All language subtitles for Murdoch.Mysteries.2008.S04E13.Murdoch.In.Wonderland.DVDRip.XviD-iNGOT

It's all right, dear.

- Whereabouts?
- Upstairs.

- Oh, morning, Higgins.
- George.

What have we...

Sweet mother of...

Is that a turtle costume?

His name's Randolph Littlefair.

He was a guest
of the Reda family last night.

They had a costume party here.

Has Detective Murdoch been notified?

No. I telephoned his boarding house
and got no answer.

Well, that's odd.

Well, Henry, perhaps you'd best help
with the interviews.

George, I just found Detective Murdoch.

What?

Sir?

- Sir!
- Huh?

What?

- George...
- Sir.

There's been a murder in the next room.

What are you doing here?

Are you all right?
Why are you dressed like that?

George, did you say
someone's been murdered?

Yes, sir, a Mr Littlefair.
He's been beaten to death.

Just through here.

No sign of the rest of it so far, sir.

Perhaps the killer used
the mallet until it broke

and then finished him off
using this clock.

William! Are you all right?

I'm not sure. I believe
I'm still experiencing the effects.

More than eight hours later?

- The effects of what?
- Something I drank last night, George.

- Oh, my! It's the Mock Turtle.
- Yes.

The Mock Turtle.

Dr Ogden and I were attending
a party last night

in honour of the late Lewis Carroll.

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.
I was the Mad Hatter.

Ah.

Lividity suggests he died
roughly eight hours ago.

I'd say 11:35 to be precise, Doctor.

Which means Mr Littlefair died
while we were all here.

Sir.

I believe this is the handle
to the croquet mallet.

Very good, Henry. Where did you find it?

Sir, it was under the bed
you were sleeping in.

How did part of the murder weapon get
under your bed?

Oh, and why were you sleeping there
in the first place?

It's a long story, sir.

Bad news, I'm afraid, sirs.

There were only two sets of fingerprints
on the mallet, the victim's...

And the other set was mine.

Bloody hell.
Someone's trying to pin this on you.

That would appear to be the case, sir.

Well, we'll get to the bottom of it.

I can't be
a part of this investigation, sir.

In fact, we should get someone
from outside the station.

In the meantime, it would appear we have
our prime suspect in this murder case.

Me.

Giles. Why Giles?

Yes. No, I understand. Yes, sir.

Chief Constable Stockton is sending

Inspector Giles
from Stationhouse Number Three.

He's to have complete authority
over the investigation.

I suppose there are worse fates, sir.

Inspector Giles is
a thorough investigator.

Thorough? He's like you, Murdoch.

Once he sets his sights on a suspect,
that's usually the end of them.

I'm sure you're overstating
the case, sir.

Well, we'll see, won't we?

How are you feeling, William?

Somewhat more like myself.

It goes to my theory.
I think you were drugged.

I'd like to take
a blood sample to prove it.

I would appreciate that.

But with your wedding so close, I'm sure
you have more pressing concerns.

More pressing than clearing you
of a possible murder charge?

I think not.

Doctor, did you come
into my room last night?

I looked in on you at about 11:00,
but I didn't enter the room.

That must be it, then.
I seem to remember someone...

Did you speak to me?

No.

Sir, we found this
tucked into your hatband.

It's the poem.
What was it doing in your hatband?

It's written in reverse writing.

I had to use a mirror to read it
and I still can't make any sense of it.

Murdoch, Dr Ogden,
I believe you know Inspector Giles.

Doctor, Detective.

Well, I'm done here.
If you'll excuse me.

Actually, Doctor,
I would appreciate a word.

I understand you were also
at the Reda house last night.

Yes, I was.

Then, as a material witness, I would ask

that you refrain from communicating
with the suspect.

- Is that really necessary?
- Yes, it is.

When you're ready, Detective.

I conduct all my interviews in private,
Inspector, without exception.

You're under my roof, Giles.

Well, if you like, I could move the
interview to Stationhouse Number Three.

Fine. But this is a waste of time.

If you please, Inspector.

Shall I start at the beginning?

Let's start with the facts.

Time of death has been established
as 11:35 pm. Where were you then?

Sleeping in the room next door.

You'd been invited to spend the night?

No.

I wasn't feeling well.

And where was Mr Littlefair
when you last saw him?

He was on the floor in the parlour.

At least, I think so.

It may have been a hallucination.

Hallucination?

Dr Ogden believes
I was drugged at some point.

And who gave this drug to you?

I don't know.

They were coming around
with trays of drinks all evening.

The frog footmen, that is.

Frog footmen?

I'll tell you what, Detective.

Why don't you start from the beginning?

Yes.

I received an invitation ten days ago.

Ah, thank you.

"Mr and Mrs Jack and Alexandra Reda
request your presence as the Mad Hatter

"at a costume party to be held
in honour of the late Lewis Carroll".

How wonderful,
you get to be the Mad Hatter.

Darcy was supposed to be the Hatter,

but he'll be in Buffalo
visiting his family that night.

Oh, you'll be attending as well?

I'm to be Alice.

I'm going as the White Rabbit.

How did they get my name?

Oh, that was my doing.

I said you were the most
interesting conversationalist and...

That's very flattering, Miss Ogden,
but...

Oh, you have to go.
They'll have no Mad Hatter if you don't.

I'm not much
for wearing costumes.

What costume?
It's a top hat and a bowtie.

Polka dot bowtie.

Do come, William. It'll be fun.

Did you know anyone at the party?

No.
I don't travel in those circles.

So this was the first time you met
Randolph Littlefair?

That's correct.

I feel ridiculous.

Trust me when I tell you you'll be
the least ridiculous person here.

A frog footman, how perfect!

Julia! Ruby!

Oh, how good to see you!

And you must be Mr Murdoch.
I've heard so much about you.

Jack Reda. Glad you could come.

It's a pleasure.

So are we playing croquet?

You can't have a Wonderland party
without croquet.

How lovely.

Julia, Ruby Ogden,
this is our friend Constance Gardner

and this is our son Bradley.

This whole party was Constance's idea.

Such a pleasure.

Oh, and this is Mr Murdoch,
who so graciously agreed

to take Mr Garland's place.

Well, let me introduce you all
to our guests of honour this evening,

Mr Randolph Littlefair
and his lovely wife Eleanor.

Pleased to meet you.

Say hello to Tweedledum
and Tweedledumber here.

Ha! I believe he's mocking you.

I believe he's mocking you!

I am the Mock Turtle.

Oh, I love it
when people get into character!

Off with his head!

Here, your turn.

- Everyone, have fun.
- How delightful!

So that's how your finger marks
got onto the red mallet?

Yes.

What was your impression
of Mr Littlefair?

- I found him overbearing.
- You didn't like him.

I'm not in the habit of killing
people I don't like, Mr Giles.

Fair enough.

And what happened next?

After that, we went inside.

"Drink me". How delightful.

No, thank you.

Come on, Detective,
one drink won't kill you.

It's a Wonderland party, after all.

All right.

Was your drink ever out of your sight?

I don't remember.

So someone could have
slipped the drug in at any time?

Possibly.

Do you think you were
specifically chosen to receive the drug?

I can't think of a reason
why that would be.

Tell me more about Littlefair.

Frankly, I wasn't the only person
who found him objectionable.

You don't belong
with these people, do you?

I'm sorry?

I don't belong with them, either.

Aren't you the hosts' son?

I'm a Communist.

I'm intellectually committed
to loathing them all.

Especially Littlefair.

Why him?

Because my father,
also a despicable capitalist,

is in debt to him
and he's taken full advantage.

And he's an ignorant boor.
He's never read Lewis Carroll.

The Mock Turtle is supposed to be
doleful, not mocking.

The fool.

And what did you make
of Bradley Reda's diatribe?

The disquiet of youth.

The passive intellectual variety.

I'm told there was
some sort of parlour game.

Yes, a word game.

May I have your attention,
please, everyone?

As we all know, Lewis Carroll enjoyed
inventing his own nonsense words.

You'll be asked to invent
a nonsense word of your own

describing the person
standing next to you.

Then we'll put all the words into a hat
and invent a nonsense poem of our own.

And what was this poem about?

I'm not sure, exactly.

That's when the drugs
started to take effect.

Oh, oh, wonderful! Ladies and gentlemen,
may I have your attention?

We have our poem!

I need to use a mirror
because it's written backwards, so...

"Twas twilly, and the grumbly snifters

"burbled in their moonly sned".

"While the brilleautiful Noomava

"lay smumfy in her bed".

Julia.

- What is it, William?
- I'm having the oddest sensation.

Are you tipsy?

No. Everything seems distorted.

"Gone, he was, and so it was
the ophenfat came sneeling".

Splendid, splendid!

It's the maiden who slays the ogre.
Isn't that refreshing?

Yes, and to think we made it up
all by ourselves.

From that point on,
the distortions grew more intense.

May I offer you another drink?

How delightful.

Time no longer made sense.

Who am I?

I have half a mind to...

You hit him.

I honestly don't know,
but I suspect I did.

And what happened then?

I believe I was helped up to bed.

Ah, look. A smumfy room just for you.

All right.

Huh?

Huh?

Aah!

Well?

The murder weapon was in his room
with his finger marks, he has no alibi.

- He has no motive!
- He had an altercation with the victim.

Bloody hell, man.

Inspector, I'd like to be
able to tell you

that I don't believe
Detective Murdoch killed the man,

but I'm subject
to the same prejudice as you.

Normally with evidence like this,
charges would be laid.

You lay a charge,
you know as well as I do

the race will be on to find
evidence supporting that charge.

Yes, I don't want that to happen.

We should investigate the possibility
that he's being framed.

But Detective Murdoch
must be incarcerated

for the remainder of the investigation.

This is just temporary
till we solve this thing.

I understand, sir.

"Twas twilly, and the grumbly snifters

"burbled in their moonly sned

"while the brilleautiful Noomava... "

George, what does this mean?

It doesn't mean anything, Higgins,
it's nonsense!

Oh. Like your novel?

I'll have you know that I finished
Curse of the Lost Pharaohs,

and it's so good
I'm sure to write another.

And when I do,
there will be a character based on you,

and he will be the village idiot.

Everyone gather round.

Detective Murdoch has been
placed in custody

and will remain there
until we can prove his innocence.

It's up to us, lads.

We have a time of death, 11:35 pm.

I want to know
where everyone at that party was

in the minutes before and after that.

I want to know who had a motive.

Crabtree, dig into Littlefair's past.
Find out who had a grudge against him.

- Sir.
- Oh, one more thing.

No one outside this stationhouse,
and I mean absolutely no one,

can know that one of our own is
under suspicion of murder.

- Is that clear?
- Yes, sir.

Well, what are you all
standing around for?

Inspector Giles.

Allow me to be of assistance.

- Do you mind?
- Oh.

You have post-mortem results, Doctor?

Yes. Mr Littlefair was struck twice
with the mallet.

His entire temple area was shattered,
with shards of bone entering the brain.

Hmm. That sounds decisively fatal to me.

Yes. My feeling is the clock was just...

For good measure.

Quite so, yes.

And have you found evidence of a drug
in Detective Murdoch's blood?

Yes.

His glucose levels were depressed,
suggesting the presence of mescaline.

Mescaline?

It's derived from the mescal cactus.
It was isolated quite recently.

And does this drug make you violent?

No, not at all. Its primary effect is
intense visual hallucinations.

Nevertheless, Detective Murdoch did
become violent, did he not?

There was an incident, yes, but...

I apologise, this is the wrong venue
for this conversation.

When you're finished here, I'd like to
interview you properly at the station.

- Constable.
- What?

- You're staring.
- No, Miss Gardner, I...

Sorry.

I was kicked by a horse in the face
as a young girl.

Where were you at 11:35?

We were playing a game in the parlour.
Well, most of us, anyway.

...and he hit him.

I'd gone to bed by then.

I felt I'd fulfilled my obligations
as the son of the hosts.

We had such high hopes.

We were counting on Mr Littlefair
to buy a larger share of my company.

We'd thrown the party in his honour.
It had all been going so well.

My husband could be
overbearing at times, it's true.

It's no reason to kill a man,
though, is it?

We assumed William had been
the victim of a prank.

I thought it might have been

oil of hashish
or something harmless like that.

It was a Wonderland party, after all.

Oh, for the love of... I bent my nib.

One moment, Miss Ogden,
I believe the detective keeps

some extra nibs in here.

Is that a ring?

- A ring? What? Give me that back!
- It's beautiful.

Miss Ogden, you can't just take
personal items out of the...

"Julia, as long as you exist
in this world... "

Oh, my.

- It's a proposal!
- What?

He was going to propose?

I have no idea! I insist that you...
No, don't put them in there.

Ruby, this is none of our business.

I beg to differ, George.

At first I assumed
he'd had a little too much.

William was not used to liquor.

But then, over the next hour,
he became more disoriented.

And you saw a personality change?

Rather, yes.

Are you feeling any better, William?

- No.
- Thank you.

No.

Hey, frogman!

Mr Littlefair had been
drinking heavily all evening,

and it was beginning to show.

One more drop
and I'm sleeping in another room.

You snore when you're drunk, Randolph.

Fine. Froggy!

I said no more!

Everyone was in shock. And then...

Hey!

- I've half a mind to...
- Yes!

Come now, Mr Turtle.

Let's help you to your bed.

Come on.

What has come over you, William?

I think we need to get
Mr Murdoch upstairs as well.

- We can get him home.
- No, no, I insist.

Believe me, Inspector Giles,

William was in no condition
to leave his room,

let alone kill someone.

Well, thank you, Dr Ogden.

I believe that's all for now.

Would it be possible to see him?

Doctor, do you have
a romantic interest in the detective?

I've noticed that you sometimes
refer to him by his Christian name.

We did have a relationship, yes,
but that isn't...

Well, I wish you'd been
forthright with me about this.

I mean, you must see
how a past relationship casts

every statement you've made
in a different light.

And no. No, you can't see him.

What have you learned, Inspector?

Well, between 11:30 and 11:45,

most of the guests were gathered
in the parlour to play games.

And who was not in the parlour?

Well, the servants were
in various locations.

Two were in the kitchen and one was
loading supplies onto a carriage.

Jack Reda was in his study
and Bradley Reda was in his bed.

Interesting.

If Detective Murdoch's recollections
are truthful,

then the Reda family has good reason
to dislike Randolph Littlefair.

That's right. Littlefair had queered
a business deal on Jack Reda,

and Sonny Boy was in the process of
letting the whole world know about that.

Yes, this is promising.

Let's bring them in.

Am I seriously under suspicion?

You expressed contempt
for Mr Littlefair.

He was a contemptible man.

And your Communist philosophy advocates

the violent overthrow
of capitalist society, does it not?

Through spontaneous revolution,
not one capitalist at a time.

Bradley...

You claim to loathe
your capitalist parents,

but their financial future and yours
had been put at risk by Littlefair.

I call that motive.

Call it what you will.

My son feels that any commercial venture
is, by definition, exploitive.

The fact is,
we needed Mr Littlefair's money,

and while he may have been
pressing his advantage,

I stood to lose more by his death
than I could ever hope to gain.

But not much more.

Several speculative land deals of yours
had just fallen through.

Your construction business is
bleeding badly.

Oh, yes. I checked.

You were using
Littlefair's money like a bank.

But he held all your IOUs.

In a short time,
you would have gone under,

and Littlefair would have owned
every last thing that you owned

for pennies on the dollar.

He was a damned bastard is what he was.

And that's why you killed him.

No.

Killing him is what I wish I'd done.

"Julia, as long as you exist
in this world,

"there will be no one for me but you.

"We can adopt.

"Julia Ogden,
please say you'll marry me".

No, it can't be.

He had every opportunity to say these
things to me before I left for Buffalo.

I don't understand.

- Jules...
- I love Darcy.

I'm happy. I've made my choice.

Doesn't the fact
that you're so upset about this tell you

that your heart feels differently?

Don't you see it's too late?

I can't walk out on Darcy now,
it would break his heart.

Heartbreak is temporary.
Marriage is for life.

For the rest of your life.

This receipt is dated a year ago.
He may not even feel that way anymore.

Then why keep the engagement ring
and his thoughts on the proposal?

- He would have said something.
- Would he have?

The problem is that
he's a fine man who loves you,

but he sees
how you've prepared your future.

He's going to remain silent,
no matter how much it hurts him,

and honour your choice
unless you talk to him.

Jules, you have to say something,
you have to go to him.

I can't.

Inspector Giles has forbidden it.

Well, as I see it,
you have to do something.

My money's on the Communist son.

I don't think so.

He may well have expressed
a dislike for the man,

but then so did Murdoch.

- Have a seat, Giles.
- Oh, thank you.

And who attacked Littlefair
minutes before he was killed?

Whose bed was
the murder weapon found under?

Whose finger marks were all over it?

But what about the boy's father?

Well, I would agree,
except by killing Littlefair,

Jack Reda would only have hastened
his own financial collapse,

throwing his family onto the street.

So you're back on Murdoch, right?

You've had that fixed in your head
from the start.

Like a dog with a bone.

Look, I appreciate your loyalty
to Murdoch, Inspector, I truly do.

But don't ever question my objectivity
as an officer of the law.

He's one of us, Giles.

And that makes it
all the more difficult.

But it doesn't mean that he's innocent.

It's not looking good.
I need you to think.

Someone must have come into your room
to plant the evidence against you.

Do you remember anything?

- Nothing clearly, sir.
- Well, that's not good enough.

Someone may have come into my room,
but I can't be certain.

Bloody hell, Murdoch,
you have to remember.

Who was it?

Your neck is on the line.

Do you
remember me, William?

Was it a dream you had or a memory?

Perhaps a dream of a memory.

Who was it?

The Cheshire Cat.

Mrs Littlefair, did you enter
Detective Murdoch's room

on the night of the party?

No, why would I?

You were dressed
as the Cheshire Cat, correct?

Yes.

And were you in costume
the whole evening?

Hmm... No, I had my mask off
for most of the time.

And where did you leave the mask?

Uh...

On the table downstairs.

Very well. Thank you, Mrs Littlefair.

You and your husband weren't exactly
living in marital bliss, were you?

And now here you are, newly single
and ready to inherit quite a few bob!

Inspector.

You think I killed my husband?

Detective Murdoch saw you
come into his room, love.

That's when you planted
the evidence under his bed.

How dare you?

I have just lost my husband!
I'm grieving!

Grieving.

- Grieving all the way to the bank!
- Inspector, that's enough!

A word.

I made it perfectly clear I conduct
my interviews without interference.

You barely asked her the time of day.

She was downstairs in the parlour
with witnesses at 11:35,

or are you forgetting that?

Someone came into Murdoch's room
with that mask on!

So says Murdoch, and he's got
every reason to lie if he's the killer.

This is Murdoch we're talking about.

Oh, and policemen don't commit murder?

Wasn't it Murdoch
who disproved that theory?

I can't handle the evidence, sir.

Then just look, all right?

I don't need to remind you
that Giles is closing in.

All right, then, George,
fit the pieces together.

Now rotate it.

It's broken to the side, sir.

If the mallet had broken
from the force of striking the victim,

the handle would've broken
back to front.

So the mallet was broken deliberately.

Part of you being framed.

That would be my assumption.

Now, then, what other evidence
might have been tampered with?

This is a striking clock.

Regardless of what the hands say,

the striking mechanism must be set
to chime on the hour.

Now, we can check
the status of the mechanism

to see if it matches the displayed time.

You see here?

The position of the rack and snail cam.

Rack and snail?

It's what determines
the number of chimes.

This clock had already struck midnight
by the time it was stopped.

Can we tell what time
it actually stopped?

Yes, by counting the number of notches
on the gear train.

One, two, three, four,
five, six, seven, eight...

This clock was stopped
at ten after midnight.

12:10?

That was the time of the murder,
not 11:35 pm.

That puts Eleanor Littlefair
back on the suspect list.

Bloody hell, that puts
everybody back on the list.

We'll have to re-interview them all.

So tell me, Inspector, how did you
figure out this clock business?

It was Murdoch, wasn't it?

Sir, you can rest assured

that at no point did Detective Murdoch
come into contact with the evidence.

No, he just told you where to look.

And that didn't strike you
as suspicious?

Suspicious how?

Are you suggesting
that Murdoch framed himself?

He plants evidence
pointing to himself as the killer

knowing that when it's shown to be
false, it will help exonerate him.

- It's brilliant.
- It's idiotic.

It's brilliant, Inspector.

And Murdoch is nothing if not that.

- Sir, we have a problem.
- Now what?

I've checked police and court records
going back more than a decade.

It seems that Randolph Littlefair
changed his name some years back.

He used to be Michael Cudmore

and he had a few run-ins with the law,
including murder.

Murder? Who did he kill?

An innkeeper was found stabbed to death.
Cudmore was charged but later acquitted.

So what's the problem?

The arresting officer was
William H. Murdoch.

Michael Cudmore.

Do you recall the name?

"Drink me!" How delightful!

I'm the Mock Turtle.

Do you
remember me, William?

Murdoch, Cudmore!

Does the name Michael Cudmore
ring any bells?

Michael Cudmore, yes.

I arrested him shortly after I started
with the constabulary.

So you're saying it's coincidence

that 12 years later, you just happened
to be at a party with Cudmore

and someone frames you for his murder.

That's the only explanation I have.

- What do we tell Giles?
- Nothing. We don't say a bloody thing.

Sir, I've spoken with Bradley Reda's
laboratory partner.

- Laboratory partner?
- Apparently he's a chemistry major, sir.

Turns out they've been
isolating mescaline.

It was meant to be a prank.

So it was just by chance that
the man you slipped this drug to

ended up being framed for murder.

I planned to spike the whole punch bowl,
but we couldn't produce enough in time,

so I decided to slip the mescaline
into Randolph Littlefair's drink.

Littlefair? Then how did it
end up in Murdoch's glass?

He must have picked up the wrong glass.

I wouldn't have done this
to your detective.

He was the one person at the party
I actually liked.

Bullocks.

You interviewed Bradley Reda
without my permission, Inspector.

If I hadn't, we wouldn't know
where the mescaline came from.

I thought that might be important,
Inspector Giles.

It is, marginally.

But I've been doing my own digging.

I was surprised to learn that your men
had already discovered

these arrest reports
concerning Murdoch and Cudmore.

Were you planning
on telling me about these?

Of course, but we're
still following that line of...

Save it, Inspector.

You've interfered with my investigation,
and, frankly, I've had enough.

I have no choice but to remove Murdoch
from your custody

and conduct the remainder
of this investigation

from Stationhouse Number Three.

- But you can't!
- It's not a negotiation.

Detective Murdoch...

Have you any idea how that happened?

Bloody hell if I know.

Sir.

He must have picked the lock.

Why would he do it, Crabtree?
Why would he run?

Maybe he lost his faith in us, sir.

Maybe he thought the evidence
against him was so strong that...

Well? Anything on the murder
of that innkeeper?

Sir, I've gone over all the files
for Cudmore's murder charge.

No one at the Wonderland party
connects to the trial.

Well, I might have something here, sir.

One of the witnesses at the trial
later claimed

that Cudmore assaulted her
in the days following.

What was the name?

A Miss Ava Moon, sir. She's an actress.

Cudmore was arrested but never charged.

- Ava Moon?
- Yes.

What? You heard that name before?

Not heard it, seen it. The poem.

Sir, this is the nonsense poem
from the Wonderland party.

It tells the story of a maiden, Noomava.

She's attacked by an ogre,
but she manages to fend him off

and she slays him.

- What are you showing me this for?
- Well, sir, look here.

"Noomava" is Ava Moon backwards.

Who wrote this?

But we all wrote this.
We made up nonsense words.

What about this Noomava
mentioned in the poem?

Ava Moon? That wouldn't be you,
now would it, Mrs Reda?

Inspector, there's no such person.

So I'm not to read anything
into the fact that these nonsense words

magically turned into a story

about a maiden
who killed a beast that attacked her?

Well, it wasn't magic,
we had to work at it a bit.

- We?
- Constance and I.

Well, it was all her idea, really.

It was quite ingenious the way she
pieced a story together out of it all.

- Constance?
- Yes.

The woman who helped you with the party?

Yes.

You wouldn't happen to have
her address, would you?

I didn't expect to see you in person.

I assumed you'd be in jail.

But I knew you'd figure it out.

I was hoping to have been gone
by then, of course.

I was never very lucky, was I?

Ava, I needed to see you

to tell you that I understand
why you framed me

and how truly sorry I am
for what's happened to you.

Well, it's a bit late for that,
isn't it?

I suppose so.

Now I'm afraid you'll have to come
with me to face the murder charge.

You would do that to me?

I'll argue for leniency.

I'll tell the judge that Littlefair
hurt you deeply, savagely.

Perhaps you didn't realise, Detective.

I wasn't his last victim.

Brigitte Marneau from Montreal.

He held his knife against her cheek
while he raped her. She lived.

Mavis Hedge from Belleville
wasn't so lucky.

He was there, I checked.

It was Cudmore or Littlefair,
whatever you want to call him.

And this was just a month ago.

How many others
that we don't know about?

Why didn't you bring this to the police?

Well, I tried that
once before, didn't I?

Didn't work out so well for me.

Taking the law into your own hands
has repercussions, Ava.

So does raping and killing women.

Or butchering them so badly
they cannot have children.

But the law doesn't always work
the way it should.

Haven't you seen that in the 12 years
since this happened to me?

Have you not changed in that time?

Is the letter of the law
still all you care about?

Even when it's wrong?

Michael Cudmore would have
kept on killing.

He deserved his fate and worse.

You know what I did was just.

What choice do I have?

Then will you watch my hanging?

If that's the verdict, yes.

It's my duty.

Then I will see you on that day.

Murdoch.

She was an actress.

She rented a room
at an inn along my beat.

One night, she heard cries
coming from the innkeeper's room,

and then saw a man leaving.

She didn't see his face,
but she recognised his coat, his walk.

I arrested Cudmore,

and my inspector
at Stationhouse Number One

beat a confession out of him.

Ava was terrified of Cudmore
and refused to testify against him.

But I convinced her it was her duty,

that she should trust in the law.

- But he wasn't convicted.
- No.

That wasn't your fault.

Actually, it was.

My inspector testified
that the confession was voluntary,

but I zealously told the truth.

The confession was thrown out
and the case collapsed.

And then Michael Cudmore
took revenge on Ava Moon.

Why wasn't he arrested for that?

Insufficient evidence.

It was dark,
the middle of the night, etc.

The prosecution didn't believe

that Ava's identification of Cudmore
would stand up at trial.

So you can see
why she doesn't trust in the law.

Murdoch.

What the devil's going on here?

Cudmore took his knife to me.

Not just my face.

He did things

I couldn't begin to describe to you.

Everything I ever wanted in life,
marriage, children,

ended the night he came into my room.

He moved out of Ontario after that.

Then a few months ago
I saw his picture in the newspaper.

Oh, he'd changed his name
to Randolph Littlefair,

but I knew it was him.

So you plotted to kill him?

I had friends in common
with Alexandra Reda,

and when I learned the Redas were
going into partnership with Cudmore,

a plan materialised.

I suggested the party for that reason.

And how did you know
Detective Murdoch would be there?

I didn't.

That was just one of those
strange things in life.

I realised if I pointed
the suspicion on him,

it would give me time
to make a clean break.

But I wouldn't have let him hang.

I was going to leave
a confession in my room.

But he arrived
before I could make my escape.

And now it's me who's going to hang.

It seems the law
is finally done with me.

Escaping from police custody is
a serious offence.

I had to inform
Chief Constable Stockton,

and, as you're no doubt aware,
there may well be consequences.

I had to see Ava again.

To make amends somehow.

Bring her in with dignity.

To get at the truth.

The truth at all costs.

She'll likely hang.

Her sad story may sway the judge.

But it was premeditated murder,
there's no getting around that.

A lesser policeman than yourself
might have been

inclined to look the other way.

But you and I are not
arbiters of justice.

We are merely servants of the law.

It is no simple task
to remain incorruptible,

especially in defiance
of one's own conscience.

Cold comfort, eh, Inspector?

Sir, good to see you a free man again.

Thank you, George.

This was left at my desk.

I'm quite sure
that's Dr Ogden's handwriting.

I didn't really have an opportunity
to get it to you until now.

Thank you.

Well, we're off to the wedding.
Will you be attending?

There's something
that I need to take care of first,

but, if there's time, yes.

Well, sir, I...

Should get going, I suppose.

I do hope to see you there, sir.

Dearest William,

I am writing this during what should be
the happiest time of my life,

and yet my heart has never been
more troubled.

I have learned of the marriage proposal
you intended to make to me.

If your feelings are the same,

you must let me know
before I make my vows.

If they are not, then I will marry Darcy
and we will never speak of this.

Either way,
I will know your true feelings

and my heart will be in peace.

Love, Julia.

Take the CP Rail
to Hamilton immediately.

Don't stay on the train any longer,
or they will catch you.

Here. Take a carriage from Hamilton,
find a boarding house,

try not to draw any attention
to yourself.

Wait a month and cross the border
at Windsor on an overnight train.

- Detective, are you...
- The station watch is

at a wedding ceremony.
They'll be back shortly.

Why are you doing this?

If I had acted
the way I should have back then,

perhaps none of this
would have happened.

It's one mistake I can set right.

But this could cost you your career.

You'll never know what it's cost me.

...and forsaking all others,

be faithful to him
as long as you both shall live?

I do.

You were missed at the wedding.

Sir.

I don't blame you, Murdoch.

It's no secret how you feel
about Dr Ogden.

I am sorry, me old mucker.

I received this a few hours ago.

Thought I'd hold off
until after the wedding celebrations.

There's no two ways
to say this, Murdoch.

The Chief Constable has determined

the price you'll pay
for breaking out of jail.

You're suspended three weeks
with a reprimand on record.

Well, that's not so bad, right?

Slap on the wrist
and you'll be right back at it.

Actually, sir, it's going to be
much worse than that for me.

There's something I need to tell you.

Best pour us both a drink.