Original subtitles

PREVIOUSLY ON RIVERDALE:

Jughead?

Moose.

What the hell? Wait, are you my roommate?

Hermione Lodge, you're under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder.

Your own husband's.

Mija, I'm not paying for your crimes. I told the world what you are.

Deal with it.

I think you'd make an excellent candidate for the Junior FBI training program.

So are you warming up to our half brother now?

Yeah. Kind of.

I'm just glad that Charles was there for you.

Didn't you say we'd turn this place into a community center?

Feels like it's time.

No one is safe here. Is that really the town that you wanna invest in?

You're not considering fighting crime in those tights, are you?

Of course not.

I'm gonna need a mask.

They say every town gets the hero it deserves.

Riverdale's was Archie Andrews.

High school athlete by day, would-be crime fighter by night,

patrolling the shadows of Sketch Alley

down by the Southside Docks where Archie's community center is.

You wouldn't wanna be caught there too long after dark.

That's when the rats came out.

- Here. - Stay away from me!

All in all, not an auspicious second outing

for Riverdale's dark-suited vigilante.

And speaking of crime-fighting...

Kev, what are your after-school plans?

Cruising the bathrooms at Sheds and Royal.

Perfect. Then you can join me for my first Junior FBI class.

The one that your hot half brother's teaching?

Yes. I asked Charles if you could enroll and he said everyone's welcome.

Remind me, is your brother gay or straight?

I actually have no idea.

But seniors from a bunch of different high schools signed up,

so who knows, maybe you'll meet a cute, gay FBI agent-in-training.

I'm in. When and where?

It seems that the district attorney is pinning her entire case

on linking you to Hiram's would-be murderer, Tall Boy Petite.

Which is absurd.

I've never even had any interaction with the man.

There is still the issue of the large sum of money the police found

in your monogrammed Tucci bag in Tall Boy's apartment.

Obviously, Hiram planted it there to frame me.

FP will testify that he searched Tall Boy's apartment right after he died.

He'll swear that there was no bag of money in evidence at that time.

This week is insane.

I've got two papers due, your trial is starting,

Daddy's trial is around the corner...

I've heard the federal prosecutor's going after your father pretty hard.

Oh, I know, I've been meeting with her on the DL.

Goals for this week?

Get Mom out of jail and make sure Daddy stays rotting in his.

What are you working on?

The same thing as when you drugged me, Donna.

Except this time, I actually found something.

The Stonewall Four is supposed to be an urban legend,

but when I checked the town paper,

four people had actually gone missing over the last 30 years.

It's exactly what happened to Moose.

Marmaduke is fine. He's just busy in basic training.

Look.

We've been texting.

You guys are in for a treat.

Advanced copies of my latest novel.

Doesn't hit stores till Christmas, so no spoilers.

Wait, Mr. Chipping, you wrote a Baxter Brothers mystery?

Are you Franklin P. Paxton?

I am. Well, it's my nom de plume.

But The Secret of the Old Windmill came out like, what, decades ago?

How is that possible?

I am merely the latest in a long line of ghostwriters over the decades.

My mind is blown. I used to love these books when I was a kid.

They were my gateway drug into serious crime fiction.

Well, then you're in luck.

To celebrate the publication of Ten Little Boy Scouts,

Stonewall Prep is throwing me a little wine and cheese,

to which you are all invited.

As are the previous ghostwriters.

What's wrong, Pop?

It's a subpoena.

From your father's defense team.

Oh, no.

They'll probably ask if you doctored La Bonne Nuit's books

to make my father look guilty.

Which I did.

And I have no regrets about that, Veronica, you needed the help.

But I cannot place my hand on a Bible and say otherwise.

Let me get into it with the federal prosecutor.

Don't worry, I won't let you get caught up in this.

Just when I thought you couldn't possibly go any lower,

you prove me wrong, Daddy.

Pop Tate is a good man. There is no need to drag him into the mess of your trial.

I'm fighting for my freedom.

And to be clear, I didn't drag Pop into this, you did.

Because you were extorting me.

You can spare Pop and end this right now, mija.

Come clean to the feds, admit you framed me.

- Hard pass. - Then I'll be seeing Pop Tate in court.

And tell your mom good luck on her case. I'll be rooting for her.

We have a problem. If Pop takes the stand, he'll tell the truth.

And before you ask,

no, Ms. Federal Prosecutor, I won't tell Pop to lie.

Your father's broken many laws.

But those books you provided the FBI proving Hiram's guilt

- are at the heart of our case. - Call me as a witness.

I'll testify that I was the one who tasked Pop with doctoring the books

as a last resort because my father was extorting me, which is the truth.

Once I do that, I doubt they'll wanna spend much time talking about any books.

Okay. Meanwhile, good luck with your mother's case.

For our first session, thought we'd start in the deep end of the swimming pool.

With serial killers.

Your half brother is so hot.

I've put together a little exercise to kick us off.

This is a crime scene where six victims were found buried along a riverbank

in the Pacific Northwest.

Before I start filling in the details,

any guesses on which one of these men is the murderer?

It's the third man.

That's correct, Betty. How did you know that?

I don't know, just intuition?

Okay, then.

Let's try another one.

Which one's the serial killer?

The term "serial killer" is relatively new.

It wasn't until the 1970s

that the phrase "serial murderer" or "serial homicide"...

It's the one in the middle.

Correct again.

Your intuition is like a sixth sense.

Let's go again.

When defining a serial killer,

it usually refers to someone who committed three or more murders...

None of them did it.

Excellent work, Betty.

Not many people have that kind of raw instinct.

You're like Beautiful Mind, but...

for serial killers.

Can any of you guess what the murderers all have in common?

Nothing. Isn't that kind of the point?

They all have one thing in common.

A specific set of genes.

They discovered that you have the MAOA

- and the CDH13 genes. - CDH13, also known as...

The serial killer genes.

Hey, Dad, have you seen my Baxter Brothers books?

I swear I took them out of the trailer before it burned.

I don't know. Might have thrown them away.

You threw away my books?

Calm down. Before you accuse me of book-burning,

why don't you check the storage room in the basement?

I used to worship these guys.

Other kids wanted to be superheroes, I wanted to be a Baxter Brother.

Oh, my God, they used to do crossovers with Tracy True.

- Those were my favorite, remember? - Yeah.

My dad used to get me one of these each year for my birthday.

Hey, Dad, why'd you stop?

You outgrew them, boy.

I got to run.

I'm never gonna outgrow these books.

This was my favorite.

Mm. Jones, lights out.

Some of us are trying to sleep.

Late night, Red?

Algebra 3 is kicking my ass this year.

One of you named Archie?

Yeah, that's me.

This kid says you'll vouch for him.

That's Toby, he hangs out here. Is there a problem?

Yeah. He was shoplifting in my convenience store.

I was reading comics.

You were loitering and then you started to put this comic book in your jacket.

Why don't I pay for whatever that comic book costs?

Four ninety-nine.

I don't want any of your delinquents stepping foot in my shop.

It's bad enough we have to walk by this halfway house.

Keep the change.

Grab a brush.

Here is the hero of the hour.

Class, this is Francis J. DuPont,

the originator of the Baxter Brothers franchise

and the very first Franklin P. Paxton.

Francis, this is Bret, Joan, Jonathan, Donna and Jughead.

Jughead?

- Is that a nickname? - Yes, sir. It is.

And it's an honor to meet you.

I didn't have the greatest home life growing up,

but your books really helped me through it.

Jughead is the newest addition

to the most promising group of students I've ever taught.

Really? Well, is the successor amongst us, then?

Successor for what?

Chipping has written the last four Baxter Brothers books.

It's time he pass on the torch.

Therefore, we're on the hunt for the next ghostwriter to continue the franchise.

- You're going to pick one of us? - Keep it in your pants, Jones.

Every Baxter Brothers author,

beginning with Mr. DuPont himself, has gone to Stonewall Prep.

We're always looking for young and clever minds

to keep our adventures fresh and relevant.

If you're interested in the job, you'll have to write the first three chapters

of the next Baxter Brothers novel and an outline for the rest of it.

Obviously, I'm winning this.

Is there any particular style or subject area?

We have not yet decided on a theme, but we'll let you know.

I pulled your files, Miss Cooper.

I can confirm that you do have the MAOA and CDH13 genes.

All good. Nothing to worry about. I don't have the genes.

See, I told you. What a relief.

You got to be kidding me.

Hey, get the hell away from that car!

Who are you?

You run with Dodger?

Get the hell out of here. Go!

Tell him it's over. Tell him he's done for!

All right, listen up.

Sheriff Jones gave us a call.

Apparently, some of Dodger's crew was stealing hubcaps last night.

He suspects it was someone from this center.

I gave him my word that it wasn't any of you guys, and I hope that's true.

Anyone running with Dodger's crew

is going to end up in juvie or in an early grave.

Trust us, you don't wanna go to juvie.

If even one of you guys gets arrested, this whole place gets shut down.

SO, NEW RULE: If you run with Dodger's crew, then you're not welcome here.

That's it. No exceptions.

Any questions?

Yeah, I got a question.

Aren't you guys seniors?

What happens when you graduate and go to college?

That's months away.

But what happens? You said it yourself, they're trying to shut you down.

Why? Because of us. Because no one wants us. At least Dodger cares.

Dodger only cares about the money you can bring in.

We want you here, but you can't have it both ways. You have to choose.

One thing we see in a lot of serial killers

are instances of animal cruelty in their youth.

Jeffrey Dahmer, the cannibal of Milwaukee,

started killing dogs when he was in grade school.

Ian Brady, the infamous Moors murderer, killed his first cat when he was 10.

I'm all the dark deeds you did in our youth,

like what we did to our old cat, Caramel.

Caramel ran away. I didn't do anything to her.

Oh, Betty, we both know that we drowned Caramel.

Robert Thompson tied rabbits to railway tracks.

Betty, are you okay?

I need to get some air. Sorry.

Okay.

I arrived at the cabin alone.

The suspect, Tall Boy, got violent.

Resisted arrest. And unfortunately, I had to discharge my weapon.

He expired on his way to the hospital.

And later, when you searched Tall Boy's motel room,

did you find Hermione Lodge's Tucci bag full of cash?

No.

And yet, the prosecution claims they found the bag there.

- If it was, it was planted later. - Thank you, sheriff.

Your witness, counselor.

The cabin where you claim to have shot Tall Boy,

do you know who owns that cabin?

I assumed it was Hiram's.

This is a copy of the lease. Kindly read the owner's name.

"Hermione Lodge."

Order.

Order.

Excuse me, Mr. DuPont.

Did you happen to know my grandfather?

Forsythe Jones the First?

That is why you look familiar.

Your grandfather was an excellent writer.

Tell me, how's he doing? Does he still write?

I... I actually don't know. I've never met him.

Up until this exact moment, I didn't even know he was a writer.

A bit of a brawler, too.

Forsythe got into all kinds of rabble-rousing before he left Stonewall.

Is that why he left? He was kicked out for fighting?

Oh, It was so long ago, I don't remember the exact circumstances.

But I will never forget his talent.

We would read his works in class and I couldn't believe a teenager wrote them.

- Does your father write? - No, he's a sheriff.

Would you invite your father to the reception tomorrow?

I would love to meet Forsythe's son.

Yeah, I'll see if he can come.

Thank you.

Mrs. Andrews is back-channeling with the DA's office.

They're talking plea deals.

Mom... why didn't you tell us that the cabin was under your name?

Because it wasn't.

Veronica, your father must have forged a lease or a contract or something.

So, then why didn't you say that you'd never even been to this cabin?

Because I have.

Mom, it's now or never.

I need you to tell me the truth about everything so I can help you.

If everything you've told me is true, then I have no moves left.

The more the prosecutor digs, the guiltier you'll be.

And that's for crimes that aren't even on their radar yet.

There's no magic wand that makes this just go away.

What if there were one?

And my mother changed her plea to guilty?

- Veronica... - Look, Mom, we've got to be realistic here.

Why not admit to what everyone already knows,

before something else, something worse comes out?

Veronica, your mother would go to prison probably for the rest of her life.

Not if we get someone with a magic wand to pardon her.

That can only happen at the state level.

So unless you're friends with Governor Dooley...

I wouldn't say friends exactly, but we do have a history.

All of us.

Hey, are you okay?

What are you doing?

No!

Caramel.

Hey.

You free for lunch? You wanna go to Pop's and get a burger?

I got a lot on my mind. What's up?

I wanted to ask you about Grandpa. Did you know he was a writer?

Yeah.

Where'd you hear that?

Oh, one of his old classmates is visiting Stonewall Prep.

They have a reception later, if you wanna come hang out.

Waste a day with a bunch of blue bloods who think they're better than me? No.

You're the one that pushed me to go to Stonewall Prep.

Hell, you'd probably make me put on a tie and a blazer.

And just so you know, my old man wasn't a writer, he was a dropout.

All right? He couldn't hold down a job.

He was a mean, mean drunk who took all of his anger out on me and your grandma.

Was the best day of my life when he skipped out on us.

So, do I wanna hear about what a great writer he was back in high school? No.

No, I'm...

I'm good with my memories but you have fun.

Governor Dooley! You made it.

- Oh, no, not again. - Yes, again.

I have a small favor to ask you.

I was told this meeting was requested by the FBI.

No, I'd rather keep the FBI out of this, if at all possible.

So, in this folder, you'll find evidence that paints

a rather corrupt portrait of you, governor.

Ordering a bogus quarantine. Accepting drug money as a bribe.

Receiving kickbacks from my father's jail.

Young lady, how many times do you think you can blackmail me?

Help me now and this will be the last. I'll put that in writing.

As you know, my mother's on trial.

If she pleads guilty, I need you to grant her a pardon, immediately.

In exchange, I won't release this file of incriminating evidence.

What do you say, Donald? Once more for old time's sake?

May I have your attention?

In Literary Society tradition, it wouldn't be a proper reunion

without a little game of murder.

For neophytes, the rules are as follows:

Everyone draws a card.

Whoever picks "murderer" must walk amongst us,

winking at their prey.

If you are winked at, you die five seconds later.

The object of the game of course is to identify the murderer before being killed.

Happy hunting, everybody.

Enjoying yourself, Jones?

So, this is what one-percenters do for fun. They play murder, huh?

Oh, by the way...

Wicked, Jones.

- I should... - Yeah, go on, then. Let me die in peace.

Nicely done.

Down to the wire, boys.

- It's Jughead. He's the murderer! - Because I just killed you.

I knew it was him beforehand. I win.

I'm sorry, I can't hear you. Because you're dead.

- No, I'm not, I... - Boys. Let's be men about this.

It's clear that Jughead Jones won the game, fair and square.

- And what a formidable murderer he was. - Wha...

I'm disappointed I didn't get to meet your father.

Oh, yeah. He's been busy with work.

Oh, I understand.

I hope you'll enter the contest to be our new ghostwriter.

I mean, the grandson of Forsythe Jones would be a worthy inheritor of the mantle.

Serial killers are compulsive.

They leave clues, take trophies, keep records.

Journals, diaries, letters.

They see themselves as the hero in their own stories.

Sometimes it's difficult for them to distinguish between reality and fantasy,

fact and fabrication.

By studying childhood diaries of serial killers,

we can gain invaluable insight into how their minds work.

Your Honor, in lieu of a closing statement,

my client would like to say something.

Proceed.

Your Honor, after careful consideration, I've decided to change my plea.

I, Hermione Apollonia Lodge...

plead guilty to the charges against me.

I lied to you, Kevin.

At the hospital, Dr. Patel told me that I do have the genes.

And there's more.

Something that I think I may have repressed.

Do you remember my cat, Caramel?

A car hit her.

And I found her on our front lawn.

She was in pain.

Dying.

And it sounded like someone screaming.

So I went to get my dad for help.

And he took me back outside.

Caramel is your cat, Betty.

You need to take care of this.

And he handed me a rock.

And he made me...

Good girl, Betty.

Very good girl.

I killed Caramel.

No, Betty, that wasn't you.

That was your deeply screwed-up dad.

Oh, and I'm not screwed up?

I'm repressing memories of killing animals, Kevin.

Betty, I think this FBI training might be getting a little too intense right now.

I think we should maybe consider withdrawing.

That's it, keep your hands up.

Protect your face.

Jab, jab.

Good job.

Keep those hands up.

That's it.

Hey, Red, you got a minute?

Sure. What's up, Mr. Jones?

Some of the local business owners

have lodged a few complaints against your center.

Littering, vandalism, public urination.

Due respect, Mr. Jones, that's BS.

I'm here every morning and I lock up every night. These kids aren't doing that.

When I rolled with the Serpents, we dealt with the same crap.

Wherever we set up, complaints followed. No one wants a gang around.

The problem isn't the kids, it's the thugs that show up after we lock up.

They're gnarly. This place is supposed to make the neighborhood better.

Well, show them that. Do what the Serpents used to do.

Invite some of the yokels over for a get-to-know-you clambake.

People are less likely to call the cops if they've had a conversation with you.

All right?

You think you really pulled something off at the reception, don't you?

Bret, Bret, Bret. Are you really still mad about that murder game?

All right. Well, if it means that much to you...

Poof.

Consider yourself raised from the dead, preppy.

"Preppy."

You turn your nose up at us, you scorn us for our privilege.

But the only reason you're here is because some school benefactors

thought it'd look good to take on a charity case.

Some dirt-poor scholarship kid.

I'm here because of my writing. Just get over it.

No, Jughead, you're not here because of your talent.

The admissions committee?

None of them have read a single word you've ever written.

You're a statistic, a project. Every year there's one of you.

Some welfare freeloader who never amounts to anything.

Just like your grandfather. He couldn't even make it a semester.

That is your past, present and future, Jughead.

Shut your mouth!

Looks like you've inherited his temper, too, huh?

They all know I'm right. And deep down, you know it, too.

Most of you know me by now, but my name's Archie Andrews.

I run this place with Munroe Moore.

And we invited you here today to set the record straight about a few things.

Starting with...

Despite a few bogus complaints that have been made...

this community center isn't going anywhere.

In fact, starting today, we will be expanding our hours to 11 p.m.

and we'll be open on Sundays.

Instead of working against us, why don't you come in and help out?

Sponsor a baseball team. Donate your time.

These kids need people to show them that they care.

Which is why we're starting a Big Brothers and Big Sisters program.

The Riverdale High Bulldogs and Vixens have already volunteered,

so why don't you?

And if you still wanna shut us down, then go ahead and try.

My mom is a very good lawyer.

Or you can try the cops.

I'll call my best friend's dad, the sheriff of Riverdale.

Otherwise, my friendly advice to you is get out of my way.

- Can I help you? - Look, I own the hardware store on Drury.

And I admire what you're trying to accomplish here.

And I'm not the only one.

So, why didn't you say that, then?

The thing is, many of us business owners are getting... pressured

to speak out against your center.

Not by Hiram Lodge?

No. Um...

His name is Dodger.

And we've been paying him a protection fee.

Lately, he's added a request.

Protest your center... or risk losing his protection.

And then maybe our stores get robbed

or burned to the ground.

So Dodger's the one who wants us out of here.

Every kid who sets foot in your place is one less running scams

for him on the streets.

Well... look what the cat dragged in.

I'm done with Stonewall Prep. That place is toxic.

I'm going back to Riverdale High to be with my friends.

Nope. Mm-mm.

You're not throwing away this opportunity.

You're giving me whiplash, Dad. What opportunity?

So I can be buried alive in a coffin?

Or be told that I'm only there because I grew up in a trailer park?

- Someone said that to you? - Yeah, Bret did.

Well, who cares how you got in? You're in.

And those silver spoons? They feel threatened.

Look, this Bret kid? He knows you're better than him,

that you're gonna leave him in the dust.

And you'll do it without the privilege or the fancy name.

But if you drop out now, you're no better than my old man.

If you hated him so much, then why would you name me after him?

It's my name, too, don't forget.

And, yeah, I hate him, but he's still my old man,

so that's got to count for something, huh?

Also...

those books weren't from me.

Your grandad sent them from... wherever the hell he was.

I didn't tell you because...

Because I'm still angry at how he treated us.

Now, he was a hard man and there was no love lost between us,

but I got to give the devil his due. Those books you love...

were from him.

- And you have no idea where he is now? - No.

- Do you want me to look for him? - No, I don't.

But I'll tell you what I do want. I want you to go back.

I want you to do what my father never did, what I never did. Graduate high school.

Show those preppies what it means to be a Jones man.

Bring honor to our name.

I'm quitting the program, Charles.

- But you're a natural. - That's the problem. It's too easy for me.

I could identify every single killer in your slideshow.

Because I'm like them.

I have the same genes as them.

All the more reason for you to stay in the program.

To make sense of that part of yourself.

You couldn't understand, okay? You just don't get it.

I can.

And I do, Betty.

I have the genes, too.

In fact, it's why I joined the FBI.

To control those impulses.

You have the serial killer genes?

Yeah. You can use this. Harness this.

To keep the darkness in check.

I did.

Oh, that's amazing news.

Thank you so much, governor, I really appreciate it.

No, that's fine. I'll pick her up myself. Bye now.

Sounds like you just got some good news.

Yes, I did.

My mother's been away for a while and she's finally coming home.

Same as your father.

- I'm sorry, do I know you? - No, you do not.

But I'll tell you the same thing I told the federal prosecutor.

That I'm a licensed private investigator.

That I was hired by Hiram Lodge to uncover any malfeasance against him.

And that I can unequivocally prove that the federal prosecutor

colluded with you to frame and bring false charges against Hiram.

- That's not true. - Yes, it is.

I have many recordings of you two... plotting.

Including a conversation you two had at that booth over there...

discussing Pop Tate's subpoena.

You had my place bugged?

Yes, I did.

So, here's what happens next.

The federal prosecutor has already told the judge

that she's dropping the charges against Hiram,

thanks to information I provided.

Look... whatever Hiram's paying you, I'll double it.

Nice try.

But that won't work with me.

You see, our father needed help, someone he could trust,

so he had me come up from Miami.

I fix things.

That's what I do.

Our father?

I don't understand.

I'm Hiram's other daughter.

Hermosa.

He needed me, so I came.

"Li'l Forsythe III, happy birthday."

Sorry I'm not there to celebrate with you.

Never let anyone tell you that you don't belong.

Love, Grandpa.

P.S. Trust few.

"And never let them take anything from you."

- Sir. - Over here, over here.

Hiram. Hiram, Alice Smith with RIVW.

Please tell our viewers, what are you feeling right now?

I couldn't be happier with the outcome.

And now that you've been vindicated of all your crimes,

will you and your...?

Daughter.

Be leaving Riverdale?

On the contrary, I'm excited to fulfill a lifelong dream of mine...

and announce my candidacy for mayor of Riverdale.

Mr. Lodge, is this the beginning of your political career?

- Do you have any idea... - Mr. Lodge!

How's it feel to have your case dismissed?

I'm confused. So we're not bailing on your hot brother's FBI class?

Based on what happened to Caramel...

That was before I got privileged information that made me realize

that we don't actually know anything about Charles.

Forget "Is Charles gay or straight?"

I'm interested in, "Is he a serial killer or not?"

I'm serious, Kevin.

The only places I've ever seen him are Pop's, my house and the FBI office.

I mean, what does he do all day? Where does he go? Where does he live?

And again, why is he still in Riverdale?

I thought he was helping out Jughead's dad with some cases.

What cases?

He's keeping secrets from me, Kev. I know it.

That's why we have to stay close to him.

We need to talk.

For too long, you've been preying on the youth of Riverdale. That ends now.

It's time for you to book a one-way bus ticket out of town.

I've got manpower.

The support of the people.

You... whoever the hell you are, don't.

Consider this a declaration of war.

Leave town or the next time we meet, you won't be driving away.

You won't even be walking.

It's a promise.

I'm not going anywhere.

You're a dead man. You hear me?

You're a dead man!

Mr. Chipping and I have conferred and decided on the theme

for our Baxter Brothers writing competition.

Who's interested?

Jughead?

Oh, no. I'm in. And I'm winning.

And please, Mr. Chipping, from here on, you can call me Forsythe III.

It's after my grandfather.

Wonderful.

Then you and your classmates will be challenged to devise...

the perfect murder.

That's your theme.

Let the bloodbath begin.

Archie Andrews, Betty Cooper and Veronica Lodge,

you're under arrest for the cold-blooded murder of my son, Jughead Jones.