- No rush.
- You need to let yourself heal.

Okay?

How did I get here?

Either a Good Samaritan
or a guardian angel.

I imagine it's a combination
of both.

Someone found you on the road
and brought you in.

If they hadn't...

Well... it is sort of like
a death in the family.

He was foundational
for you, Bill.

He was for a lot of people.
That's what made him Rothstein.

I'm thinking you must have
started reading him

when you were a very young man.

- Yeah 15, 16.
- Hmm.

He's kind of the reason
I came to Bridgton

in the first place
all those years ago.

Are you serious?

Yeah.

Kind of wanted to start off
in his America.

You know what I mean? Felt real.

Certainly had no other reason
to come to fucking Ohio.

I met him once, you know.

- Really?
- Yeah.

Just after I became
a police officer.

Disorderly conduct.

He was beyond pissed in a bar,
carrying on...

told me to go fuck myself.

Well,
that sounds like Rothstein.

Yeah, it was an honor.

But I was always sure
I'd meet him again, you know?

Let me show you something.

The day I retired...
he dropped me a note.

John Rothstein
dropped you a note?

I nearly fell off my chair.

"You were a fucking hack."

And you framed it.

Well, he signed it.

It's got to be worth something.

- Probably a lot.
- Yeah, yeah.

But the fact that he
remembered me or whatever...

Jesus Christ, look at that.

No price on that.

Old goat, failing health...

I mean, I figured
he was half gone.

But gone, gone...

It's just like a punch
in the gut.

Back when JFK died,
I cried for days.

Wept.

It wasn't that I cared
for his politics so much.

It was just the poetry
of his soul.

It left a hole in all of us.

Mm.

Rothstein...
there will never be another.

You're not the only one
in mourning.

I want to get the man
who killed him.

Best leave that
to the police, Bill.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Don't be ridiculous.

Oh, my fucking God.

How was school?

It was okay.

Nobody got shot.

That supposed to be a joke?

I didn't mean it as a joke.

People get shot at school now.
It's a thing.

Yeah, well, nobody's
gotten shot at your school.

And let's hope
it stays that way.

Pete, meet spinach.
Spinach, meet Pete.

I would like you to have
some of that tonight, okay?

I'd like for all
my nutritional choices

to pay off.

Jeanie Simmons told me today
that Flager Realty

might be expanding,

opening up a new office.

Maybe they'll be looking
for brokers. Who knows?

Flager isn't gonna hire me.

Why not?

You know houses.
You know the market.

At some point,
you got to do something.

Excuse me?

Wh-what was that?

- Just don't...
- No.

No.

Pete, apparently you have
something to say.

- No, I was...
- No, go ahead.

You got something,

you want to get it off
your chest,

get it off your chest.

I think you feel sorry
for yourself too much.

Look, I know a bad thing
happened to you,

but you always said,

"How a person responds
to adversity,

that's his measure."

Hmm.

And you really understand
adversity, don't you, son?

Hmm?

Let me tell you something
right now, Peter.

You don't have
any comprehension of mine.

I'm sorry.

- I'm sorry.
- It's okay.

What's going on? Where's Lee?

He left.

What do you mean he left?

He just got up and left.

And nobody stopped him?

I don't think anyone noticed.

He was here one minute,
gone the next.

One, two.

One, two.

I don't think it's healthy

to be living so close
to work, ask me.

Well, I didn't ask you,
and I save money on gas.

Plus, statistically,
commuting is less healthy.

So...

We need to open up a new case
for the Rothstein murder.

- Excuse me?
- You heard me.

I need you to open a file.

- Well, who's the client?
- I'm the client.

I was talking to Montez.

We're gonna keep each other
in the loop.

Now, he might be able to slip us

some discretionary funding,

but you could consider this
pro bono.

Okay.

- Morning.
- Hi.

- Hey, you.
- Have you read Jimmy Gold?

Who?

This is why you need to get
your ass back to Harvard.

What separates man from beast
is literature.

Read that, all of it.

Maybe Harvard will give you
credit once you go back.

His sentences are way too long.

What? What'd you say?

- I guess I prefer Hemingway.
- It's concise, you know?

Do you, now?

I don't think so,

'cause that would make you
a dumb shite,

whereas we both know of you
as a highly intelligent shite.

Thanks.

Read all of that.

It could inform
on who killed Rothstein.

What, like Rosebud
in "Citizen Kane"?

People are often killed
by someone they know.

Rothstein's novels
are autobiographical.

He was Jimmy Gold.

Now, maybe it was
a simple robbery.

Maybe it wasn't.

Read every word of that.

You'll be a better man for it.

Perhaps even a better
private detective.

Oh, shit.

No.

No, no, no, no.

What the fuck, man?

15 years?

I don't advise that you take it.

Legally, I'm obligated
to tell you about it.

I didn't ask for the offer.

I did, Lou.

Maybe you should take it.

A trial will be
a slow guilty plea.

They got you dead to rights.

But asking 12 jurors
to condemn the woman

who saved the world
from Mr. Mercedes...

What are you about?

She's the one facing the time,
not you.

You're bringing this to trial
for your own reasons...

Career, ego, whatever the fuck,

but it's wrong, and you know it.

Whatever guilt you feel

for getting her
in this position,

I am doing my job,

which is, take all my years
of experience,

my trials,
my knowledge of law and people

and tell her what I think
she should do.

This isn't personal for me.

You can't win.

- I don't guarantee it, no.
- No.

The DA is good,
she will bring it,

but so will I.

15 years in prison.

I don't see how I survive that.

Again, there is insanity.

I think the DA would agree.

- But...
- Oh.

But I guarantee you
if you plead insanity,

you will never be free.

Never.

That's bullshit.

Once they get you
into the system,

they will bury you there.

The law won't decide it.
The doctors will.

The doctors work for the state,

and the state is just
politicians and bureaucrats

that want to put all this
behind them.

Can you win this?

I think I can.

Then let's go for it.

Lou...

If I go to prison
for what I did to Brady,

then Brady wins.

We go to trial.

Yo!

Can I get out?

Oh, shit.

Son. Can I help you?

You already have, a lot.

Oh, my God.

Ah, it's you.

You're okay.

Yes, I am, thanks to you.

Man, I thought
you might be a goner.

Well, I might have been
if you hadn't come along.

How'd you find me?

Oh, I remembered
the Stan McNair logo,

so I tracked you down.

Here to say thank you.

Well, you are
most certainly welcome,

my good man.

Wow. This makes my day.

I mean, I've rescued a lot
of dishwashers in my time,

but this'll be my first
human rescue to speak of.

Damn, son, you look like
you could use a beer.

- Yeah, I know.
- Come on in.

I'd love one.

I'm surprised to see you
up walking around already.

Well, resilient genes, I guess.

Can I ask, why didn't you
take credit for it?

I mean, a Good Samaritan thing
like that?

You're a hero.

Not my thing.

Might have helped
your marketing, even.

Yeah, well,
publicity ain't something

I'm in the market for much.

Why's that?

Well, let's just say it's hard

eking out a living fixing
refrigerators and so forth.

And sometimes I have
to supplement in ways

that, well, bringing
attention to myself

might not be good.

Yeah, well, I hear that.

We're all eking it out, I guess.

Yeah.

Every night, I, like,
pray, "Dear God",

just let me come across a big
ole pile of money, would ya?"

- You and me both.
- Aw.

Cheers.

- Have a seat.
- Mm.

You ever done that, Stan?

Sorry?

Come across a pile of money?

Well, not yet,

but I haven't met
the girl of my dreams either,

so a lot of boxes unchecked.

Why you looking at me like that?

You know what, Stan?

My truck went off the road
about a half mile from here.

I thought you said
you were walking.

It's still sitting
in the ditch where it ended up.

I had luggage in the truck...

Which isn't there.

Means someone must have
found it.

It was maybe you.

I beg your pardon?

It'd be kind of a coincidence
if somebody else just happened

to come upon it
in the middle of nowhere.

You think I took your luggage?

Well, you're wrong.

I don't know anything about
your luggage nor your truck

or that you even had a truck.

You said you got hit by a car.

It's very valuable luggage,
Stan.

Valuable enough...

That I may have to report
the loss to the police.

Valuable enough that they would
follow up on my suspicions

and investigate you.

You and whatever
supplemental enterprises

you might have going on here.

Are you threatening me?

I think a deal
can be worked out.

You return my valuables,
my merchandise,

and I will give you
a very rich reward,

more money than you're used
to seeing.

Brother, I got no idea
what you're talking about.

And I got no idea
what your tone is about

except it doesn't go well

with, "Thank you
for saving my life."

It would be a mistake
to bullshit me.

I've hurt people
for lying to me.

But... I owe you,

so I'm gonna give you
a mulligan, a do-over.

Let's be honest.

Give me what's mine,
and you will come out richer.

I got nothing
that belongs to you.

What's that supposed to mean?

It means that I don't... Hell.

You're the one that broke
into John Rothstein's house,

ain't you?

He was robbed, 20 miles south.

That's what you're
talking about, aren't you?

What, put your loot
in that truck?

That's kind of a big thing
to accuse somebody of.

I'm gonna need you to leave...
Now.

If it was me...

That would make me a killer...

A dangerous person.

Which means if I were you,

I would return
whatever found merchandise

you may have come across.

Look, if your money got took,

it got took by somebody else.

Final offer.

You keep the cash.
You give me the binders.

I have no idea
what you're referring to.

This is the thanks I get
for saving your life.

You think I'm fucking around?

Fuck.

Oh, shit.

Shit. Shit, shit.

Oh, fuck.