All language subtitles for Wake.Up.Dead.Man.A.Knives.Out.Mystery.2025.2160p.4K.WEB.x265.10bit.AAC5.1-[YTS.LT]

Hard to know where to start.

I guess to tell the story
of the Good Friday murder through my eyes,

I got to start here.

Nine months ago, when this asshole deacon
said something way out of line,

and I did this.

Oh, shit.

So, you're a fighter, then?

Uh, no, Father, absolutely not.

Well, we have a deacon who would say
otherwise if his jaw wasn't broken.

In my previous life, yes, I was a boxer,

and I lived on the streets.
I did some other things.

We need fighters today,
but to fight the world,

not ourselves.

A priest is a shepherd.
The world is a wolf.

No.

I… I don't believe that,
Father, respectfully.

You start fighting wolves,
and before you know it,

everyone you don't understand is a wolf.

I still got that fighting instinct,
and I gave into it today,

but Christ came to heal the world,
not fight it.

I believe that.

It's this, not this, you know?

I just want to be a good priest.

Show broken people like me
the forgiveness and love of Christ.

The world needs that so bad.

You give me one more shot,
and I promise I'll do that.

Your Excellency,

you stuck your neck out for me
so many times.

-I let you down, and whatever the--
-All right.

Listen…

Deacon Clark is famously a dick.

Nobody's actually that upset
that you clocked him.

In fact, kind of the opposite.

But we do need to do something about it.

We're sending you
to a small parish in Chimney Rock.

It's just one priest there now.

Assistant pastor?

Yeah, well, curb your enthusiasm.

What?

You're going
to Our Lady of Perpetual Fortitude,

led by Monsignor Jefferson Wicks.
Have you heard of Jefferson Wicks?

Okay, look, Wicks has his supporters here.
I'm not one of them.

Between you and me,

I think he's a few beads shy of
a full rosary and a real son of a bitch.

But what's undeniable is that his flock
is shrinking and even calcifying.

It could use some of what
you said in there. You understand?

Not at all, but yes.

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

-Spirit's got me. Let me at him.
-Hey. Hey, hey.

This, not this, right? Mm?

Good luck, kid.

So, that's how I came to Chimney Rock.

Daniel in the lion's den.

David facing off Goliath.

Young, dumb, and full of Christ.

Ready for anything.

Father Jefferson?

Hello. Jud Duplenticy from Albany?

Lord be with you,
Jud Duplenticy from Albany.

You here to take my church away from me?

Oh. No.

Good.

Okay, call me Monsignor Wicks.

I see you've met Martha.

Martha? No.

-Monsignor Wicks.
-Jesus!

I woke up early to polish the silver.

It was a bit blotchy.

That'll be fine, Martha.

Father… Jud.

You are welcome here.

-Thank you, Martha.
-Mm.

I was actually
just saying to Father Wicks…

Monsignor Wicks.

Monsignor, right. Sorry.

And sorry for saying "Jesus".

Hoo. This is going great, I think.

-Bishop Langstrom sent you, huh?
-Mm-hmm.

Langstrom.

I know him well.

He handpicked you, sent you here.

It says something to me.

Tells me a lot.

Well, I… I know
you're used to flying solo, but, um…

I'm… I'm here to serve.

Take my confession.

All right.

Mm.

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.

It's been, uh,

six weeks since my last confession.

I've envied the material wealth of others.

I saw this luxury car commercial.
Sam had it on his TV. Lexus.

And I thought,

"Ah! That is a good-looking car."

The coupe.

Uh… I've envied the power of great men.

Envied my grandfather's power as a priest.
I wanted that.

Always did.

Uh…

I've masturbated,

um, four times this week.

Four or five, generally, in…
What'd I say, six weeks?

Well, let's say 30 times, masturbated.

Uh, this week, in my bed,
in the morning once.

Once in the shower, standing up,
which was convenient.

Just use a bath gel.

Oh, once in the middle of the night,
after a dream about--

-That's all right.
-About one of those Japanese cat cafés.

-Okay.
-You know, I read this article,

but the cats were girls,
and, you know, so…

And I hadn't prepared,

so I had to finish into a copy
of Catholic Chronicle magazine,

just what was on the end table,
which is probably its own kind of sin.

I don't know, maybe not, but… Not good.

At the time,
I thought this was just weird.

But looking back now, I know.

This was Wicks' first punch.

Five Hail Marys and one Glory Be.

Thank you, Father.

It wouldn't be his last.

Oh, and welcome

to my church.

Over the next few weeks, I settled in

at Our Lady of Perpetual Fortitude.

The only other full-time employee
was the groundskeeper, Samson.

Sam.

It's Monsignor Wicks

who gives me the strength every day
to not go back to the bottle.

He used to drink too.

But he said to me once,
"If I can stave off that demon, you can."

And every day, it is a struggle.

But I have.

I credit him and… my sweet Martha.

Your… your sweet Martha?

I'd do anything for her.

My angel on Earth.

As far as the church goes,
Martha does it all.

She keeps the books,
manages donations, files everything.

File that.

She launders the vestments,
stocks the supplies,

feeds Wicks, plays the organ.

She knew where the bodies were buried.

-So this is the crypt?
-Yep.

It's a damn shame.
Gotta put up a security camera.

-Is there an entrance?
-There is.

This right here,

it's a Lazarus door.

Takes construction equipment
to open from the outside.

But cantilevered as such that one push

will send it tumbling
to the ground from inside.

Who's in there then?

Prentice.

Wicks' grandfather,
the founder of this church.

Was like a father to me.

Makes me sick.

These kids painting rocket ships
all over his sacred resting place.

-What are you doing?
-Oh, uh…

Well, I do a little wood-working,

so thought I could borrow
some of Sam's tools, make a proper--

No, we leave that.

A reminder of the shameful sin
of the harlot whore.

Take my confession.

Yes, the harlot whore.

That was Wicks' mother.

Okay, so what's the deal with that?

She was a harlot and a whore.

Okay.

When Prentice entered the priesthood
and founded this church,

he was widowed with a daughter.

Grace was her name.

Always a bad seed.

She loved revealing clothes
and her fancy brands.

Fancy brands… Oof.

-Mm.
-Yeah.

As a teenager, she slutted around bars,

was soon pregnant by a drifter.

Prentice had
a vast family fortune in the bank.

To protect his grandson, Wicks,

he promised that
if Grace stayed under his roof,

the fortune would be willed to her.

And so the whore
waited for her father to die.

Oh, it weighed on him heavily.

Martha, remember this.

Wealth and the power that comes with it,

is Eve's Apple.

Temptation that leads to the fall.

I must protect our loved ones
from its corrupting influence,

at all costs.

His day came at last.

I was there.

I saw Prentice take his final communion

and die on the holy altar.

At peace.

The harlot whore
went straight to Prentice's attorney.

"Give me my money," she said.

And do you know what he said?

"Yes, you are heir
to every single penny Prentice had."

And in his accounts,

not one hot dime.

Mm, what did he do with the fortune?

Gave it to the poor, say some.

Threw it in the ocean, say others.
No one knows.

It was gone.

That holy man's final act of grace

was to keep the corrupting evil
out of wicked hands.

All that he left her…

was this.

"What is this?" she said.

But I knew.

Look not for Eve's Apple.

Your inheritance is now Christ.

That night, she had her revenge.

In a demonic rage,

she defiled this holy place.

Blasphemy, desecration.

Evil incarnate.

I said, "Sister Grace,

God, your Father,
will forgive you in His love."

She died,

throwing herself against Prentice's tomb.

Brain aneurysm, they said.

Struck down, I say,

by God in His mercy.

Holy shit.

Sorry, sorry.

The darkness of that story
was the bedrock of this place.

You could feel it.

And he asked, "Who told you…"

So what would draw someone
to make this their spiritual home?

The core group of regulars
all had their reasons.

And these will be our suspects.

So I should introduce them.

Vera Draven, local attorney.
She was loyal and devoted.

My dad was
Wicks' attorney and drinking buddy.

The boys.

And so you became a lawyer so you could
take over his family practice?

I became a lawyer because
I wanted to do great things in the world.

But this place is my dad's legacy.

And he wanted me to…

-Thank you.
-…keep it going after he passed.

So here I am.

Yo, yo. Hey, Vera.

-Hi. Oh. Thank you.
-Would you fill this up?

Her adopted son, Cy, just moved back home

after trying and failing
to get a foothold in politics.

Hi.

Hey.

Okay.

It's nice having him back?

When Vera was young,
just out of law school,

her dad came home
with ten-year-old Cy, out of the blue,

and told Vera she was gonna raise him.

No questions asked.

The whole town knew he was
obviously her illegitimate brother.

But Vera accepted it.

She did it.

I've given up a lot to…

…be loyal to my dad
and to Cy and to Wicks.

So I think that

when my dad
is looking down on me from heaven,

I think he is very…

…pleased with me.

So I guess that's nice.

I came this close.

I was the GOP golden boy, the great hope.

I've got connections and ins and outs.

I was on the cusp,
but I just couldn't engage voters.

I didn't… have that
cult of personality thing, I guess.

It's hard connecting with people
in a genuine way.

-I know.
-Mm-hmm.

I tried everything. Believe me,
I hammered the race thing.

I hammered the gender thing,
the trans thing,

the border thing, the homeless thing,

the war thing, the election thing,
the abortion thing, the climate thing.

Thing about induction stoves,
Israel, library books, vaccines,

pronouns, AK-47s, socialism, BLM,

CRT, the CDC, DEI, 5G, everything.

All of it I did. Nobody, just nothing.

People are just numb these days.
I don't know why.

Maybe we need to get back
to fundamentals, you know,

basic building blocks
on how to genuinely inspire people.

The basics,
like, show them something they hate

and then make them afraid it's gonna
take away something they love?

Well, no.

Vera.

Nat Sharp, the town's local doctor.

His life revolved around his wife, Darla.

She was his everything.

Darla left me last week.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Took the kids, moved to Tucson

with some guy that she met
on a Phish message board.

Phish the band?

I had no idea.

Dr. Nat was spinning out.

He wasn't successful enough,
rich enough, good enough for her.

He would do anything to get her back.

The closest thing we have
to a local celebrity,

the sci-fi writer Lee Ross.

You probably know
at least some of his books.

The Crescent Limbo series,
Ice Pick of Time,

The Crystaline Juncture.

Ten years ago,
Lee moved here from New York,

connected with Wicks and the church,
and as he puts it…

Unplugged my brain, you know,

from the… liberal hive mind
and… come here and…

His book sales and popular standing
have been in slow decline ever since.

But he'd spent the last year
writing a massive book about Wicks.

His teachings, my reflections,

essays and recollections
of an acolyte at the feet of a prophet.

The Holy Man and the Troubadour.

I found it a tough read,
but he pinned all of his hopes on it.

This is my last chance ticket
out of Substack hell.

I can't take it anymore.
My readers these days…

I mean, they are survivalist freaks.

They all look like John Goodman
in The Big Lebowski.

This little shitwick, Cy.

He's got his little influencer fangs
in the Monsignor lately.

We don't like him. We're all like,
"Wicks. Be careful,

you gotta shake him off.
He's bad news. Opportunistic poetaster."

We're gonna have to protect Wicks
from these leeching millennials.

Simone was new to town,
and new to the church.

She'd been a world-class cellist.

Forced to retire five years ago
for health reasons.

Chronic pain. Some mysterious nerve thing

-that doctors cannot diagnose.
-Sorry.

I believed they could heal me.

Suckered.

Dipshit moi.

I mean, to take someone's faith

and exploit it for money

is the ultimate evil.

Don't you think it is?

Yeah. Yeah, it's bad.

But I understand wanting to believe.

This feels different, though.

Faith in God to heal me.

This is different.

I feel hopeful now.

Like a miracle could happen.

That's how Monsignor Wicks makes me feel.

The Spirit really moved him today, huh?

Monsignor!

Ah, my warrior.

Wicks kept his core group tight.

And the seductive power
of his charisma was undeniable.

But his method…

Every week, he would pick someone out,

a newcomer usually, and he would attack.

The world wants us all to be okay.

Any of your choices.
Make your choices. They're your choices.

Don't feel bad.

Have that affair.

Tell that lie.

Have that child out of wedlock.

Satisfy your selfish heart.

Selfish.

Yes.

Depriving that child of a family.

Of a father.

An assault on our castle.

The institution of manhood.

My own mother made
that selfish choice with me.

And I curse her selfish heart for it.

Every day of my life.

Putting her needs and wants
before the family God intended.

I am enough!

Me!

Selfish, harlot heart, you are not.

Might as well beat that child.

Yes, might as well starve that child.

Defy the family that the Lord intended.

And watch your child
burn beneath that burden.

This is not the true church.

You ask even the most hardcore
of those in the pews,

they'll say, no,
of course this is not what they believe.

It's Wicks being Wicks,
pushing it too far.

And what he's pushing for
every time is a walkout.

Why does he do this?

Because when that person walks out,
everyone watches.

And even if in the light of day
it's indefensible,

deep down in the dark,
it scratches an itch.

And by staying put in that pew,
a side is taken.

Wicks' side.

Testing tolerances,
tapping deep poisoned wells,

hardening, binding with complicity.

…for a two-run homer
and that brings the Cubs…

Mm.

So I try to offer a counterbalance.

Okay, welcome to our first
Father Jud prayer group.

Um, thank you all for being here.

And this is all about breaking down walls

between us and Christ,

us and each other, us and the world.

When I was 17,

I was a boxer

and I… I… killed a man in the ring.

I built up so many walls of…

of anger, addiction, violence.

It was only when I felt safe enough to…

to put my dukes down, open my arms,

um, confess my deepest sin.

That was the day
that Christ saved my life.

It… He didn't… He didn't transform me.

He sustains me every day.

That's daily bread, right?

I think that's what the church should be.

That's what I want
this church to be, for me

and for all of you.

So…

Monsignor Wicks isn't coming?

No, but…

No.

So, I thought we could just talk
and start sharing and--

But he knows that we're doing these?

Sure, of course. Of course, I'll tell him.

I just… I wanted us to connect and, uh…

You'll tell him? You'll… You'll tell him?

Contraction of the simple future tense
meaning you haven't yet

told him?

Why wouldn't you tell him?

-This feels kind of weird.
-Okay, guys.

This is a prayer meeting.
It's… it's not a secret or anything.

-Well, it's a secret prayer meeting.
-No.

That's literally what it is.

I just texted the Monsignor.

Great, so… it isn't a secret anymore.

Now, if we could get back to breaking
down those walls through Christ's love--

-He says, "What the holy heck?"
-Oh.

-Jeez.
-I'm… I'm sorry. Father,

I came because I thought
this was an official church function.

Only he didn't use the word "heck".

Okay, thank you, Martha.

This is a church function, Vera.

It's at a church.
It's with me. It's official.

-Um…
-Or "holy".

-Show… Can I see that?
-I think I should go.

-Okay.
-Bye.

-Thank you. Uh, Cyrus?
-Yeah.

Oh, wow.

Yeah, sorry, Father.
I don't want to piss him off.

Nice try, guy.

Thanks, Doc.

I'm probably gonna post this tomorrow.
Can I tag you?

I'd prefer you didn't.

I probably will anyway.

I know.

I'm so sorry your little coup failed
this afternoon, Father.

My coup? Martha, really?

If we want to pray
or need to confess something,

we can do it with Monsignor Wicks.

Can you? 'Cause you all seem
scared to death of the guy.

Could you walk into that church
of your own free will

and confess your deepest sin to Wicks,
Martha, without fear?

'Cause… 'cause if not,
this whole place is a whitewashed tomb.

Yes, I could.

Well,

good!

Holy Week, the week
of special services leading up to Easter.

It was on Palm Sunday
that I finally broke.

And then, uh…
twice in the shower this week

doing that thing I told you about
where I hold my hand upside down?

Five Our Fathers, five Hail Marys.

Well, we're at nine months now, Jud.

How are you enjoying it here?
Are you breaking down some… walls?

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.
It's been a week since my last confession.

I betrayed a fellow priest's privacy.

I know that Martha keeps
her medical bills filed in the office, so…

I went through them.

And I learned you had
a radical prostatectomy five years ago,

making you physically incapable
of an erection.

I can handle whatever this is.

For the past nine months,
I've seen the way you tend this flock,

and I don't like it.

You don't like it?

No, Monsignor, I don't.

Nat Sharp.

Man needs to forgive
and start living his life.

And Christ's love should be
a launching pad for that, and instead,

he's just, every day,

getting more and more angry
and bitter against his ex-wife,

against women.

It's bad. And Lee, he's a storyteller.

And it's like his superpower
has been turned against him.

The only story he tells is,
"The world is out to get me."

He was brilliant funny,
and smart and respected,

and now he's just spinning out
and angry all the time, paranoid.

Did you know he literally
built a moat around his house?

Really?

I mean, it's mostly symbolic, but yeah.

And Simone, I'm sorry, Monsignor,

but I'm afraid
you've taken advantage of her.

I've seen the donation numbers.

I know how much she's giving,
and the past few months,

she's basically supporting this place.

And yes, I believe in the possibility
of miracles through Christ,

but what you're giving her is not that.

It's transactional, through you,

and God help you,
it makes her feel betrayed again.

God help me. Anything else?

Yeah, why not? Cy Draven.

Doesn't this new YouTube stuff
he's doing worry you?

Every week now, he takes clips
from what you say in Mass

and plugs them into his political rants.
He's co-opting, and honestly,

I think misrepresenting the church
in a dangerous way.

When was the last time
a new person lasted more than one Sunday?

Word's gotten out.

Every week now, it's just this…

this hardened cyst of regulars,

and it seems like you're intentionally
keeping them angry and afraid.

Is that how Christ led his flock?

Is that what we're supposed to do?

Right now, you're angry. You should be.

It'd be dangerous if you weren't.
I'd see you're helpless,

and I'd do it again and again.

I'm the world. You're the church.

Stay there. Stay there. Stay.

Aha. Good. Right. Yes.

Anger. Anger lets us fight back,
take back the ground we've lost.

And we've lost so much ground.

And now you're afraid.

Look at those bare-knuckle instincts
coming back. Good!

You're afraid I'm gonna come at you again.

But you're protecting yourself.

Because the world wants to destroy us.

Your version of love
and forgiveness is a sop.

It's going along
to get along with modernity,

not wanting to offend this garbage world.

Meanwhile, they destroy us.

Feminist Marxist whores.
Bit by bit, they do.

But I carry my burden. I hold the line.

And you?

You simpering child from Albany?

Are you gonna get angry

and fight?

You're poisoning this church.

And I'll do whatever it takes to save it.

To cut you out like a cancer.

Five Our Fathers, five Hail Marys.

Christ, you didn't give up on me.

I'm not giving up on this church.

But he was one step ahead of me.

Father Jud's prayer meeting?

I have kept this church.

I have fortified it with the truth of God.

And now the betrayal to find my authority

and faith and life itself challenged,

and from inside my own sanctuary.

Get out!

Wicks' final move.

Open war against me.

I got pretty toasty.

The world's a wolf. You devil.

You devil wolf.

You're a devil wolf.

Shit.

-Oh! Nikolai, I'm sorry. I broke that…
-No, no, no. Don't worry about it.

-…with my hand.
-They're junk lamps. They're junk lamps.

-Come on. Hey, are you good to drive?
-Yeah.

Are you sure?

Hey!

Who's there?

Oh, shit.

And that brings us to Good Friday.

Here we go.

It was a 3:00 p.m. service.

Just the regulars.

There was a strange tension in the air.

I can't recall the homily,
but it felt different.

The anger felt less calculated.

More unhinged.

As always, after the homily,
Wicks was spent,

emotionally and physically,
and needed some time to recover.

He would duck into
the small storage closet

just to the side of the sanctuary
so he'd be out of sight.

He'd fortify himself,
and I would continue the service

until he felt strong enough
to rejoin and take over.

Behold the wood of the cross

On which hung
The salvation of the world

Monsignor?

What's wrong?

Jefferson?

Jud.

There's something in his back.

Wait. Don't touch it.

Don't… don't touch anything.

Satan! Satan struck him down!

-The devil… Satan…
-Martha.

-…struck him down!
-Oh, no.

Martha! Please.

The ambulance took
just five minutes to arrive.

Wicks was pronounced dead on the scene.

When I joined the others outside,
the police were just arriving.

The devil will not take that man.

He will rise again
in the glory of the Lord.

This was an insane event for a tiny town,

and poor Geraldine, the local chief,
was thrown in headlong.

Christ.

Hours of questioning
all through the day Saturday

-until finally…
-You're the only one on stage

with the Monsignor
at the time of his killing.

And you had prior possession
of the wolf-head figurine

attached to the murder weapon.

And you're the only one
at that church who hated his guts.

I… I don't hate any guts.

But it's literally impossible for anyone
to have done this, so I don't…

Oh, I don't know what this is.

All right. Father,
why don't you go get some rest?

But I should warn you before
you walk out of here, the town is talking.

Cy Draven put this up
on his YouTube this morning.

…poisoning this church.

And I'll do whatever it takes to save it.

To cut you out like a cancer.

It's been reposted.

Quite a bit.

I turned on my phone
for two minutes, and that was a mistake.

A flood of messages to the killer priest.

But I wasn't thinking about
getting arrested or defrocked.

I was thinking Wicks had won.

Because in the part of my soul
that cannot lie to Christ,

or myself, or you…

…I was happy the old man was dead.

Jesus.

Help me.

Show me the way through this, please.

Hello?

Oh, I'm sorry. Um…

Are you open?

Always.

You all right?

Yeah. Uh-huh. Sorry.

-Uh, there's no Easter Mass. I'm sorry.
-Oh, I'm…

-You're welcome. Come in. Come in.
-Thank you. Thank you.

I don't want to take you away
from your priestly duties now, do I?

Well… Isn't this something?

Right?

It's… hard to be in here
and not feel His presence.

Whose?

Oh. God… Oh. Yeah.

-Yeah.
-You're not a Catholic.

No, very much not, no.

Proud heretic.

I kneel at the altar of the rational.

Uh-huh. You weren't raised in the faith?

My mother is… was, uh,

very, very religious, you know.

-Were you close with her?
-No.

When I was a boy, we, um… But it's…

-Complicated. Family.
-It's complicated.

Yeah. That's right.

How does all this make you feel?

How does it make me feel?

Truthfully?

Sure.

Well, the architecture, that interests me.

I feel the grandeur, the… the mystery,

the intended emotional effect. It's…

And it's like someone has shone
a story at me that I do not believe.

It's built upon the empty promise
of a child's fairy tale

filled with malevolence
and misogyny and homophobia

and its justified
untold acts of violence and cruelty

while all the while, and still,

hiding its own shameful acts.

So like an ornery mule kicking back,

I want to pick it apart
and pop its perfidious bubble of belief

and get to a truth
I can swallow without choking.

The rafter details
are very fine, though. It's…

Listen… you want to kick me out,
you go right ahead.

No, no.

You're being honest, it's good.

Telling the truth can be a belly rub.

Now, I suspect you can't always
be honest with your parishioners.

You can always be honest
by not saying the unhonest part.

Yeah.

You're right. It's storytelling.

And this church, it's… it's not medieval.
We're in New York.

It's neo-Gothic 19th century.

It has more in common
with Disneyland than Notre-Dame…

…and the rites and rituals

and costumes, all of it.

It's storytelling.

You're right.

I guess the question is

do these stories convince us of a lie?

Or do they resonate with something
deep inside us that's profoundly true?

That we can't express any other way…

except storytelling.

Touché. Padre.

-Son.
-I'm sorry.

I just…

I just felt like a priest again,

and now I'm gonna lose that and…

and lose my purpose and I'm frightened, I…

I don't know how I'll live.

Blanc!

Hey! You found him! Is he…

Who are you?

I probably should have led with this.

My name is Benoit Blanc. I'm a detective.

I've taken an interest
in the murder of Jefferson Wicks.

You're a detective,
so you're with the police?

No, no. I work in a private capacity.

Everyone thinks I did it. I didn't do it.

But in my heart maybe I did,

and the way it happened
was some kind of miracle.

And…

I don't know. I'm lost. I don't know.

Would you allow me to help you?

What?

Your lips are cracked with dehydration.

You haven't slept all night.

You spent it out of doors,

by the state of your pant legs,
on your knees in prayer.

What I see is not a guilty man in torment,

but an innocent man tormented by guilt.

Let me help you.

How?

This was dressed as a miracle.

It's just a murder and I solve murders.

Wait… Were you

the Kentucky Derby thing with the murder
and the guy that they caught

-with the photo-finish camera?
-Yeah.

So you're…

You were on The View.

-Yeah.
-What are you doing here?

I need to come up to speed rapidly
on the events of that Good Friday service

and the goings-on here
at Our Lady of Perpetual Fortitude.

Geraldine has graciously
allowed me access.

If you can spare the day
and accompany me on my investigation,

view the body, trace the murder weapon,
inspect the crime scene,

you are in a unique position to assist me.

The body?

Yeah, I've changed my mind.
I don't think I should be here.

Blanc, I'm trusting your process,
but I agree with him.

No, no, no. I want you to get a clear
clinical picture of what happened here.

To see Wicks as he is, a corpse.
Just an empty vessel.

Not the mythologized monster in your mind,
but merely flesh and blood.

Dead from a knife wound we can analyze.

Just… flesh and blood.

Flesh and blood, yeah.

Yes, that's our wiggly wiggly.

-Yeah. Look at that.
-Please stop doing that.

-Tammy. Would you mind flipping the meat?
-Mm.

-Pancake him. Yeah.
-Mm-hmm.

One, two, three.

-Hey! Hey.
-No, no, no. I don't belong here.

I can't be in here,
I don't know why you brought me.

-I can't--
-Hey!

If you want absolution,

you want ever to be a priest again,
then you need to go through this with me.

The real killer is out there.
We've got to find him, nail him, I…

I'm sorry.

I mean, catch him and get your life back.

Father.

I need to know
you understand the situation.

We are not all buddies
running around trying to solve a case.

You are still a suspect.

The point is, you do not need to be here
without a lawyer, do you understand that?

I didn't do this.

If I can help find out who did,

then I'm in, yeah, let's do it, yeah.

Okay.

The body.

Next the murder weapon.

Then the crime scene.

Stick with me.

I'll tell you something,
I don't even like the devil.

You know, Il Diavolo, it sounds classy,
Italian, that's fine, you know,

then my wife, she buys a devil sign,

then she buys the devil lamps

and then people start, "Oh, hey, get him
a devil thing for the bar, he loves it."

And then, you know, uh,
devil, devil, devil, bang, I don't know.

-But that… But that's it, right?
-Yeah.

Oh, yeah.

But, uh…

But you know, it wasn't red though,
it's red now, it's paint.

-Yes, yes, freshly painted.
-I hope. Hmm.

They filled it with some kind of plaster
and stuck the blade in that way.

I'll do whatever it takes to save it.

To cut you out like a cancer.

Hey, hey, hey. Come on, ixnay.
That's not cool. Come on.

The red devil head thing,
that ended up where?

In the church, I threw it at the church
and it broke a window, I don't know why.

And then after the Chrism Mass on Monday,

Martha said she found
a small broken window.

Kids.

But nothing else.

I know what's wrong I don't confuse it

All I'm really trying to say is

Why should the devil have
All the good music?

I feel good every day

Because Jesus is the rock
And he rolled my blues away

Do you see that?

They say to cut my hair
They're driving me insane…

Hmm.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Oh. That is, uh…

Dr. Nat.

Oh, f…

Hey.

Just having some lunch.

Nat, I… I can come over later
if… if you want to talk.

I don't think… Yeah, I… Yeah.

I don't think I'd prefer that.

I'd prefer not that.

Ah, there it is.
Here's what you did it with. Huh?

-Come on, Nat.
-"Cut him out like a cancer."

You son of a bitch.

-You tell him, Nat.
-Yeah.

Son of a bitch! Killer priest!

First off,

I owe Detective Elliott a fruit basket
for giving me your number.

I'm just glad to be of service.

Geraldine, you had the foresight

to see that this goes
way beyond normal police work,

this is something
even I have not experienced.

A textbook example
of a perfectly impossible crime.

The stuff of detective fiction.

This should not exist in our real world.

And yet here it is.

The holy grail.

I love the passion.

I just need to feel confident
you know this case is solvable.

I'm incapable of not solving a crime.

That moment of checkmate

when I take the stage
and unravel my opponent's web…

Oh, you'll see. It's fun!

-Great, how do we get there?
-The source,

John Dickson Carr's The Hollow Man.

A Golden Age detective novel

and a veritable primer
on the locked-door mystery,

the impossible crime.

Hold up.

Father Jud, once again, earning your keep.

Whose Body?
The Murders in the Rue Morgue.

Roger Ackroyd.
The Murder at the Vicarage.

My God, this is practically
a syllabus for how to commit this crime.

And the whole flock is in this group?

Who chose these books?

Oprah.

Oprah.

Martha pulls a theme list
from Oprah's site.

Well, this confirms my theory.

The killer certainly imitated

the traditional methods
of a locked-door mystery story.

Which makes things simple.

Book club time.

Come on, kids.

In The Hollow Man,
the detective Gideon Fell

gives a rundown of all possible methods of
a locked-door killing.

So let's line them up and knock them down.

Possibility number one,

Wicks was stabbed with the knife

before entering the closet.

Father Jud, would you take your place
right where you were?

Wicks completes his sermon.

Any device behind him

capable of propelling
a heavy unbalanced dagger into his back…

would have been hidden from the camera
and the witnesses in the nave,

but certainly would have been
witnessed by Father Jud.

No, I didn't see
a knife-shooting robot behind him.

No. Possibility one, nixed.

Possibility two…

He was killed

while inside the closet

by someone or something that was

outside the closet.

Like, something shot the knife
into the closet from out here?

No, that's nuts.

Nuts and impossible on several fronts.

Possibility two, nixed. Progress!

How many more possibilities are there?

Not many. Three…

He was killed while inside the closet

by a device that was also

inside the closet.

So something was placed beforehand and,

what, triggered with a remote?

Well, these walls are thick,

but a very strong RF signal
could blast through 'em.

So where would one hide…

…a fully functional
remote-controlled knife-propelling device

in an empty box, mm?

Wicks fell on his stomach.

I remember that clangy thud.

And his face was towards the door,

so he was standing at the back facing out,

so the knife must have
somehow come through the back wall.

Clangy thud. Very good.

However,

Rock of Gibraltar.

What about…

What about a false wall
that was removed later?

Go to town, Father Brown.

What? No, no.

My boys would have noticed a fake wall.

Yeah. And removing it later
would have been no small task.

Nothing else was found
on the floor of this space, yes?

Nope. No, just the red thread.

Wait, what? The…

The red thread?

Two strings of thick red thread
about three inches long, found there

over by the body next to the hip.

So, what's possibility four?

Martha?

-Throw them out.
-Martha?

Throw them out!

To walk this holy place

like some crime scene. Like some

tawdry police show talking of robots!

It's not right, Father,
it isn't, it's not right!

Martha, you should go home, get some rest.

Can I do anything for you?

Leave.

No one wants you here anymore.

You've always hated the Monsignor
and you have nothing but contempt for us.

-That's not true.
-Murder in your heart…

-No.
-…blood on your hands

just like the harlot whore.

Your original sin has stained this place.

False priest!

Sorry.

But, yeah,
if finding the facts with that detective

puts me against you
and this flock then so be it.

Sorry.

Can I use your bag?

Sure. Go ahead.

Are you okay?

A fog was clearing.
This was a puzzle that was solvable.

The body, the weapon,
the crime scene, robot-knife guns,

and angles of view
and stone walls and remote controls.

And remote controls.

But it's a new day… The Cubs…

who would have been the hero in that game…

But we saw how that went…

You didn't listen to the game
during Friday's service.

On your radio.

I would not. Martha doesn't approve.

So you taped it.

Yep.

Okay. I've overlaid a time stamp
taking into account the broadcast delay.

Dr. Sharp's call to the hospital
happened at 3:47 p.m.

and 90 seconds before that…

So, several things
could have caused that glitch,

but to answer your question, yes,

it is consistent
with a strong burst of RF interference

that you might get
from a souped-up remote control.

Damn.

This is it, right?

This triggered the knife robot.

This has got to be it.
You can… You can solve it now, right?

Did you, um…
Did you sync this up with Cy's footage?

I did, yeah. The iPhone video
has a time stamp. It's very precise.

-Okay. Can you show us please?
-Yeah.

Show us what?

On which hung The salvation of the world

Monsignor?

Oh.

So when the RF burst happened,

he was already on the ground
with a knife in his back

and Father Jud was staring right at him.

How does that work?

Well, for the knife robot, it doesn't.

So… this was nothing?

No, no.

This was very much something.

We have all the pieces
laid out before us now.

-We do?
-Yeah.

Consider the origin
of the devil's head, the red thread,

the clangy clunk,
the timing of the RF remote.

It all lines up.

So give us the answer.

I can't.

You said if you had all the pieces,
you would have an answer.

I know. And yet,

with all the pieces on the table,

this crime still truly appears

impossible.

You told me you could solve this.

That's what you do.

I put my faith in you.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

You haven't slept in 36 hours.
I think it's bedtime.

Yeah.

It's been a hell of a day.
Good night, Father Jud.

Come on. I'll drive you back.

You know, you're right.

This can't be impossible.

There must be a piece missing.

And I think I know where to find it.

See, I think there's something in there,
in your head,

that I need to solve this case.

And if I can't shake it loose, I'm sorry,

but I'm gonna have to
go in there and get it.

Okay, you're freaking me out now.

I don't… I don't understand.

I don't get how this will help.
You want me to write the story?

Yes, the story.

The story of the Reverend Wicks' murder.

Monsignor Wicks.

Monsignor Jalapeño. I don't care.

I need to see his murder and the events
leading up to it through your eyes.

Starting where?

Oh, wherever you like.

Just keep it interesting,
keep it moving and spare no detail.

Blanc, I'm not a writer.

Take your time. Oh.

I'll be quite comfortable.

So I've spent the past hour
doing exactly that

and now I'll put down this pen
and hand it to you

and I guess, wait

while you read my story

of the murder
of Monsignor Jefferson Wicks.

Why'd you do it?

Better question is,

why'd I think I could lie to you
and get away with it?

Oh, no, you didn't lie.
I knew you wouldn't.

You just didn't say
the dishonest part out loud.

"When I joined the others outside,
the police were just arriving."

"Joined the others outside."

So you stayed inside.

So you were the only person
with unobserved access

to the utility closet after the murder,
but before the police searched it.

Why? I mean…

Why protect him?

I didn't do it to protect Wicks.

I did it to save the people
who believe in him

just a little disillusionment.

Well, surely everyone knew.

I mean, it would have been
on his breath after every Mass.

"Fortified himself."
Oh, clever wording there.

But everyone must have known.

The spirit really moved him today, huh?

No, not everyone.

Sam.

The one good person in this whole place.

Getting sober saved his life.

I knew the press and police were there.
Why let that be part of the story?

Wicks had been stabbed.

I don't know how or by who,
but I… but I knew he'd been stabbed.

So this had nothing to do with it.

It was an impulse.

A little storytelling to protect my flock.

Oh, bullshit!

And in protecting their bubble of belief,
you have shielded a killer!

Where is that flask?

Shit!

Shit. It's not here.

Blanc.

I'm sorry.

He was stabbed, so I didn't think--

No. You did not think.

But we're into the woods now,
so you better start.

Someone broke into my room.

It's just hitting me.

This is devious,
it's calculated against me.

And now you see
the enemy we're up against.

You have listened to this flock's stories
with empathy and grace,

but we're done with that now.

We've wasted enough time.

Tomorrow we use
the gathering at the burial

to question them all together.

We must discover what happened that night.

And what this flock
of wicked wolves is hiding.

Mm.

Betrayed.

Beaten.

Mocked.

Pierced.

Murdered.

And left in a hole to rot.

To be forgotten.

As with our Savior, so with the church.

Our church is assailed
by wicked modernity,

by the enemies of God.

The harlot whores,

the vermin who would oppress and silence

and bar us from our rightful place

as the rulers
of a Christian nation of faith.

And even as I stand before you
as a warrior of Christ,

in the armor of God ready to fight
the world to my last breath,

you shall not pass!

As our Lord was, I am betrayed by Judas.

Gentlemen, may I have a moment?

Judas in many forms.

Always the true threat comes from within.

Remember my words.

On this Good Friday,
remember what's to come.

Remember, all of you.

You will rise again.

It will be okay.

You will rise again.

You will rise.

The hour approaches.
The hour I have warned you about.

Remember what I have promised you all,
come Easter Sunday.

For I will make good
on that promise, yes, I will.

For behold, though He is struck down,

the righteous Son of God will rise again.

Eve's Apple restored to the tree

and the wealth of His kingdom
and His rising reign.

And as you gnash your teeth
in the darkness,

you unfaithful devils,

as you lie cold and forgotten and alone,

He will rise again to reclaim what is His.

And strike down the wicked

and raise His true Son
to the throne of this nation!

Yes, He will rise! Yes, He will rise!

Yes, tremble in fear,

for He will rise again in glory
and vengeance and power!

Sorry about your loss, Father.
Here, sign on the bottom.

Listen, between you and me,

I don't care what the Internet says.
I think there's a chance you didn't do it.

All right, everyone. Listen up.

Oh, would you look who it is.
It's Judas Jud.

Father, you are not welcome here.

All right, stop!

Here's what's gonna happen.

Benoit fricken' Blanc and I are
gonna ask you all some questions,

you'll answer them and we'll get to
the bottom of who killed Monsignor Wicks

and why and then…

That's it!

Okay? Okay, so…

Thank you, Father Jud, that was

very good. Um,

and we're gonna start…

…with what happened that night
right here in this very room.

You mean the time Jud admitted
to all of us that he killed a man.

Okay, no, that was…
That was the boxing thing, I was--

And now he's covering his ass
by attacking us. He's a PINO.

A… a PINO?

Priest in name only.

Helping Benoit Blanc
crack the mystery of the evil, evil church

and then some libtard
will make a podcast about all of this

and before you know it, the idiot versions
of all of us will end up on Netflix.

Oh, the idiot versions. God forbid.

Jesus!

It's a miracle!

-I can walk, Martha. It just hurts.
-Oh.

-Oh.
-And I say, good.

Expose it all.

Wicks was a con man.

Miracles and supernatural
power of God bullshit.

I really believed.

I still wanna believe.

How sick is that?

Well, actually, I was inquiring
not about Jud's prayer group,

but about the shadowy meeting with Wicks

that took place in this room
on Palm Sunday.

What was that meeting actually about?

Who wants to go first?

I'll tell you.

-Cy. Hey. Wait, hold on, buddy. Hey!
-No, no, no.

You shut your mouth,
you little shit weasel.

-It isn't your decision!
-Tell him nothing!

Hey, look… Whoa. Easy, Father Jud.

I promise you that
what we talked about that night

has nothing to do
with Wicks' killing, okay?

But it does have to do with things that,
if made public,

could ruin people in this room.

I recorded the whole thing. Just hit play.

-No! This is not--
-You scoundrel!

-Open this door, you bastard!
-You are defiling my files!

-Play it.
-Open it--

All right. Very dramatic, Vera.

You've got your audience.
What's this about?

I've been thinking about your mom.

I never knew her,
but growing up in this church,

I knew the story of the harlot whore

and I've been thinking about
what her life must have been like

to be trapped in a house,
with her father and her son.

Closing rank, shaming her

and teaching us all to shame her.

That poor girl.

Yesterday, I got a call
from a family law colleague in Brooklyn.

He wanted to double-check contact details

for Monsignor Jefferson Wicks, my client,

because my client
had filed an AOP with him.

In Brooklyn.

So I would not know.

What's an AOP?

"Acknowledgement of parentage"?

"Affirmation that I, Jefferson Wicks,

am the biological father of Cyrus Draven."

No shame for you.

Right?

Who was the mother?

Does it even matter?

No. No! No, she came back
and dropped this poor kid in your lap.

And then she went and had a life.

And my faithful father came to the rescue.

Once again, the boys club closed ranks
and there I was, the loyal little idiot.

Trapped.

And I obeyed
and I honored and raised your son

while you sat on your pulpit, shameless.

You… hypocritical son of a bitch!

Cy?

Did you know?

Not until Vera told me this morning.

Yes.

Cy is my son.

From a loose woman of no importance

who I knew for one night
and haven't seen in 30 years.

Vera's father and I kept this secret.
But no longer.

He is my heir.

My son.

Now the world is going to know it.

So, rats,

flee the sinking ship.

Oh, cut the shit.

You're all standing by your man.

I just wanted to see it.
I wanted to see for myself.

You eat his shit with a spoon
and come back for seconds.

That's kind of condescending, Vera.

-You don't know what we're feeling.
-Oh.

I think we're all, as Christians,
very shaken up by what you just said.

But we're fighting an existential war here

where the end justifies the means.

The church doesn't need
some pussy who's gonna

lie down and take it, we need a warrior.

We need a warrior

and I believe that God chose
Monsignor Wicks to be His warrior.

So, you and your son have my sword.

And…

we don't know this woman.

We do not know her.

We do not know, right, how she…

What is truth? Right?
With various sources.

We don't know that… We don't… What exists?

Does any of this exist?

So…

Well said, Doc.

Thank you.

You promised if I stuck with you,
you could heal me.

If that's true,

I don't need you to be a saint.

We're with you, Monsignor Wicks.

And literally nothing that you say or do
is gonna change that.

I will give my final service

a week from today on Easter Sunday.

And then

I will close the doors
of this sad little church for good.

But not before I have destroyed
each and every one of you.

Sorry. Wait, what?

Your drinking, Nat?

Yeah. What?

Oh, you're a dangerous man.

Going to work drunk.

Treating patients, children, while drunk.

This community should know.

The medical board should know.

No one must ever trust or hire you again.

And, Lee.

This, uh, Troubadour book
you've been writing.

Its bootlicking idiocy
is an affront to my ministry.

It… It's my duty to warn
not only the public but…

…my friends in the publishing world.

It must be buried. You must be buried.

Exposed as the irrelevant clown
that you are.

What the hell?
What is even happening right now?

And, Vera.

You are your father's nightmare.

He would be so ashamed.

Simone. I cannot heal a faithless woman.

I cannot help you.

You said you could cast it out of me.

Mm, I promised you nothing.

I've given you all of my savings.

You cannot buy God's healing.

You will never be healed.

You will die in pain
in the prison of that chair.

Why are you doing this?
I don't understand.

-This is a joke. Right? A joke.
-I am so confused.

Is this payback for the Father Jud prayer
meeting because he ambushed us.

Father Jud's prayer meeting?

I have kept this church.

I have fortified it with the truth of God.

And now the betrayal to find my authority

and faith and life itself challenged…

…and from inside my own sanctuary!

Get out!

Weak.

All of you.

You can't follow my path.

Yes, we are at war

and I cast you out of my fortress.

You son of a bitch.

On Easter Sunday,
when the pews fill with townspeople,

I will lay bare the sins of this flock.

Cut you loose and shake the dust
of this place off of my sandals.

And to hell

with you all.

Well, glory be. That cleared the room.

Cy.

Why'd he do that?

Cy. Tell me. What was happening?

Why'd he torch them all?
Why would he do that?

Because I told him to.

When Vera told me the truth,
I went and found him.

And he embraced me as a son
for the first time in my life.

He unburdened himself.

I hate this place.

I hate this sad flock of losers.

I want to get out.

And now, finally…

I can.

He told me,

his grandfather's family fortune,
lost all these years,

he told me he found it. Just this week.

No. No, that money is gone.

Nobody knows where Prentice put it,
but it's gone without a trace.

He told me he found it.

He was gonna shutter this dump
and retire in filthy wealth.

And I told him, "Are you nuts?"

Retire? Do you know the power
of what you do on that stage?

I've shrunk the flock.

No. You've radicalized them.

That is power.

In a small town, there are only so many
witches to burn and zealots to activate.

Your flame lacks fuel.

But on the Internet,

wildfire.

This money.

Your cult of personality.
Are you kidding me?

Give me four years.

You could be president.

Together we can build a real empire.

As father and son.

Like in Star Wars?

-Yeah. Exactly, like the Rebels.
-Oh.

His ministry and my political instincts
fueled by enough money.

Can you imagine
what we could do in Christ's name?

Yeah. Yeah, I think I can.

First, I told him,
and I'll admit this is a little personal,

first I told him
we need to burn this flock.

They're a liability.

If they associate themselves with us,

show up on cable news,
even want a place in this thing…

We need to burn them off like leeches.

That's why he torched them all.

'Cause of your petty vindictiveness.

One of them might have killed him for it.
You know that, right?

Getting back to this vast fortune.

So it's yours now?

-Technically, yes.
-Technically?

-He didn't tell you where it was.
-No.

His accounts are empty. There's nothing.

So where is it?

And then, I realized, 50 years ago,

what was the safest way
for Prentice to hide $80 million?

-A Swiss bank account.
-Aha!

And so all you need to do
is find that account number.

No luck there?

It has to be written down somewhere.

Martha files everything and it isn't here.

I don't know.

Here. I thought it might be a code
because he kept saying,

"Eve's Apple
would be restored to the tree."

That was a thing.
As if Eve's Apple is the fortune.

But a Swiss account,
we're looking for 19 numbers,

so it doesn't work.

Vera, did he ever tell you anything?

Even if he did, I would go to my grave
before giving it to you.

Yeah.

You'd have done anything to keep
the prodigal son from getting the fortune.

It burns you up.

You bitter hag.

That money

is one psalm in the Bible
of my bitterness, you fucking child.

You should come and get your shit,
it'll be out on the street.

You. You're a detective. I'll pay you.
I don't care, this is very important,

my inheritance
and future political career depends on it.

Can you think of anything

related to Eve's Apple
that might contain that number?

Oh, um… Mm-mm.

But if you think of anything,
you'll call me?

-Oh, yeah. You bet.
-All right.

We should look everywhere.

It might be, uh, sewn in the lining.

Etched in the metal.

This is hollow.

Yeah. Do it.

Remind me to file this.

File that.

-It doesn't make sense.
-I know.

An 80-million-dollar fortune.

But if Eve's Apple is the fortune

and it's not a pile of cash
in a Swiss account somewhere, what is it?

What?

They must have
misprinted the date on this.

It says the crypt opening thing
was ordered last Wednesday.

That can't be right.

Who would preorder burial equipment
for a man who isn't dead?

Someone who knew with great certainty
when their day and hour would come.

Give me that.

Oh, that's computer printed.
That's not a misprint. That's it.

Whoever called in that order,
that's the key.

Okay. Yeah. Yeah.

Steel Wheels Construction. This is Louise.

Hello, Louise. It's Father Jud
from Perpetual Fortitude.

-Oh. Hello.
-Hi, Louise.

We had a piece
of your construction equipment here today.

-Uh, a forklift to open a, um… a crypt.
-Oh, yeah. I know.

It's not too often
we get a crypt opening order.

Great. So I need to know--

I actually processed that order.
I do all the processing.

Yeah. What I need to know, Louise, is--

-I run this place with my brother James.
-Right.

-He takes orders but I process them.
-Yeah. Right.

So the reason I'm calling, Louise, is to--

I've been to that church of yours,
but I don't think you were there.

-No, I… I'm new, relatively new here.
-Congratulations.

-Louise, I… I have to ask…
-No, it was an older guy.

-Father… Is he…
-Monsignor, Monsignor.

-Father Monsignor, okay, well…
-Louise--

He was preaching when I went and
I gotta tell you, that is not a nice man.

-But I am sorry that he…
-Okay.

…yikes, died and,
you know, for all y'all's loss…

Yeah, it's a terrible tragedy
for everyone, Louise.

Can I… I have to, uh, interrupt.

-I have a question.
-Yeah.

Uh, the order for the forklift.
I need to know who placed the order.

-James takes the orders and…
-James takes the orders.

-…he's left for the day.
-Can I have James' number?

This is very important. We need to
find out who placed that order.

-No, no. I don't think I can do that…
-No, it's very important.

-Excuse me, Father.
-It's very--

What I can do, as I was saying,

is I can get that information for you
and then I will give you

-a buzz back.
-That's it. That's great.

And if you could call James now,
I would appreciate it so much.

-Thank you, Louise.
-And she'll call you back.

I will. Hey, Father,
could I ask you something?

Yeah, it's… Though, I mean…

Well, if you can make it quick.

-This is a priority for us right now.
-Maybe she could call you back and--

Father Jud would you… Could you…

Louise?

Oh, God.

Louise?

Will you pray for me?

Uh…

Yeah, of course.

-Can I ask what for?
-Uh…

It's, uh, my mother.

She's sick?

Yeah.

Um, she's in hospice.

I'm so sorry, Louise.

Uh, she won't talk to me.

We fought last time we talked.

Uh, she has a tumor in her brain
that's affecting her,

and it's making her say
really terrible things,

and so I said bad things back

and now I'm afraid that
that's gonna be the last thing

that we ever say to each other.

Father, I, um…

I'm feeling pretty alone, um, right now.

I'm so sorry, Louise.

You're not alone.

I'm right here.

I'm here.

Can you tell me your mother's name?

I pray that Barbara
may feel her daughter's love.

That it will comfort her in this time,
and, Lord, I pray for Louise.

Be with her
and give her wisdom and guidance.

Hold her in your healing arms
and let her know she is loved.

She is not alone.

This we pray
through Christ our Lord. Amen.

Okay, Louise.

You have my number.
Any time, day or night,

I'm here for you.

This church is here for you.

Bless you. Okay.

Storm. I came to close up.

I'll get the church.
You take care of the rectory.

Don't follow me, Blanc. I'm done.

And, uh, why exactly?

I've had a "road to Damascus" thing.

Paul had a holy revelation
on the road to Damascus.

Yes, I know. He was struck blind
and all that hogwash.

Probably just a case of pink eye.

But he was not on the verge
of solving a murder when it happened.

I mean, what do you think
we're doing here?

Why do you think I became a priest?
No bullshit. Really. Why?

You felt guilt.

For taking a life. And the church,

it offered you a place to hide
and a clear method

to give you a sense of absolution.

The guy I killed in the ring, I hated him.

I remember, I knew he was in trouble

and I kept going and going
until I felt him break.

It wasn't an accident.
I killed him with hate in my heart.

There's no hiding from that,
there's no solving it.

God didn't hide me or fix me.
He loves me when I'm guilty.

That's what I should be doing
for these people.

Not this whodunit game.

No, now wait a minute.

Excuse me. Excuse me, I--

Would you look at me
when I'm talking to you?

We're looking for a murderer.
This is not a game.

It is a game!

Solving it, winning it.

Getting your big checkmate moment.

And by using me in it, you're setting me
against my real and only purpose in life.

Which is not to fight the wicked
and bring them to justice,

but to serve them
and bring them to Christ.

Otherwise, I'm just as bad as Wicks.

Making it about me and not Jesus.

Listen, you don't
have to understand, Blanc.

But just please,

please, please, please let me be.

-Can you say that again?
-No.

About making it about you, not Jesus.
Like Wicks, you said.

Father, this is important.

Help me understand!

We are here to serve the world,
not beat it.

-That's what Christ did.
-So?

So when Wicks was talking about
fighting the world for Christ's sake,

he wasn't talking about Christ,
he was talking about his own ego.

And power.
He was never talking about Christ.

Yes, over and over
he talked about Christ rising in power.

Getting his revenge on the unfaithful.

Eve's Apple is the treasure.

"Eve's Apple restored to the tree."

Now, what does that mean?

Blanc. I don't know.

And I don't care.

That'll be Geraldine
coming for her update on the case.

Now, Father, you're right.

This is my game, not yours.

Why don't you head back to the rectory?
I'll handle her.

Thank you.

Make sure the door's shut when you leave.

Hope you catch your killer, Blanc.

Thank you. I… I will.

Father Jud?

-Father Jud.
-He's not here.

Come.

I want you to search those back rooms
and that closet thing too.

Oh.

It's good, right?

Great, actually.

Especially the part where
Gideon Fell walks you through

the possible solutions
of a locked-door crime.

-Mm.
-Yeah.

You covered three of them,
then you stopped.

Now, having read the fourth, I know why.

See, I rewatched the video
and I realized something.

From the moment Jud enters the closet,

until the first of the flock
has a line of sight into that closet

is nine seconds.

Nine seconds alone and unseen.

Plenty of time to do the deed
with a concealed knife.

That's how it was done, right?

No games.

No bullshit. That's how it was done.

Yes.

And you knew. You knew all along
and you toyed with that poor kid

-like a cat with a mouse.
-No.

I don't have the whole picture just yet.

-If you could give me a little more time…
-No.

-I'm gonna be able to get--
-No!

I found my killer and I'm bringing him in.

Where is he?

Sam!

Who's there?

Wait!

Blanc?

Here.

Oh, shit. Who's that?

The groundskeeper, Samson.

What the hell happened?

Oh…

Mm.

Uh…

Mm. Yeah.

Okay.

Okay, Wicks was 100% medically dead dead.

I mean, we know this, I'm just…

just saying, right?

Right.

Okay, then I can also say out loud,

a man can't just rise from the dead.

I mean, there's obviously some
Scooby-Doo shit going on here.

"Scooby-Dooby-Doo."

Praise to God!
Praise and glory to the Almighty!

Praise Him!

Praise God!
Praise and glory to the Almighty.

-He hath raised His Son.
-Hey, Ritz.

Set a perimeter on the road.

News is gonna spread fast
and I don't want any lookie-loos.

-You got it.
-Chief!

What?

That motion-detector light there,
it's also a camera.

But it's not hooked up to anything.

A camera, huh?

I don't know. Maybe it's recording
something on a chip inside.

Why don't you bring it into the media lab?

Hallelujah, praise God.

He has raised up
His servant from the dead.

Hey, do me a favor? Tape off
this entire area, down to the grove.

-Got it.
-It's a homicide scene.

The groundskeeper is dead.

No! Please!

-Oh, shit.
-No! No, no, no!

Can I get some help?

-Get help! Martha.
-No! Oh, no, no!

-Martha, you need to back up.
-Oh, no!

Martha…

Flee into the dark, you murderer!

But he has returned!

And he brings vengeance! He brings death!

This is Father Jud.

Oh, Father Jud, it's Louise.
How you doing?

Uh…

Yeah… Hi, Louise.

I… I hope it's not too late,
but you said it was urgent,

so I just wanted to tell you…

I spoke to James
and the order for the forklift

was actually placed by Monsignor Wicks.

He spoke to James directly about it,
so I do hope that this clears things up.

Hey, God bless you, Father,
and you have yourself a good night, okay?

Uh… Yeah.

Yeah, you too, Louise.

Jeez.

Yes?

Slow down, Martha. What?

What?

-It's a miracle.
-Bullshit.

No, it happened.
Martha said the tomb is empty.

I'm calling everyone. I'm on my way now.

Did you, uh…

What are you doing? You don't smoke.

I did.

I smoked for 15 years.

Did Lee call you? Did he tell you?

Yep.

Okay. Well, I'm gonna go
witness a miracle.

You enjoy your cigarette indoors.

Praise be.

It's accomplished.

Come on.

Come on, it's…

He's got it.

All right, so… it's not great quality…

-It's fine.
-…but, uh…

What am I looking at here?

Okay.

Um, yeah, so, it records
anytime there's motion

and this clip is four seconds later.

Okay?

Prints from the gardening tool.

We didn't run the full database check,
just the suspects you questioned.

It's Father Jud.

Where is he?

I sincerely wish I knew.

Blanc. Blanc!

I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna… turn myself--

-…388.
-388, en route.

433.

-I'm turning myself in.
-No you are not.

Skimbleshanks, the railway cat!

I did it. I killed Samson.
I'm guilty. I have to confess.

-Let me out.
-Listen.

You're gonna tell me
exactly what happened, but right now,

how do I get to Dr. Nat's house?

-Dr. Nat?
-Yes, quickly.

I regret my stalling.

I only hope we're not too late.
Now, just get down!

Hail Mary, full of grace
the Lord is with you.

Blessed art thou amongst women…

…sir, that I respect you.
I respect the badge.

But this is our church and I'm not telling
you that I'm gonna resort to violence,

but we're gonna stay here all night
if we have to. We are seeing that crypt!

-Is it real?
-They won't let us in.

I need to see.

Please, I need to see.

Dr. Nat?

Oh, God.

What's that smell?

Just wait here.

Blanc.

Yep.

Oh, God.

Right.

Oh, Lord, that is…

Wicks.

Yeah, that's… It's him.

-Is he…
-Yeah.

I mean, for what it's worth these days.

Let's see now. Let's…

Okay.

This might get unpleasant.

I mean, more unpleasant.

Dr. Nat.

In the flesh. Yeah… Or, what's left of it.

Geraldine, it's… it's Blanc. Um…

Yeah, he's standing right here.

Listen to me.

You're gonna wanna come
to Dr. Nat's house.

There's a body. Or two.

It's all here.

Yes, yeah. It's… it's finished, yeah.

I'll call you back.

Father Jud. Wait, wait.

I killed Samson. I have to do this.

I have to do it of my own free will
or it won't mean anything.

Plate check.
Copy that. Any available units to respond…

Would you call Geraldine for me, please?

Say Father Jud's returned to his church
and he's ready to confess.

Father Jud.
I'm here to arrest you for the murder

of Monsignor Jefferson Wicks
and Samson Holt.

And you're a person of interest
in the death of Dr. Nathaniel Sharp.

Nat is dead?

Murdered in his home.

We also recovered Wicks' body. It's over.

Anything you say
can be used against you in a court of law.

But if you'd like to confess to anything,

this seems like
a pretty great place to do it.

Yeah.

Years ago,

I murdered a man in a boxing ring.

I killed him with hate in my heart.

Last night, that same sin rose in me
and in a moment of

fear and rage, I--

I'm sorry, that was dramatic,
but I needed you to stop talking.

-No. Father Jud--
-I was about to explain to everyone…

-Sit down and listen.
-Stop talking.

Please, let him. You were continuing…
Continue, you said last night…

-In a moment of fear and rage…
-I was about to do it…

You shall not silence
the voice of the Lord!

But sit now and behold the wickedness
and shame of the guilty

laid bare before you all!

What are you doing?

Let us begin with Wicks' murder.

Right here on Good Friday.

The impossible crime.

And, Geraldine,
you were correct in your deduction.

When Monsignor Wicks collapsed
in that closet space, he wasn't dead.

He wasn't even stabbed, not yet.

The flask he kept stashed
in the breaker box

was spiked
with a very powerful tranquilizer.

He drank from it.

Fortified himself.

And within minutes,
fell to the floor, unconscious.

The clanky clunk.

Leaving him defenseless

and giving the killer
their chance to enter the closet

and deliver the deadly blow.

I… I said that already.

Father Jud.

No. The knife was in his back
when I found him.

There's something in his back.

So how? When? It's impossible. I saw.

What did you see?

The red devil head.

Blood you assumed was Wicks'.

Now, I showed you
the answer to this, did you see?

Il Diavolo.

The pizza bar. The photograph.

You thought you saw,

but that wasn't it, no.

It was a second identical lamp.

A second identical devil head.

Yeah.

And it was also missing.

Two devils.

Yes.

Why two?

And why painted red?

It wasn't red though. It's red now.

The same red as the Good Friday vestments.

The same exact red

as the mysterious thread
found in the closet.

Because the second devil head
was there all the time.

Sewn to the back of his vestments.

Hollow, light,

and filled with a small squib of blood

triggered by an RF remote.

Set off at the exact right moment.

Monsignor?

The doctor.

A voice of authority

who can wait for the discovery he needs
before taking charge.

There's something in his back.

Wait. Don't touch it.

A moment of distraction presents itself.

And the deed is quickly done.

His final task,

to remove the incriminating
drug-laced flask.

But where was it? It was gone.

The one hiccup in his plan.

The result of a moment
of foolish grace by Father Jud

who concealed the flask
to hide Wicks' drinking

and returned later to retrieve it.

My God.

Nat.

Why?

Wicks was going to scorch the earth.

He was going to ruin him.

No. The bigger why.
The why that brought you here.

Why do all this insane, elaborate stuff?

The theatricality? The impossible crime.

Why?

Indeed.

Okay, so… if Dr. Nat killed Wicks,

who killed Nat?

Well, now we get to it.

Not some fiddly locked-door mystery

with devices and clues,

but a much, much larger scheme.

One whose roots
run to the bedrock of this church.

And one which draws me,

an unbeliever in every sense of the word,

into the realm of belief.

To understand this case,

I had to look at the myth
that was being constructed.

Not to solve whether it was real or not,

but to feel in my soul

the essence of that
which it strove to convey.

A holy priest.

Struck down by no man,
but by the hand of Satan himself.

Laid to rest
in the sealed tomb of his father,

but then risen

by the will of God.

Risen as something new.

No longer a fallible man,

but now a symbol
of the Lord's power over death.

His justice for the holy.

His vengeance for the wicked.

Okay. And now, what really happened?

Yes. Yes.

It is time to break this tawdry facade

of miracles and resurrections
and reveal what really happened.

It is time for Benoit Blanc's

final checkmate
over the mysteries of faith!

Blanc, are you… Are you okay?

Damascus.

Damascus?

Like… a road to Damascus thing?

Yes, yes, Damascus.

Shit.

Blanc?

I cannot solve this case.

What?

Are you saying that
your conclusion, Benoit Blanc,

is that Monsignor Wicks
rose from the dead?

That it was a miracle?

I'm saying I cannot solve this case.

That works.

Thank you.

Blanc?

If you know what really happened,
you should tell everyone.

Is this you sparing our faith
or being respectful or something?

Because we deserve the truth.

It is not.

I need the truth.

Can't you just

give us the answer?
Isn't that what all this is for?

And would you consider blurbing my book?

No.

Okay. All right.
Show's over. Everyone out.

Out. Out.

Yeah, can you stand back, sir?

Okay, can we keep them back…

I add another chapter
and then we're… we're ready.

We're ready to publish. Trust me, Alan.

Call Random House, everybody.
It's gonna be huge!

What we've witnessed is a miracle
confirmed by Benoit Blanc himself.

The world will know
what happened today here at Chimney Rock.

You can find out yourself.
Follow my YouTube channel {CyDraven…

What a mess.

I assume they'll arrest Father Jud now.

Yes.

I suppose they will.

What the hell was that?

Road to Damascus.

Scales fell from my eyes.

So what? Facts, schmacks?

You believe in God
and all this mishegoss is real?

No, no. God is a fiction.

My revelation came from…

from Father Jud.

His example to have grace.

Grace for my enemy.

Grace for the broken.

Grace for those who

deserve it the least.

But who need it the most.

For the guilty.

Mr. Blanc.

You know the truth.

I do, yes.

And you made yourself the fool just now.

So that you could do this
of your own free will.

And now you better do it. Quickly.

Thank you.

Father Jud.

What do I do?

What you were born to do.

Be her priest.

Take her confession.

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.

It is a week since my last confession.

I told myself it started with pure intent.

But the truth is

it started with a lie.

Prentice.

Prentice.

I saw him take his final communion.

This is Eve's Apple, Martha.

My entire cursed fortune.

All the sin in the world.

All that Eve hungers for.

I have trapped it.

It shall never again
be plucked by evil hands.

The body of Christ.

He took the jewel to his grave.

I swore that I would
protect this great secret.

But Grace, she discovered that
he had bought the diamond.

I don't know how.

She knew her fancy brands.

What would come
in a custom-made Fabergé box,

itself worth maybe $20,000?

Not a trinket or a plastic Jesus, no.

Something facet-cut, worth a fortune.

A jewel.

But she didn't know where he hid it.

So that night…

She didn't desecrate the church in anger.

No, she was looking for the hidden jewel.

A dark life of desperation.

A prisoner to shame and judgment.

It was her one way out.

That poor girl.

Martha, what did you say to her?

I know where he hid it.

And you'll never find it.

You harlot whore.

Where is it?

Where is it, you little shit?

I kept the secret of Eve's Apple

locked in my heart for 60 years.

My terrible burden.

Until…

Until…

I challenged you to confess it.

With defiant pride,

I confessed.

To the wrong priest.

Time is of the essence now.

Last Sunday, in the rectory,

Vera confronted Wicks
and you learned about Cy.

I could accept that he had strayed.

But as he spoke, something became clear.

This was something much bigger.

He was embracing that terrible boy.

That's when I suspected.

So you call the construction company.

Thank you, James.

And I was certain.

He had ordered the equipment
to open the crypt

to steal the diamond
for his own greed and lust for power.

The corrupting sin
of Eve's Apple would be unearthed

and this church would fall

because of everything
Prentice had warned me about.

I had failed him.

All my life,

I was not the bad one. I was the good one.

The faithful one.

Serving and protecting the church.

If I failed in that, what is my life?

I understand.

My sole purpose

and I failed.

Unless…

Unless…

Unless I could…
I could steal the jewel first

and get rid of it forever.

And with the same stroke,

raise Wicks up
as a miraculous risen saint.

Not a fallible man, but a symbol

that would save my church.

All it would take is a miracle.

So I formed my plan.

Wicks' death must be a holy mystery.

Unsolvable and divine.

But you couldn't do it alone.

No.

A weak man, I thought.

Desperate.

Someone who would fall in line
to save the church

and stay in line to cover his shame.

And who had access
to medical-grade tranquilizers.

Yes. And that.

It all went according to plan.

Oh, God.

My vanity.

So wicked.

Martha.

I understand, I promise, I do.

Keep going. I'm here.

I didn't reckon the cost.

Forgive me, Samson.

Strong Samson, faithful Samson.

Samson. Who made the coffins.

Shit.

You will rise again.

It will be okay.

You will rise again.

It will be okay.

I promise.

He didn't understand why we were doing it.

Anything for you, my angel.

But he trusted me.

Because he loved me.

Oh, Lord.

How did it go so wrong?

It was supposed to be so simple.

The doctor gives the signal.

Samson retrieves the jewel.

The Lazarus door serves its purpose.

All caught on camera the way we planned.

Dr. Nat would drive off
with Wicks' body in his truck

and dispose of it
in that nasty gook in his cellar.

And the next day, Samson would
tell the tale of the risen saint

and his word of blessing
to his faithful groundskeeper

before ascending back into heaven.

A miracle.

It would have been perfect.

I wasn't supposed to be there.

You most certainly were not.

Did you know

what had happened
when you found Samson's body?

I had an idea.

No, no!

But I had to be sure.

Praise be.

It's accomplished.

Oh. Oh. Oh.

Then he told me the fairy tale

of how everything
had gone according to plan.

It was only then that I told him
I'd been to the crypt.

And I knew he was lying.

And then he told me the truth.

Shit. We can't let him see us.

Jesus.

My second mistake.

Underestimating the temptation
of Eve's Apple.

Our agreed mission was to destroy it
or throw it in the sea.

But all this power will I give thee.

Christ himself could resist temptation,

but this desperate little man,

all that stood in his way
was Samson and I.

Now, here was his opportunity.

To remove his obstacles.

Frame a young priest with a violent past

and keep the jewel.

He took it.

Then all that remained in his way was me.

He had poisoned my coffee
with a lethal dose of pentobarbital.

No remedy once ingested.

Mm, painless.

A little numbness in the lips.

Then in ten minutes,
time for your final prayer.

Then he begged me to understand
why he was doing all this.

That the money would lure back
his harpy wife,

blah, blah, blah.

I told him I understood.

I understood why he did it.

Oh.

I had understood it all.

These things I did with

hatred in my heart.

Vengeance is mine, said the Lord.

And that is the story
the crime scene will tell the world, but…

…inside my heart,

I know.

Vengeance is mine.

These sins I confess to you, Father.

I have lied, I have killed,

and now

I have topped it all off
with a real doozy.

Father. Quickly now, quickly.

What's happening?

I knew when I saw her lips…

it was already too late.

She's taken the pentobarbital.

-Oh. Oh, God. Call the ambulance now!
-On it!

There might be a poison kit
in the prowler!

Forgive me, Father,

for all you have endured.

Forgive me, Lord, for…
for Wicks and Nat and…

Samson.

My sweet Samson.

And Grace.

Martha.

Grace.

You're safe now.

Let it go.

Let the hatred go.

Grace.

Yes.

I see it now.

That poor girl.

Forgive me, Grace.

Father…

you're really good at this.

God, the father of mercies,

through the death
and resurrection of His Son

has reconciled the world to Himself

and poured out the Holy Spirit
for the forgiveness of sins,

and through the ministry of the Church,

may God grant you pardon and peace,

and I absolve you of your sins.

In the name of the Father and of the Son

and the Holy Spirit.

Shit.

The jewel was never found.

The church closed for a while.

The flock,
what was left of them, scattered.

Some got what they wanted only to discover
the one thing every holy man knows…

God has a sense of humor.

And some got a fresh start.

Maybe to find a path
that's theirs, I hope so.

And some got their miracle.

Not being cured or fixed,

but finding the sustaining power
to wake up every day

and do what we're here to do

in spite of the pain.

Daily bread.

And that's what I pray for with you.

That you find what you're looking for.

-Where is it? You know.
-No! Cy, Cy!

Goddamn it, I know you both know.

This is your last chance
or we're gonna drag you into court.

Mr. Wicks, control yourself.

We'd hoped this mediation
would resolve this matter.

She gave it to them
and they're hiding it. I know.

We've allowed your representatives to
search the church and rectory thoroughly.

They found nothing.

Also, Mr. Blanc was there
when Martha passed

and he denies anything untoward.

Hey.

Hey!

Any hint you've sold it, any big
charity donations, you fix the roof,

you upgrade your shitty communion wine,
I will watch,

I will audit, I will find out.

I hope you come back
to the church someday, Cy.

Your real inheritance is in Christ.

Little punk bitch.

His video with you is still trending.

Yes.

"Benoit Blanc 'pwned'."

Owned with a "P". Whatever that means.

We keep pushing the facts out there.

Martha, what really happened.
But it doesn't seem to matter.

Wicks truthers keep flooding our Facebook.
It's an outhouse fire.

Such a time to be alive.

You're gonna be
very popular once you open.

Maybe not in a good way.

Are you ready to take that on?

Let 'em come.

Good luck, kid.

Listen, uh… Um…

I'm… I'm… I'm gonna go.

Hmm.

Uh, my first Mass is coming up if…
if you wanna stick around.

Um… That's so nice of you.

There is, uh…
nothing I would rather not do.

Toodle-oo.

Well, the moon is broken
And the sky is cracked

Come on up to the house

The only things that you can see
Is all that you lack

Welcome!

Come on up to the house

All your crying don't do no good

Come on up to the house

Come down off the cross
We can use the wood

You gotta come on up to the house

Come on up to the house

Come on up to the house

The world is not my home
I'm just a-passing through

You got to come on up to the house

There's no light in the tunnel
No irons in the fire

Come on up to the house

And you're singing lead soprano
In a junkman's choir

You got to come on up to the house

Does life seem nasty
Brutish and short

Come on up to the house

The seas are stormy
And you can't find no port

Got to come on up to the house, yeah

You gotta come on up to the house

Come on up to the house

The world is not my home
I'm just a-passing through

You got to come on up
To the house, yeah

You gotta come on up to the house

Come on up to the house

The world is not my home
I'm just a-passing through

You got to come on up to the house

There's nothing in the world
That you can do

You gotta come on up to the house

And you been whipped by the forces
That are inside you

Gotta come on up to the house

Well, you're high on top
Of your mountain of woe

Gotta come on up to the house

Well, you know you should surrender
But you can't let it go

You gotta come on up
To the house, yeah

Gotta come on up to the house

Gotta come on up to the house

The world is not my home
I'm just a-passing through

You gotta come on up to the house

Gotta come on up to the house

You gotta come on up to the house

Oh, yeah