Original subtitles

Telephone

Calling me

Who put all that shit in your head?

Saying things

Telling things

Till you break

Filthy water

Bubbles up

Who put all that shit in your head?

Hey... Gudsen.

Hey, wake up.

Yo, Gudsen.

Investigator Gudsen?

Captain Steven Burke,

Columbia Metro.

Long night, huh?

Just been burning the oil.

Can I help you with something?

Yeah. I have a meeting with Commander Englehart this morning.

Who has a guy gotta blow to get a cup of coffee around here, huh?

- On it, Captain. - All right. Thank you so much.

I...

Okay.

Yeah.

Just appreciate the wake up by the way. I got a long drive ahead of me.

Drive, huh?

Yep.

I got this Arson Investigator Conference out in Leighton.

A little escape from the everyday.

Escape?

From two arsonists burning your jurisdiction to the fucking ground?

And how about Calderone?

She'd be joining you?

- No. - No.

Great.

Well, I mean, at least someone's working.

Yeah.

Captain Burke?

We have a meeting in the books?

No. I...

I was in the neighborhood. So...

- Come on down to my office. - All right.

You wanna...

Wanna take this coffee to go, Captain?

I never touch the stuff.

- So you and Gudsen go back a ways, huh? - We do.

Oh, yeah? That's...

Wow.

That's nice.

Beautiful.

And, so...

If he's not getting results,

how far are you willing to back him?

Well, your girl Calderone is right in there with him, so...

She is, yeah. Except Calderone is a fucking hero.

So... yeah.

I will back her all day.

This is nice, Harvey.

It's beautiful.

How long did it take you to build all this?

A lifetime, I would imagine.

Well, it could all be taken away in seconds if you back the wrong filly.

You're Kerrigan's attack dog, right?

- No. - Among other things?

Nah, no. I'm just a...

a loyal soldier to the Department.

That what they call bagmen these days?

- You know what I heard about you, Harvey? - Couldn't give less of a fuck.

You have a good day.

- Jane? - Okay.

Why don't you go ahead and give me those acquisition reports

on House seven, please?

Yeah.

Thank you.

I call it the triangle of customer service,

because we all need to try a little harder to make our customers feel like family.

That's why I'll stress cleanliness, politeness, appearance.

Those things matter most.

You must be Mr. Fasano.

Can I call you Freddy?

I'm Dev, Freddy. Your new manager.

I didn't get the job?

I was just talking to these folks about the importance of appearance.

How do you feel about a hat?

Nah. It itches.

Well, let's give it a day and see how we feel tomorrow.

- Hey. - You got a pen?

Yeah, why?

Gudsen's old partner Ezra Esposito's annuity checks are sent to

1175 North Garnet, Slot 65, in Corrales.

"Slot"?

That's what it says.

Thanks, Captain.

Yesterday it was "Steven."

I wouldn't read too much into it.

I gotta run.

Don't shoot anyone in the dick.

Hey. Kid.

You good?

- What's up? - Is Dave in there?

No. Why would Dave be in there?

Because you're fucking him.

You're in his book.

Okay. How do you know it's me?

You're graphically described.

Fuck no.

What? So, you're not sleeping with him?

No!

Abso-fucking-lutely not!

It's just... I hate this place.

Look, you wanna talk to me about not fitting in or anything,

hit me up.

You'll be okay.

Yo, how do I get a copy of Dave's book?

I can Airdrop it to you.

Ken Maddox of the Reddington County Fire Department was the Arson Unit.

Widely regarded as the preeminent arson investigator in the Western United States,

if not the whole country,

Ken Maddox had an effortless command

that made him such an asset to the county that they had to put up with his attitude.

Because Ken Maddox did not suffer fools any more than he suffered arsonists.

His intellect was matched only by his natural good looks.

His jaw was chiseled and hewn from rock.

His hair was thick and plentiful.

It was after midnight when the call came in.

Ken Maddox left the beautiful woman asleep in his bed

and got ready to hunt down the man

responsible for burning half the grocery stores in town.

Armed with his glock and his Reddington FD badge,

Maddox arrived at the scene ready to take command.

The police looked to him for guidance.

They knew that only he could unlock the twisted mind of the arsonist.

Ken Maddox's supposed superiors

decided he needed a partner to solve the Potato Chip Fires.

He resented this until he heard a knock at his office door.

In walked his new partner,

a drop-dead bombshell whose hair shone the blue black of a raven

with eyes the color of imperial jade.

This was a woman he could mentor--

...wing until she blossomed,

both as a fire investigator and as a sexual being, who simply...

Hello, Ezra.

What are you looking at?

Motherfucker...

- There you go. - Thank you.

- From the Division? - Yeah. Okay.

Yeah. If you know how beer league is, it's always tough.

It's always hectic.

But he hit a home run.

- No he didn't. Jim? - Well, yeah. He's really good.

Wow, he's a big deal. He's...

- Thanks a lot. Got 'em. - Got 'em?

Come on, let's go, Jag! Let's go!

- Teach! - Professor.

What are we celebrating?

I just got engaged!

Hey, what are we celebrating?

That's great. Congratulations, Jag! Very happy for you.

Thank you, Dave. Thank you.

Wow.

What's up with Cybulski and his crew, huh?

Posse. Not a crew. He has a posse.

And that group's like one of three.

They're gonna patrol the whole town, make sure we don't have a repeat of last year.

All those fires when we had the convention in--

Yeah. I remember. But we're not in Francona.

But what if it was one of us?

You don't really believe that, do ya?

I don't know. What if he was?

Then he was laughing at us.

So they're gonna catch him in the act?

Cybulski and his IQ of 95?

Yeah. That's the plan.

No one wants to be fucking humiliated again.

This open?

You've got a magnetic smile.

You're drunk.

Who isn't?

So what are you?

Firefighter?

Police officer?

Off-duty bartender?

Arson investigator.

And you?

Insurance adjuster.

So...

So, how long are we going to keep doing this?

Doing what?

Going back and forth until you mention your wife...

or I mention my husband.

I was thinking another 30 seconds...

Buy you a drink?

Why?

Because this could be the start of a long friendship built on mutual respect.

I got enough friends.

How about we're just two strangers

who happened to sit next to each other at a shitty karaoke bar?

And what do these strangers talk about?

Anything.

Okay.

Yeah.

Then they go back to their separate lives.

Zero repercussions.

We're closing out. You coming?

Yeah.

- I gotta go. - Okay.

- Okay. - All right.

I'm Reba.

I'm Dave.

Okay.

When Maddox kissed her for the first time on the side of her neck,

she was instantly wet.

Fuck off.

Maddox didn't need a--

Prick.

Hey.

Don't be ashamed.

People blow tails all the time.

What? You private?

Fuck. Shit.

This have anything to do with a motherfucker named Dave Gudsen

by any chance?

Why would you say that?

You're me.

I mean, you're not fucking me. I mean, you're definitely not fucking me.

I mean, but things could change, you never know, right?

Hope springs eternal.

But you're the metro cop assigned to the Umberland arson investigator, right?

Shit. That used to be my job.

They got open container laws around here, I presume.

Yeah. They got all kinds of laws around here.

Hey, why don't you just hop on over here?

I got a bag of vodka nips when I was dating this hot little flight attendant.

But don't worry, we weren't exclusive or anything.

Mr. Esposito.

Ezra.

Or Espo. Or sometimes, under the right circumstances,

- Ez. - I came to ask you about your partner.

I might stay to deal with your goddamn criminal activity.

Okay. Whoa, whoa. One thing at a time, honey, okay?

All right? So what do you want to know about Dave?

What's your opinion of him?

Well, you know I usually pride myself

on refraining from profanity around the ladies.

But not with this aunt-fucking, anal abscess of a human being

who should have his eyes plucked out and his balls cut off

and tossed in a punch bowl full of chlamydia.

Okay.

- That's a lot to process. - And if he's talking smack about me,

I'm telling you, he's gonna get got.

Turn your car off.

I have visual evidence of you participating in a revenge porn scheme.

Turn your goddamn car off.

You're confusing an artist here with a pervert, okay?

Not an uncommon mistake made by the small-minded though.

I assure you I'm not.

But what's this?

- "Lovegod Studios Inc."? - That's right.

If you want exquisite, high-quality digital video

of yourself having carnal relations,

with superior lighting and precise, yet tasteful angles

Ezra Esposito's your guy.

Am I expensive? You bet your ass.

Am I worth it? Damn straight. But no checks please.

You do realize that

the revenge porn and voyeurism laws are getting pretty intense nowadays.

First off, you don't have a warrant.

Secondly, this ain't your jurisdiction.

And, lastly, it wasn't revenge porn, okay?

The man's giving it to his wife for Christmas.

Okay. All right.

And have you shopped for your special someone this year already?

Tell me why you hate this man so much.

'Cause he got me fired, that's why.

For no goddamn reason except spite.

And I liked my job.

- You literally shot yourself in the foot. - No. I was literally set up.

Why would he set you up?

'Cause I know he's an arsonist, that's why.

And you know it too.

- Sorry about the wait. - It went as...

Chicken plus combo. Enjoy.

What can I get you?

How you doing?

Good. What can I get you?

French toast sticks and...

some Cajun tots.

Anything else?

And a cup of coffee.

Coffee.

All right. That'll be 16.95. Cash or card?

Okay. Card, honey.

You can swipe when you're ready.

Do you need a receipt?

No, baby. I don't need no receipt.

What do you like most about the job, Freddy?

Why do you wanna be a manager?

I'm telling you, he changed the trigger.

He changed out my trigger because the pull was always six pounds.

The way I like it. And then when I measured it after,

it was less than three.

Yeah, but you never place your finger on the trigger

until you've acquired the target.

Man, that's the most basic fucking rule, like...

Somebody once tell you that scolding was an attractive quality?

- 'Cause it's... - All right. Why...

Why do you think he's an arsonist?

Let's start there.

Right place, right time.

Too many times.

A call comes in. Guess who's already in the neighborhood?

Scene's burnt to a mother-loving crisp.

Guess who sniffs out the point of origin?

So...

Good at his job.

Good at his job?

I witnessed that douchebag find an inch-long incendiary device

that started a brush fire not once, not twice,

but 17 motherfucking times.

- Okay, but... - That's not a guy

- who's good at finding shit. - Yes.

That's a guy who put the shit there in the first fucking place.

But you are not proving it, Ezra.

All right. Have you got better? Do tell.

I'm all ears. Come on.

This motherfucker's writing a book.

Fucking scuse me?

It's about an arson investigator hunting down an arsonist.

Clearly based on fires that Dave has worked.

- Or set. - That part.

But then, of course, he can always claim it's "just fiction."

Yep.

So, as of now, all we got is supposition.

Yeah.

You know how much judges love that shit.

Point is, you plan. You organize.

You try to control your environment.

That says there is no control.

You cannot contain that with a schedule or a PowerPoint presentation.

That says, "Your order, meet my chaos.

And my chaos wins."

Unless your plan is better than chaos.

Please look under your seats.

It is essential

to always have

a plan.

And yet, no plan beats chaos.

Saw you drop a device in there when you thought no one was looking.

Did you turn off the overheads before your little stunt?

Those fires were under control.

I thought there was no control.

I thought chaos wins.

What I am trying to do, as preamble, is define fire.

Fire is the release of heat and light due to oxidation during combustion.

There, it's defined.

Now do you have any data or practical techniques to discuss?

Because you're not so much telling us things, as conflating fire,

which is an impersonal elemental force, with the monster in a child's closet.

Yeah, that's your opinion.

Maybe if you'd use science, not forensic-files-psycho-babble,

you'd have some leads on the guys torching your jurisdiction over the past two years.

I... Well, I...

Personally, peer-to-peer review and...

communication are two of the main reasons why I offer this presentation.

Or maybe because you like the sound of your own voice.

Dave still charming?

Not sure I'd go that far, but he's likable somehow.

Likable?

That phony prick gave me hives.

Careful, don't let him in your head.

Oh, please.

World's full of Daves.

These mediocre nothings who feel they're owed the spoils

'cause they're born male and pale.

And once things don't work out for baby,

baby tries to burn the whole goddamn world down.

That's not the kinda guy that gets in my head.

Well, you're taking him too lightly.

Not at all.

His goddamn tantrums hurt people.

Those aren't tantrums.

You know what I mean.

You don't know Dave.

Hey, can I get three shots of Cuervo, my sister? Back to back.

She's driving.

Hey. By the way, you got blow on ya?

Come on, man. I'm a cop.

Yeah, so was I. It's a job not a moral rebirth. Relax.

Whole town's bone dry.

God, I miss having access to an evidence room.

You missed my presentation.

Burn patterns went long.

And I had to take a call.

Work or personal?

What do you think?

Does he make you happy?

I love him.

It works.

We work.

But you're not happy.

Is anyone?

Sure.

Kids.

Dogs.

I could go on.

Can't be happy all the time.

Maybe the best you can be is content.

What does that even mean?

Just fine all of the time.

Do you believe that?

Some people do.

And these people...

they wake up in the morning, they brush their teeth,

take a shower with subpar water pressure and they feel...

- fine. - Uh-huh.

Around noon, they eat a soggy turkey wrap and talk to their co-worker

about all-inclusive vacations they'll never go on,

and they feel fine about that too?

That's right.

Then they go home.

I bet that's where it starts to get really interesting.

Clearance rack loungewear.

Low-calorie meal in the microwave.

- And then they look in the mirror... - Yeah.

They think to themselves, "This is fine."

"I'm just fine."

And it goes on like that all day, every day.

Just one long dial-tone till the day they die.

So, if it's all fine...

what is the difference between being alive and being dead?

Nothing.

Nothing.

Some people, they like consistency.

You are not some people.

Where's your current one?

No more. No more dogs for me.

No?

So you think you know your partner, huh?

Well, let me show you something.

This was after working together for a year.

Told me it was an initiation.

I can't watch that shit again.

Empty, for sure?

Yeah, for sure. Come on. Live the dream. Watch the world burn.

Fuck, yeah. Watch that world burn.

Oh, shit.

The fuck?

Hey, you said it was empty.

Goddamn it.

Goddamn. Fuck.

Oh, shit.

Shit.

Fuck.

What the fuck?

Hey.

You sick fuck.

What the fuck did you do, man?

What the fuck is wrong with you?

Dave told me the place was a bank repo that had been abandoned for months.

But he knew.

Oh, yeah.

He knew.

He knew all along.

- This isn't happening. - Just keep going. Come on.

Let's go into the bed.

Why?

You know, I got a pill down in my room.

Five years of marriage, Dave.

You never needed a pill for me.

It's not you.

Role-play, maybe. But never... Never a pill.

I just got distracted.

By what?

My presentation.

Some bitch interrupted it.

She embarrassed you.

- Thought you weren't there. - I lied.

I didn't want to ruin our night.

I wasn't embarrassed.

Why don't you just admit that she got under your skin?

She didn't.

You're just an old-school guy with zero insecurities.

How the hell is this my fault?

Because your ego, it is so fragile that your dick,

it goes soft from the memory of a disagreement with a woman.

There she is.

There's my ex-wife.

Why don't you play the hits, huh?

Next up from Reba Daniels is "Raging Narcissist."

This isn't fun for me anymore.

- No? - No.

You should try chasing around a middle-aged woman

and pretending she still looks 25.

You're so small.

Don't be here when I get out.

No, no, no.

Thank you. Here's your bag.

You have a good night.

Hi. How are you?

Thank you.

Motherf...

Fuck.

You did not die.

God damn.

You stayed.

Oh, shit. I got you now.

I know you, girlfriend.

I fucking know you.

You know me?

You're a knight.

You're lit.

Well, that may be, but you're still a knight.

'Cause you got the helmet, the armor and the stick up your ass,

but you don't leave people in the shit.

No, you don't.

What'd you think? I was gonna aspirate or something?

- Yeah. - Yeah.

Well, I didn't.

All right, buddy.

Well, just make sure you get on that liver transplant list, okay?

- I'll see you later. - Hey, where are you going?

It's daytime.

Oh, come on. Oh, shit. Wait. Hold up.

No, wait. Wait.

- I'm coming with you. - Go inside.

You're fucking green, man. Like, just stay inside.

Oh, fuck. Fuck. Shit.

Sh... Fucking shit.

Look, I got kids. And they hate me.

I got ex-wives. It's pretty much the same.

Can't remember the last friend I made either.

You know why I lost all that shit?

The job.

Yeah, the job.

The job.

And he fucking took that from me.

I'll balance the ledger.

Listen, if he sees you as a threat, he already found your weakness.

Yeah, Harv.

Your asshole charbroiled a husband and wife.

Used six milk jugs.

And these weren't Trolley Town kills either, Dave.

It's a white couple in Crawford.

The wife was a doctor.

Crawford's not our jurisdiction.

Well, I'm aware of that.

Could be our arsonist grew so tired of your inability to catch him

that he traveled to find a more worthy adversary.

Six milk jugs?

This fucking couple was on date night. The kids were with Grandma, so...

Fuckwad didn't kill two kids just by sheer luck.

It's led the seven o'clock, all three channels, okay?

Crawford arson investigators wanna pick your brain

when you can get there, so get there.

And fill your partner in.

Sure.

I'll shut him down, Harv.

Fuck else would you say, Dave?

Our top story this morning.

A devastating house fire in Crawford has left two dead.

Authorities are still investigating the cause of the blaze.

The fire, which broke out last night,

has drawn a heavy response from local fire departments

and raised concerns for nearby residents.

Catherine Smith is on the scene.

- Thank you, Robert... - Six fucking jugs.

...in the outskirts of Crawford, where this home behind me...

And you left your territory to do it.

...to the scene after receiving reports of a blaze, and firefighters...

It's personal, my man.

...prevent the blaze from spreading.

...just never know.

The Sandersons didn't know when they took their grandson

into a hardware store after buying him a "stipachio" ice cream

that the boy and Mrs. Sanderson would never walk back out alive.

I'm gonna feel The sweet light of heaven

Shining down its light on me

One sweet day One sweet day I will feel it

And before anyone could ever question the cause of the fire,

he would, as part of his job, declare it an accident.

A fault in the electrical.

He would, as part of his job, declare it an accident.

A fault in the electrical.

When I'm back on my feet again

When I'm back on my feet again

I'll walk proud down that street again

And they'll all look at me again

And they'll know that I'm strong

Oh

And I'm not gonna crawl

Oh, my God. Someone call 911.

Did you see what happened?

Oh, my God.