All language subtitles for true.detective.s01e01.720p.bluray.x264-demand

(THEME SONG PLAYING)

(BEEPS)

PAPANIA: What'd you think,
you paired up with him?

What I think?

(CHUCKLES)

Well, you don't pick your parents,
and you don't pick your partner.

You know, they used to call him
"The Tax Man" for a while?

He come out of Texas, so nobody knew him.

Seemed a bit raw-boned to me. Edgy.

Took three months till we got him
over to the house for dinner.

Around our big 419.

That's what y'all want
to hear about, right?

Dora Lange. The kids in the woods.

GILBOUGH: Yeah, sure.

But, uh, talk about Cohle.
We heard some stories.

PAPANIA: Kind of a strange guy, huh?

"Strange." Uh...

(CHUCKLES)

Yeah.

Rust would pick a fight with the sky,
he didn't like its shade of blue.

But when we finally
got him over to the house,

this is when that case was hot,

poor bastard looked like
he was on his way to the firing squad.

COHLE: Dora Lange.

The "Occult Ritual Murder."

You can thank The Advertiser for that.

PAPANIA: Could you hold off on that?

GILBOUGH: Yeah, you can't
do that here no more.

- Huh?
- PAPANIA: Uh-uh.

Don't be assholes.
You want to hear this or not?

(GRUNTS)

Vermilion Sheriff requested assistance
with a 419, cane fields outside of Erath.

I'd been on the job
about three months till then.

Two previous cases were open and shut.

On January the 3rd, 1995,
my daughter's birthday,

I remember.

Hart and Cohle, State CID.

Who found her?

DEPUTY: A farmer and his son.

This spread wasn't scheduled for a burn.

HART: Let's keep them here,
and let's tape off this road,

and give me your log.

(POLICE RADIO CHATTER)

(POLICE CONVERSING INDISTINCTLY)

Go ahead.

TATE: You ever see something like this?
HART: No, Sheriff.

Eight years, CID.

Them symbols, it's Satanic.

They had a 20/20 on it a few years back.

COHLE: ID'?
TATE: No, sir.

HART: We're gonna need
more men for a grid search.

Set up a perimeter wide as possible
on those three roads.

Post up, take license plates
of anything that passes.

I-23.

DISPATCHER: Go ahead, I-23.

We're gonna need
investigator assist on that 419,

all you can spare for a canvass.

Roger that, Detective.

HART: Okay. Tell me what you see.

COHLE: Ligature marks on her wrists,
ankles and knees.

Multiple shallow stab wounds
to the abdomen.

Hemorrhaging around throat.

Lividity at the shoulders,
thighs' and torso.

She'd been on her back awhile

before he moved her.

HART: That's why they called him
"The Tax Man."

The rest of us had
these little note pads or something.

He had this big ledger.

Looked funny walking door to door with it
like the tax man,

which ain't bad, as far as nicknames go.

COHLE: Yeah. Of course,
I've always taken a lot of notes.

I mean, you never know
what the thing's gonna be, do you?

That little detail, somewhere
way down the line, makes you say, "Oh!"

Breaks the case.

You know, I've seen all
the different types.

We all fit a certain category.

The bully.

The charmer.

The, uh, surrogate dad.

The man possessed by ungovernable rage.

The brain.

And any of those types
could be a good detective,

and any of those types could be
an incompetent shit-heel.

PAPANIA: Which type were you?

Oh, I was just

a regular-type dude

with a big-ass dick.

(SLURPS)

A lot of it had to do
with how they manage authority.

There can be a burden
in authority, in vigilance.

Like a father's burden.

It's too much for some men.

A smart guy who's steady is hard to find.

I was all right. Better than some.

But I knew how to talk to people,
and I was steady.

Rust,

now his Texas files were classified,
or redacted.

And he wasn't big on talking
except when you wanted him to shut up.

But he was smart.

Yeah. Second week we were together,
I saw where he was living.

Kind of made me feel for the guy.

I'd offer you a seat' but, uh...

Don't mention it. I, uh... I cant stay.

HART: Yeah, I'll tell you
guys, and believe me,

past a certain age,
a man without a family can be a bad thing.

(POLICE RADIO CHATTER)

COHLE: We'd encountered a meta-psychotic.

Which I had to explain to Marty
what meta-psychotic was.

COHLE: This is gonna happen again.

Or it's happened before.

Both.

Go on.

It's fantasy enactment. Ritual.

Fetishization, iconography.

This is his vision.
Her body is a paraphilic love map.

How's that?

An attachment of physical lust to fantasies
and practices forbidden by society.

You get that from one of your books?

I did.

Her knees are abraded,
rug burns on her back.

Cold sores, gum line recession, bad teeth.

There's decent odds she was a prost.

He might not have known her,

but this idea goes way back with him.

You got a chapter in one of those books
on jumping to conclusions?

You attach an assumption
to a piece of evidence,

you start to bend the
narrative to support it.

Prejudice yourself.

Wait and see on the ID.

All right.

This kind of thing
does not happen in a vacuum.

I guarantee this wasn't his first.

It's too specific.

(EXHALES)

Uh...

Listen, uh... Ahem, this is

a stupid time to mention this,

but you got to come to dinner.

Can't put Maggie off anymore,
so you just got to.

All right.

- Gordon, thanks for coming.
- Marty.

COHLE: Anyway, that evening,
it wasn't even sundown,

he decided it was a good time
to invite me over for dinner,

which I got a problem with.

All right, 'cause I'm thinking
about Marty's wife and his two kids

and how it's my daughter's birthday,

and I know...

There's nothing I can do about it.

Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow,

but I'm gonna have a drink.

HART: Let me get up!
GIRL: Daddy!

HART: You're gonna meet him.
I got to get the door.

Hey.

(GIRLS LAUGHING AND CHATTERING)

COHLE: People out here, it's like they
don't even know the outside world exists.

Might as well be living
on the fucking moon.

There's all kinds of ghettos in the world.

It's all one ghetto, man.

A giant gutter in outer space.

Today, that scene,

that is the most fucked
up thing I ever caught.

Ask you something?

You're a Christian, yeah?

No.

Well, then what do you got the cross for
in your apartment?

That's a form of meditation.

How's that?

I contemplate the moment in the garden,

the idea of allowing your own crucifixion.

But you're not a Christian.
So what do you believe?

I believe that people shouldn't talk
about this type of shit at work.

Hold on, hold on.

Three months we been together,
I get nothing from you.

Today, what we're into now.

Do me a courtesy, okay?
I'm not trying to convert you.

Look, I'd consider myself
a realist, all right,

but in philosophical terms,
I'm what's called a pessimist.

Um, okay. What's that mean?

It means I'm bad at parties.

(CHUCKLES)

Let me tell you,
you ain't great outside of parties either.

I think human consciousness
is a tragic misstep in evolution.

We became too self-aware.

Nature created an aspect of nature
separate from itself.

We are creatures that should not exist
by natural law.

Huh. That sounds god-fucking-awful, Rust.

We are things that labor under the illusion
of having a self,

this accretion of sensory experience
and feeling,

programmed with total assurance
that we are each somebody

when, in fact, everybody's nobody.

I wouldn't go around
spouting that shit if I was you.

People around here don't think that way.
I don't think that way.

I think the honorable thing
for our species to do

is deny our programming.

Stop reproducing.

Walk hand in hand into extinction.

One last midnight.

Brothers and sisters
opting out of a raw deal.

So what's the point
in getting out of bed in the morning?

I tell myself I bear witness,

but the real answer is
that it's obviously my programming.

And I lack the constitution for suicide.

My luck, I picked today to get to know you.

Three months I don't hear a word from you,
and...

- You asked.
- Yeah.

And now I'm begging you
to shut the fuck up.

I get a bad taste in my mouth out here.

Aluminum, ash.

Like you can smell the psychosphere.

I got an idea.

Let's make the car
a place of silent reflection from now on.

Okay?

What should I bring for dinner?

A bottle of wine would be nice, I guess.

I don't drink.

Oh, no, of course not, Rust.

Listen. When you're at my house,
I want you to chill the fuck out.

Don't even mention any of that bullshit
you just said to me.

Of course not, Marty.

I'm not some kind of maniac, all right?

I mean, for fuck's sake.

(SIGHS)

DEMMA; What did you hear?
FAVRE: Ask Cohle.

GERACI: You mean The Tax Man?

You know he's IA.

This is State CID Homicide
Detective Geraci.

Yes, ma'am.
I'm calling to ask about that night...

I mean, you never heard
any shit like this before.

She had

antlers.

Um...

- Fuck.
- This is...

This is a real thing.
It's some Halloween shit.

(EXHALES)

Well, we're gonna have to do
a press conference.

What about him? What do you think?

Smart.

Aloof.

Doesn't care about making friends,

but he's already running with it.

He's got a real mind for it.

Yeah.

So you'd keep him on it?

Both of us, yeah' I would.

All right. You're still lead.

The incident room is yours.

- And, uh, you do the briefing tomorrow.
- Yes, sir.

Thank you.

Hello, sir.

Fuck that prick.

DEMMA: All I'm saying is
it doesn't make any sense

- for her to be dumped in a cane field.
- GERACI: Hello?

FAVRE: Apparently, she had
all kinds of weird markings.

GERACI: Yeah. No. I
couldn't hear you there.

FAVRE: Antlers, and shit
there was burned out.

DEMMA: That's my point.
They wanted you to see her.

Yeah. You don't mark up a body like that...

LUTZ: She had antlers? What does that mean?

It was a crown.

We'll do the briefing tomorrow, guys.
Early.

My guy does the AP Wire
asked about Satanism.

DEMMA: It got Speece here.
You're gonna have his nose up your ass.

Major was saying something
about a press conference.

Well, guess loan count
my blessings, fellas.

Thanks for that.

(TYPEWRITER CLACKING)

Hey, you mind if I skate? Ahem.

I got some names from Vice, prost farms.

Check around on our DB.

You want me to go with you?

Nah. Just something to do.

Yeah. You go ahead.
I'll take care of the paperwork.

COHLE: Like I said, I'm feeling a
lot of stuff hit me at this time.

My daughter's birthday, this dead woman,
and, um,

figured I'd work the case, you know,
till DiCillo called or we got an ID.

State Vice gave me some addresses
to follow up on.

So far, nobody had talked to me.

WOMAN: Come on!

(ROCKS AND GRAVEL PLAYING)

Evening, ladies.

I was hoping to ask y'all a few questions.

Oh, come on, man.

COHLE: I'll get the next round.

You making trouble for us, sir?

No. I'm just looking to get
some information on a woman.

Might be you know her.

- Who's that?
- Hold on.

Mmm.

We'll lake two large
Long Island Iced Teas, please.

Ma'am.

I'm Rust, by the way.

I'm Anette. She's Lucy.

Either one of you
know a woman about your age?

Works the same place.

About 5'5". Blond, like you.

What kind of tits she have?

Medium, a little larger than yours,
proportion to the body, natural.

Hmm.

Gee. I don't know.
We see a lot of girls like that around.

Any girls like that
you haven't seen around lately?

Missing, like?

ANETTE: People come and go.

What do you want them for?

I wouldn't bust somebody for hooking
or drugs.

I'm murder police.

Somebody got killed.

There's a girl named Liza,
another called Destiny,

but I seen Destiny yesterday at McDonald's.

- What about Liza?
- She's here.

Anette, go get a couple more drinks
from the bar, will you, please?

All right.

You get pills pretty easy?

- Relax. I want some.
- (CHUCKLES)

Speed?

No, Quaaludes. Anything barbital.

Uppers are easier to get,
and they last longer, too.

Yeah, but it's not like that.

What's ii like?

I don't sleep.

(OBJECT JINGLES)

(JINGLES)

Hey.

Oh.

Hey, Lone Ranger.

Hey.

Ugh.

Dreaming.

Why you out here, huh?

Why didn't you come to bed?

Um...

Caught a bad one yesterday.

Just couldn't sleep.

You got that woman from Erath?

- Yeah.
- Yeah?

Saw it on the news.

Girls will be up soon.

Missed you the last couple days.

Oh, shit. I got to shower.

Got a debriefing today
and maybe a press conference later.

QUESADA: And if Speece calls, tell him
I'm debriefing the squad all morning.

CATHLEEN: Well, Marty
said he was doing that.

He is.

- Hey, beautiful.
- (LAUGHS)

Morning, baby.

CATHLEEN: Marty,
how you want your coffee, doll'?

- HART: Strong and black, just like you.
- (CATHLEEN CHUCKLES)

Prints came back. Dora Kelly Lange.

Priors for shoplifting, possession
and solicitation.

Address outside of St. Maninville.

Landlord says she hasn't lived there
in almost a year.

She's got an ex, Charlie Lange,

who's doing eight in Avoyelles
for bad checks.

Mom's outside of Breaux Bridge.
DMV license expired.

And DiCillo called.

DiCILLO: She was washed clean,
not a print on her.

We got ligature marks
on the wrists and ankles.

She was bound by a half-inch rope,
maybe 10, 20 hours.

Evidence of vaginal intercourse.

Bound upright.
Hadn't eaten in a day, maybe more.

Toxicology hit for lysergic acid
and methamphetamine.

Crystal and LSD.

How much LSD?

Hard to say. Got to wait for a mass spec.

So she was drugged, bound,

tortured with a knife, strangled,

posed out there.

Yeah.

What about this stuff?

DiCILLO: Well, the crown,
for lack of a better word,

rose thorns, early cane, switchgrass

Wrapped around a bent branch.

And the horns are deer antlers.

Again, no prints on anything.

The symbols are painted
with acrylic, basic blue,

using a thick glove finger.

Ideas what any of this means?

I don't know.

And it's all primitive.
It's like cave paintings.

Maybe you ought to talk
to an anthropologist.

(SIGHS) All the trouble this guy went to.

Seems real personal.

I don't think so.

It was iconic, planned.

And in some ways, it was impersonal.

Think of the blindfold.

This place is like somebody's memory
of the town, and the memory's fading.

It's like there was
never anything here but jungle.

Stop saying shit like that.
It's unprofessional.

Is that what I'm going for here?

I just want you to stop saying odd shit,
like you smell a psycho's fear,

or you're in someone's
faded memory of a town.

Just stop.

Well, given how long it's taken for me
to reconcile my nature,

I can't figure I'd forgo it
on your account, Marty.

(DISTANT TRAIN WHISTLE BLOWING)

(SIGHS)

Ahem.

You get any sleep last night?

I don't sleep.

I just dream.

"Occult."

Now, I don't know
if this shit is anything but crazy,

but Speece and the Superintendent,
they're paying attention.

The newspapers are making hay.

Church groups.

Detective?

Ahem.

All right, here's what we got so far.

Deceased's name is Dora Kelly Lange, 28.

PAPANIA: You stay busy now, the business?

HART: Well, yeah, I got the security firm,
PI stuff. Routine.

A lot of guys that leave their job,
cemetery within 10.

No family, idle hands.

Some advice. You make
it out, you stay busy.

Hit the corners.
Ask about anybody she was seeing.

Regular customers, meth dealers,
rough johns, anything.

Any questions?

You believe in ghosts?

What'd we say about silent reflection?

(PEOPLE CHATTERING INDISTINCTLY)

COHLE: You happen to hear anything
out of the ordinary

between 10:00 and 1:00 a.m. out back?

No, no, but, uh, sometimes
they dove hunt out there.

They found a woman?

MAN: Is it the Fontenot girl?

- Who?
- And why would you ask that?

I don't know.

Went missing around here years back.

Last time something happened.

Just thought maybe it's her.

How old was she, this girl?

I don't know. Little.

You know where the family lives?

(DISTANT TRAIN WHISTLE BLOWING)

They had a place a couple of streets down.

They moved after.

COHLE: Do you know the Fontenot girl,
the one went missing?

MINISTER: Her?

Her family come to our service once
or Mice, five or six years back.

Is that the girl? Oh, Lord.

HART: No, sir, it's not.

Excuse me.

MINISTER: I want to ask y'all something.

Y'all think maybe this have
something to do with those cats?

- What cats?
- Two of them.

One, and a couple of weeks later another.

Somebody cut them up,

turned the insides out,
then nailed them to the front door, twice.

Now, I called and told the police,

but we're predominantly
an African American congregation.

I asked for it to be investigated.

We aren't those type of police' sir.

Well, who is, then?

Can I ask you something?

Any of these look familiar to you?
Seen them anywhere?

No. No, they

look like something that might be
carved into a tree or something.

Mmm-hmm. How about these?

Now, that look like something my old auntie
taught us how to make when I was a tyke.

COHLE: What are they?

Some folks call them bird traps.

Old auntie told us that
they were devil nets.

You put them around the bed,
catch the devil before he get too close.

- That's interesting.
- Hmm.

She was a wonderful woman.

Loved her some Jesus,

but had a bit of that Santeria in her,
you know.

I always just thought it was something
for children to do.

Keep them busy.

Tell them stories
why they're tying sticks together.

TATE: Then that's all we got
on the Fontenot girl.

COHLE: There was nothing in there.

Says, "Possible report made in error."

Now, that was five years ago.

Ted Childress was sheriff back then.

He's setup in, uh, Gulf
Shores now, I think.

10-year-old girl goes missing,
that doesn't go statewide?

Now, hold on now. My understanding, the
little girl went off with her birth daddy.

Now, did you check her mom's record?
Possession, solicitation.

I believe Ted knew the family,

and the feeling was the little girl
was better off with her daddy.

Mom seemed to agree.

She filed a complaint,
then never bothered with it again.

Took off with her boyfriend.

R&I said you had a complaint these parts
around December.

Little girl getting
chased through the woods.

Oh, yeah, I pulled that one for you, too.

(SIGHS)

What the hell is this?

Little girl said a green-eared spaghetti
monster chased her through some woods.

Now, we had her work with a sketch artist,

and she told us that looked exactly right.

Now, you want to call in an APB on that,
you go right ahead.

Listen, boys. I'm gonna have to call
a little timeout, make a beer run.

GILBOUGH: Well, why don't you hold off
on that for a while?

COHLE: All right, well,
why don't you get it, then?

PAPANIA: We really don't want to do that.

Well, is this supposed to be admissible?
Huh?

You wanna pick my brain?

You work a room, you buy a man
a cheeseburger and a Coke, don't you?

I'll take a sixer.
Old Milwaukee or Lone Star, nothing snooty.

GILBOUGH: Why is this so important
to you all of a sudden?

'Cause ifs Thursday and it's past noon.

Thursday is one of my days off.

On my off days, I start drinking at noon.

You don't get to interrupt that.

(SIGHS)

Ahem.

- I'd appreciate a little hustle
up on that. - (DOOR OPENS)

QUESADA: Yesterday,
at approximately 6 a.m...

civilians came across the body of a female
in a sugar cane field outside of Erath.

Now, this person, we believe, was murdered,

and we are not yet in a position to

Release the identity of the victim
or to offer details of the crime.

- (REPORTERS MURMUR)
- Our investigators

have several leads, and hopefully will
have a suspect for you in custody soon.

Now, this perpetrator will be apprehended,
and he will know swift Louisiana justice.

MALE REPORTER: Any Satanic signs?
FEMALE REPORTER: How old was she?

- COHLE: Charie?
- Mmm-hmm?

Let's talk about your ex, Dora Lange.

You want to talk Dori?

What's she said I've done now?

Nothing. We're just curious
if you knew what she's been up to,

maybe where she's living?

Nope.

Got the divorce papers pushed through
after I'd been here about a year.

I don't blame the bitch.

She got a habit?

(CHUCKLES) Yeah, a few.

Weed, meth, juice. Name it.

Charlie, how'd y'all meet?

Growed up together,
dropped out the same time.

Hitched up way too quick.

You know how it is,
you want a wife, but only half the time.

Hmm.

Why are you saying
you hadn't heard from her?

She called up here for
you not too long ago.

She couldn't help me anyway, man.
She sounded fucked up.

You see, that's exactly the kind of thing

that we do want to know about
though, Charlie.

Oh. All right.

Uh... I needed some scratch for my store,

and Dori owes me money,
she ain't got no fucking phone,

so got a number to her friend Carla,
got her to call me back,

and she ain't made no fucking sense.

Ahem. Carla's full name and phone number.

COHLE: What you mean,
she didn't make sense?

Like she could duck hunt with a rake.

High, yeah.

Talking about she's gonna become a nun.

- Why a nun?
- I don't know, man. She was high.

Fucked up.

Uh, talking about she met a king.

Yeah.

Anyway, I don't need no snitch jacket
up in here.

(SCOFFS) Give me a break.

This is Avoyelles. It's a goddamn day camp.

Spend sometime in Angola.

Surprised you even got Aryan Nation here.

What'd Dori do?

Dori's dead.

COHLE: Thank you, boys.
We almost had a moment there.

Mmm.

So, you want to talk the whole case through
or just the end?

GILBOUGH: No. The whole story
from your end, if you don't mind.

You know, like he said, files got ruined.
Hurricane Rita.

What he didn't say is that
this is about something else.

Something new.
That one in Lake Charles, maybe?

Now, why you say that?

Kept the details out of the paper.

Yeah, we did. You know anything about that?

About Lake Charles?

(INHALES DEEPLY)

You ought to let me see what you got,
jog my memory.

Let's hear your story first.
See how it fits with what we got.

Well, your dime, boss.

Talking Cohle,
what about that dinner you mentioned,

he turned up drunk?

Oh. Yeah. Well, ahem, that
dinner, that was a bit later.

(CHUCKLES)

He was kind of funny.
The flowers, you know.

Like he read somewhere
that if you get invited to dinner,

you're supposed to bring flowers.

HART: What the hell?

You can barely stand up.

What, you don't drink with me or the boys,

and you got to get a load on
before you visit my family?

No, Marty, it's not like that.

I didn't mean to, all right?

I don't drink
'cause I've had trouble with it before.

I didn't mean to.

I was checking out a CI
and ended up hanging around a bar.

I was sitting there, and I couldn't
think of a good reason not to.

Usually I can.

(CHILDREN CHATTERING INSIDE)

Don't worry about it.

Have some more coffee and just try
to make 10 minutes of conversation.

You got it.

I'll call Chris or somebody,
get you out of here.

Marty. (COUGHS)

I'm sorry, man.

Forget it.

We'll try this some other time.

MAGGIE: Well, uh, Rust,
it is so nice to finally meet you.

Sorry it took so long.

Well, I tried to tell her
you aren't big on socializing.

I said that your life's
in this man's hands, right?

Of course you should meet the family.

Well, not quite as dramatic as that, hon.

I've never fired my gun.

Have you fired your gun?

Audrey.

Yes.

You shot people?

Macie.

Dad's never shot anybody.

COHLE: Well, that's good.

You don't want to shoot people.

But you have.

Marty says you're from Texas.

Yes, south Texas.

- I grew up in Alaska.
- (WHISPERING)

Just been working here
the last 10, 12 years.

What kind of work?

Narcotics, mostly.

Um...

I was on the robbery squad in Houston
until '89.

- (PAGER BUZZING)
- Ahem. Oh.

Be right back.

Y'all keep eating.

Do you like your job?

Not exactly.

It's worthwhile.

I'm good at it.

You're not married?

Once.

- Uh, not anymore.
- Mmm-hmm.

Did you do this while you were married?

Hey, Chris.

Hey, thanks for the page.

Yeah, well, he'll appreciate it.

Well, all right, then I appreciate it.

(WHISPERS)

- (GIRLS GIGGLE) Children?

One.

She passed.

Marriage didn't last long after that.

Sorry.

HART: Ahem.
Chris Demma's on the phone for you.

Something about a Cl or...

Back there to the left.

- Excuse me.
- Of course.

Ahem.

What was that?

What were y'all talking about?

Your job.

What do you know about him' Marty?

Um...

Not a lot.

He could be a good detective.

He's running on this thing, but, uh...

Uppity.

(SCOFFS)

What?

Have you ever asked him about himself?

Baby, trust me,
you do not want to pick this man's brain.

What was that?

Oh, some details on the CI. Ahem.

Thank you for dinner, Maggie.
This looks great.

My pleasure.

AUDREY: I don't like that broccoli.
MAGGIE: Mind your manners.

So you need to go or what?

No, it's nothing can't wait till tomorrow.

Rust, uh, what you were saying before?

Oh, we can find something
nicer to talk about.

Many, I saw your table in there.

You fly fish?

Little bit.

PAPANIA: So, you and Cohle
went bad in '02, huh?

Heard about that.

Yeah, well,

what happened between me and him
don't have nothing to do with Dora Lange.

I worked with Rust Cohle for seven years.

People change, relationships change.

You stay in touch?

No.

No, I haven't talked to Rust in

10 years.

Yeah.

Look, however we...

He was a good detective.

And it don't matter how we ended it.
I mean...

I can say that because it's the truth.

And I don't hold grudges.

I believe that's the shit
that leads to cancer.

(SCOFFS)

But why am I talking about dinner?

Y'all want to walk through
the Lange case, fine.

This other stuff... What's going on?

Sorry. We just heard some stories.

GILBOUGH: Well, personally, I heard
he was an ace case man, right?

I'd like to understand his process.

Process. Sure.

FAVRE: The other landlord says she trashed
the place, so she lost her deposit.

And her neighbors check out.

Those that remember her said that she, uh,
used to come in early in the morning,

If she came home at all.

(SNIFFS)

You guys canvass the bars
pretty good today?

Up your ass, Cohle.

Why don't you do your own fucking leg work,
you rat fuck?

Say it again, rummy.

Hey.

(CHUCKLING)

You know what, man?

Fuck you,

Tax Man.

What the fuck?

LUTZ: Ahem.

Back to point.

Got three hits on working girls.

No one close to her, naturally.

A few names recognized her as occasional.

DEMMA: Like she tricked now and then,

show up at a couple of truck stops
when she needed cash.

You got some names. Which ones?

I heard from my AP guy, Marie Fontenot.

Said her uncle's Danny Fontenot.
Pitcher, LSU.

Yeah, I watched him play. Great player.

- LUTZ: Well, he lives close by.
- Ahem.

Well, thanks, guys.

What about you two?
Did you get anything today?

Not much, sir.

Well, you might know the Reverend Tuttle.

He runs our statewide charity drive.

This is Detective Hart, Detective Cohle.

- Very good to meet you, Officers.
- Pleasure, sir.

Rustin Cohle.

Your case has a lot of people taking care,
doors locking where they used to not.

Eddie's been speaking to me about it.
Concerned, very concerned.

SPEECE: We've been discussing
the viability of a task force

to investigate crimes
with an anti-Christian connotation.

You what? Really?

Yes.

I don't mean to tell men of your positions,

but there is a war happening behind things.

Thank you for doing your part.

- Thank you, sir.
- Yeah.

Well,

Eddie's going to be very, very pleased
to have such good men working on this.

- Are you kidding me?
- Un-fucking-believable.

"Anti-Christian." Fucks.

And who the fuck's Eddie?

Huh?

Is he serious?

Well, he, uh, doesn't have a television.

- COHLE: Who's Eddie?
- And he's from Texas.

- He's the fucking governor. Edwin Tuttle.
- Ah.

They're first cousins.

Well, that makes sense.

EMMA: Yeah, that's the sound
of the big machine, Cohle.

It's gearing up to pound your ass.

It's the sound of a gaggle of hens.

Yeah, you better watch your mouth
or they're gonna peck your eyes out.

- Hi.
- Hi.

I'm looking for Detective Hart.
I have a stack of depositions for him.

Judge Sutpen told me to make sure and give
them to Detective Han and no one else, so...

- Is that the, um...
- The depositions.

I thought I should walk you through them.

Oh. Great, great. Let's
just find a place to talk.

Thanks, Cathleen.

LISA: Thank you.
CATHLEEN: You're welcome.

HART: Right through here.

(SIGN OF THE JUDGMENT PLAYING)

GILBOUGH: Your victim was Dora Lange,

but you all checked on Marie Fontenot. Why?

Missing girl, five years gone,
report made in error.

She had an uncle who lived nearby.

And call it intuition.

(SCREEN DOOR CREAKS)

Sometimes he's more responsive.
- (DOOR SHUTS)

I'd like to help.

Mr. Fontenot. No way.

Uh, ahem.

(CLAPS HANDS TOGETHER)

We met' uh, maybe seven years ago.

I was visiting Skip Hays.
I'd played for USL.

A thing of beauty, sir, watching you throw.

Hmm.

Danny, this man's a
detective' with the police.

(SLURRING) He's talking to me
like I'm a child.

Uh...

I'm actually... Ahem-Sorry, uh...

We wanted to ask you
about your niece, Marie.

Hmm.

"How much could you put on one family?"
I ask the Lord.

We try to get by.

Did you know Marie's birth father'?

Len?

Len Stroghes was her daddy.

DANNY: Hmm.

(WHISPERS) Okay.

HART: We're asking because, uh,

we had heard that Marie ran off with him
and they...

She wasn't really missing.

(WHIMPERS QUIETLY)

That's what Debbie said.

Oh. Well, uh, anybody heard from Len?

Anybody maybe knows where he's at?

HART: Uh, sorry. The last thing.

Do you know where Debbie is now?

JANET: She married another man,
not the one she was with when Marie...

She was in Vegas, last we heard.

- Marie must have loved it here.
- Yeah.

HART: All this for her'?
JANET: Danny loved her so much.

We weren't her legal guardians,
but she played here all the time.

More than her mama's.

HART: I can see why.

What is it Dan has,
if you don't mind my asking?

JANET: All they ever told us
was a cerebral event.

A series of strokes, like.

COHLE: Marty?

Excuse me one sec.

Inside, on the floor, on the right.

JANET: I don't know what that is.

I haven't looked in there
since the police first came.

COHLE: I bet you want to hear
the hero shot, huh?

The place we carried the kids out?

GILBOUGH: Eventually, sure.

So, what did she look like?

That one in Lake Charles?

(DOOR CLOSES)

Can you, uh, tell us anything
about that, Mr. Cohle?

(SIGHS)

COHLE: That looks a lot
like the one from '95,

but, well' you knew that already.

GILBOUGH: Yeah, there are specifics
consistent 10 the '95 case,

details that weren't public knowledge.

You were off the grid
for eight years, right?

- Show back up here 2010.
- My question is...

COHLE: How could it be him

if we already caught him in '95?

How indeed, Detectives?

GILBOUGH: I figured
you'd be the one to know.

Then start asking the
right fucking questions.

(YOUNG MEN DEAD PLAYING)