All language subtitles for Mosaic.S01E06.WEB.H264-DEFLATE

What the eff?

This guy comes completely
out of the woodwork.

Says he used to be partners
with Eric Neill.

Tied him to a whole bunch
of cases in the past.

Nothing just comes
out of the blue.

Casey Delacroix. Who is he,
and why is this coming out now?

Someone is playing dirty.

Leak something, chum the water.

The t-shirt found buried

with the body was discovered.

- Who backed your new business?
- What are you suggesting?

Whoever is paying Casey
wants me to stay in here.

You can't talk to him

until you and I speak in person.

How serious is this?

So what happens now?

You and Laura are
gonna have to decide

how to play this.

What does your gut tell you?

Nope. No.

You cannot be here, Alan.

Is that her?

Alan, what are you doing here?

Tom Davis, he runs... represents
the owners of the property.

I'm aware of who he is, but right now,
this property is under my jurisdiction.

- We're not going to get in anybody's way...
- You already are in the way.

Don't you talk to me that way!

I'm not doing this now.
Dave?

- Alan, it's all right.
- It's time to go, Mr. Pape.

- Get your hands off me.
- Mr. Pape, it's time to go.

- Alan...
- Oh, good. No. Nope.

Trust me,

you guys do not want
to be the technicality

that gets this case
shut down again.

- "Down again"?
- You mean it's open?

Unofficially. I'm trying
to get it reopened.

And in light
of the new circumstances,

I think I got
a pretty good shot.

Well, that's...
that's great.

Yeah, as long
as nobody screws it up

and I get to do the job
the way I need to do it.

Is that why Alan was so angry?

It's complicated.

Alan is mad because
he's not boss anymore

and because he's trying to get
information that I can't give him

- or to anyone!
- Anyone?

Yeah, anyone,
meaning specifically

people who are not
involved in this case.

I need you guys
off the property now.

Detective, a statement, please.
Joel, please.

Hey! Especially you.

Look, I'm sorry, but
things are different now.

I... I can't
communicate with you.

- Are you serious?
- I need you off the property now.

Is it Olivia Lake?

Would you secure this, please?

Can you please give us
some more information?

- No comment.
- Come on, Dave, John.

No comment!
Please, no comment.

Um... excuse me, Petra.

I...

think I need to take
a walk or something.

Oh, sure, sure.
Of course.

I gotta...

I gotta think about
some stuff, too.

¿Hola?

Gracias.

Oh, JC, when you
call in for this,

I hope it costs you,
like, eight million pesos

or whatever the fuck
the currency is in Ibiza.

Ibiza.

Oh, shit.

I am such a fucking idiot.

I mean, my choices in men,

including and specifically you

in this moment.

I cannot believe

that I let you go away

this one New Year's Eve.

I mean, you should know me
well enough by now

to know that I didn't mean it.

I lost my train.

Uh, men, yeah.

You know?

If you ever, ever

fucking abandon me again...

I am gonna fucking kill you

and then I'm gonna be
so fucking pissed

that you're not there.

I mean, really,

fucking men.

Every goddamn one of them

that I invite into my house

are just a bunch of fucking...

liars and con men and...

fucking violent.

I mean, one of them tonight,

he just fucking had
his fist, like, right up

and was just screaming
and spitting

and his...
oh, my fucking God.

Look who's back.

Ugh, fuck.

First Christmas
she allowed me to leave

because of where things
were with your brother.

Where she thought they were.

I always told her there were
three things I hated about her...

her yapping mutts,

her horrid cats,

and her god-awful
faux Rococo credenza.

So when she
rewrites her will...

what does she leave me?

My fault, though.

I told her there was no way

I wasn't giving her
my velvet Elvis collection.

I don't know
what smells worse...

the endless amount
of food that goes in

or the endless stream
of shit that comes out.

And somewhere in the middle,
they apparently give pleasure.

Who do you think
she was talking about

at the end of the recording?

Uh, do you mean
besides your brother?

You really think it was him?

I'd like to think it wasn't.

I'd like to think
that even for a moment

she'd found something real.

Who else
could it be? Joel?

She talks about
trouble with men.

Joel was "the boy."

Sometimes just "boy."

Poor kid.

Big dreams and bad luck.

But a good kid at his core.

I always thought, for him, that
was the most important thing.

To be a good guy?

Did they have a relationship?

She fancied him
for maybe five minutes,

I think literally.

What about Michael?

O'Connor?

Hold on, I'll pour
myself a glass of water

and gladly perform
a spit take for you.

They never...?

Dated?

Uh, no.

Trust me.

How about Alan Pape?

It's funny.

If John Stamos was "We have
reached our cruising altitude,"

Alan Pape was "We have now
begun our initial descent."

They went out?

Briefly.

Was it big?

For him.

How big?

"He used to be married" big.

And for her?

Like Altoids.

Or those little things
you pick up

on your way out of Walgreens

like lip balm
or little face fans.

- An afterthought.
- More like the thought you have

that precedes
a full-body shudder.

I think he was
the last person she dated

who was older than her.

Was he the jealous type?

Oh, wow.

Joel.
Hey, it's Petra.

Just checking in.

Uh, finding out some stuff,

and some thinking about you.

Um, might be good
for us to talk.

Give me a call.

JC knows I'm here.

I just have a few questions.

Hopefully, I have answers.

Where were you on the New Year's
Eve that Olivia was killed?

Why is this important?

Just trying to fit
the puzzle pieces together.

I was home alone.

Anyone see you?

As I said, I was alone.

You were in love
with Olivia, weren't you?

How is this
going for you so far?

- I'm sorry?
- My body language.

Am I opening
or am I closing off to you?

I'm sorry, I...
I don't follow.

Even Nancy Drew
knew to bury the lead.

At least act confused, get
me to start offering things.

I knew where this was going the
minute you walked through the door.

And to be honest,
even the prurient,

minor thrill I thought
I was gonna get

watching this slow-motion
train wreck has worn off,

and so now
this conversation is over.

They're copies.

They were in the credenza
at Olivia's house.

Those letters are
none of your business.

You were jealous,
you were angry,

you even blame her
for the fact that

- your daughter won't even speak to you.
- You need to leave now.

Where did you find
Casey Delacroix?

I said you need to leave.

You dragged Casey
Delacroix out of hiding

- to reshine the light back on my brother.
- I'll call the police

or I'll remove you myself!

Why is it so important to you
to keep my brother behind bars?

Because your brother
is guilty of murder.

And, yes,
those letters are mine.

Now, I, too, lead what I
guess one would now call

a solitary existence.

And I understand you
to be trying

to make sense of what
little family you have,

and I'm sorry
I don't have a magic pill

to make what I imagine is a
very painful past go away,

but I had no idea
who Casey Delacroix was

until I saw it on the news.

And you are in my place of work

and I'd like it back
now, please,

as I, too, am having
a seriously piss-poor day.

I... I just
forgot something.

Oh, please don't tell me you're
actually feeling sorry for me,

'cause to be honest, I prefer
your suspicion to your pity.

I wanna speak
with Michael O'Connor.

Why?

I... I don't know
exactly.

I... but my brother
met with someone

from his organization
a long time ago,

and then a year later,
someone named Cliff Jones

contacted Eric about trying to
wrangle Olivia's land away from her.

And you think Michael has
something to do with this?

I think Michael may have
a few pieces of the puzzle

that I am clearly missing.

And why on earth
would I help you?

After what I just accused
you of, you wouldn't.

And I wouldn't blame you.

I overreached.

And I'm...

I know I'm in over my head.

But I have
nowhere else to turn.

You are literally the only human
being on the planet who can help me.

You don't want
Michael O'Connor.

- I do.
- Michael knows nothing about anything,

including where he
keeps his own socks.

If you want information,
you want Tom Davis.

Tom runs his life.

Well, how do I speak to him?

Wait for me
at the side entrance.

Let me make a phone call.

Word of advice...

Tom Davis is a smart man.

Just 'cause you end a
sentence with a question mark

- don't mean it's a question.
- I don't follow.

Make sure your questions are
questions and not accusations.

Noted.

As I mentioned on the phone,

- Miss... it is Miss?
- Yes.

Neill has a few
simple questions.

I told her that you knew
everything about anything

that happens
west of the Mississippi.

And, well, east of the Pacific.

Please have a seat.

Thank you.

So, I checked our records.

Your brother
and Mr. Delacroix

approached us on 6 November,
2011, at 3:11 p.m.

through our office in Redding.

They wanted us to fund
some exploratory research

into some of the decommissioned
old mines on our property.

They were asking people
all around the area.

He was rebuked
on 6 November at 6:14 p.m.

by a phone call
from our office in Summit.

Rebuked?
How so?

I believe the person he spoke
with explained our position,

and I believe
he got the message.

Which was?

We will not tolerate grift.

Why didn't you
have him arrested?

I can't say.

Meaning...?

I don't recall.

I'll be honest,
we get this a lot.

We have people
that deal with it.

Was it, by any chance,
a man named Cliff Jones?

I don't know who that is.

- If that's all...
- I do have one more question.

If the mines were all
old and decommissioned,

why were there geologists
on the property?

Technology has changed.

Decisions made to do
some minor exploration,

see if things were
more cost-effective.

Happens all the time.

They weren't, by the way.

Anything further
or are we done here?

Actually, this one
is the art geek in me

who couldn't live with
herself if she didn't ask.

The Red Room.

You must get this all the time.

Care to join us?

Thanks, I'm good.

You know, you won't win this.

- Win what?
- All this.

These mountains, these woods

are older, taller,
deeper, more valuable

than you or I will ever
have or dream of having.

Your brother found that out.

Don't be a chip
off the same block.

Amy. Hi.
I'm Eric Neill's sister.

Yeah. Yeah, I told you when you
called, though, it's over.

- I have nothing to add.
- Just... just a couple things, please.

I'm, uh... I'm actually really confused
and I could really use your guidance.

- My guidance?
- Your... your expertise.

I'm, uh... I'm not good at this,
admittedly, not like you,

and I know
I'm grasping at straws

and I just... really,
please, one question.

All right, one question.

And cut the bullshit flattery.

Fair enough.
Thank you.

My brother said
that four years ago,

he mentioned to you
someone named Cliff Jones.

Yes, who I tried
to question but couldn't.

- Because...?
- Because he doesn't exist.

Okay, sure, fine,

but someone contacted Eric,

someone who said
they're Cliff Jones.

- That, I believe.
- Good.

I'm sure Eric wants you
to believe that.

Okay, here's the thing...
Eric met with Michael O'Connor

or someone from his group,

and after that,
like a year later,

he gets a call from someone
who may not be Cliff Jones,

- but he calls himself Cliff Jones...
- I'm sorry...

and he wants Eric
to pull the exact same scam

that Eric tried to pull
on Michael O'Connor.

Where is this going?

Do you think this is
a coincidence?

Eric meets with
Michael O'Connor

- and then he gets a...
- I'm sorry.

Are you saying that you
think that Michael O'Connor

has the time or the need
to employ in any capacity

someone like your brother Eric?

Are you afraid
if this case gets reopened,

you'll look bad for pushing
Eric into a plea bargain?

You and I are no longer
speaking, all right?

About this or any other matter.

You know, you have no idea how
far in over your head you are.

It's fucking sad.

Hi, it's Petra Neill again
for Dr. Schoendienst.

Just a quick question
about beryllium.

Left my number
on the previous message.

Would appreciate a quick callback.
Thanks.

Bye.

Miss Neill?
I'm sorry to bother you.

My name is Maria Villella.
I'm with "CU News Center."

It's an online paper
for Colorado University.

Now, I'm sure
you're being hounded.

It's not a good time, actually.
I was just leaving.

Well, we're running
a story on Friday

and I'd like to invite you
to be part of it.

It's how the charges
were brought 12 years ago

against your brother
in the death of Eloise Brand.

I believe there never
were actual charges.

Well, that's actually
what the story's about.

We've received information
that charges were brought

and then dropped in exchange for information
leading to your father's arrest.

I'm sorry, I have no comment.

Whoa, you seem different.

What's wrong?

Nothing.

Just tired.

So, tell me something
about Cliff Jones.

Anything.

Well, there was a scar.

Where?

Uh, on his, uh...
his right cheek.

And he didn't drive.

We were waiting at the valet
and he called a cab.

And I said,
"What, you don't drive?"

And he said,
"Long story."

W-What's going on,
Petra?

Are you still with me?

When did you see him?

- Uh, spring.
- When?

I don't know.

There was a basketball game on.

It was a big game.

We were in a bar
and the bar was full.

What year?

It was before I met Olivia.

It was the Final Four.

He said something about not
getting to the finals again.

He was pissed
'cause one of the teams...

- Which team?
- I don't know.

Which team?

Whichever one played UConn.

- He was pissed at UConn.
- Why?

Because they beat his team.

Yes! We're getting somewhere.
Ask me another.

Did you throw Dad under the
bus to save your own skin?

What?

God, no.
Wow, no.

- Why?
- Eric.

No.

Not like it sounds.

Don't do your face.

Don't...
you gotta trust me.

You do not want
the answer to this.

Talk to me.
Don't do your stone face!

Trust me, don't press this
for your own protection.

Do not pretend any of this
was about protecting me.

Dad was taking us all down.

There were shell companies
all over the place

- and Mom was in on it.
- You know what?

Don't go, don't go.
You can't go now.

You have to let me finish this.
Mom knew.

Mom cosigned on
some of the documents.

Mom would've gone down, too,
but we made a choice!

Don't go, Petra!

Mom and I made a decision!

It was the only way
to keep us all together!

This is all a distraction
to keep the focus on me

when you were getting close!

Hello?

Hi, Miss Neill.

This is Liz Schoendienst
from BYU School of Geology.

You called about
a beryllium question?

Yes, yes, I did.

Well, in a way,
I'm relieved to know

that even you
can look like hell.

Uh, ah, Kentucky.

UConn beat Kentucky.

Okay, trying Kentucky.

Nothing at University of
Kentucky or Kentucky Law.

I've searched every class
from 1950 through 2010...

undergrad, business
school, law school.

No Cliff Jones.

What are the chances my brother
got Cliff Jones's name wrong?

I don't think your brother
gets that guy's name wrong.

He's had nothing else to
think about for three years.

Then again,
I don't think Cliff Jones

gives your brother
his real name.

Actually...
though...

all right, hold on.

You said that he said
he didn't drive.

Did he say why?

He just said
it was a long story.

Okay.

Now, if I was doing
what I used to do,

I'd do this.

I'd say this is a long shot...

but then I'd do this.

Hmm.

So, let's see

if the old dog can still...

- What are you...
- Hang on, hang on.

Mm, well.

I've searched
every Cliff or Clifford

and found no first names,

but there was a John Clifford,

Kentucky Law class of '87.

Got his first DUI in 1996,

his second in 2007.

And before you get too optimistic
about meeting this guy,

he most likely would've
gotten his third in 2014

if he hadn't driven his Peugeot
into the Mediterranean.

But he has the scar
that Eric was talking about.

Looks like he banged it into
one too many steering wheels.

Okay, when... when something
says "survived by a spouse"

and, uh, someone wanted
to reach that spouse...

It's seriously late in France.

Okay, but if someone waited till
an appropriate time to call...

how might someone
find that person?

So, moving on.

"Ansiers" Limited...

1102 Mountain Road.

Rusty Red Barrel Trust
buys 44 Summit View.

Grandville Limited...
67 Summit View.

Des Alps on Wayward.

Montmartre on Hidden Meadow.

Peculiars over here.

And Lavandou Holdings

buys Olivia's property
from a charity.

So, what's next?

Oh, you know what?
Wait a minute.

This... this is what
I still don't understand.

Why did Flor go to Mexico?

Isn't the question when?

'Cause wouldn't that
tell you why?

- Did I say something good?
- Oh.

Am I a Hardy boy?
I pick Joe.

Okay, so, Flor goes to Mexico.

And then where does that go?

Ask Michael or Tom.

They love to talk
about their private life.

Speaking of which,

okay, Olivia gets
in an argument with Eric.

She's distraught, she's angry.

Why are you the second
person she calls?

When she "Walking Deads" her
way back in here, I'll ask,

'cause I've been
wondering that myself.

Seriously?

She leaves you a three-minute
message on your voice-mail,

but first,

she has a 52-second
conversation with Michael.

Why is that?

She's not calling him
for consolation.

Why is she calling him?

She's angry.

Yes.

She's angry at Michael.

Eric confesses he came into
her life to scam her land,

and the first person
she calls is Michael, angry.

Exactly!

Give me a second.

This is Horacio.
Please leave a message.

- Danger, Will Robinson.
- What?

You told me to alert
you if I saw Joel.

Oh, thank you.

Poor guy. He's gonna
be so damn relieved.

Joel! Hey, I've been
trying to reach you.

What?
Uh, sorry.

Um, something
personal... home.

I need to talk to you.
It's important.

I, um... I actually don't
know how to say this.

Um, when we met,
when I came to Louisiana,

I, um... I wasn't
direct with you.

I was dishonest, actually.

I, um... yes, I was hoping
to find something to...

to reopen Eric's case,
but in truth...

Shit, it's Horacio.
I have to take this.

Don't go anywhere, please.

¿Hola?

- Okay.
- 011503.

- Okay.
- 2278.

- Okay.
- 6015.

Okay.

- Gracias, Horacio. Gracias.
- Claro, de nada.

Hello?

Fuck.

Oh, fuck, come on.

- Hello?
- Hi. Miss Clifford?

- Yes. Miss Neill?
- Hi, yes. Thank you so much.

Thank you so much
for picking up.

I know it's early.

I just have a couple
of quick questions

about your late husband.

I'm sorry about... I don't
know what word you prefer...

his passing.

It was a long time ago.
It's fine.

- What did you want to know?
- Well, I just...

I guess, first off,

who exactly did
your husband work for?

This him?

That is most definitely him.

- His real name is John Clifford.
- How did you find him?

Actually, with a little help from
the guy who put you in here.

Alan told me you wanted
Michael and myself.

You remember from yesterday,
Michael's in the Caribbean. - I see.

This meeting, what is it about?

Beryllium.

I didn't know much
about it before.

It's used in the space program,
weapons manufacturing,

medical research, cell phones.

In the 1950s,
Michael's grandfather

lost a dispute
over the mining rights to it

in Warren's Ridge.

Do the letters HPCIC
mean anything to you?

It stands for "high-performance
chelation ion chromatography."

As an advisor to the inheritor of some of
the largest mining interests in the state,

I'm surprised it hasn't
crossed your screen.

Point is, it can detect trace elements
of metals like beryllium in rivers,

like the one that runs
under not just Olivia's property

but six other parcels of land,

all owned by trusts with names
like Hornflower Holdings,

Ponsiers LLC,
Ochre Bridge Partnership.

Do these sound familiar?

Each one
is an obscure reference

to a painting that hangs just
down the hall in the Red Room,

just like Lavandou.

I'm sorry, is there
a point to this

besides showing me
how adept you are

at picking your way
through Wikipedia?

HPCIC became commercially
available right around the time

Michael began casually inquiring
about buying Olivia's property.

But the stubborn narcissist
was holding on to it

for emotional reasons.

She wouldn't sell.

Not at 7, not at 8,
not even at 81/2 million.

So, why didn't
he offer 15? 20?

Because it would have
tipped her to its actual value,

and she never would have sold.

- I'm sorry, I still don't see...
- My angle.

Yes, it is all about
angle, isn't it?

Enter my brother.

He and his friend Casey
made a boneheaded attempt

to scam someone far smarter, far
more powerful than themselves.

And that smarter person, you,
quite wisely kept Eric's number.

I assume you know
John Clifford.

His widow confirmed
that he worked

in your Cockburn Town,
Turks and Caicos office.

She also, by the way,
has her suspicions

about his accidental death,

but we'll save that
for another day.

Anyway, John Clifford,
under the name Cliff Jones,

contacted Eric
for one reason...

to talk Olivia
into selling her property.

But Eric... and here's
that word again...

he got emotional.

He fell in love and confessed.

So she got emotional
and called Michael.

But as we've already
established,

there's no reasoning
with emotion.

Well, this is quite a
story you're weaving.

I acknowledge it is.

But I don't think
you actually believe it.

Because if you did,

why would you put yourself
in this jeopardy?

Perhaps I took precautions.

Except for
the most important one...

making sure your facts
are correct.

Thelma Clifford has a history
of bipolar disorder

and delusions of persecution,

which is why her spurious
and, I might add,

actionable attempt at blackmail
was already thrown out

by the Cockburn Town magistrate

and state and local
courts here.

So her claims are not new.

Yours are.

And they're reckless.

And they're wrong.

Michael was here that night.

His cell phone proves it.

He left it here
when he went down.

- He never went down.
- He was seen going down.

- By who?
- The maid.

He went down the hill
to shut Olivia up.

She was being Olivia,

so he hit her,
maybe accidentally,

but she fell.

Now suddenly, it's assault.

And she still won't shut up.

Finally, a hammer.

Three times until she was dead.

Then he dumps her in the mine
on the edge of his property.

You have proof?

I have a sworn statement.

Do you?

Flor Castro saw him
leave in a rush,

then return 65 minutes later

bathed in sweat, mud, snow,

and some sort
of brownish-red substance

that she couldn't explain.

Four hours later,
she was told, by you,

to leave the country
immediately.

You can try and contact her, but you
would have to know her new last name

and the country
she's now living in.

I believe you're bluffing.

I'm going to make a phone call.

While I'm gone,
I would encourage you

to reconsider the...

substance and intent
of this meeting.

When I'm back,
if you're not here,

I'll assume you thought better
of your decision to visit.

I'll be here.

Well, you're not accurate

about any of this,
but I am curious.

What's the ask here?

You mean in exchange
for my silence?

There's a reason
you came here like this.

Let's not kid ourselves.

What's my ask?

That is the question.

My ask?

What I want...

is the Red Room.

The Red Room?

The Red Room?

I would like...

the Red Room, yes.

Excuse me a moment.

Wow, that just popped out.

The Red Room.
That's why I'm here.

Of course,
it all makes sense now.

I can see that.

Me and the Red Room.

You rich guys have fast planes.

Do you know Joel Hurley?

I do.

You might want
to check the news.

He's just confessed
to the murder of Olivia Lake.

Wow, a sworn statement
from the maid,

that's a bold play.

Very ballsy.

Well, that's when Tom got up
and went in the other room.

So, you think
you had him on the ropes?

Now, I can say this...
it's a compelling narrative.

I can see how the dots
all connect.

There's one pothole,
though, and it's a big one.

Joel confessed.

And I should tell you,
my guys are telling me

Joel passed his polygraph.

- Passed meaning...?
- His confession's gonna hold.

He's telling the truth.

Or he believes
he's telling the truth.

Okay, yeah.

Well...

Let me ask you something.

Why did you go in there

to Tom and Michael?

To get them to admit it.

- I mean, somebody had to take these guys on.
- Oh, I don't buy it.

What were you really after?

What was your big move?

There was no big move.

No?

Just wanted to get a firsthand
look at the inevitable?

You mean that they were
never gonna go down.

Could be they outman you.

Could be they outspend you.

Or it's just blind, dumb luck.

People like that

just don't lose.

You got the case reopened.

It was the entire reason
you came here.

I don't understand why you're
not bouncing off the walls.

If it were me,

I'd be taking yes for an
answer and moving on.

Petra?

You have a visitor
out in the hallway.

Thank you.

- Hi.
- Hi.

- Miss Neill?
- Petra.

- How can I help you?
- Hi. My name is Lisa Phelps.

I'm putting together
a book I hope will be

the definitive book
on the legacy of Olivia Lake.

Oh, wow.

Um, I'm sorry, how old are you?

Oh. I'm 17.

And it's more like
a personal narrative,

stories of people's lives she
really changed, like mine.

A bunch of other kids
from the program did pieces

and so did your brother.

He said I should talk to you.

Oh, my brother
did a... a painting?

No, he wrote an essay.

Oh.

Is this for a school project?

It's for Embry House.

- Her publisher?
- Yeah.

They're doing the anniversary
reprint of "Whose Woods,"

and I kind of thought this
could be a companion for it.

Actually, I spent the last four
and a half years working on it.

I didn't sell it
till two weeks ago.

You sold it?

On your own?

Olivia said the only person
that could take me off my path

is myself if I stop walking.

- Hello.
- Hi.

Let me know if you have
any questions.

Thank you.

Just looking.

Olivia Lake's
children's classic

"Whose Woods These Are"