All language subtitles for Law.and.Order.Toronto.Criminal.Intent.S03E10.1080p.10bit.WEBRip.6CH.x265.HEVC-PSA

In Toronto's war
on crime,

the worst offenders
are pursued by the detectives

of the Specialized Criminal
Investigations Unit.

These are their stories.

Thank you for your support

during this campaign
and I cannot wait

to get to Ottawa, roll up
my sleeves, and get to work.

Yeah!

Because Parties change,
terms end,

Environment Ministers,
we come and go.

And I am not here
to be remembered.

Peter, stop it.

You're making it look
like you wrote it.

Worth remembering.
I did.

Miss Matthews,

you used to work as a litigator
for the very industries

that are destroying our planet.

Why should we trust you
as our Environment Minister?

Every time that I went
to court, I told myself

that someone needed
to defend these companies.

And someone does.
But not me.

Not anymore!

You see, I know these guys
and I know how to fight them.

And now, I am here
to defend our country,

our land, our lakes.

I am here to make this country

a better place for our children.

For my son.

Charles, with respect,

the Board never understood your
decision in the first place.

With respect,
I don't really care.

The land is useless
to this company. I...

I strongly encourage you
to get rid of it.

I've a good feeling
about this.

Housekeeping.

Peter.
Have you seen my phone?

Calendar updated.

- Did Owen leave already?
- Yeah, he yelled, "Bye".

You were in the shower.
Wow.

It's weird. We're going
to be empty nesters soon.

Claire, you are going to have

an entire country
to take care of.

Thank you.

- Oscar, right?
- Uh, no. It's Owen.

Okay, whatever.

Just need to drop off my stuff
and we'll head to the chapel.

You good to wait here?
I'll show you around the school?

Yeah. Sure, it's fine.

Sit tight.

Graff, it's a universal truth.

Court gets cancelled,

the only thing left
to do is enjoy the day.

I don't make the rules.

Yeah, summer's got the highest
crime rate of any season.

Well, you know
what else it has?

Root beer floats.

You always say
they remind you of summer.

You really want
to relive my childhood?

What did I tell you
about summer, huh?

That was fast.
What are you guys doing here?

Not sure yet.
We were about to get ice cream.

What do we got?

Claire Matthews?

Newly elected, uh,
member of Parliament

for University-Rosedale.

Yeah. Officers are securing
the home. No one's inside.

Next of kin?

Haven't found anyone yet.
We'll keep trying.

It's strange.

Jumpers usually take off
their shoes and glasses

in an intuitive desire
to preserve order.

There's nothing
orderly about this.

Well, looks like her win

cleaned out every
florist in town.

Any sign of a suicide
note or journal?

No, sir. Nothing yet.

If she was standing
on the stool,

her waist would be just
above the railing.

It's a point for suicide.

She could also have been
reaching for those geraniums.

Looks like she was
deadheading the plant.

Well, if she was
up here to reach,

she could've slipped.
Might be an accident.

Or she was up
there and somebody

pushed her over the edge.

Yeah, would've been
someone she knows.

Someone she feels
comfortable with.

Well, da Silva always says,

"What's the best way
to kill someone?

Push them from a great height."

The fall renders every forensic
detail indeterminant.

Now, right now, we still got
accident, suicide, or murder.

The husband's in the lobby.

Mr. Moore,

did your wife have any history
of mental illness, depression?

Okay.

I realize
this is... delicate.

Did Claire ever attempt
or discuss suicide?

Claire would never
take her own life.

Okay, what makes you say that?

She just won her riding.

I was her campaign manager.

She was tapped by the PM to be
Minister of the Environment.

She was on top of the world.

Claire would never choose
to leave her work.

Or her family.
- Hmm.

Oh, my God. Where's Owen?

- Oh, that's right. Your son.
- My step-son.

Claire's first husband
died when Owen was little.

Uh, he's a Clifford.
I need to...

You cannot tell him, he cannot
hear this from a stranger.

Well, we'll drive
you up there.

Unfortunately, we are going
to need your clothes,

so we can escort
you up to get changed.

No.

I hear Clifford
is a great school.

How long you been
a student here?

I'm not. I'm supposed
to board here next year.

So I take it your mother
was gonna work from Ottawa.

It's hard to be a good
cabinet minister from Toronto.

At what time did you leave
your home today?

I don't know, like seven?

Okay.

Owen, did anything
happen this morning?

Uh, anything conflict, argument?

I told you.

We were all in
a high. Claire was...

She's just on a winning streak.

What about you, Owen?

Did you, uh, notice anything?

I-I don't think so.

She was in the shower
when I left.

I said goodbye, but...

I don't know if she heard me.

As far as we can tell,

Claire Matthews had absolutely
no reason to end her own life.

According to her loving
husband and son,

she wasn't depressed, had no
history of substance abuse.

The woman was on
top of the world.

Now, let's stay on this one,
especially given who she is.

Yeah, we spoke
to a Mason Thorne

and a Clifford tour guide.

Owen was on a rousing tour of
the chapel when his mother died.

Hmm. And what about the loving
husband? Where was he?

Two-hour trail run
on the Beltline.

Oh, that's convenient.

Mark is checking to see if
there are cameras

along the trail
to confirm the alibi.

Someone might have
seen something.

In the meantime, me and this
guy have the great pleasure

of knocking on about 200 doors.

Well, maybe just one.

Let's start with the
ornithophile

on the eighth floor.

Peter,
I'm so sorry for your loss.

On the behalf of
the conservative caucus,

please accept our condolences.
Thank you.

I'm sorry,

we can't take
any more questions.

The investigation
is still underway.

Claire will be missed every day.

No luck finding Peter
jogging on the Beltline yet.

Good thing. I know that
there's a place in the city

you can still go
without being watched.

But you were right about the
bird lover on the eighth floor.

Here's the footage from
their bird feeder camera.

It doesn't show the balcony,
but the audio picked up

Claire talking to someone.

- Really?
- Yeah, hang on. I enhanced it.

I can't do that.

I've made my final decision.

Let go of me!

Then it was murder.
10:14 AM.

Wait, uh,
talking of cameras...

Your bad guy knows
how to avoid them.

According to the lobby cameras,
after the husband and son left,

no one went up to Claire's
condo until the police arrived.

Then how did
our killer get inside?

Yes, there were
cameras in the lobbies,

so Claire came up with a hack.
As she does...

Did.

We started using this
service entrance

during the campaign.

No press, no nosy doormen,
no enemies, no fans.

"We all". Who's "all"?

Everyone.

Me, the family, her volunteers,
her press secretary.

We all had a key to the condo.
It was pretty come and go.

And Tildy, do you mind
telling us where you were?

Monday morning?

You serious?

I worshipped Claire.

And on Monday morning,
I was picking up

a jacket that she left
at the Archer Hotel.

What was she doing there?

She had a meeting.

I'm not allowed

to talk about our guests.

Violation of privacy.

Well, Claire Matthews
was murdered,

so we need to get a sense

of who she was,
the company she kept.

Anything at all would help.

There was no business
happening in those meetings.

Unless you mean dirty business.

Do you have any idea how
much damage red rose petals

will do to Egyptian cotton?

Looked like a murder scene.

No joke.

Wow, that's a keeper.

Can you, uh,
airdrop that to me?

Sure.

So, Claire Matthews was
having sex with someone here.

Did you ever get a look at them?

Tall, older guy.

Was it him?

Her husband, Peter.
- No, but that's the guy

that got banned from
the hotel a few weeks ago.

There's a photo of him posted
in the security office.

Should talk to Ronald.

Three weeks ago, 5:45 PM.

Oh, and
our cameras don't have audio

due to privacy laws,
but you'll get the gist.

Had to send security
down to break it up.

Trouble in paradise.

Husband finds out
she's having an affair.

That could be enough to send
them both over the edge.

I gotta say, you've got
the worst luck with cameras

out of anyone I think
I've ever met.

I've been doing this a while.

But we can't find a single frame
of you on this running trail

on the day of your wife's
murder and yet, here you are

assaulting her at a hotel.

That must've been
a painful day for you.

I mean, you give
everything to Claire,

work around the clock to
make her dreams come true,

and then you find out that she's
sleeping with someone else.

I was heartbroken.

I thought of packing
up everything

and leaving that night,
I thought of leaking...

it to the press. I thought
about destroying her career.

So what did you do?

I decided to accept it.

My wife,
she didn't love me anymore,

and apparently, there's
nothing you can do about that.

We discussed it

and she decided that once we got
to Ottawa, we would split.

Quietly and she would facilitate
a lateral move for me.

Well. That sounds
remarkably cordial

under the circumstances,
but unfortunately,

we still can't corroborate
your whereabouts

at the time on the day--
- Okay, wait...

- ...of your wife's murder.
- Hold on, please, look.

When I run, there's
a guy that I see there

all the time. He's got
a blue RBC jacket,

he's got these bright
orange running shoes,

and I definitely
passed him that day.

All right, we'll see.

Mom was acting weird.

Not bad. Just different.

Different how?

Like her mood.

She seemed really happy,
but distracted.

You know what about?

She never admit it, but I
think she was cheating on Peter.

Why'd you think that?

Because these
gifts would show up.

- What kind of gifts?
- Flowers mostly.

Uh, book of poetry.

I remember one time
Peter was out camping,

some restaurant delivered
coconut cream pie.

All the note said was "XOXO".

Hmm.

What was the, um,
colour of the box?

I'm assuming
the pie came in a box?

Yeah. It was, uh, navy blue.

Now, the only
restaurant that I know

that serves coconut cream pie
in a navy box is Bardi's.

I hate that place.

What's wrong with Bardi's?

It's fancy, you like food,

and they've got the biggest
shrimp in town.

I had to spend
every birthday there.

No pizzas, no bouncy castles.

I didn't know what a birthday
cake was until I could shave.

- Morning.
- I'm sorry,

we're not open just yet.

We're with the Toronto police.
I'm Detective Bateman,

this is Detective Graff.
- Henry!

Is that you? It's been years.

Andre, yes. It's, uh,
been a while.

Henry used to come in
here all the time as a kid.

We'd have to make
him special plates,

so that his food would
not touch the other food.

Well, we have a few
questions regarding

an ongoing investigation.

Has he always
been this charming?

From day one.

Do you recognize this woman?

Name of Claire Matthews?

Yes.
She was in here a few times.

Do you happen to remember
if she was with anyone?

She was here with your father.

My father?

Well, that
certainly complicates things.

Well, I can tell you right now

that Andre's already
on the phone with him,

so let's pay
the old man a visit.

Uh... I don't think
that's a good idea.

Ah, come on, he lives
10 minutes away.

A couple questions won't hurt
and if things turn weird,

even a little weird, we're out.

- Graff.
- Come on, Bateman.

I'm the picture
of professionalism.

]

This is where you grew up?

No, not really. I was only
here when I wasn't at school.

Moved out first chance I got.

Henry?

It's good to see you.
What's it been? 10 years?

Come in. Come in.

Charles Graff.
Lovely to meet you.

Frankie Bateman.
Uh, Detective Bateman.

Couldn't you tell us about
your relationship with, um,

Claire Matthews?

The fact that you're
here tells me

you already know that...

Claire and I
were seeing each other.

Romantically.
Little over six months now.

So you're aware of her death.

Yes, I heard it on the news.
Just like everybody else.

I was under the impression
that she took her own life.

Is that true?
- Would that surprise you?

Yes.

Claire seemed happy, fulfilled.

We were madly in love.

Suicide seems completely
out of character.

So what'd you get out of your
relationship with Claire? Hmm?

Was it sex?
Excitement? Access to power?

You rarely get close to
someone without an angle.

I didn't have an angle.

I told you.
I adored Claire.

Hence the gifts, huh?

See, if my father wants someone
or something from someone,

he carpet bombs them with gifts.

Desserts, books, flowers--

Tie pins.

Those were my grandfather's.

Which I gave to you.

First day of
Lakefield College, wasn't it?

Gift-giving isn't
a psychological warfare tactic.

It's my way of showing
affection, Henry.

You of all people should
know that by now.

God knows
I've tried to reach you.

I do know.

But I also know if you love
someone and they cross you,

things usually don't
go well for them.

- Claire didn't cross me.
- That's not a denial.

Okay, that's enough.

Henry, I'm serious.
We're leaving.

Mr. Graff.

My insight into my father

could prove a vital asset
to this investigation.

No! You're compromised.

I'm compromised?
My father is a morally bankrupt

high-functioning sociopath
who always has an angle

and I guarantee you, if
he killed his latest lover,

it's because she withheld
something from him.

Okay, so.

What was his angle
with Claire Matthews?

Well, I-I don't
know yet, but, uh,

leave me on the case
and I'll find out.

Graff, the answer is no.

And that is final.

Bateman can run
this without you.

So what do I do
in the meantime?

I don't know, maybe
trust your partner?

Work another case or better yet,

why don't you take
some vacation days?

Go roam around the AGO
or however it is

that you choose
to spend your spare time.

I'm a McMichael Gallery man, myself.

You know, it's basic to, uh,
love the Group of Seven,

but, uh, fantastic.

Inspector.

Bateman.

Ah, he took it better
than I expected.

I think even Graff knows that

if he's found
to be investigating

his own father
as a murder suspect,

our entire case against the man
gets washed away at trial.

Hold the doors, please.

So, who the hell
is Charles Graff?

Excuse me.

Yes?

What can I do for you?

I'm Owen Matthews.

Did you know my mom? Claire?

I did.

I found this.

I know you were
having an affair.

So, like, were you gonna
move to Ottawa?

Did you-did you talk about that?

I don't know, did you talk
about taking me with you?

I'm sorry, we never
talked about you at all.

Keep it nearby
for me, would you?

Of course, Mr. Graff.

Excuse me, sir.

Uh, my father, he just said
he left his meds in the car.

He wants me to take them up.

He's gotta take them three
times a day, you know?

Keeps forgetting.

Sorry, and you are?

Oh, uh, Henry,
his son. Henry Graff.

Here.

Yeah?

- Yeah, I don't know.
- You know what?

You're just doing
your job. It's okay.

Let's just, uh,
cross our fingers

and hope he doesn't have
another heart attack.

Sir.

Thank you. Thank you.

Monday the 26th.

Up on St. George Street.

You were at Claire's.

I knew it.

So, I've been looking into

Charles Graff.

He's been married twice,
has two sons, Henry and Miles,

his second marriage ended
in a vicious divorce

and his first marriage

was to Graff's mother
who died in 1987.

Maggie Graff,
formerly Maggie Graham,

hanged herself in her Paris
apartment when Graff was 12?

Death was ruled a suicide
by Paris police.

Yeah.

But, uh, I think Graff believes
his father killed her.

I asked for a copy of
the case file from Paris PD.

They said they'd send them
over as soon as possible.

Okay.

Inspector, Claire Matthews'
death looked like a suicide,

so did Maggie's. I'm not
saying it's a pattern,

but I think that's
what he's reacting to.

Yeah. Agreed.

So if Charles Graff
always have an angle,

what was his angle
with Claire Matthews?

Well, he runs
Titan Incorporated.

Land development,
pulp and paper,

mining.
- Mining?

What's the CEO of a major
corporation with mining interest

doing with a newly appointed
Minister of Environment?

That's a lot of angles.

That's what I'm saying.

We're taking it on the road?
Yeah.

Why? You wanna join me?
- Hell yeah.

I used to be a cop.

Give me 10 minutes, I'll
meet you in the parking lot.

- Morning.
- Hey.

I didn't expect
to see you today.

Uh, I thought I'd catch
up on some paperwork.

How's the case going?

It's coming.

Mm-hmm?

Look.

We found that other jogger
on CCTV

near the west exit
off the Beltline.

We tracked him down and he
confirmed the husband's alibi.

So...

Henry, I'm so sorry...
about all this.

Frankie, it's-it's fine.

As long as you're
making progress,

which, you are.

Yeah.

Okay, so six months ago,

one of Charles' companies
bought a ton of land

near McFaulds lake in James Bay.

Yeah, that entire area is a rare
earth element motherload.

It's why they call
it the Ring of Fire.

Yeah, but no one can
mine it right now.

It's been put under protection
by the federal government,

pending review.

What if he was trying
to change Claire's mind?

Woo her with coconut cream pies,

so she would remove
the protections?

As Minister of the Environment,

she would have the kind of
influence to make that happen.

But instead, she doubled down
on her environmental commitment.

She's loud and she's
proud about it.

Maybe Charles got angry

when all that land
he bought was worthless.

Whoo. Angry
enough to kill her?

Owen. Your step-father in?

Yeah, come in.

Peter, the police are here.

Where's your trash?

Oh, uh, it's just the pull-out
bin next to the microwave.

Do you know who, uh,

who sent your mom these roses?

I mean, she got a bunch of
flowers after the election.

Yeah, I noticed,

but the others, they were
all put in water.

Did your mom do that?

No, I did that.

Every night.
- You did?

Mom and I would talk.

She'd pour herself
a glass of wine and...

I'd put the flowers in water.

Right, so these
couldn't be here

the night before your mother
died or they'd be in water.

Is that what you're saying?

Uh, yeah, they must've
come the next morning.

Maybe her new boyfriend.

Think you could give
us a second, bud?

Yeah.

Ah, Mr. Moore, I, uh,

came by to ask if, uh,

you recognize this man?

- Is that him?
- It is.

Oh, huh, I've met him.

He shook my hand.

I thought he was just
another corporate mogul

willing to donate to
Claire's campaign

if she did what he wanted.

I think he's a developer
or something?

Why do you say that?

Because when I met him in
Claire's office, he had a...

he had a map of
James Bay on her desk.

Let me
guess, McFaulds Lake?

What?

Thank you for your time.

Yes?

It's
fine. Let him in.

Fall from a great height.

Very hard to tell forensically
if it's suicide or murder.

You're improving your MO.

They let you stay
on Claire's case?

Must've been very upsetting

to watch your girlfriend
double down on her commitment

to the environment in that press
conference last week.

It's always made you angry

when women don't give
you what you want.

What are you talking about?

I'm talking about the land
you've had your eye on

for 20 years.

James Bay, the Canadian shield.

Very pesky with
indigenous folks,

but rich in hard
rock, lithium,

and base metals. You used
the call it the next Pilbara.

You watched your buddies in
Australia get rich off lithium

and you were desperate
to do the same.

So what'd you do?

You buy the land
and then make the

romantic play for Claire,
hoping she'd reconsider?

Rezone McFaulds Lake
for mining?

And what happened
when she said no?

Henry?

What are you doing here?

Well, my father here was
sleeping with the next

Minister of the Environment.

He dumped a fortune
into her campaign,

she agreed to open
James Bay up for mining,

but then reneged on her promise
at a press conference.

For Christ's
sake, Henry.

She didn't renege on anything.

Claire was a very smart woman.

She knew she would win her seat

by running on
an environmental platform,

but she also knew that
in this economic climate,

it would be absolutely
unrealistic and frankly,

irresponsible

for Canada to ignore the urgent
need for rare earth mines.

So, Claire was planning
on reversing her stance?

Exactly.

After a few respectable
months in office,

she was going to gently concede

to lifting environmental
protections

on mining in McFaulds Lake.

It was all worked out.

Well, that's corruption.

It's absolutely not.

It was a smart businessman

convincing an equally
smart politician

to do what's right
for this country.

I bought the land,

I lobbied the person
who would decide its fate,

and all of this was decided

long before we became
romantically involved.

I didn't kill Claire.

I loved her.

Desperately.
And without her,

my investment is worthless.

Who knows what
her replacement will do?

It's all here.

Emails, texts, help yourself.

That was a nice romantic
and patriotic spiel,

but it's fiction.
I saw your GPS,

you were at Claire's condo
the morning she was pushed.

We planned to meet
nearby at Museum Café.

No, no, no. You're
doing it again.

I was 12 years old when
you killed my mother

and made it look like a suicide!

Henry.
- You are a monster,

a narcissist, and the reason,
the very reason I do what I do.

We are leaving now.

Get off of me.

Leave now or I will
have you removed.

That son of a bitch.

Know what? I'm going back in.
- No, you're not.

You can either sit in the
front seat of the car with

me or you can ride
in the back. Your choice.

Oh, that's how it is now,
is it?

Listen to yourself,
for God's sake.

You are jeopardizing
a murder investigation.

Could you please just
trust my instincts?

What instincts?

You should lock your door.

Why?

What am I afraid of?

Espresso?

Do you realize this
is the first time

I've ever been inside your home?

And thanks, I'll take a whisky.

We've been partners for...
what three years now

and I had to ask a neighbour
which door was yours?

We found your father on CCTV.

Museum Café, 10:14 AM,
the exact

moment Claire Matthews was
being pushed off her balcony.

Well, it makes sense.

He's checking his watch.

He was waiting for her to
join him and she was late.

No, he hired
someone to kill her

and he was waiting to find
out the job was done.

You think your father
hired a hitman

and then parked his car at
the scene of the crime?

It's a perfect alibi,
I mean, come on, Bateman.

Both victims fit the pattern.

My mother invited him into
society, bankrolled him.

Claire gave him access to
the deepest corridors of power.

Graff, your mother
wasn't murdered.

You don't understand

the man we're dealing with.

He has a sophisticated,
analytical mind.

Okay, sure, maybe
I'm not brilliant

like you

or your father, maybe

I don't have

theories about how
the pyramids were created

or whether
the Voynich Manuscript

was a lost language or a hoax.

But I do know a grieving
little boy when I see one.

And I learned how to
work a crime scene

long before I met you.

Do you know what this is?

It's from the Paris police.

Do I have your permission
to show it to you?

Have you seen it before?

A long time ago.

Henry.

If your mother was murdered,

why was the acromion bone
in her shoulder checked?

Because my father
slammed her into a wall,

there was a hole.

Why did the leather strap
burn her neck at the jawline

up to the mastoid process?

Because he-he choked her
while-while she sat at his feet.

It was-it was an act of power.

The evidence is clear.

She hanged herself

from the beam in your kitchen.

She started to panic
when she was losing air,

like every victim does.
- No, no, no.

She kicked the wall

and then she chipped
her shoulder bone when

her body hit the tile floor.
- He did this.

He did this to her.
- And then she rolled over

on impact.
- He took her from me.

Henry.

Your mother.
She wasn't taken from you.

She left you.

You need to see this
through your eyes.

Not the eyes of a wounded boy,

but the eyes of
a brilliant detective.

How?

How could a mother choose to...

to leave her child?

I don't know.

I was her everything.

We were a team.

She was happy that day.

Hmm?

There were
roses on the table.

She was singing as I...

as I left to school.

She knew.

She already knew.

Oh, God.

The roses.

The roses that-that
I saw in Claire's condo.

They made me think of
the rose petals at the hotel

and I figured my
father had given them

to Claire on the day she died.

The roses? What roses?

You know your dad
better than I do,

but these are cheap flowers.

He'd buy her Bulgarian roses
from a Yorkville florist,

not some crappy bouquet from
a convenience store on Lonsdale.

And Lonsdale is up
near Clifford,

but maybe Owen got them for her.

Those flowers
arrived the day

that Claire died.
Owen was still up at school.

It wasn't Charles Graff.

Are you positive?

Charles has an alibi
and no motive.

In fact, Claire's death
cost him a lot of money.

So what are we thinking?

Claire had a new job.
A new purpose, a new lover.

She was moving to Ottawa,
sending her son

to a boarding school,
leaving him, abandoning him.

At least, through his eyes.

The kid?

He's 14 years old
and he has an alibi.

He was on a school tour.

The tour started
at eight in the morning.

He was paired up with
an older kid named Mason,

who said he never
left Owen's side,

but when I pressed,
Mason told me

that he did leave Owen alone
on a bench while he went

to make out with his girlfriend
behind the chapel.

Now, he said it was
only for a minute,

but when I talked
to the girlfriend,

she told me that it was actually

more like the entire
duration of the service.

That is two hours
from 9 AM to 11.

So it's possible that he left,

bought $10 roses

from a convenience
store near the school,

took a bus home

to try to convince his mother
to reconsider her decision

to leave him at Clifford.

And then she said no,
he pushed her off the balcony?

Went back to Clifford and no
one even noticed he'd left?

Circumstantial.
- Which is why

we need to get him to admit it.

Oh, no.

No!

No, Frankie.

When Graff interfered
with this investigation,

he jeopardized
not only this case,

but the reputation of
the entire Toronto police--

Boss. If we're gonna
get this kid to break,

I need my partner
back on this case.

Please.

Please, you need to
trust me on this.

Are we sure we're
doing the right thing?

I feel like we pulled
a pin on a hand grenade.

Sorry to keep you waiting.

Detective Sergeant Henry Graff.

Your father was sleeping
with my mother, right?

Same last name.

Yes, it is and, um,

yes, he was.

Owen, I also lost my mother

when I was around your age.

We were, uh,
an inseparable pair.

Thick as thieves.
Best friends.

And when she died...

Well, I believed that

my father had killed her.

He killed her, and then moved
me from Paris to Toronto,

and stuck me at
a boarding school.

When I found out that he was
involved with your mother,

I was convinced
he'd done it again.

The signs were everywhere.

Especially the roses.
See, he left

roses at your
mother's apartment

the day she fell to her death.

Just like he left roses...

at my mother's feet.

Now, the death
was ruled a suicide

by French police, but...

I couldn't accept it because...

Because that's-that's...

That's not what a mother's
supposed to do.

The contract
that a mother enters into

the moment she looks
into her newborn's face,

that she would be there, always.

And that she does not
get to take her own life

because she's so needed,
so crucial, so vital

to another human being.

It took my...

It took a close friend

to make me finally
realize that I was wrong.

That she hadn't been murdered.

That she chose death over me.

Owen, what I'm about to tell
you is gonna be very hard

for you to hear

because we share
something you and me.

We weren't enough.

We weren't enough

to make our mothers stay.

No, you're wrong.

No, deep down, secretly,
your mother was desperately sad.

And nothing you could give
to her life was enough.

She wasn't sad! She loved me.

She jumped from
the balcony, she left you.

That's not what happened!

No?

What happened?

I wanna go.

I wanna go now.

Yeah, Mr. Moore. Owen is
free to leave at any point.

No, we're not going anywhere.

It's amazing how, uh,
fast love disappears

and how quickly things change.

I mean, everything was going
along fine till this election.

But the thing is, she knew
she was gonna win

and she'd fallen in
love with someone new

and already made plans to
move to Ottawa without you.

Put you in boarding
school full of strangers.

All that time together,
just you and her.

And she was just
gonna walk away.

So what'd you do?

Did you get on that bus

and buy her a bunch
of crappy roses

to try to convince
her to changer her mind?

Convince her to stay?

She was out by
the balcony watering her plants.

I went out there.
Went out there to talk to her.

And she said that she wasn't
gonna talk about it,

that it was settled.

I told her I just wanted things
to go back to the way they were.

She laughed at me.

So you pushed her.

And what happened?

It-it was an accident.

I didn't mean to!

It was...
I was just so mad!

It all happened so fast.

She said she liked roses.

I didn't know
they were crappy ones.

Owen, I'm sorry.

You're gonna come with me, okay?

What's this?

Root beer float.

- How come?
- Because it's summer and,

uh, to remind us of childhood.

The good parts of it, at least.

difuze