All language subtitles for Murdoch Mysteries (2008) - S03E11 - Hangman (1080p BluRay x265 Langbard)

This is a miserable business.

Believe me, Detective,

the prosecutor's office
takes no pleasure in it,

but Cecil Fox did kill a judge.

A dear colleague.

I meant no disrespect.

Judge Mead was a fine man.

I hope you're not one of those
faint-hearted sorts, Murdoch.

Fox crawled out of hell
to be born.

Mr. Dillard and me
are just shipping him back.

Even so, Detective MacDonald,
bearing witness to execution

is a duty I will never
grow accustomed to.

I'll take good care.

Death will be swift
and without pain.

Thank God I caught this bugger.

Some men just deserve to die.

Those who argue
the ethics of capital punishment

forget that we are delivering

society's unwavering response
to evil.

The Lord's Prayer.

Our Father,
which art in heaven...

Delivery.

Mr. Catchpole.

And this must be
Mr. Cecil Fox.

Yes, ma'am.

Well, help me get him
on the table

so I can dispense
with the formalities.

Ready?

Is there something else,
Mr. Catchpole?

Mr. Pleasant says I'm the best
apprentice he's ever had.

Oh?

Well, good for you.

I'll be the best hangman
that ever was, too.

I don't doubt it.

Well, you'd best be off.

Oh.

Yes, ma'am.

Good to see you, Dr. Ogden.

One more sound and you're dead.

You've had quite a shock, Julia.

Are you sure you're all right?

I'm fine, William.

Sir, this metal tube.

Yes, George, it would appear

that Mr. Fox has given himself
a tracheotomy.

You mean he jammed this thing
into his own throat?

Windpipe, to be precise.

He'd have been able to breath
shallowly

as he hung from the rope.

Hardly noticeable.

But, Doctor,
when a man is hanged,

the neck is snapped
from the spine, is it not?

At the C2 vertebra.

So, how could Fox
have survived that,

even if he did have a trach...

trache...

Yes, George.

Clearly, Mr. Fox's neck
wasn't broken.

I suspect this was no accident.

We'll have to speak
with the hangman.

Theodore Pleasant, yes, sir.

Are you aware that he and
the inspector are old friends?

No, George.

I wasn't aware of that.

Thank you.

Are you being serious, Murdoch?

Theo Pleasant botching a hanging
to let a killer go free?

I would have interviewed him
straightaway,

but given your relationship
with him,

I thought you might
want to accompany me.

You're damn right.

20 years in the job

and he's not mucked up
a single execution.

Murdoch, we have visitors.

Now, listen, Detective
MacDonald's an obvious dunce,

but the Crown Prosecutor's
the top dog.

He could make life difficult
if we bugger this up, right?

Fox drove a blade into the judge

who sentenced him
to hard labor.

He'd happily kill
a few civilians

if it meant his freedom.

We've got all the train
stations, the waterfront,

and the hospitals covered.

Fox won't get far.

All right, then.

For a half-wit like Fox
to survive the hanging,

he must have had help.

I'd be talkin' to that hangman
fellow, no?

Well, yes, Detective MacDonald.

Excellent suggestion.

Detective, you know Fox.

Any idea at all which rock
he's crawled under?

Oh, uh...

Well, there was the hussy.

The prostitute?

I doubt he'd go back to her

after the way she bungled
his alibi on the stand.

She claimed Fox was with her
when Mead was murdered,

but she had her dates and times
all mixed up.

And since Fox defended himself,

he didn't have the brains
to fix that.

Gentlemen, this woman's name?

Myrtle Smith.

Myrtle Smith?

Myrtle Smith?

I didn't do nothin'!

I said I didn't --

Hey, watch the hands there,
Huckleberry,

unless you're gonna pay for it.

Miss Smith, what were you doing
in the trunk?

I was hiding of course.

In case Cecil come back again.

Mr. Fox was here?

How long ago?

A little bit ago.

Come bargin' in
with that hole in his neck.

Scared me half to death.

I says,
"Cecil, why aren't you dead?"

Well, he didn't like that.

Sir, it looks like Fox
was leaking quite a bit.

Tried to clean himself up here.

Miss Smith, did you help
Mr. Fox escape the noose?

Me?

I can work miracles
between the sheets, honey,

but that's asking a bit much.

Did Mr. Fox give any indication
as to where he might be going?

The man's got a bunny's brain.

He's just runnin'.

George, we'll post a constable
outside in case Mr. Fox returns.

Sir.

Thank you, Miss Smith.

Good day.

Theo?

Theo?

Is it raining?

No.
Your front door was open.

Ah.

With you in a minute, Tommy boy.

How about a wee nipper of gin,
huh?

Sure there's ample supply
somewhere.

Mr. Pleasant,
I'm Detective Murdoch.

I'd like you to have a seat,
please.

Mr. Pleasant --

I'll save you the trouble,
Detective.

No, I don't know
what went wrong.

Cecil Fox should be dead.

Vexes me that he's not.

Murdoch, allow me.

You're the expert, Theo.
Speculate.

Well, some men
are just hard to kill.

But even if the man's neck
was the size of a bull's,

I always leave them hanging
10 minutes.

He should have strangled
and suffocated to death.

Except that we think Fox shoved

a metal tube into his gullet
to enable him to breathe.

Yes.
Isn't that interesting?

My gut's in knots for days
before I have to hang them.

But I treat every one
with dignity.

Never a judgment.

Then after, they're just dead.

But me?

Well...

Your friend is obviously
in some turmoil, sir.

Theo was a good pal.
A good family man.

He only took the job
because nobody else would

and it needed doing properly.

A little while back,
something happened.

Pint a day turned into...
Well, you saw for yourself.

His wife had enough.

Left with the daughters,
went back to Halifax.

Sir, I admire your loyalty
to him,

and I sympathize
with his situation, but --

Murdoch, his reputation
is all he's got left.

I just can't see him involved
in Fox's escape.

What about this assistant?
Catchpole.

And that's what happens
if the drop is too long.

The noggin goes a-sailing.

William, if Catchpole
is a suspect,

why are you allowing him
to give this demonstration?

Your medical expertise
could come in handy

if he puts a foot wrong.

All right, but just being here
is draining.

Capital punishment
is the will of the majority.

Surely, William,
you can't support a law

so prone to error.

Oh, I have my qualms, Julia,

but I also have my duty
to the law.

Now, on the other hand,

too short a rope
and the client's neck don't pop.

Then you just sit back and wait.

The more he fights,
the slower he goes,

kicking like mad some of 'em.

Mr. Catchpole, I've perused
Marwood's table of drops.

It's rigorously specific.

Yes, sir.

It lays it all out.

How far the prisoner has to drop

according to his/her weight
and physique

so the neck snaps nice and neat.

Did Mr. Pleasant
use Marwood's calculations?

Everything by the book, sir.

He weighed Fox the day before.

Came in at 190 pounds
on the nose.

Table of drops says 8'2"
for 190 pounds.

But Fox had a strong neck,

so Mr. Pleasant added eight
inches to the drop length.

8'10".

Making it 8'10".

As always,
Mr. Pleasant hung sandbags

the same weight as the prisoner

for 12 hours.

It takes the stretch
out of the rope.

You don't want any recoil.
No, sir.

Causes the client some grief.

Client?

Yes, ma'am.

It shows we respect
the poor buggers.

And lastly,

he marked the 8'10" distance
on the rope with copper wires.

Then, all is ready.

Is this the rope Mr. Pleasant
used to hang Mr. Fox?

Oh, no, sir.

That would be
in execution box A.

But only Mr. Pleasant
has the key.

Execution box A.

Be worth some money now,
I'd say.

Doctor.

The copper wires marking
the drop length

are exactly 8'10".

That's right.

Mr. Pleasant says 8'10" drop,
8'10" it is.

That means the drop length
was correct.

Fox's neck should have snapped.

Look at this, Doctor.

There's a fragment
of copper in the rope.

Where one of the copper wires
was originally set

to mark the length,

meaning the drop
would have been...

...six foot.

No broken neck.

The tracheotomy allows him
to survive the strangulation.

That can't be right.

Only Mr. Pleasant handles
the rope.

So that would mean
Mr. Pleasant...

Let a killer go free.

Why would I destroy
my reputation

on a low-life like Cecil Fox?

I don't know why you did it.
I only know you did.

We found copper wire at
the six-foot mark on the rope.

I'd hoped you'd have let
that pass, Thomas...

...shown me the respect
that our friendship has earned.

Yes, I spared his life.

And for one simple reason.

Cecil Fox
did not kill Judge Mead.

Cecil Fox,
lawfully convicted of murder,

is innocent based on --
on your intuition?

It's more than that.

I could see it when I was
sizing him up for the drop.

It's in the eyes.

You think I did it,
but I didn't.

Have you ever looked
into the eyes of the condemned,

Detective, as I have?

In their final moments?

No, but --

And wish you never do.

I've put 155 men to death.

You think I don't know
what the guilty look like?

And the innocent?

Well, how can you possibly
expect us to believe you --

Because it happened before.

Before?

A few months before.

A young man
named Michael Workentin.

Workentin.

The young man who was hanged
for strangling his girlfriend.

That's the one, yes.

That was the day, Thomas.

That's what I could never tell
the missus.

I didn't kill her.

Please, you've got to
believe me, sir.

I would never.

I believed him,
but I buried it deep.

I'm good at that.

But, Theo,
it was just a feeling.

That's what I put it down to.

Until a month later Freddy
Duckworth was to be hanged.

Duckworth was a foul scrag
to the bone.

He cut an old woman to pieces
in Etobicoke.

How does it feel to hang
an innocent man?

That won't work with me, Freddy.

You're as guilty as Judas.

I don't mean me.

I mean that Workentin boy
you hanged.

It was me
who strangled his girl.

How's that feel, Hangman?

Now, at night,

I see Michael Workentin
standing on the trap,

begging for mercy,

until I'm almost mad
with an unholy fear.

It was the same feeling
with Cecil Fox.

It was the same feeling I had

when I sent
the Workentin lad off.

I swore I would never go through
that again.

So you plotted with Fox.

I showed him how to use the tube
for his breathing.

I took care of the rope.

After that, he was on his own.

I've told you my secret now,
Thomas.

That earns us a drink, no?

No wonder the man's
all cracked up.

He seems to genuinely believe
what he's saying,

but the charges against him
will have to stand

in the absence of evidence
exonerating Fox.

In the absence of evidence.

Sir, you aren't
actually considering...

I can hear Dillard's voice now.

You want to reopen
the Mead case?

Because the sozzled hangman
is a mind reader?

Sir.

And you agree, Murdoch?

I remain open
to the possibility.

Gentlemen,
I prosecuted Cecil Fox.

I had no doubt of his guilt.

The trial judge and jury
had no doubt.

True, but --

Let's start with Fox's alibi,
that he was with Myrtle Smith.

Her testimony was so confused

it sealed Fox's fate
rather than exonerate him.

Motive?

The six years that Fox spent
at hard labor

thanks to Judge Enoch Mead.

Admittedly,
we've got little to --

Opportunity?

Cecil Fox was seen
at the courthouse

on the day Judge Mead
was killed.

And several people heard
a loud argument.

Between Fox and the judge?

The jury didn't need much help

to draw their own conclusions
there.

Conclusions you made for them.

That's my job.

Inspector Brackenreid,

I suggest you put

your friendship
with the hangman aside

and start behaving
professionally.

Enoch Mead was murdered
by Cecil Fox.

I vowed to put my friend's
killer to the noose,

and that's what I did.

The case is closed.

Of course.

You're right.

Good.

Well, I'll begin preparing the
charges against Mr. Pleasant.

And please find Cecil Fox.

Gentlemen.

Still want me
to reopen the Mead case?

What do you think?

Higgins, are you in there?

Come on in, George.

Hot tea and doughnuts.

Bless you, my good man.

Any sign of Fox?

Long and boring watch,
I'm afraid.

Got me thinking about
being executed, actually.

Oh, you must be bored.

No, I mean,
what would it be like

to know that your life
is going to end

at a certain point, you know?

I should think I'd like to go
suddenly, without knowing.

Like my Aunt Begonia.
She died laughing.

Quite literally.

My Uncle Calvert fell
off a milking stool,

and she died laughing.

I guess she went happy, then.

I suppose so.

I think I'd go happy

if I died choking
on one of these doughnuts.

They're some good.

Did you know a cow
invented the doughnut?

Go on.

Some old Bessie knocked over
a vat of boiling oil,

there was
a glob of pastry there,

and the doughnut was born.

Really?

Yes, Higgins, really.

And where did you hear this?

Oh, Higgins,
you are such a skeptic.

It is almost common knowledge

that a cow
invented the doughnut.

I'll see you later.

Actually,
it may have been a goat.

I'm quite sure it was a goat.

Mead took his usual route home
from the courthouse that night.

Cut through a laneway
off King Street,

and that's where Fox caught up
and did him in.

You found no witnesses?

You can't find witnesses
if there aren't any witnesses.

I'll make a note of that.

Are you trying to get me going,
Murdoch?

I'm doing my best to cooperate
here.

I brought you my files,
didn't I?

And I appreciate it.

Well, I don't.

Feels like people
are doubting my work.

I don't care for that.

It says here that Fox claims
Judge Mead sent him a note

to meet him the day
that Judge Mead died.

The famous note, yeah.

Fox tried to say
Mead asked him down there,

but the note didn't say why.

Fox didn't go down there
to threaten Mead

for six years hard labor.
Oh, no.

And where is this note?

There is no note.

Look, Fox went down
to the courthouse on his own

because he had a bee
in his bonnet about Mead.

Can't you see that?

So Fox admitted to meeting
with the judge

the day the judge was murdered?

No!

He said when he got there,
the judge had left.

Wouldn't ya know?

And the postmortem?

Single stab wound to the heart.

Old Doc Philpott did the exam.

Francis Philpott?

Isn't he retired?

Oh, he still likes to dabble
in it.

Must be nice
to be able to dabble.

Indeed.

Perhaps we should have
the judge's body exhumed

and re-examined by Dr. Ogden.

Suit yourself, Murdoch.

Fox was your only suspect?

The only one that mattered
since we knew we had our man.

Yes, but --

There was another fellow,

who wrote the judge
some mouthy letters

after his son was hanged.

This other fellow,
what was his name?

Oh, uh, Workentin.

Joe Workentin.

Mr. Workentin,

is it true you sent Judge Mead
threatening letters

after your son was executed?

Yep.

Is it because Judge Mead
sentenced your son to hang?

No.

Because Mead seemed bound
and determined to do it,

evidence be damned.

What do you mean?

Michael was never anywhere near
his girl's house that night.

But then,
the last day of the trial,

all of a sudden, there's
this new witness out of nowhere.

She says she saw Michael fight
with his girl

and put his hands
around her throat.

I see.

A last-minute eyewitness with
damning evidence is suspicious.

Yeah, well, that's what
Michael's lawyer argued,

but Judge Mead let
her testimony stand.

And that lady was lying
through her teeth.

Do you recall her name?

Yeah.

Agatha Meldrum.

And, Mr. Workentin,
where were you

the night Judge Mead
was murdered?

Me?

I was on duty
at Firehall Number 3.

Ugh! Higgins!

Oh, for the love of God!
You scared me half to death.

Well, Judge Mead,
a month in the ground

hasn't done your health
a whit of good, has it?

Now, you're not going to jump up
and grab me, are you?

Aw, bloody hell.

Murdoch!

I got a call
from Detective MacDonald.

Apparently, you're looking into
another one of my cases?

Sir?

The Workentin case.

Oh, actually, we were simply
confirming Joe Workentin's alibi

in Judge Mead's murder.

Now that you mention that case,
Mr. Dillard,

we had a chat with Joe Workentin

and he insists
that his son was railroaded.

Rubbish.

Your case
against Michael Workentin

was going badly

until, in the eleventh hour,

you found an eyewitness

who swore she saw
Michael kill his girlfriend.

Lucky break.

Due diligence.

Agatha Meldrum
was a reluctant witness.

It took some persuasion to get
her to come forward at all.

What are you playing at?

Grounds for appeal
in the Fox verdict?

We're just being thorough.

By suggesting that I sent
not one but two innocent men

to the gallows?

My God.

I stand by my record, gentlemen.

And I'm prepared to defend
my reputation,

even at the expense of yours.

That was interesting.

Indeed.

What in the world?

Crabtree,
where's your bloody trousers?

Cecil Fox stole my uniform, sir.

I'm afraid
he caught me off guard.

Higgins found me unconscious.

Did he speak to you?

Give you any indication as to
where he might be headed?

No, sir.

Well, Inspector, do you
still think Fox is innocent?

Higgins, put the word out
to the other station houses.

Sir.

And, you lot, stop
gauping and move your asses.

George, are you all right?

No, sir.

When he took my trousers,
he took my dignity.

And my knees have taken a chill,
sir.

George.

Please go and fetch
another uniform.

Fox may still be
in the vicinity.

Sir.

Sir, why would Fox need
a police uniform?

Sir?

Dillard was right, Murdoch.

Fox is as guilty as hell.

And Theo's just pathetic.

Mr. Fox.

You have to fix this.

Is that the last of the doors?

Yes.

You try to scream,
and I'll kill you.

You're choking me.

Don't talk to me about choking.

I won't try to escape.

You need my help.

I can't help you
if you don't let me go.

You think I believe
a word you say?

Is that who I think it is?

Judge Mead, yes.
I believe you've met.

I didn't kill him.

I just meant when he sentenced
you to hard labor.

The rat bastard.

Why's he here?

Apparently, the police have
doubts concerning your guilt.

Don't try to trick me, Doc.

Just fix me up.

George.

Sir.

Where did you get your uniform?

Uh, I borrowed it
from Tiny Malone. Why?

If Fox is simply running,
as Myrtle Smith said,

then why is he still in Toronto?

Well, sir, I was thinking

perhaps he needed to have
that wound tended to,

but then we're covering
all the hospitals.

I also wondered if, in order to
fund his escape from the city,

Cecil Fox stole my uniform
as a disguise

in order to launch a series of
daring daylight bank robberies.

That's an interesting notion,
George,

but wouldn't a police uniform
attract more attention?

Well, maybe he just wants to
stroll on in here

and have lunch with the boys.

You could be right, George.

In that uniform, Cecil Fox could
blend in near a police station.

This station happens to be
across the street

from a certain doctor Fox knows.

This thing hurts
something awful.

There's a serious infection.

You need --

Don't answer it.

But --

All right.

You need to get to the hospital.

Coppers are watching
the hospitals.

Well, as you wish.
Remove your jacket and shirt.

Are you all right?

Tore up my right shoulder
doing hard labor.

Been like this for a long time.

Really?

Relax.

What the hell?

- You do that again and I'll --
- Kill me. Yes, I know.

Julia!
Are you all right?

Open the door.

Come any closer
and I'll stick her.

Mr. Fox, let her go.

- We mean you no harm.
- Right.

You'll just bring me
back to the gallows.

No harm there.

Mr. Fox, I must insist --

Everyone be quiet.

I've examined
the judge's knife wound.

The angle of entry
conclusively indicates

that he was stabbed

with an over-the-shoulder,
descending motion

and that the killer
was right-handed.

But I'm right-handed.

Oh, for goodness sake,
whose side are you on?

Raise your right arm.

I can't.

Well, that's the point!

His right shoulder
is quite immobile

and, judging by my examination,
has been for months.

Meaning that Mr. Fox
was sentenced to death

and hanged for a crime
he could not have committed.

Well, obviously,
a grave miscarriage of justice

has been averted,

thanks to you both.

Had I had the benefit
of Dr. Ogden's expertise...

The blame rests with Doc
Philpott's shoddy postmortem,

does it?

And with Myrtle Smith's
misguided attempts

to provide Fox with an alibi.

They seemed a certain lie.

Throw in Fox's history
of violent crime,

and what was I to think?

So what of Theodore Pleasant?

I regret that he'll be relieved
of his duties

for obvious reasons,

but release him.

I'll drop the charges.

The obvious question now
is "Who did kill Judge Mead?"

Yes.

That's your priority.

I'm afraid this case was bungled
from the beginning.

We were so sure about Fox.

Perhaps if we'd taken more time,
properly collected evidence.

I trust you'll revisit all that,
Detective.

Why, yes, of course.

Well, good.

Fox is being treated
at St. Mike's, is he not?

Yes, sir.

I owe him an apology.

And tell Mr. Pleasant
I'll pay him a visit

when he gets home.

Gentlemen.

I'll have the men do
a thorough evidence sweep

of the judge's office.

What the hell is that, Murdoch?

Sir, are you familiar with
"Symbolic Logic" by John Venn?

What do you think?

Right.

The idea is that connections

between two or more
groups of things

can be represented

by the overlapping portion
of the diagram in the center.

Never mind all this symbollocks
logic, what are you doing?

I'm looking for a connection

between the Workentin
and Fox cases.

If there is another suspect
in Judge Mead's murder,

perhaps he or she
is hiding in that area.

Right.

Well, here's the evidence
that Detective MacDonald

originally collected
from Judge Mead's office.

Perhaps that will help.

Hmm.
No notation of fingermarks.

No hair or fiber samples,
no notes.

Single malt Craigleith.
Pricey.

The judge's appointment book.

What?

His last days.

The judge had an appointment
at 8:00 a.m. at The Lion

two days before he died.

The Lion's a bucket of blood
on Church Street.

What would a judge
be doing there?

Detective, we went through
Judge Mead's office again

as per your request.

In case MacDonald
missed anything.

Which it seems he had done.

We found hair and fiber samples,

fingermarks
on the judge's guest chair.

Various detritus.

But most peculiar, sir,
we found this piece of glass.

We found it wedged in the wall
by the bookshelf.

The lettering's familiar.

George, I need you to get
to Mr. Pleasant's home

before he does.

Sir, we may have a problem.

This is the shard of glass

recovered from Judge Mead's
chambers.

This is a bottle of Blue Cat gin

George retrieved
from Mr. Pleasant's home.

Where are you going with this,
Murdoch?

Sir, you saw yourself.

Judge Mead preferred
fine single-malt whiskey,

not cheap gin.

This is a fingermark recovered
from that shard of glass

from Judge Mead's chambers.

This second fingermark
was retrieved

from the Blue Cat gin bottle
from Mr. Pleasant's home.

It belongs to Theodore Pleasant.

Bloody hell.

It was Theo that was in chambers

arguing with Mead
the day he died.

A fact Mr. Pleasant
chose not to divulge.

He said that he looked
into Fox's eyes,

and that's how he knew
that Fox was innocent.

Something I never
fully accepted, sir.

I believe
that Mr. Pleasant did know

that Mr. Fox was innocent,

but because Mr. Pleasant
murdered Judge Mead.

Mr. Pleasant!

Come on in.

You're just in time.

Put it down, Theo.
We have some questions.

Questions?

Yes.

Why did you not let on you had
an argument with Judge Mead?

If I'd said I went down there
in a drunken rage,

what would you have thought,
Thomas?

The same thing
you're thinking now.

Mr. Pleasant,
did you kill Judge Mead?

- I did not.
- I believe you did.

You went down there,
confronted him --

To tell him

that Freddy Duckworth
confessed to the murder

that the Workentin lad
had hanged for!

That he'd sentenced
an innocent man to die

and obliged me to kill him.

I needed him to hear that.

But he didn't seem to care.

We got into it.

I suppose I threw my bottle
at him.

Bloody hell, Theo.

Don't shrug it off.

You had a violent row
with the man the day he died.

The day?

No, it was a week before,
not the day.

I didn't kill him, Thomas.

Murdoch.

If he had it out with Mead
a week before the murder,

then something's not right.

He has lied to us before.

I'm just saying, think, Murdoch.

If that wasn't Theo in Mead's
office the day of the murder,

then who could it have been?

Who's left?

Perhaps whomever the judge
met with at The Lion

two days prior to his death.

That has to be it.

I'm telling you, Theodore
Pleasant is no murderer.

Well?

It would seem The Lion
isn't open until noon.

But the innkeeper does recall
the judge being there at night

around 8:00 p.m.
and with a woman.

- The judge's tart perhaps?
- Apparently not.

The innkeeper seemed to think

that they didn't know
each other,

but that they had strong words
before she left.

Who was she?

He didn't know.

So, why would Judge Mead
write 8:00 a.m.

if The Lion wasn't open
at that time?

Oh, I should have seen this.

Sir, the comma after the hour.

A.M. isn't a reference
to the time.

- It's someone's...
- Initials.

Agatha Meldrum.

The last-minute eyewitness
in the Workentin case.

Judge Mead met
with Agatha Meldrum

a few days
after Pleasant confronted him.

Perhaps he believed
the Workentin boy was innocent.

So he questioned her
about her testimony

that she saw Michael Workentin
strangle his girlfriend.

Yes.

The judge must not have liked
what he heard,

otherwise,
they wouldn't have fought.

Perhaps the judge
had second thoughts

about Agatha Meldrum's
testimony.

The transcripts
would be illuminating.

Bollocks to that.

We're bringing in Miss Meldrum
for a little chat.

Detective, Agatha Meldrum
moved out of her flat

the day after she met
with Judge Mead.

She's left
no forwarding address.

Mm.

What's that, sir?

A transcript
of Agatha Meldrum's testimony

in the Workentin trial.

George, what did Myrtle Smith
call you?

Oh, yes, most unique it was.

Quite a low term.

Slang for, you know, somebody
of little consequence.

Demeaning, really.

It was "Huckleberry."

Have a look.

Hey, watch the hands there,
Huckleberry.

Well, come on, now, Huckleberry.

That's the Huckleberry I saw
strangling that poor girl.

Michael Workentin.

Unless Agatha and Myrtle
are the same person.

As I understand it,
Agatha Meldrum has left town.

And Myrtle Smith is not Agatha.

Now, I have appointments.

Myrtle Smith is a woman of
dubious character to be sure.

The last nine times she was
arrested for various crimes,

your office dropped all charges.

For lack of evidence.

Nine times?

She's beholden to you,
isn't she?

To do your bidding.

One time she's Myrtle Smith,
the next she's Agatha Meldrum,

or whoever you need her to be
in court.

A star witness in your employ.

Whatever gets the conviction,
eh, Dillard?

You son of a bitch.

You knowingly sent two innocent
men to die on the gallows.

I did no such thing.

Your case against Michael
Workentin was falling apart.

So you brought in Myrtle Smith

who claimed to be
eyewitness Agatha Meldrum.

Her testimony doomed
Michael Workentin to hang

for a murder he did not commit.

So far, so good,

until another condemned man,
Freddy Duckworth,

confessed to the murder that
Michael Workentin hanged for.

Pleasant tells Mead.
Mead confronts Agatha Meldrum.

And then she tells you
the judge is onto your scheme.

Not so.

So now there's only one option.

Judge Mead has to die
before he exposes you.

And now you're accusing me
of murder as well?

That's delusional.

Sit down!

Your first step
was to frame Cecil Fox.

So you had Myrtle Smith
meet him, seduce him,

and provide him with
an unreliable alibi to sink him.

But you also needed Fox
to be seen at the courthouse

on the same day
that you planned to kill Mead.

So you forged a note
from Judge Mead

to lure Fox
down to the courthouse

to be seen by witnesses.

And you were sure to have a row
with the judge

so a loud argument
was overheard.

You tell Myrtle Smith
to destroy the note

so that Fox sounds crazy
at trial.

And that
was supposed to be that.

Until Dr. Ogden's findings
confirmed Fox was innocent.

You panicked.

So you planted evidence
against Pleasant

in Judge Mead's chambers.

You were going to let Pleasant
hang for your crime.

Are you done with this fantasy?

And do you realize
how thoroughly

I'm going to ruin you both
for this?

What's this?

My men found it in your garbage.

It has your fingermarks on it.

So we glued it back together.

It's all there,
except for one piece,

that also bears your fingermark.

The piece you planted
in Judge Mead's chambers.

The justice system
must protect society.

But time and again it fails
to keep dangerous criminals

off the street.

I'd had enough.

This nonsense was going to stop
with the Workentin boy.

But Judge Mead was weak.

I did what I did

in sacrifice
for the greater good.

You see that, don't you?

I'll take good care.

I promise that death will be
swift and without pain.

The Lord's Prayer.

Our Father, which art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name.

God will forgive me.

Give us this day
our daily bread.

And forgive us our trespasses,

as we forgive those
that trespass against us.

Lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.

For thine is the kingdom,
the power, and the glory,

forever and ever.
Amen.

Come on in!

Theo.

What's become of you?
A new leaf?

Oh, hello, Thomas.

Well, what do you think?

And me three weeks, not a drop.

Really?

And you're feeling better?

No.
Much worse, actually.

But it's a start.

Dillard was hanged today.

How'd Catchpole do?

His head popped off.

Ohh.

Hanging is a miserable business,
Thomas.

The condemned die only once.

The executioner dies every time.

Poor Catchpole.

Well, you don't have to worry
about that anymore.

Well, it never leaves you.

But I did the job, didn't I?

Not one of them suffered.

You can be proud of that.

Well...

Julia?

I just performed the postmortem
on Crown Prosecutor Dillard.

All is well?

No, William.

Gideon Catchpole botched
the hanging.

The drop was too long.

Oh.

Do you ever question
your calling, William?

What we have to do every day?

I'll admit, sometimes there is
a price to be paid.

But we must accept it.

Really?

Must we?