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1 But, Dean, a blood cult?

I know. But I'm telling you, I was there.

This guy just kept going on and on... He was crying.

Look, Andrew Pierce lives with his son in Camden, New Jersey.

The police chief there said he knew all about him, yesterday.

Said he's a fabulist. Pathological liar.

Two years ago, he accused the principal of his son's school

of being a pedophile.

Said she molested his son on a school field trip.

Police look into it.

The kid didn't even go on the field trip.

I'm sorry. I should have vetted him before making the introduction.

You know, it's... That could all be true, but he did get the letters.

And he is convinced that Mitch and Mo wrote them.

He was also convinced that William Morris was a mafia front.

He tipped off the FBI

saying that the agency was controlled by the Five Families.

That's why he got fired.

All right. How about this Mitch and Mo just showing up at his basement.

I mean, how?

Look, if Mitch and Mo did write those letters,

then problem solved, right? Cause they're dead.

I just don't feel that they have anything to do with this.

What, why? What makes you say that?

Take it from me, when you're dealing with cancer...

...the last thing on your mind is

some weird vendetta or ways to wreak havoc.

Instead, you want to make peace with the world.

Start tying up loose ends,

taking care of the people you're about to leave behind.

That's what my gut tells me. Um...

I just think, with these two,

you're barking up the wrong tree.

The same words that Detective Chamberland used.

It's a tragedy what happened to those two, okay?

Don't make this about you.

And as far as Andrew Pierce goes, that's all fucking bullshit.

If he got letters, he never told the FBI. He sure as hell never told us.

In the meantime, two very nice elderly people,

pillars of this community, are dead.

Doesn't have anything to do with you.

You're barking up the wrong tree.

I basically wasted my time here. Thanks.

- So, how's the construction going? - What?

You almost finished?

No, I...

The kitchen's almost done. I still have to do the basement. Why?

What will you do in that basement? You gotta make it a man cave.

Pool table, wet bar, big-screen TV.

That's what buyers want these days.

I'm telling you.

What's the story with that guy? Is he on the up-and-up?

- Chamberland? - Yeah.

Yeah. Known him for years.

He's not the hardest worker, right?

A little bit lazy. But that's why you got me.

What?

I...

It's this murder-suicide. I mean why...

Why not just overdose on pills

or close the garage door, sit in your Lexus, and turn the engine on?

But this... This husband who loved his wife so much,

he shoots her in the face?

And then shoots himself in the face with a shotgun?

Maybe it's that a gun gets the job done. Pills don't always work.

Maybe he didn't want one of them dying,

the other one surviving and having to live with the guilt.

Or maybe she pulled the trigger.

She was the one with the cancer.

Maybe she doesn't want him to remarry.

Maybe she knows he can't live without her, so she surprises him.

He's sitting in his easy chair, watching reruns of Matlock.

She taps him on the shoulder...

Bang! Turns the gun on herself. Bang!

I don't know. The whole thing is weird.

Well, the investigation is ongoing and I'm following up every day.

What about the son? What do we know about him?

Christopher. Bit of a fuckup, but nothing violent that I can find.

Did a year of probation for passing a bad check.

Look, here's how I see it.

Whoever's writing those letters has a direct line of sight to your house.

So Mitch and Mo, now deceased...

Occam's razor, the simplest explanation usually being the most likely.

It says we can forget about them.

Then there's Jasper Winslow.

Now, I did a little digging, not exactly legal.

Jasper Winslow has lived his whole life next door, with mom, dad and sis.

Finishes high school,

gets a job bagging groceries at a supermarket in downtown Westfield.

He works there six days a week for the next 23 years.

Then all of a sudden, this is in November of 1995,

he stops coming into work.

In fact, he never goes back to bagging groceries again.

That's the month that his family starts making payments

to the Avalon Behavioral Health Center,

and they keep making payments every month for the next ten years.

So what did they diagnose him with?

"Schizoid disorder with elective mutism."

He stopped talking?

I guess so.

And then, in 2001, the diagnosis changes again.

Plain old post-traumatic stress disorder.

In November of 1995, something happened to Jasper Winslow

that he spent years trying not to talk about.

What happened to you?

That's game.

I didn't get the memo that we're doing cardio today.

I haven't played since Carter was born,

and now, suddenly my game's back.

You know, Nora, uh...

It's kind of an unwritten rule here that, you know, you just, uh...

You're not, you know...

You're not supposed to just, like, demolish your tennis partner.

I mean, it's okay that you win once in a while.

That's nice. But, you know, you got to let other people win, too.

Like me.

Oh, God, I'm sorry. Yeah, I do.

It's okay, and you look so tense.

- What? - You really do. I think I know why.

I think you're not getting laid.

And the reason why I know that

is because everything that happened with me and Rick.

I mean, at the end he was just like...

I mean, he was, like, too afraid to fuck me, you know,

but that's okay.

'Cause look at me now. I'm getting the best dick ever.

And it's consistent dick.

So it's, like, a double whammy. It's good.

Okay, so, who from?

I can't say, I'm really sorry.

Well, I just don't want to jinx it. You know, I...

I want to give you some advice, though.

You and your husband need to be fucking every day, right?

And if you're not, there is no hope for you guys.

I think it's me.

Yeah, we haven't really done it since we moved into the house, you know,

with everything going on...

The letters, that ferret, the break-ins.

And then, last night at the motel,

he hopped on the bed, it was after he tucked the kids in,

and he snuggled up right next to me and I could tell he wanted it,

but I just... I...

I couldn't.

So I pretended to be asleep.

Wow.

It's...

It's Ellie. Yeah.

It's the way he talks to her.

Not all the time, but just...

Well, she's a teenager now, and he just rides her.

You know, if her shirt falls off her shoulder...

It's ridiculous. It's weird.

And then he gets all defensive, saying things like

"I don't want my daughter to be sexualized."

And I'm like, "You're the one who's sexualizing her."

"She's just being a kid."

I think he's having an affair. An affair with a young girl.

Like, I don't know, maybe the intern in his office or something.

You know, like, those little girls, and they got little pigtails and stuff.

Yeah.

Could I get a glass of that too when you have a chance?

- Of course. - Thanks.

Hey, Chrissy. Do you think I could get, like...

I've always asked for a holiday pour, and I'm just a little short today.

Thank you.

So, you know what I want to know.

I want to know what's going on with all those creepy letters.

Have you gotten any more?

Nope.

Security cameras will be installed by the time the construction's finished,

and then I guess we'll move back in, but I don't know.

They stopped coming.

Honestly, I think it's just some stupid prank.

What are you talking about?

Are you insane?

That's not a prank.

You're living a fucking nightmare in there.

You need to do some minor construction and get the fuck out.

Thanks.

That's low, too.

I mean, I don't want to scare the shit out of you,

but you don't have any time on your hands.

You really don't.

What happens when everyone finds out about these letters?

You won't be able to sell that house for a dollar.

Anyway, I didn't even tell you this. I have another house.

Beautiful hardwood floors.

I mean, completely unscathed. And it even smells good.

And I am all about smell, aren't you?

Yeah, it's... It's nice.

It's just nowhere near as nice as ours.

Hmm. Well...

I don't know. I would think that, like...

not being terrorized by an axe murderer...

I think that's pretty nice.

And it's a million dollars less than what you could get for your house.

I mean, just think about it.

Nora, you wouldn't have to worry about money anymore.

Dean can still keep his head up his ass and do whatever the fuck he wants to do.

But you... You get to check out.

You know, like, play tennis during the day

and, you know, use your little kiln and cook some pots.

And, I don't know, have a croquet friend.

Yeah, I don't think so.

Nora, I'm offering you a way out of this

and you should take it.

Let me list your house.

Okay. Yeah, let me talk to Dean.

Hey, guys. I'm home.

All right. Looking good.

Yep. Final coat.

Ellie, you in there?

Just a second...

Yeah, it's fine. Where's Mom?

Ellie? What are you doing in there?

Why is the door locked?

Because there's construction workers everywhere

and a wack job who wants to kill us?

All right.

I wasn't doing anything. I'm reading.

Okay. Well, it's fine. Where's Mom?

She texted. She'll be late coming back from tennis.

I took the bus here. I thought we were eating together.

We are. Just cool it, okay?

You cool it. You always think I'm doing something, and I'm not.

- You can go out the window. - I'm not going through the window.

Can I help you?

Oh, sorry.

Uh, your wife said I could help myself to whatever's in the fridge.

Well, my wife's not here.

Before. I stopped by earlier.

John. I'm the building inspector.

Oh. Oh!

Yeah. No problem. Sorry about that. You make yourself at home.

Your wife seems like a good woman.

You have a son and a daughter. Yes?

Yeah, that's right.

Me too. Son and a daughter.

Can I ask you, are you a, uh...

Are you a Christian family?

- Oh, um... Yeah, I'd say so. - Hmm.

- We... We don't go to church. So... - Ah! Hmm.

Everything looking okay to you?

With the site or whatever?

We still have the basement to do, uh, but the kitchen's pretty much done.

You know, we swapped out marble for the butcher's block here.

It's so funny. Everyone puts in an island now.

We're drowning in islands.

I'll come back in a few days when, uh, it's all finished, but...

Yeah, everything's looking fine.

Oh, good.

You were lucky, you know, to find a contractor.

Oh, yeah? Why is that?

Construction is booming everywhere.

The industry can't keep up with the demands.

The way the world is now,

all of civilization is just burning down, people don't want to go outside.

They want to fix up their homes. They want to turn them into fortresses.

Yeah, people are moving out of the city.

I guess.

Funny how that's happening.

It's the Fourth Turning.

Beg pardon?

Historical events.

They don't just happen.

They are set into motion by great men, generational personae.

And each one of these unleashes a turning that lasts about

20 years, more or less.

And every four turnings is a saeculum,

just about the length of a human life.

And at the end of each, there's a crisis.

In this country, the crisis is always war.

The Revolution,

80 years later, the Civil War.

Eighty years later, World War II.

And that's coming up on 80 years now, so...

Something is about to happen.

You know, I'm actually not hungry.

When will you be finished with this inspection?

Your daughter, she's... 18?

No, she's 16. What does that have to...

Well...

I don't know if I should be telling you this,

and please, just forgive me if I'm overstepping a boundary,

but if I were her father, I would want to know.

Know what?

I saw your daughter

talking to that young African American man,

the one putting in the cameras.

And the way that they were talking, touching one another,

it's... it's clear that they're in an intimate relationship.

I'm sorry, what?

I thought you should know.

I believe a father should know something like that.

I've offended you. I'm sorry.

It's just that she reminds me a lot of my daughter when she was that age.

She was sexually active...

...very young.

She was the school whore.

We fixed the problem, but it was traumatic for the whole family.

I'm sorry, John is it?

I got to tell you,

I'm not comfortable having this conversation with you.

You won't see me again.

I thought you said you'd be back in a few days.

Yes.

Hey, what did you...

How did you settle the problem with your daughter?

Suffice it to say she never wore another low-cut shirt again.

Huh.

It's a beautiful home.

When I was a kid, we never locked our doors.

Nobody did.

Everybody went to church.

Now, nobody goes to church, and everybody locks their doors.

I don't think that's a coincidence.

Listen...

Good talking.

There's a nice Lutheran Church down the street.

You might consider going with your family.

It'll help.

Thank you for the sandwich.

Hey, that inspector...

He's a nutcase and I don't want him back here.

What are you talking about?

The building inspector. John? You know, religious guy.

He was making a sandwich in my kitchen.

I had to put up with some lecture while he was poking around.

There's no inspector named John.

Not in Westfield.

City inspectors are either Gary and Alan and they don't come till we're finished.

What? Who was I just talking to?

No idea, but he wasn't one of my guys.

And he wasn't the inspector.

Hey.

Hey. Where you been? I've been looking for you all day.

Just at the club with Karen.

You okay?

Yeah, I guess. I'm just looking up some other security firms.

Uh-huh.

Well... don't let me disturb you.

What?

Oh... Okay.

- Oh, baby. Oh, I wanted this. - Yeah?

- Fuck, baby. - Okay...

- Wait. Let me turn on the alarm. - What?

- What? Now? - Everybody's in the house.

Gotta get used to putting the alarm on when we're in the house.

Wait, just...

- I'll check it real quick. Be right back. - Honey!

I'll turn it on and be back. Wait right there.

- Never mind. - I'm running downstairs.

- I'm coming back. - It's okay.

- Where are you going? - You want to know something?

We haven't had sex in weeks.

Come on, I'm just distracted, okay? You're at the motel.

It's okay. It's fine.

Babe...

Come down and say bye to the kids.

Get a good night's sleep, okay? See you tomorrow.

Bye, Dad! See you tomorrow!

Love you.

Hey. We good?

Wait, Ellie.

Is something going on between you and that kid Dakota?

What? No!

Ellie, are you lying to me?

Because somebody saw you two together.

Oh, my God, Dad...

And I don't appreciate strangers telling me about my daughter.

So are you having me watched now?

No, Ellie. Dakota's 19 years old, okay?

If something is happening, I need to know that.

Nothing's going on, Dad, okay? So there.

What? Ellie. Ellie!

Dean.

It's fine. Go. Okay. See you tomorrow.

Bye.

- Dean? - Just...

Hello.

So I got something you are never going to believe.

What is it?

I'm down the street. Can you meet me?

Now, what I'm about to tell you comes with a lot of caveats, okay?

I found something.

But we've got to be careful what we do with it

because we could be running afoul of the Westfield Police Department

or the whole town of Westfield itself.

But I work for you.

I don't understand what you're talking about.

I was thinking about Jasper Winslow. Because something happened to him, right?

Detective, I have a question.

I wonder if there's a history to that house.

Like any old records you had on file

that maybe I could take a look at.

Anything that might pertain to any previous owners of the house.

He had the strangest look on his face.

I didn't know what to make of it.

But then he sat up, looked me right in the eye and he said...

You know, I was waiting for you to ask me that.

Oh.

I have no idea what you'll find here, but... have at it.

Thank you.

I noticed that the box had been handled.

The seal was broken. Impossible to tell when.

Dean.

There was a family that bought the house at 657 Boulevard

and lived there until 1995.

The Graff family.

Now, before I tell you all this, um...

I need you to understand.

There is no public record of any of this actually happening, okay?

This story is not in any newspaper article, not on any website.

Okay. Uh, so...

what's the story?

Okay.

The father, John Graff,

was about as normal a guy as you could find.

He loved two things, his family and his church.

Army vet, became an accountant, modest apartment on the Upper East Side.

Church every Sunday.

One night he's working late,

can't get a cab, decides to take the subway.

But, luckily, his mother, she had just inherited some money.

Says to him, "You're getting out of the city."

"This is no place to raise a family."

"I'm going to help you buy a house in the suburbs."

He had a son, Dale.

Apple of his eye, athlete, straight A student...

Pat!

I gotta go, babe.

His older daughter was 17, but 17 going on 30, right?

He was worried about her. Spoke to his pastor about it,

about how he thought she was a little boy-crazy.

Who's going to say grace?

Let me.

Oh, dear Jesus,

I would like to thank you for making dinner and, oh...

Wait. I'm the one who made fucking dinner.

Language. Take that back!

And his wife, Helen, liked to humiliate him in public.

She drank. Everyone thought she was a little crazy.

Kids, do the fucking dishes.

Now, since his mother had helped him with a house,

that meant that she had to live there too.

It's an embarrassment, John. It's an insult to this family.

I can't just go in and ask for a promotion, Mother.

You've worked there for 12 years. You should be running that department.

Yes, I know, Mother.

One day, he goes into work. Boss tells him he's fired.

Boss says he broke down in tears.

Never seen a man cry like that.

But, now, he's an accountant, right?

So he runs the family's finances and his mother's finances.

But he doesn't tell his family.

He just pretends to go to work every morning.

And then he heads to the bank,

starts taking out money from his mother's accounts.

Small amounts nobody would notice.

He uses that to pay the mortgage, utilities...

Family has no idea that he has lost his job.

Now, one day he comes home acting like he's been at work.

He finds a letter in the mailbox.

Greetings, Mr. Graff.

I've had the pleasure of watching your family for a while now.

Your daughter's name is Pat, isn't that right?

She's blossomed into a beautiful young woman.

Do you know where she goes at night?

I do.

And where do you go in the mornings?

You're not going to work.

Does your wife know?

I watch her undress when you're not there.

And he keeps getting them. Letter after letter.

Has no idea who's sending them.

It's greed, Mr. Graff.

Greed that brought you here.

What do you confess to the minister, John?

Young blood is what the house desires. Why not just give it what it wants?

But he doesn't tell anyone.

He doesn't tell his wife, or his kids.

He doesn't tell the cops.

He just keeps pretending to go to work,

stealing money from his mother's accounts.

Trick or treat!

Next block over!

One night he comes home,

and the daughter is throwing a Halloween party.

What are you doing?

Oh. We just went trick-or-treating.

You're her teacher.

I was invited...

You stay away from her. Get out of my house!

Daddy, stop it!

You're dressed like a whore.

What the hell is going on?

Someone is watching!

Sorry, I have to ask you...

Uh...

Was he like this before?

Or...

Or does the house kind of change him?

What? Like it was haunted?

I...

I don't believe in that kind of stuff.

I'd say he felt his life caving in on him

because it was all a facade, you know?

He was living a lie,

and whoever was writing those letters, they knew.

Greed is your sin, John, and impatience is mine.

Why won't you just give the house what it wants?

Give it the blood, and I'll let you keep everything you have, and then some.

You see where they're headed now, don't you?

I do.

Do what the house asks of you,

and you know they will go to a better place.

I will watch them from there, John.

I will never stop watching.

We're all going to die.

You know that, right?

What the fuck?

No, he's right.

We all have to be ready, any day, to meet our maker.

Yes.

We should all be prepared for that day when it comes.

I want to see you all again in heaven.

We should acknowledge our sins and pray for forgiveness.

And then he makes a plan.

He calls the principal of the kids' school...

Yes, we have to go out of town for a few months.

Visit some relatives.

My wife's father's been ill.

He cut his face out of every family photograph...

What are you doing, John?

Jesus Christ.

I swear, your mind is as soft as your cock these days, darling.

I'm having an affair, John.

Well, I'm going to have an affair, John.

Not that you would care.

You need to stop talking.

It's just... I need a cock, John.

I need someone to fuck...

John?

John, what was that noise?

Hello?

Then he goes downstairs and makes himself a sandwich.

And he, um...

Sorry. Hmm.

And then he heads to his son's basketball game.

You've got something on your glasses.

Thank you.

Just doing some painting.

Son...

No... Dad!

And then he set the stage.

He turns on all the lights.

Puts music on the intercom.

Wagner's Götterdämmerung.

Means "Twilight of the Gods."

Last part of the Ring cycle.

I know this music.

The bodies lay there for two whole weeks.

Nobody knows anything's wrong.

Then the next door neighbor, a weird guy who's friendly with his son...

He hears music coming from inside.

And he notices a smell.

Hello?

Jasper Winslow. Jesus Christ.

The bodies are like mummies, all desiccated.

Like they'd been drained.

And on the floor in the basement, there are empty milk jugs.

They had been filled with blood, and now they were empty.

But they... But they weren't killed down there.

No. Grandma upstairs, wife in the living room,

daughter in the bathroom, son in the doorway.

So what? So he killed himself?

Where was the body? Oh, gets even weirder.

Eleven days before the bodies were found, that's three days after they were killed,

that creepy teacher, the one at the Halloween party...

He's found inside his car,

driver's side blown out, shot through the head...

...from a different gun.

Bullets didn't match. What's that all about?

And get this, all this time, 14 days,

those bodies are laying dead inside 657 Boulevard...

Somebody was still watching the house.

John Graff forgot to put a stop to the mail.

But the mail didn't pile up.

Mailman says it was empty every day.

Paperboy delivers the paper, someone comes and picks it up.

Now, this is going to be hard to look at.

These are exactly the same as the letters I'm getting.

Here are the crime scene photos of the Graff family.

Why the fuck haven't I heard about this?

Why wasn't this brought up at the sale?

Why doesn't anybody know this story?

The cops covered it up and you can't blame Chamberland.

He didn't join the force until 2005, ten years later.

Nobody in the town knew? Really? Nobody in the town?

Dean, the town doesn't want this story getting out.

There are a lot of interested parties who care about their property value,

and the image of the town as one of the safest places you could live.

What about, uh... Mitch and Mo?

Their son, right? They lived in the house next door, right?

So maybe he knows something?

No. Mitch and Mo moved to Westfield in '96, a year later.

Fuck.

So what happened to him?

- John Graff? - Yeah.

Is he dead? Is he alive? Who knows?

There was no trace of him after that. Just disappears.

Though I suppose...

you wouldn't know who you were looking at

if he did appear out of somewhere,

on account of his cutting his face out of every photo and burning it.

So nobody knows what this guy looks like?

No.

Wait a minute.

What church did John Graff go to?

Uh... St. Mark's. Westfield. Lutheran Church.

I stopped by earlier. John. I'm the building inspector.

We fixed the problem,

but it was traumatic for the whole family.

There's a nice little Lutheran Church down the street.

You might consider going with your family.

What is it?

I met him.

John Graff.

He was at my house.

Wait, so it's, like, done, done?

The basement needs a couple weeks, but the kitchen's all done.

The cameras are in and the alarms are set up. So...

So we're moving back in?

Yep.

- Should we get some food? - Yeah.

Yes. I'm absolutely starving.

No, Jasper! Jasper. No, no. I'm not gonna hurt you.

I'm sorry that I treated you the way I did.

- Jasper, who's that? - No, look at me.

I just have one question.

Do you know John Graff?

Jasper? Don't talk to him.

Jasper, I'm sorry...

We have nothing to say to you.

Oh. And just so you know,

we are coming down on you hard about that dumbwaiter.

The Preservation Society is hopping mad.

They have ordered an inspection and we can come in whenever we want.

No you can't, lady.

Look it up! Whenever we want.

What? No...

Oh. And it was so unneighborly of you to not attend Mitch and Mo's funeral.

I didn't know when it was.

I didn't know where it was... Lady, I didn't know them.

You knew them well enough to make them kill themselves.

Unneighborly.

Wow, it's like a catalogue.

It's nice, right?

Yeah, we just finished unpacking. It's nice to be home.

Aww, honey... Where's Dad?

- Dean? - Hey, yeah! I'm right here.

Did you just walk in?

Yeah. Hey.

Hey.

- It's amazing. We're home. - Mm-hmm.

Carter? Come on, let's go.

Hey, Ellie. Come on.

Gotta leave a few minutes earlier.

Mom's going to the gallery and I'm taking you to school,

but I don't wanna miss my train.

I can take 'em.

What? No. You do your thing.

It's nice here, now.

We did the right thing, didn't we?

Staying?

Yeah, we did.

I love you.

I love you.

I'm leaving. Let's go!

- Bye, honey. - Bye, Mom.

Bye, Mom.

Mr. and Mrs. Brannock.

Cameras everywhere now,

but you can never be safe in this world, can you?

I'm still watching.