All language subtitles for Murdoch Mysteries - S09E14 - Wild Child [1080p]

What a way to die.

Mauled to death.

Henry.

You don't know
that's what happened.

You didn't see it, George.

Those terrible scratches
on his face alone

- would let you know if you did.
- Sir.

- What have you, George?
- Sir, the man who discovered him

was checking his snares
this morning.

He seemed surprised,
almost disappointed,

to find
that he'd snagged a human.

I suppose
he was expecting his dinner.

Right. Have him come down
to the station house for a word.

Do we know
the victim's identity yet?

He has nothing
on his person, sir.

We searched the area
for his wallet... no luck.

Judging by the scratches
on his face,

I'd say he was attacked
by an animal of some kind.

Well, Higgins has a theory, sir.

- George.
- Does it pertain to this case?

He certainly thinks it does.
He hasn't shut up about it.

Henry?

Sir, it's like a...

I only saw it for a minute.

Saw what?

You'd better follow me, sir.

This way.

Now, I warn you, sir...
It's not a pretty sight.

I'll prepare myself.

You may want to keep
your distance, as well.

Stay back, sir.

It may look harmless,
but I've seen that thing

kill and eat a live chicken
with my own eyes.

- Really?
- Look no further, sir.

It's your Killer.

How do you know about this,
Henry?

Well, I paid to see it, sir.

It was 10 cents,
but it was worth it.

From the shores of Borneo, sir.

Or... it could have been
the mountains.

- I don't recall exactly, sir...
- Who cares for her?

Well, a keeper.
He collects the money.

I don't know.
She hardly seems...

What the hell
are you two doing in here?

Show's not open
for another hour.

Detective Murdoch,
Toronto Constabulary.

Well, you still have to pay.

10 cents each you owe me.

I've paid once already.
He hasn't...

Who are you?

Mick Travis.

And this is my property.

So police or no police,
you're trespassing.

- Now, what do you want?
- A man was killed last night

not half a mile from here.

Where were you?

N WwW here we re you?"

Don't you be flimflamming
with your penny-ante questions.

You're not interested
in where I was.

Very well.

Where was she?

She was locked up all night
and nowhere near your dead man.

And why do you keep her caged?

To keep her safe.

It's in her own best interest.

And charging admission
to view her in a cage...

Is that also
in her best interest?

She's paying her keep.

- Mr. Travis, is it?
- Aye.

You're coming with us
to the station house.

I have no reason to.

Do I have to arrest you?

- Come on.
- Don't lay your hands on me.

I'm doing nothing

the law says I can't.

Unlawful confinement
of a person or persons.

You're coming with us.

I finished my anatomy report
on the unclaimed bank robber.

- Mrs. Braxton?
- Yes.

I appreciated the opportunity,
Dr. Ogden.

Well, if you put what you learn
to good use,

her unfortunate death
will not be for nothing.

I trust that she offered
some challenges.

Yes, she did.

Good.

Now we can give Roland's mother
a proper burial.

Thank you, gentlemen.

So, what did you glean?

Surely there was something.

There was, indeed, Dr. Ogden.

Mrs. Braxton
was not a full woman.

Meaning?

She had no ovaries.

She was born without
a complete reproductive system.

She couldn't bear children?

Whoever she is,
she isn't your baby's mother.

Who is that girl
that you keep locked up?

And don't give me
that story about Borneo.

I came across her
in the Appalachian Mountains

some 10 years ago.

Well, she came across me,
more like.

How so?

I was asleep in the caravan

when I heard something
rummaging round my campfire.

In the darkness, I thought it
was a bear and almost shot it.

- Where did she come from?
- No idea.

You ask me,
she was raised by wolves.

Highly unlikely.

She's wild as the day's long,
mister.

So you keep her
caged like a beast.

Oh, she's clothed and fed

and in a better state
than when I found her.

And before you start,
she's legally mine.

Here's the paper to prove it.

There you go.

Named her Fen for the record.

Check for yourself.

And she's happy where she is.

I very much doubt that.

There's no force
the way I handle her.

She's content
long as she gets fed.

So no law broken.

See for yourself.

I've nothing to hide.

Do you know this man?

Never clapped eyes on him.

I had to stop myself

from throttling
the man who keeps her.

I have neither the ability
to arrest him or to rescue her.

- She is his legal property.
- That's appalling.

A man is allowed to exhibit
a young girl in a cage,

and there's nothing
I can do about it.

What of our victim's body?

His wounds
were mostly superficial,

the most pronounced
being facial lacerations.

He was gouged,
likely by claws or nails.

And this.

A deep bite on his right hand.

The wounds were made
with pointed incisor teeth.

So likely an animal attack,
then?

That would have
been my conclusion

if not for the stab wound
in his upper back.

The thrust was a downward
motion, but not a fatal blow.

Then how did he die?

He bled to death.

If he hadn't been trapped,
he may have survived.

What time
would he have been stabbed?

I couldn't say.
I only know that he died

between 2:00 and 4:00
in the morning.

He may have been in the snare
for hours afterward.

That, or he was attacked
while in the snare.

By this feral child?

No. She was inside a cage
at the time of the murder.

William, I'd be most interested
in examining her

- if it would help.
- Of course.

Thank you, Julia.

Oh, I spoke
with the nanny at the hotel,

and she assures me
that Roland is fine.

I know you were concerned about
leaving him with a stranger.

She'd let us know
if he needs us?

Of course, of course.

And the animal bones that I saw
in her cage, George...

Some of them are too big
to be from chickens.

She may be eating
cats and dogs even.

Maybe even a goat.

Could be a small goat, Henry.

You know, you joke,
but the keeper told us

she fought off a wolf
when she was 7 years old.

She has a nasty scar on her arm
to prove it.

Wait. These would be the wolves
that raised her, I assume?

Don't be so ridiculous, George.

They wouldn't be
the same wolves.

The attack likely came
from a rival pack.

Henry, let's get to work.

Right?

What were you hoping to catch,
Mr. Hewitt?

Well, it wasn't a man,
I can tell you that.

You see, something is Killing
livestock at my farm.

I reckoned whatever it is
roams the ravine,

and I aimed to catch it.

Your farm is near where
you set the snare, correct?

- Yes.
- Were you at home that night?

Did you not hear a man cry out?

I heard noises,

but I thought it was the animal
I was looking to catch.

I didn't know it was human

until I checked the snare
this morning, God rest his soul.

My detective agency
is at your disposal.

I appreciate that, Miss Pink.

How can I help?

I've just learned
some distressing news

about the baby
William and I adopted.

Well, about his deceased mother,
actually.

What is it?

She wasn't born with
a complete reproductive system.

She couldn't have been
Roland's natural mother.

Well, that must have been
a bolt out of the blue.

It never occurred to either
of us to question his parentage.

And what do you want me to do?

Find out
if his natural mother is alive.

- Can I ask for your discretion?
- Absolutely.

What do you know about
the mother and her husband?

Not much.

Nigel Braxton
was a safecracker from England.

His wife, Joanne,
was from Stratford, Ontario.

I think
her maiden name was Perly.

And they have
no surviving family.

- How old is the child?
- About 9 months.

Are you sure that you
want to know the truth?

What do you mean?

It's a question
that I ask all of my clients.

What I find out for them isn't
always what they'd hoped for.

At this moment, I can't say.

I will be in touch.

Thank you.

She's gone.

I came back from the station
house to set up for the show,

and she was gone.

Has this happened before?

She's never been set free.

Don't know
what she's capable of.

This lock... It's faulty.

Did you not notice?

Sure if I noticed I would
have fixed it, wouldn't I?

This means the girl

could have gotten out
the night of the murder.

Constables will pair off

and search for this girl
in an orderly fashion.

The local farmers who are upset
about their dead livestock

will be joining us.

The armory has been opened,
but only use force if necessary.

Having said that, be cautious.

This girl could be vicious.

Crabtree,
bring the lads up to speed.

Our little man
doesn't seem too harmed

by his day with the nanny.

I won't be staying for dinner.

I'm joining the search
for the missing young woman.

You think
she could be the killer?

I don't know, but I'd rather
a mob didn't decide.

You still have no idea
who she is?

No.

But in spite of Mr. Travis'
claims, she wasn't always feral.

At the very least, she had
a mother who gave birth to her.

Yes, she did.

- Are we ready, men?!
- Ready!

I say we shoot whatever it is
and ask the questions after!

You pull a stunt like that.
And it will be murder.

I'll personally see to it that
you'll all bloody hang for it,

no matter who pulls the trigger.

She killed a man

and won't get away with it
as long as I'm standing.

- That's right!
- Night will fall soon.

That's when she's likely
to move.

Ready the torches.

You'll not be readying anything
until I say so. Got it?

Right, then.

Each of you will pair up
with a constable.

Crabtree,
you talk to that farmer.

You... stick with me.

Keep your eyes open.

George, there you are.

- Sir.
- I need you to come with me.

The girl, Fen...

She's likely to flee
from the light of the torches.

But then, sir, how will we see?

- With these.
- Good gracious.

Now, George,
if you were trying to get away,

which direction
would you be likely to go in?

Sir, I would follow the river.

Exactly.

So, you have something?

Not yet.

I need more information
on Roland.

Any physical details
that may help to identify him?

There's nothing.

He's... He's completely perfect.

Freddie, now that you're here,
I've been thinking.

Yes?

If Roland's parents
were looking for him,

surely they would have informed
the Constabulary.

Maybe so.

Perhaps they don't care.

You're having second thoughts.

You asked
if I wanted to know the truth.

Perhaps not knowing
is the better course.

You wouldn't be the first of
my clients to change their mind.

No father
could be better than William.

He loves the boy.
He truly is his son.

And you, Julia?

I can't bear the thought
of not having Roland.

Then it's settled.

He couldn't have better parents.

You must never question that.

Come on!
Over here!

I've got nothing!

Nothing that way.

Look.
Over there.

It won't get away this time.

Everyone, stay close.

Go! Go!

Get it!
Get it!

Hewitt, get back!

Don't hurt me!
Please!

Please.

He's no more of a beast
than I am.

Let's leave the man in peace.

Can you see all right, George?

Sir, as clear as day.

Not quite as clear as day,
but I can see.

I can see.

What is it?

It's Mr. Travis.

Looking for his girl no doubt.

Well, that's the thing, George.

He's quite purposefully
walking the opposite direction

toward his campsite.

That's odd, for sure.

I'll follow him, George.

You keep going along the river.

That's the direction
he just came from.

Sir.

Sir.

Sir!
Sir!

Come here... quick!

Sir!

It's all right.

It's all right.

Sir!
Sir!

- Aaaahh!
- George!

Get off!

Stop.
Hold still.

You're fine.

Well done, George.

You all right?

I think so, sir.

She's tethered.

Someone is hiding her here.

Travis most likely, sir.

Right.

You must have
stumbled upon her lair.

You approached her.

She felt threatened,
so she attacked you.

Should I bring her
back to the cells?

No, no.

The Toronto Asylum under
Dr. Ogden's care will be best.

Right.

Do you think
she's the killer, sir?

She certainly seems capable
of it.

I have to agree.

All right.

Fen, I'm going to put you
to sleep for a little while.

My goodness.

Hard to believe
it's the same girl.

Her persona
was very much exaggerated...

her hair and body unwashed.

That's quite a scar?

Yes. From an animal attack
some years ago.

Mr. Travis claims
that she was mauled by a wolf.

That's quite possible, William.

Her teeth have been deliberately
filed down into points.

I took an impression.

It matches
our victim's bite mark.

I'd be worried about that,
George.

Dr. Ogden's looked at it, and
she says it's healing nicely.

It does hurt like the devil,
though.

- Maybe you caught something.
- Something?

Rabies?

Henry, she's a girl, not a dog.

What if she bit a dog
before she bit you?

George,
you're not thinking clearly.

That's a symptom, you know.

Where is he?!

You've no right to keep her.

She's my property.

And I've a lineup of customers
waiting.

Well, then they'll just have
to wait.

But thanks for popping in,

because we've got some questions
we'd like to ask you.

What were you doing in the woods
last night, Mr. Travis?

Looking for the girl.
Why else?

You were not looking for her.

- You were hiding her.
- Now, why would I do that, huh?

Stop playing the innocent.

You let her out, tied her up...

no doubt waiting
for the perfect opportunity

to go back, get her,
and leave town.

Meanwhile, the Constabulary
and half the neighborhood

are on a wild-goose chase
looking for her.

Enough with the lies,
Mr. Travis.

What is going on?

You're right... I was leaving.

I wanted to get her
as far away from this town

before you bloodthirsty lot

strung her up for something
she had nothing to do with.

We have evidence
that she attacked the victim.

Like what?

Her bite mark on his hand.

You call that evidence?

I warn all the spectators not
to get too close to her cage.

Now, that only proves the man
can't listen to sound advice.

- When did the victim see her?
- How would I know?

Lots of people come through.

She's quite the attraction.

Now, where are you keeping her?

She's in better hands
than yours.

You're safe here, Fen.

Safe.

No one will hurt you.

Would you like
to listen to some music?

What are you trying to say?

William.

You're here just in time to see
these gestures she's making.

- What do they mean?
- I have no idea.

They require
further observation.

But her appearance,
her choice in food, the scars...

They all suggest
she's been living in the wild

for some time.

Fascinating.

I can understand why people
would want to pay to see her.

Oh, Julia, surely not.

What are we doing
but watching her, William?

About time you paid for help.

- How much you offering?
- 5 cents.

- 10.
- A nickel. Final offer.

What do you know?

I seen him.

Did you, now?

He wanted to see
that beast in the cage.

- What of it?
- I took him there.

Near the river.

What?

It was right here two days ago.

Yes, I'm sure it was.

Give us that nickel back,
you little thief.

The tent was right here...
Honest.

I swear.
It's the truth.

Here.

You stay out of trouble,
all right?

So, the victim

was definitely attacked here
at Travis' campsite.

Which the lying sod
failed to tell us moved.

Bloody Irish tinkers.

Nothing but trouble when
they show up in their caravans.

10 to one that
that knife's the murder weapon.

Not a single fingermark, sir.

There are traces of blood,

but it's been
deliberately wiped clean.

Had to be Travis.

The girl wouldn't have
the wherewithal to do that.

Exactly.

Well, then what about
the bite marks?

Well, the victim
got too close to her.

As you discovered, Fen reacts
violently when approached.

Indeed, she does.

So the victim and the girl

were involved
in some kind of altercation.

Or Travis set her on him.

Either way, Travis stabbed him
and then tried to cover it up.

But why?

Any news from the victim,
Crabtree?

Nothing yet, sir,
but I've widened my search.

I've sent out
a province-wide description.

Constables.

Come with me.
I've found the killer.

Constables.

See? I got it.
A vicious coyote.

And he's the killer?

- He is, indeed.
- Ah.

So, uh, explain to me
how he could use that.

Julia?

Such a nice surprise.
How are you?

I just picked up our little man

and thought
we'd drop by for a visit.

I've been trying to get Fen
interested in food.

She shows a passing interest
in oatmeal.

Any other changes?

She's still making the gestures,

but I haven't been able
to decipher any pattern.

Certainly doesn't match any
sign language that I can find.

Perhaps it is just random.

Hello, Roland.
Am I ignoring you?

The nanny says that we're
to feed him more often.

He's hardly underfed, William.

I agree, but she insists.

There. No?

See?

You're not even hungry.

Do you see that, William?

Do you like the baby?

Do you want to see the baby?

I think she's more interested
in you, William.

Pa.

- She's speaking.
- Pa.

- Pa.
- After a fashion.

Pa.

Do you think
maybe she recognizes

that I'm Roland's father?

And that's what all the speaking
and gestures are about?

It seems to be some form
of primitive language.

Well, we know she had a father
at some point.

It appears so.

I've been expecting your call.

You have?

You don't seem
the type of person

who's comfortable
with unanswered questions.

I want you
to keep looking for his parents.

Well, in fact,
I've carried on with my search,

anticipating this very thing.

So you have something?

Please tell me it's not a mother
pining for her lost child.

Not exactly.

After her parents died,

I found out that Joanne Perly
left Stratford.

But the trail went cold
after that.

So I checked into Mr. Braxton.

It seems he left England for
the bright lights of Brantford.

There,
he met and married Joanne.

How did they get Roland?

The woman
I think was Roland's mother

lived out of town
on a homestead.

She went into labor
earlier than her time,

there were complications,
and she died.

What happened to Roland?

The rural midwife
was the only person present.

She reported that the baby
was never delivered.

The midwife was Joanne Braxton.

She stole
the dead woman's child.

It's the only birth she attended
that fits with Roland's age.

And then she and her husband
left the area shortly after.

What about Roland's father?
Is he still alive?

He is.

He was working
out of the province

at the time of his wife's death.

He never questioned
the official report.

My God.

No one knows the baby exists.

No one misses him.

No one mourns him.

He is yours, Julia.

Is this good news or bad?

What would William say?

He still doesn't know.

Keeping a secret this profound
from him

would be a betrayal
of the trust between us.

But if I tell him...

He will feel duty-bound
to return Roland to his father.

So leaving him
in blissful ignorance

could be the better path.

If you think you can do that.

Sir.

I found a missing-persons report
that matches our victim.

- Who is it?
- A Hugo de Jaager.

Left his family home
in Peterborough

for Toronto a week ago.

Hasn't been heard from since.

- What's all this?
- Sir, this is his research.

He told his mother
before he left

he was sure he was going
to find her this time.

- Her?
- The girl, sir.

The feral girl.

Finding her
became his life's work.

George,
these were written years ago.

Mr. de Jaager would have
still been in school.

Indeed, he was, sir.

I took the liberty
of going through his material.

His diaries are very intriguing.

Very well-written
for a young lad.

What did you learn?

Well, sir,
it seems that young Hugo

preferred his own company
to that of other boys.

He spent long hours wandering
the woods near his family farm.

I suppose you could say
he was the loner type, sir.

In any case, one day,

while exploring
one of his usual haunts,

he came upon a strange
and wondrous sight...

A pair of feral creatures, sir.

A girl and a boy.

He describes them
in great detail, sir...

Their wild appearance,

their animal-like movements,
often on all fours, sir.

I can probably illustrate...

Perhaps another time, George.

Thank you.

- Go on.
- Right.

Sir, when Hugo tried
to convince his mother,

or anybody else who would
listen, about the children,

they dismissed his tales
as wild imaginings.

But he never stopped looking
for the children, sir.

This is all very interesting,
George,

but what has it
to do with our case?

Hugo stopped trying to convince
people about the children.

They became part
of his own private world...

until, one day, the partially
decomposed body of a young boy

was found in the woods
by some hunters.

Apparently
he'd been attacked by wolves.

Near the boy's body

was the torn and bloody clothes
of a young girl.

But the girl was never found
dead or alive.

He became haunted by the mystery

of what happened
to this young girl.

It took a hold of him,
as you can see.

He's been searching for her
ever since.

And he came to Toronto
believing that he had found her.

According to his last words
to his mother, sir,

he was quite confident.

I think perhaps he did find her
and paid the price for it.

When am I
getting my property back?

Settle down, Travis.

We need to ask you
a few questions.

We now know that you found Fen

somewhere a little closer
than the Appalachian Mountains.

- So, what if I did?
- So, where was it?

Would be 20 miles or so
outside of Peterborough.

Not a very glamorous locale,
so I dressed it up a little.

Give the punters
their money's worth.

So the whole story's a lie.

Not all of it.

I did almost shoot her,
thinking she was a bear.

She was very young.

No more than 8, I reckoned.

Badly injured and starving.

I fed her, treated her wounds.

She recovered,
got back her strength,

but never uttered
more than the odd sound.

Never took to being civilized.

Happy in her own filth.

And that's when
you started thinking

she could help pay her way

and you created the myth
of the wild child.

That's about the sum of it,
yeah.

Until Mr. de Jaager
discovered your campsite.

He threatened to expose
your show as a hoax,

and you realized you were
about to lose your meal ticket.

What are you saying?

What the detective is saying

is you had clear motive
for murder.

I'm glad you find it funny

because you're under arrest,
Travis.

It seems like
I'm not the only one

with a gift for the tall tale,

You gents
have come up with a beaut.

Might even work it into my show.

This was the murder weapon.

My constable found it
at your old campsite...

the one you were staying at
the night of the murder.

Why did you move campsites?

I move whenever I want.

That's the beauty
of a home on wheels.

This is your knife, is it not?

Might be.

Might not be.

But I doubt you can prove
I ever touched that thing.

So if I'm the murderer...

...show me the evidence
that will hang me.

I didn't have enough
to hold him in custody.

The only person who knows
what happened that night is Fen.

The bite mark is proof enough
that she met Mr. de Jaager.

But we can't communicate
with her.

William,
how did those two children

come to be living in the woods?

They were so young.

George is combing
The Peterborough Examiner

for clues.

There has to be a story,
but likely not a happy one.

And one that we may never know.

Julia, when he's old enough,

we're going to have to tell
Roland about his parents.

As hurtful as it may be to learn
that they were criminals...

Hi... he should know.

You should know, hmm?

Are you sure?

Yes.
I should meet Roland's father.

His name is Harold Connor.

Julia, it will be hard to turn
back once you go down this road.

- Good day.
- Good day.

How can I help you?

I'm collecting for
the local children's hospital.

Would you care to make
a donation, however modest?

Well, cabinetmakers
don't make much,

but I think I could contribute
a little something.

Every penny counts.

- Do you have children?
- No, I don't.

It's a shame.

There was a time

when I thought I'd pass
my skills on to a son...

or a daughter for that matter.

But it wasn't to be.

50 cents.

- Would that be enough?
- Absolutely.

You know, you might have more
luck in another part of town.

People around here are barely
putting food on the table.

It's not they don't have
good hearts, you understand.

I just don't want my neighbors
feeling badly

for having to say no to you.

Of course.
That's very thoughtful.

Thank you for your time.

Have a good day.

I started when
the poor boy's body was found,

and I'm working backwards
from there.

I'm down to 1890.

It's very illuminating, sir,

once you drop into the minutia
of it.

Here's a story about a sow
that gave birth to 13 piglets.

Now, that's a North Kawartha
Township record.

Very interesting.

Sir.
Come look at this.

"A farmer reports
two British Home Children

ran away from his employ...

A boy, 8 years old;
And a young girl of 5."

It seems the farmer was more
concerned with the hardship

of replacing them than
the welfare of the children.

Well, see, these Home Children,

they were orphan workers
sent here as cheap labor.

They were often very mistreated.

Whatever the reason
they may have left,

these could be the two children
Mr. de Jaager saw in the woods.

The girl could be Fen, sir.
The timeline matches.

This is 13 years ago.

It says the boy was mute.

Sir, that's probably why
the wolves got him.

The poor thing couldn't cry out
to scare them away.

Wolves are like that, sir.

They'll go for the weakest
of the bunch.

Perhaps she tried to save him

and almost got herself
mauled to death.

If I'm needed,
I'll be at the asylum.

- Check into that detail.
- Julia.

I believe I've discovered
the origin of Fen's gestures.

You have?

She ran away
with a boy who was mute.

Pardon?

Right, sorry.

George found a report
of two Home Children

who ran away in roughly the area
where Hugo de Jaager

says he spotted
two feral children.

They would have been
about 8 and 5 at the time.

Wasn't the boy 11
when he was killed by wolves?

Yes, and Mr. Travis figures

that Fen was about 8
when he found her.

The two of them
survived all that time alone.

Perhaps they developed
this language

to communicate with each other.

That's extraordinary, William.

Fen.

Fen.

Fen...

...this man.

Man.

Um, who hurt...

this man?

Perhaps using her own experience
of pain

may help to convey the question
you're trying to ask.

Fen.

Hurt.

Hurt.

[ Breathes sharply I
Hurt.

Hurt?
Hurt.

Yes.
Hurt.

Fen, this man.

Who hurt...

this man?

Pa.
Pa.

That's the same gesture
and sound she made

when she saw you with Roland.

Is she saying "father"?

She could be.

Pa.

I think she's trying to tell us
who hurt Mr. de Jaager.

You were feeding Roland
when she became so animated.

Perhaps she's referring
to the man who feeds her.

Her keeper, Mick Travis.

Is she trying to tell us
he's the killer?

There's only one way
to find out.

What the hell am I doing here?

Oh, just look on it
as a field trip.

Look, I've cooperated
with you clowns.

If you think I know anything
else, you're wasting your time.

- Shut your mouth, Travis.
- Get your hands off me!

I've just had enough of you,
you Irish piece of... Aah!

Get off!
Get off him!

My property.
Lay off.

You can't do that!
She's a human!

She's...

Don't lay your hands on her!

Get off!
Get off him!

- Are you all right, sir?
- I think so.

It's all right.

Shh. See, Fen?
No harm done.

Pa isn't hurt.

Fen was helping.

- Pa.
- I know. Shh.

- Pa.
- It's all right, girl.

It's all right now.

Fen stabbed Hugo de Jaager.

She was trying to protect
Mr. Travis.

You caught your murderer.

Makes you happy, does it?

You're going to advocate for Fen
to remain at the asylum?

Yes.

Though I can hardly argue that
she wasn't in her right mind

when she stabbed Mr. de Jaager.

She was attacking a man she
thought was harming her father.

A perfectly rational action.

But she didn't have mens rea...
A guilty mind.

So I have considerable leeway.

Can she be helped?

I don't know.

But with further attention
and care,

she may be able to learn
to control her wildness.

And become civilized.

Given the behavior of some

of the so-called civilized
people we encounter in our work,

I wonder
what we'd be teaching her.

Well, she did show us that she's
capable of empathy, Julia,

by attempting to protect
Mr. Travis the way she did.

That is the hallmark
of humanity.

No matter what we may think
of him as a man,

she saw him as her father.

William, there's something
I have to tell you.

You have to look your best,
little man.

You're about to meet
someone very special.

Mr. Connor.

Detective Murdoch.

He...

He is a miracle.

Meet your son, Roland.

He's a...

lovely little man.

And it's been our honor
to care for him.

You are the very best of people.

I have some things for him
that you might find useful.

I'll arrange
to have them sent over.

I cannot say thank you
enough times.

I wish you
a long and happy life together.