All language subtitles for Dead.Still.S01E06.720p.WEB.H264-GHOSTS.mkv

Something's not right.

- What's this?

Black rose.

- Is that not the
flower you give

when someone has already died?

- Or a lost love.

There you are now,
Miss Nancy Vickers.

Consorting with the low
sorts and the likes of that.

There's
a Yank in town,

photograph collector
of some sort.

- You stole this
when we were there?

- Well it was just lying about.

- Some years ago I
traveled with an assistant

who subsequently
committed suicide.

I saw him!

- You've seen a dead person?

- You're not dead, Vudry.

I allowed him to
introduce a motif

into my work, a black rose.

- And you're saying
someone killed him

in the cell, in Dublin Castle?

- Is that what you
are, detective?

Suspicious of your colleagues?

- Someone's trying to
cover something up.

- I think you may have got
my heart off current, Nancy.

- What?

Can you see those?

Whoever
commissioned this album

are very sick, dangerous people.

- Tends to be the case
with secret societies.

- Henry took it.

Who do they think has it now?

- Your employer
sent you this, sir.

Not too happy that we
haven't found it yet.

- Make sure it disappears.

I don't want anyone
to know I've got it.

The photo album,
did you tell him about that?

- I told him everything.

- I hope so, Uncle.

People are dying.

- Jesus Christ.

I don't think we're
looking at a suicide here.

- No boy, we're not.

And you shit talking
me down in the yard.

Look at this, escalation.

- Fuck me.

This isn't a pretty picture.

- No it is not.

- She came here to work.

- She came here
because you could

keep her trapped no longer.

You want to keep her
fragile and useless,

just like Mother
used to do to us.

- No, brother.

I just want to protect
her from herself.

The two of you are more alike
than I ever could have feared.

- A package, two
letters, a postcard,

and a new camera brochure.

There are some nice
new models listed.

- Another new camera?

We can't be falling
behind in trends, Mother.

- That's not it.

He was drunk one Christmas.

Blabbering about how the
camera, what was it Brock?

How the camera
captures the soul,

or something silly like that.

What's the matter with you?

- I...

I fear something
terrible has happened.

How are you feeling
since the funeral, sir?

- I'm fine, Molloy.

So fine in fact that I'm
confident in my abilities

to work on my own again.

- Sir?

- What I mean is, your
trial period of employment

has come to an end.

My foot has healed sufficiently,

and I want to thank
you for your work.

- I'll be happy sir to
continue the same hours

but half the pay.

This job means a
great deal to me.

- You're dismissed.

- Uncle, I'm going
with Carruthers now.

If Mother is as bad as
she was at the funeral,

I might be gone a few days.

- You should stay with
your mother, Nancy.

She needs you now.

- I thought you'd
rather have me here.

- I don't need you anymore.

- Seems we've both
been dismissed.

- Molloy!

You really dismissed him?

- It's for the best.

- And me?

- Thank you for
your efforts, Nancy,

but I'm back to being
independent now.

- You spoke to Regan, you said.

This was all
supposed to go away.

What were you sent
that's so alarmed you

the day that Henry was found?

Why do you place a black
rose in your photos?

- I don't.

- You did.

- I didn't.

- I saw them.

On that strange little wall
you keep hidden in your study.

- The black rose is not mine.

- Who then?

- Go now, Nancy.

- My brother is
dead, so if you think

that I won't get to
the bottom of this,

then you are sorely mistaken.

I am not the same eager
little girl I once was.

Neville taught me to
be as cold as you are.

Don't think I won't use that.

Watch your back, Carruthers.

Everyone's getting
dismissed today.

- So, what you reckon?

Laying it all out now,
with what we know.

- Right, this Yank by
the name of Whacker.

He wants to make a buck
off murder photography.

He's war hardened, committed
atrocities no doubt.

- Comes to Europe looking
to add to his collection.

Falls in with Louis
Cannon and this crowd

looking for ways
to make more money.

- But Whacker needs
a photographer to
make some of his own.

One who can pose and
photograph the victims.

- If not butcher them outright.

- The last three
fellas are connected,

but the first two suicides
have nothing in common.

- Well nothing's come up yet.

- Happenstance.

- What did I say about--

- Don't, wait, now,
you're looking for someone

to photograph the dead.

Who won't ask questions
and can keep secrets.

- Someone whose business
isn't what it once was.

- Sometimes it's just as plain

as the nose on your face, Fred.

- Blennerhasset.

And I the fool, tellin'
him my theories.

- Sure, of course he
won't cooperate with you

if the whole bloody trail
leads back to his doorstep.

- I knew there was a reason
why they were shuttin' me down.

- See if Whacker contacts him.

Business proposition.

Lethal business, like.

- But the guilt is
gettin' to Blennerhasset.

His nephew's just done,
it's gone too far.

The man is shook to
fuck, rattled so he is.

- The net is closing in, Fred.

- It is, girl.

- I can't keep our
secret anymore.

Not if you aren't dead.

- Good day, sir.

I'm lookin' for a photo album.

- I have no idea what
you're talking about.

Very well, perhaps we
could have some tea.

Or perhaps not.

There ya are now.

- Here I am now.

How have you been?

- Sad.

I'm just sad, Molloy.

Henry didn't deserve
to die like that.

And I don't like being at home.

It makes me sadder.

- I can only imagine, Nancy.

- Is your confidence
in yourself so shaken

that you're back digging graves?

- I promised a
better life, Nancy.

Work, food on the table.

A small bit of comfort.

I don't have the luxury of
not working like you do.

I'm sorry, that was mean.

- It's fine.

But why do something you
hate for a better life?

Who needs that promise from you?

- Me wife.

I promised her.

I bought a small plot for
Siobhan when she died last year.

- My goodness.

I'm so sorry for
your loss, Molloy.

- I don't want anyone's
sympathies, Nancy.

I just wanted to do
me work, you know?

- Do you have to give up
doing something you love?

- I never said I was giving up.

I'm gonna go to Rubinstein,
or the Grave Brothers,

or some other fellow gaffer.

Given up?

I mean absolute
bollocks to that.

- Good for you, Molloy.

Good for you.

- It's not so bad.

I get to spend some
time with yourself, so.

It's grand.

- I'd like your
advice on a matter.

Will you have a
cup of tea with me?

- I'd kill for a sup, Nancy.

- I don't know what
to do about Uncle.

Something isn't right.

I feel like I
should go to Regan,

but what would I tell him?

- I didn't burn
that photo album.

- The one you stole
at the seance?

- Yeah, but don't say steal.

Steal makes me nervous.

Because that's what
your brother did,

from some gathering that crashed
in the Wicklow mountains.

That album was never
supposed to get out.

- The photos in that
dreadful collection.

Are they in his style?

- Yeah.

They're posed, delicate,

almost as if they're alive.

- Did any feature a black rose?

- Yeah.

- There was one in the
photos Henry stole.

I lied to Regan when he asked,

but Uncle used to place
them in his photographs.

They were once his signature.

- You don't think
your uncle could--

- I don't know what
to think anymore.

It's all so odd.

But something has to be done.

I don't want anyone to
suffer the way Henry did.

- I have the album at home.

We could take it to Regan.

- No, let's take it to Uncle.

You go get it.

I'll get Regan.

- And meet at your uncle's?

- Let's do that.

- I know who he's
been workin' for,

but I don't know who he is.

And see I've been
gettin' paranoid

on account of him killing folk.

- So these people
that he's working for?

- An organization.

A very--

- Ambitious one?

- Exactly that.

I've seen some dark
souls in my life.

Evil that would
turn your stomach.

Kinda folk that don't mind
prick teasin' the devil.

But this organization,

oh my they are

pioneers of carnage.

And so creative
for one so young.

- Well, don't keep me waiting.

- They call themselves
the Hellfire Club.

- Oh, paying tribute to that
myth from a century ago.

- Who knows, man.

Maybe they're immortal.

Been here all this time.

- Well whatever their commission
is, it's not my business.

- Death and photography
is your business, sir,

and they've been paying
someone to kill their enemies

and document it as they do.

And you know who
it is, don't you?

- These police
cabs are always out

when there's an emergency.

- It is an emergency.

Cattle farmers
rioting in Smithfield.

Three cows dead.

Bloodbath.

- Farrelly has been watching
Blennerhasset's house all week,

and he's actually
spotted Whacker

going in not 15 minutes ago.

- The call is out.

Have a little patience, man.

- Detective!

Everyone is only
doing their best, aren't they?

Yes sir.

Would you ever
stop being so bloody simple

and just knock off?

- Get up on yourself if
your mickey's long enough.

- Hup, go on.

- You see, I'm merely a
collector of the macabre.

An enthusiast.

Not a maker, like you
are Mr. Blennerhasset,

and if they're trying
to hang this on me,

well I ain't going
down without a fight.

- All right, let's have
this out once and...

- Have a seat, boy.

Sit down.

Where's the goddamn album?

Because that's the only thing

that's gonna get any
of us outta this.

- I don't have it.

I might know who made
it, but I don't have it.

- So you do know who it is.

Who is it?

- Speak!

- His name is John Vudry.

- Who the fuck is John Vudry?

- He was my
assistant, my friend.

For five years we
had a nice life.

Then one day, we
went to see a family

whose daughter had
died from a fall.

There was dispute
over the payment,

which can be difficult
with bereaved families.

And after it was all cleared up,

I went to the room where
the girl was being waked,

and that's when I saw him.

I saw him cutting her.

- The dead girl?

- Yes, he had been

defiling corpses.

Young, old, boys, girls.

Whenever the opportunity arose.

- You Irish are fuckin' dark.

- I cast him out, but then
I couldn't tell anyone.

So I,

I just covered it up.

- So you knew about all
of this from the start?

You could've stopped it.

- But then he disappeared.

I was led to believe that
he'd committed suicide.

It was only when I
saw the photograph

that Regan had found that

I suspected maybe
that he had returned.

But I just suppressed it.

And then, when
Henry was murdered,

I knew that I couldn't
protect anyone.

So I made a decision to go
and tell Regan everything.

- Don't shoot him.

- Please, he's
merely my coachman.

- Merely?

- In you come, coachman.

Have a seat, right over there.

- Please tell me someone's
closed the front door.

- I did.

No use having it open,
not in this weather.

- But I closed it.

- You left it on the latch.

- It was on the
latch when I came in.

- Shut up!

State your business, coachman.

- Oh, I have a letter
for Mr. Blennerhasset.

It's him, sir.

- Who?

- The old assistant.

- He has Nancy.

- Where?

- In the Wicklow mountains.

- We're going.

- No, he just wants me.

On my own.

- No one's goin'
nowhere unless I say so.

- Open it up now, come on.

Bushrod Whacker, come
out with your hands up,

you villainous Yankee.

- This fucker called
me a goddamn Yankee?

A villainous one he say?

Mr. Whacker,
I know you're in there!

- I need to find Vudry,
and put an end to this.

If the police intervene,
he's going to kill her.

I need your assistance.

- Yeah, of course.

- Whatever you
need, Mr. Whacker,

I will be forever in your debt,

but we must get to Nancy.

- Son of a bitch.

Right now,
get your battering ram!

- I lied to you.

- You thieved this from me?

- No I, I accidentally
thieved it.

Give it to Detective Regan.

Trust only him.

One, two!

Again!

- You think he's
gonna believe anything

that comes out of my mouth

when he sees what
I've paid money for?

Blennerhasset!

- Perhaps Mr. Whacker isn't
the most suitable negotiator.

Come on lads!

One, two.

- Give this to Regan.

We best leave by the back way.

- I want my innocence proved.

All right.

- Right, stop the corridor.

- Ann's parked round the back.

You be gentle with
her, do ya hear?

- You'd let me ride your horse?

- I said be gentle with her.

Let us in.

Lads come on, quick, quick!

- All right lads.

Let's just slow this all
down nice and carefully now,

before someone gets shot
in the face, namely me.

- Don't worry, Carruthers boy.

We'll get you outta this.

- Oh, I'm all right.

I just needed you
to all slow down.

- Why?

- So I can tell
the story clearly.

Because it's a matter
of great urgency.

- What is this?

- Nancy.

It's a photo studio.

Is it not obvious?

- Ann, come on, go!

Move!

I don't think she's movin'.

Hey.

She's not movin'.

Think we gotta go on foot.

Let's make haste.

- Don't move.

Well, not that
you can move much.

I mean, you could kick and
scream all you want, Nancy,

but we're in the middle of
the bloody Wicklow mountains,

so best of luck to you.

- You murdered my brother.

- Oh, I slaughtered
him like a pig, yes,

but he stole a photo album

I didn't get a
chance to complete.

And that was a
commission, you know.

I need to get paid.

So many empty pages
left to be filled.

- I don't have your album.

- I know.

Don't worry, my employers
have doubled their efforts

to get it back, leaving me
free to continue my work.

- You're a rare type of bastard.

- Oh Nancy,

the rarest bastard going.

You wouldn't find
a bastard like me

in any old corner of Dublin.

You really were a
good crack, Nancy.

You're an absolute tonic.

I don't know how you managed
it coming from that shower.

Brock managed it, I suppose,
for the longest time.

- When you were his assistant.

- We could've had a lovely life.

If only he weren't so
judgmental about my habits.

He brought me into his world,

and then he took it
all away from me.

Now I'm going to
take it from him.

- It's already been taken away.

Can't you see that?

He's been mourning it
for the last 10 years.

He didn't ruin your
life, you ruined his.

- Well then,

it's time to put him out
of his misery, isn't it?

Now that I've mastered my trade,

it's time to take over the
death photography business.

The apprentice becomes the
master, the way it should be.

And then finally.

- For fuck's sake.

- They went out
through the window,

youse came battering
through the door,

and here we are.

- Now.

Consider this a surrender

safe in the knowledge

that I am an innocent
man in all this murder.

- And,

Mr. Blennerhasset said I could

entrust this photo album to you.

- Men, take these boys in.

- Yes sir.
- Come on, you.

Come on now.

- Get in there now, and make
yourself nice and comfortable.

- Can I get a cup of coffee?

- That's not how it works
around here at all, boy.

Murder suspects
don't get coffee.

- They told me you're the
only one I should trust,

so if I'm gonna talk,

we're gonna need plenty of it.

- Regan?

Roper tells me the suspect
helped Blennerhasset and Molloy

escape for some
rescue operation?

- Yes sir.

But I want to question
Mr. Whacker here.

- Find those men.

Mr. Whacker's not
going anywhere.

- Surely one of you fuckers

knows how to make a
decent cup of coffee.

- Remember how he'd dress you
up and give you direction,

and you loved it,

and yet you never noticed
me, your audience.

- You're distinctly unmemorable.

- Look at you now.

You can't keep your
eyes off of me.

I thought you
might recognize me,

but I was glad when you didn't.

I knew then that he'd
kept all of my secrets.

- Now if the coachman moves
against me, you take him.

- But you're in Vudry's trap.

What if he just jams a knife
in your throat there and then?

- That's not his style.

- Carruthers, if they're
engaging with a killer,

you have to tell me.

We need DMP men there.

- If they wanted DMP men there,

there'll be DMP men there.

There's a fire!

- Open the goddamn door, fire!

Fire!

- Don't fuckin' move.

Get me outta here!

Fire!

- Get back, get back!

Jesus Christ!

Call the fire brigade.

Call the fire brigade!

Jesus Christ!

Fuckin...

- I think you're expecting me.

- Look how brave you've become.

- Oh Nancy, I'm so sorry.

- I'm sorry too.

I should've introduced
you to my beau, Percy.

- Look at that face.

Now that is a picture.

That's a right picture.

- So you've progressed
to murders, John.

Quite the leap from
defiling corpses.

- That's merely an insult, yes?

- You don't need to know.

- That's been your
strategy all along, Uncle,

and look where it's gotten
me, thank you kindly.

- I was never dead
to you, was I?

- You were.

I never reported you.

I never spoke of you.

And I refused to let
your indiscretions

ruin my reputation.

- Goodness, Brock.

You've become fierce
gloomy, haven't you?

Maybe you shouldn't have
kicked me onto the streets.

- Well, you did turn out to
be a deranged fiend, John.

Unfortunately.

- Well, I wasn't as calm
under pressure as I am now.

I've gotten terribly
good at biding my time,

waiting for the perfect moment,

waiting for the
right commission.

No.

No.

You don't get to
play the hero now.

You had your chance.

- Let her go, John.

Let her go, and I
will take her place.

No harm will come to you, Nancy.

I'm sorry.

- Spare me.

- Knowles, bring her in.

- I thought you
would let her go.

- Oh, no.

I just wanted to
get your hopes up.

Isn't that funny?

Knowles.

- You're gonna regret that.

- Well, I regret a
lot of things, so.

- Rest assured,
this isn't a memory

that I'll need to
photograph, dear Brock.

I'll remember it for
as long as I live.

Brock, please.

Me dying won't
make this go away.

They know about us,
about everything.

- Quiet, John.

This is your time.

Shh.

Let it go.

Shh, let it go John.

- Well what are we
supposed to tell people?

That the fucker
spontaneously combusted?

- This fucker.

- That fucker!

You killed him.

- It was an accident.

- Was it?

- Yes.

- I have the coachman
trussed up outside.

He's not moving anywhere.

- I would like to
take a photograph.

Just a small commemoration.

- I want no part of this.

- We need to warn Regan

about this organization
of psychopaths.

- No we don't, Molloy.

- No?

Have you not
learned your lesson?

- John Percy Vudry is dead.

And his vendetta
against me is dead.

Now we don't need to
antagonize his employers.

We've seen the
lengths they go to

to cover up their atrocities.

- And you want us to help
them cover it up, even more?

- This will protect us.

- Protect your
reputation, you mean.

- And you, Nancy.

In my own odd way, I've
always tried to keep you safe.

That's why I sent you both away,

to keep you from danger.

- That's what you call this?

- All right.

I'm sorry.

I made a mistake.

But these people,
whoever they are,

if they think that
we're a threat,

they will strike against
us, and our loved ones.

So this might serve as a
warning to leave us alone.

- But if Regan has the
photo album, it's--

- Then they become
his problem, not ours.

- You do what you need to do.

I'll do this.

- Good man, freed up

for your wild goose chase
Freddy and this is why I--

- I had an album of
murder photography.

Roper, you saw it.

- Yeah, I caught a glimpse,
but it could've been a fake.

- Look, do you have to
have everything in color

in front of your eyes
before you make judgment?

You absolute fuckin'
pox of a man.

- Freddy!

Language!

All right, where
is this proof now?

- Right, there was a fire.

- Oh yeah, and the
collection of photographs

just disappeared,
disappeared on you?

- Do you not fuckin' think
that sometimes that maybe,

just maybe, I'm
onto something big,

and someone is trying
to kill these fuckers

from stoppin' em talking.

- You are dragging foreign
lunatics into custody

where they're being left
to their own devices

and killing themselves!

Now clean this mess up, man.

God's sake!

- Jesus, I hope that's
the end of it now.

The album vanished.

Like me case.

- Or gone up in
smoke like the Yank.

You can be sure now
he's not behind it,

and he burnt to a cinder
down in the city morgue.

Only the fuckin'
legs left on him.

- The bollocks scorched off him.

Somebody wanted him
dead, and they got it.

And pocketed my evidence
when I was distracted.

- Fred, you can't trust one
single bastard in there anymore.

- You're right, girl.

Not one single bastard.

- Carruthers, have
you not locked up?

- Sure I did nothing wrong.

- Nancy, please listen.

I will make this right, I will.

It's just that we need
to stay out of trouble.

- Regan knows you lied to him.

We all lied to him.

- Exactly, that's why
we need to cover it up.

- And what'll you do when he
comes after you with proof?

- Oh I don't think that'll
be a problem anymore.

There was drama in the barracks.

The Yank and the album,
gone up in flames.

- Glad someone did it.

- I expect they'll be
calling on you soon, sir.

- Oh, can't wait.

Look, Molloy.

Please don't leave my employ.

I think we make a
good team, don't you?

- I've had me time.

Thank you for the
apprenticeship.

- Molloy.

It's been lovely
to get to know you.

Feel free to write
to me if you wish.

- Yeah, of course.

- Good.

We'll do that.

Pack up the last of my things.

- My intentions were good.

It's just that my
manner needs work.

- When me wife died, I never
had a photograph of her.

- I didn't know, Molloy.

- No, you did, you knew.

Before I met ya, I
wrote you a letter.

I explained what I could afford,

and you never even
replied to me.

It was just business
for the likes of you.

I don't wanna be that
kind of photographer.

- You're going to be a very
good photographer, Molloy.

- Thank you.

Good luck.

- Ah, he wasn't the worst at it.

- Nancy, you're much too bright
to be living in that morgue.

- And stay living
in your morgue?

No thanks.

You stopped me visiting because
of what happened with him.

- Nancy, you don't understand.

- No.

I think I do.

You cared for him, didn't you?

You cared for him,
and he was a monster.

Even now you can't
tell the truth.

Are all your secrets gonna
be worth it on your deathbed

when there's no one there
to hear you confess them?

- I really would
prefer if you stayed.

You really have been a
great help to the business.

- You've been a memorial
photographer how long?

- Nearly 20 years.

- Soon so many people
will have cameras

that there will be countless
photographs of the living,

people together in the
moment, being present, alive.

When you could only
have those photographs,

why would you even
want the dead ones?

- This came for ya.

- Thank you, Carruthers.

- I hear you're going
back to the grave digging.

- Oh yeah, not for long, Bessie.

- Good man.

It's what your
father would want.

Leave the past behind.

Keep the memories.