Original subtitles

-What do we want? -Justice!

-When do we want it? -Now!

-What do we want? -Justice!

-When do we want it? -Now!

-What do we want? -Justice!

-When do we want it? -Now!

-What do we want? -Justice!

-When do we want it? -Now!

-What do we want? -Justice!

-When do we want it? -Now!

-What do we want? -Justice!

-When do we want it? -Now!

-What do we want? -Justice!

You'd think they'd want to be home for Christmas Eve.

I think that's exactly what they want, sir.

They all have someone they love missing from their family.

-When do we want it? -Now!

-What do we want? -Justice!

-When do we want it? -Now!

-What do we want? -Justice!

Move!

These women say their loved ones go missing twice.

Once in the real world and once in police files.

Today, they've come to La Sûreté du Québec to demand they be heard.

5,000 Indigenous women and girls have been lost to this genocide.

Ten women from the Iotenen'tón: Ni Mohawk community

have been reported missing in the past year

and the SQ do nothing!

I don't know, miss.

Why aren't you looking for my daughter?

-Where is Blue? -Get the fuck out of my face!

I don't give a shit about your rights!

Armand! Armand!

I am within my rights to protest!

Hey! Back up!

Back the fuck up!

-Stop moving. You're just making it worse. -Get off her! Get off her!

Give me the key.

-Where's your goddamn respect? -Sorry, sir.

I'm so sorry.

Armand!

Is Blue your sister?

Yeah.

How long has she been gone?

Over a year now.

Did she go missing from your community, from Iotenen'tón: Ni?

No.

She got a ride and never came home.

Hmm.

-Who's dealing with your case? -No one's dealing with our case.

And no one ever will.

Blue's been missing 13 months and 11 days.

Peacekeepers thought she ran away, so they asked SQ for help nine months ago.

We're still waiting.

How old is Blue?

-Eighteen. -You don't think she's run away?

Blue would never leave Pearl.

Pearl is Blue's daughter. She loved her more than anything.

This is us, just on the left here.

Come on. Let's get you inside.

Now, who wants cartoons and cookies?

We called her our little blue jay because when she was little,

she loved to play tricks on us, just hiding any place she could fit.

But this isn't a trick. She's out there somewhere

and she's scared and alone.

Will you help us find her?

Yes.

There he is, at last.

Merry Christmas.

Reine, I'm so sorry.

-You missed the champagne. -Jean-Guy must be here.

Finally.

-What, no Enid? -No, no, she's sick.

I left her with some chicken noodle soup.

Yeah, I told her I'd be as late as possible.

-Isabelle, Merry Christmas. -Merry Christmas, Patron.

I'm sorry I have to leave so early.

I have two little girls at home who are very excited.

I understand. Good luck trying to get them to sleep.

Thank you for the gifts.

-You're welcome. -Okay, take care.

-Good night. -I'll show you out.

Oh. Hello.

Armand, mon ami!

Brought you your favourite. All the way from Scotland.

And not a hint of peat.

Oh!

Pierre! My Christmas is perfect.

So, what the hell happened today?

-When you drove that family home. -I didn't know what else to do.

Francoeur is gonna be gunning for you.

You know how many of these cases end up on my desk as homicides?

You're running an operation out of Iotenen'tón: Ni, aren't you?

You know that family? The Two-Rivers?

Not really.

I mean, we're investigating this guy Kevin Kis.

And Blue Two-Rivers is dating his brother Tommy.

We looked into her disappearance to see if there was any connection.

Her and Kevin took off when Blue and Tommy disappeared, so...

Did you find anything?

Peacekeepers are pretty sure those kids just ran off.

Now, we didn't find anything to suggest that they were wrong.

I mean, all the leads we followed,

they all said that Blue and Tommy were last seen

getting a ride with Kevin Kis in his truck.

-Did you trace him? -Tried.

Truck was last seen crossing the border.

Mmm.

Would you run those plates for me?

Sure.

But I am telling you, these cases are gonna break your heart.

Most of these families do not get answers

and I know you are gonna obsess about this.

Come on, Crie. It's your big night. We can't be late.

She promised.

You know, I bet she's gonna meet us there.

Little works of art.

It's a Li Bien ball.

This is the last one.

Your mother made these?

Made them.

Destroyed them.

She tore every ornament from the tree, the year I turned ten.

Glass got everywhere.

She laughed.

They took her away.

She always says she will and then she doesn't show.

She'll be there. Come on now.

Your mother wouldn't miss this for the world.

Crie. We're so excited about your singing tonight.

-Merry Christmas. -Merry Christmas, Richard.

Oh no! Not like this!

Not like this!

I love you like this.

Not like this!

I love you.

Shit.

Come on, one more picture? Isn't that why I'm here?

I want to be with you, CC...

I'd rather be here than listening to a bunch of kids

whining at my daughter's singing!

I mean forever.

You're crazy!

They sold me a dream of Christmas

They sold me a silent night

Just him.

'Till I believed in the Israelite

And I believed in Father Christmas

And I looked to the sky with excited eyes

'Till I woke with a yawn At the first light of dawn

And I saw him and through his disguise

I wish you a hopeful Christmas

I wish you a brave new year

Decided to show up, huh?

Well, of course, I'd show up.

I'm here to see. I don't care about...

They said there'll be snow at Christmas

They said there'll be peace on Earth

Hallelujah, Noel be it heaven or hell

The Christmas we get we deserve

Where were you, Mama?

I was there, wasn't I?

You know, I think there's one last

chocolate snowflake left on that tree.

I'm so sorry, Mama.

It was a mistake, CC.

No.

The only mistake around here...

was marrying you

and giving birth to that!

Here's your coffee, Ruth.

You think it's cashmere or kitten?

My money's on kitten.

She probably caught it and skinned it herself.

Who the fuck does she thinks she is?

Haven't you heard? She's the new you. She's written a book.

Written more than she's read.

Underneath that armour, I'm sure she's a fine girl.

CC's not all bad.

Showing Clara's latest art to the great Saul Petrov, no less.

Kind of hoping he recommends me to one of those fancy galleries

-that show his work. -Is she taking a commission?

-Sorry. I forgot the sugar. -Yeah, sure.

God knows she could use some.

Welcome, Madame and Monsieur, to Three Pines' Boxing Day Curling Match!

Give it up for the fiercest of females, The Three Graces!

This fearsome foursome go head-to-head

with the undefeated...

Ta-da-da!

Curl Power!

Three Pines! Let's take the time to welcome them back.

Welcome to town, ladies.

You look great.

We're getting started in just a few moments.

So now is the time to grab something hot from those bistro boys.

I know what I want to grab...

Almond milk, one shot latte with half a sugar

and half a sweetener, my love.

It's okay. It's okay.

You must be Richard. Saul Petrov.

We met once before, actually, at your exhibition in Toronto.

Of course.

We need to get on. It's about to start.

Come on, let's find our seats.

Allez.

CC, did you have a chance to show Saul Petrov my portfolio yet?

I mean, just to know, he thought my work showed promise.

No, he doesn't. I'm sorry.

Still got it going on.

The players are on the ice and we're ready to begin.

So please, take your seats.

Take your seats!

Hey, hey, keep the energy up.

Let's give it up for Bea!

The Graces are chasing every stone!

Are they going to take it?

-Curl Power makes the perfect sweep. -Okay. Let's go, ladies.

What a great hit and roll by The Three Graces.

Oh, come on!

Y'all wanna sweep my porch, gals? Come on, ladies.

Oh! That's come up shorter than expected.

Pressure's on. Turn it over to Three Graces...

These mighty matriarchs could be gold medallists!

A great double take out!

The pressure's on for Curl Power now!

There we go!

Great takeout!

Now we're at a draw. Three points each. We've got ourselves a match Three Pines.

Here it comes!

Come on, ladies!

Oh, she's done it!

Come on, Three Graces!

Yes!

Game over for Curl Power!

What a way to go,

defeated by a bunch of seniors.

-Sir. -I'm cutting your holiday short.

I'm sending you out of town.

He's punishing me for driving that family home.

Your kindness is your greatest strength.

I'm not sure Francoeur would agree with you.

-Now you stay warm up there, mon amour. -I will.

-Je T'Aime. -Je T'Aime.

-I'm sorry. -Don't be.

-Welcome to the back of beyond. -Merry Christmas to you, Jean-Guy.

I was supposed to be at a drinks thing tonight.

I was about to have the best turkey sandwich ever made.

I was gonna watch a movie with my girls.

Tell them I'll spring for movie tickets and popcorn

-in the New Year. -They'll hold you to it.

Mathide never forgets a thing.

Hey, nice shoes.

What? I left in a hurry.

Spare boots and a coat in the trunk.

Thank you.

Chief Inspector Gamache. Yvette Nichol.

Inspector Beauvoir. We've met before.

I remember.

-Hello. -Sergeant Lacoste.

Oh, wow, Sergeant.

Living the dream.

-You were the first on the scene? -I grew up in the next town over.

I was visiting my folks when Cowansville Police called it in.

You must be in a hurry to get back. We won't keep you long.

No, General Director Francoeur said I should stay as long as you need me.

It must be fate. Just the other day, he suggested I finish training with you.

Said I should learn from the best. You.

-The best. -Agent Nichol,

why don't you walk us through what you have so far.

Okay, yep. Follow me.

Victim was CC de Poitiers.

She was watching a curling match when she collapsed

in front of the whole village pretty much.

Not that anyone saw a thing.

-You spoke to our witnesses? -Just to get names and addresses.

But people around here sure like to talk.

-And no one saw anything suspicious? -Not a thing.

One minute, she's sitting in the chair. Next, she's dead.

Electrocuted right here in the middle of a curling match.

A local woman tried to revive her. Ruth, uh... something.

Santo, Zanto...

Uh, now it's gone.

-I should have written it down. -That would have been helpful.

It looks like it was a freak accident.

Sorry to bring you out here for nothing.

You sure it's nothing?

Uh, well, she was electrocuted, so...

Every mistake I made was because I made an assumption,

and then I acted upon it as if it were fact.

Very dangerous.

We should have tattooed on the back

of whichever hand we use to write or shoot,

"I might be wrong."

Okay, you're not kidding.

Uh, the...

The victim wrote a book.

How does somebody get electrocuted out here in the open?

Could the snow work like water, like a toaster oven and a bathtub?

Did you find a toaster oven?

Appliances these days have automatic shutoffs.

So you throw a toaster oven in a bath, all you do is break it.

It's nearly impossible to electrocute a person.

To do it in front of witnesses...

You'd have to be bat-shit to try.

You'd have to be brilliant to succeed.

Thanks.

Sorry.

Hey. I'm going to need...

-You've met Agent Nichol before? -Yeah. She came in for a week of training.

She poured coffee down my favourite shirt, she shredded an irreplaceable document

and disclosed a safe house address to a violent perpetrator.

She could do with training.

You must have left Francoeur off your Christmas list

for him to send us here and give us that shit-show.

I know you have an addiction for rescuing lame ducks

and turning them into your project, but...

-Please. -You seem to forget, Jean-Guy.

You were once my project.

Yeah.

Is this where Madame de Poitiers was sitting?

Uh, yes. Yeah, right there, sir.

-And how do we know she was electrocuted? -Her hands and feet were scorched.

-Yeah. -Where did the heater get its power from?

A generator.

Maybe they attached it to Madame de Poitiers.

She would have noticed.

Not if she was watching the curling.

-People like it that much? -Around here, they do.

Maybe the heater is faulty.

It's metal. She could've touched it, been electrocuted and stumbled back.

What are booster cables doing near a curling rink?

Maybe Agent Nichol is onto something.

Maybe the killer used the generator

to electrocute Madame de Poitiers intentionally.

But if I'm right,

why would the killer choose to murder someone

in such an elaborate and public way?

That's a lot of hate. Who's the next of kin?

Who makes a home where children suffered?

Huh?

It's an old residential school

for Indigenous kids.

Well, clearly, it didn't bother our victim.

Call the pathology lab, find out when we can expect the report.

-Sergeant. -Thanks.

Hi, Jean-Guy Beauvoir speaking.

I'm calling to see if you have news

What's your progress?

Someone's there.

-Should we break it down? -This is not a movie.

Step back. There's a grieving family inside.

Okay.

Chief Inspector Gamache.

Sorry, I was in the attic.

Come in.

Hello.

My daughter, Crie.

These are police officers. Please say hello.

Hello, Crie.

My name's Armand Gamache.

-I'm very sorry about your mother. -She's in shock.

We both are.

Perhaps we could speak somewhere privately.

Crie won't mind.

-But I will. -Okay.

Just through here.

Stay with her.

It was a stressful time for CC,

with her first book coming out.

I already have a copy.

Agent Nichol is a fan.

-I wouldn't say a fan... -I haven't read mine yet.

Perhaps you could give us the gist of your wife's philosophy.

It's about keeping your emotions in, trapped.

Like white paint on the wall.

Though not on the wall,

Li Bien.

Beneath the wall, on the inside.

What time did she leave on the day of the curling match?

I'm not sure. Early.

She went there with a colleague, Saul Petrov.

-The portrait photographer? -Yeah.

He lives in Montreal, but he has a rental here for the holidays.

For CC.

-For CC? -To photograph her.

He took that.

He's documenting her life for her next book.

Did he take any photographs of the curling?

Yes.

Spends a lot of time with your wife?

It's not what you think.

He may have taken a photograph of the person who killed her.

Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to harm her?

CC wasn't the easiest person to get along with.

She was impatient.

She didn't suffer fools.

I'm sure she ruffled a few feathers around here,

but that doesn't mean anyone would want to kill her, does it?

I need to talk to your daughter.

Merci.

Crie?

May I sit?

I lost my mother...

when I was a little younger than you.

My father too.

-Were you sad? -Yeah.

Yes, I was very, very sad.

I can't tell you that the pain will stop.

But I promise you, you'll survive this.

I can't take away the hurt, but...

I can help you understand what happened to your mother.

Grief sometimes feels like fear, doesn't it?

But it's not.

Grief is...

love.

Love with no place to go.

Tomorrow we need to get statements from everybody at the curling match.

Friends and family?

True. And also we have to track down that photographer, Saul Petrov.

Update on the pathology report?

Ready in the morning.

Good. And a situation room.

Nichol, perhaps you can help, as you're a local.

-Yeah, sure thing. -Good.

And, now what do we do?

Now?

Well, no murder was ever solved on an empty stomach.

-Bonsoir. -Bonsoir.

We were hoping for a table.

How long was he there?

He was in on it.

-Excuse me, but... that's CC, isn't it? -Mm-hmm.

-Who's the artist? -Clara Morrow.

She's local. We have a big artistic community.

-Can I meet her? -You're in luck.

Hey, Clara. You've got yourself a fan.

Oh...

Sorry to interrupt. I'm sorry.

-Gamache. -Clara Morrow.

Did you paint this?

From a photograph. She didn't have time to sit.

There's so much going on beneath the surface.

Just like CC.

-Oh, did you know her well? -No, only a little, but, um...

she seemed so perfect.

But there was something underneath.

It's like when you paint over an old painting that you hated,

and everyone tells you they love it

but you know that if you chipped away at that top layer of oil,

that old painting, it'd still be there.

Mmm.

Well, it's very beautiful.

As if you can see inside her soul.

I had no idea law enforcement knew so much about art.

Of course, my wife is a huge talent.

Yet to be discovered.

Mmm.

-Very nice to meet you. -Yeah.

Guess who found the best situation room?

Good work.

Buckle up, everyone.

None of us is going anywhere.

What do you think? It's perfect, right?

Hello!

This is your place?

Be Calm is a cultural centre,

serving mostly Iotenen'tón: Ni Mohawk community.

Iotenen'tón: Ni? That's near Three Pines?

Just a couple of miles that way.

-Are you ready to see that other space? -Yes.

I sometimes use this room for crafting workshops,

but nobody much comes here before the thaw. So...

Thank you, madam. This is perfect.

People around here call me Bea.

Did you, by any chance, know CC de Poitiers?

Her book and this place share a name.

Oh. Be Calm's been here 20 years.

CC de Poitiers, not so long. Must be a coincidence.

Unusual choice for a native woman, SQ.

Yeah.

I had this crazy idea that I could change things...

-from the inside. -Mmm.

How's it going for you?

Uh, you know.

Who are your people?

I don't know.

I was adopted when I was a year old. So...

Oh...

Sir, according to CC's credit card statements,

she's paid for many hotel rooms in Montreal the past year.

Even when she was living there before she moved to Three Pines.

I think someone was getting a little afternoon delight.

Get a full list of where she stayed and when,

and times she checked in and out.

Right on it, sir.

Any forensics on the jumper cable?

No, nothing.

But it's a very common brand, found in any garage in the province.

And it was long enough to run between CC and the generator,

so it could've been used.

For the victim to die, four things had to happen.

CC had to be standing in water, her hands had to be bare,

and she had to touch the only thing that was electrified.

The current had to run through her body, out of her feet and into the water.

Do we know what the blue puddle under the seat was?

It's washer fluid.

It must have been spilled deliberately.

Washer fluid has no place on a curling rink.

So what was it doing there?

Electricity, it's like a living thing. It's desperately seeking to stay alive.

It races from one form to another.

Through metal, through the body, into the earth.

When CC's hand touched the source,

her heart would have given in in seconds, only she had to be grounded.

Impossible.

The sole on her snow boots would have protected her from the shock.

Except she wasn't wearing rubber-soled boots.

Look at these soles.

Metal claws.

So, CC was standing in the puddle

created by the washer fluid with metal claws on her boots.

The killer turned her seat into an electric chair.

Madame de Poitiers was executed.

Patron?

You have something?

An address for that photographer, Saul Petrov.

He's at a rental half a mile from CC's place.

The hotel where she got those rooms,

the staff says he looks like the guy she's been with.

Let's pay him a visit.

CC thought it would be easier if I was close.

Easier for what?

To finish work on her new book.

I was taking pictures for it.

Your relationship with CC was just a working thing or...

Strictly professional.

She paid for this place.

And hotel rooms in Montreal,

checked in and out of during the day.

-Was she meeting you? -Me? No.

I'm a married man.

We have the dates, so we can check the security footage

at the Ritz Montreal, if it's... easier.

Okay, we did meet there, but only to talk about work.

Twice a week for a year?

I took what I could get.

What were you photographing?

CC, of course.

Couldn't get enough of photographing that face.

She wanted pictures with the community, wanted to feel like she was part of it.

But I don't think they felt like she fitted in.

They made her feel like an outsider.

-You take photos of the curling match? -Yeah. A few.

We'll need to see those.

And don't leave Three Pines.

Sure.

CC ate in the bistro a handful of times.

She always complained about something.

The fish was too bony, sauce too rich.

I only ever dealt with her as a customer to be honest.

I think Myrna knew her quite well though.

I mean, we had a few conversations about her book,

and how many copies she thought I needed to order for the store.

She lived in an old residential school.

You think she'd be interested in a cultural centre?

CC had asked Sophie to play at the book launch.

I was excited to do it.

And we were both thrilled at the prospect,

but she was a little critical of Sophie's playing.

We felt it best that we kind of passed on that opportunity.

I painted her, but, um, she didn't have time to sit.

Um...

She was really interested in Peter's work, really.

We talked about art for that huge house of hers

and, uh, discussed our favourite galleries.

She did stay at the B&B.

Yeah, like a year ago.

Yeah, about a year ago.

Um...

Great review.

-Yeah. -Yeah, fun.

She seemed a little cold, if I am being honest.

I didn't get the impression that she and her husband were happy.

In truth, I barely knew the woman.

She wasn't actually interested in oldies like us.

No.

Mmm.

What the fuck do you want?

Ruth Zardo, may we come in?

"Forget what? Your sadness, your shadow,

what was done to you the day of the lawn party

when you came inside, flushed with the sun,

your mouth sulky with sugar,

"and said to yourself in the bathroom, I am not the favourite child."

Forgive me,

my wife and I, we're huge fans.

I live out here to avoid huge fans.

-Will this take long? -Let's hope not.

What can you tell us about CC de Poitiers?

-Not much. -But you knew her.

No better than anyone else.

She only moved into that monstrosity a couple of months back.

Place stood empty for years.

Then CC bought it.

You can tell a lot about a person by the way they feel about birds.

CC hated them too.

Can you tell us about the curling? You were the first responder.

CC fucking died. What's to tell?

Or perhaps you saw something or someone near her just before?

Not a thing.

Frankenstein, interesting choice.

Are we done?

CC was murdered, Madame Zardo.

And I'm late for book club, Chief inspector.

Gotcha!

That is so gross.

We're actually closed.

Can I help you, Chief Inspector?

I'm hoping you can all help.

I was struggling to get a sense of...

A sense of what CC de Poitiers was really like.

What do you want from us? Her fucking life story?

We barely knew her.

But you painted her.

CC was going to show Clara's work to an influential friend,

but it came to nothing.

The painting was a thank you.

Not that she even wanted it.

CC was damaged, she wouldn't know how to be grateful.

So you weren't a fan either.

A lot of you are saying you barely knew her, but...

I'm hearing she upset a lot of people.

She was upset with you, wasn't she, Myrna? When you wouldn't host her book signing.

When she wanted her launch party at the bistro, you refused.

The next day you closed down for an inspection

because of a report of food poisoning.

So you see, a lot of you seem to know her a lot better than you're letting on.

Anyway, if you think of anything that we should know,

you could contact us.

We'll be at Be Calm. If not, you can call me.

Hey, Chief, I'll tell you something.

This village is the most welcoming place on Earth.

But if you don't belong here,

Three Pines will find you out and chase you out,

one way or another.

Good night.

That told them.

And that's how you do it.

-Pierre? -So you still out in the sticks?

Yes, still here.

You dig anything up on the Blue Two-Rivers case?

I told you they were last seen getting into Kevin Kis' truck, right?

-Right. -Well, that truck

was picked up by a traffic cam crossing Brooklyn Bridge two weeks ago.

Then, again, entering Red Rook. That's a project in Brooklyn.

A lot of guns, a lot of drugs.

I had this officer check out

every social media post with a Red Rook hashtag on that date.

-You got something? -Pinging it to you.

It's Blue and Tommy.

We're trying to track the kid who posted it.

I don't know how to thank you.

Reine-Marie's poutine and a games night ought to do it.

Small price.

Tell the Two-Rivers the good news.

Thanks, Pierre.

I have to go to the Mohawk community at Pine Ridge.

Iotenen'tón: Ni?

I need to speak to the family of Blue Two-Rivers.

Did you get clearance from Francoeur?

-In that case, I'm coming with you. -Thanks.

We have some good news about Blue.

This photograph was taken two weeks ago in a Brooklyn housing project.

We're looking into who posted it for more information.

-She's alive? -Yeah.

We know you've been let down before, but you can trust us.

If she was alive, she would have called us.

-We don't have all the answers. -She would have called.

What was Tommy's relationship like with his brother Kevin?

Close. Their mother died years back, only had each other.

Kevin put food in his mouth and clothes on his back.

We know he didn't make his money by the book.

According to who? He was perfectly within his rights to sell cigarettes tax-free.

Not legally.

Our laws are different.

Because he made a living his own way

within the shitty hand that your country

dealt us, you labelled that a crime.

Is it possible that Tommy persuaded Blue to leave to go away with him?

And leave her baby?

No, no way.

I've realized that people can do the most unexpected things.

Perhaps it all got too much for her?

Oh, because we're native, we're child abusers and abandoners?

No, I don't think that. It can't be easy being a young mother.

Pearl is everything to Blue. She was trying to secure their future.

This isn't right.

She was starting college in the fall. She worked really hard to get her GED.

She was wearing this in Brooklyn two weeks ago.

Can't be hanging in her closet, can it?

It's impossible to know if that's the same jacket.

What would you rather believe?

That your kid's dead, or they don't need you anymore?

We've got to trace her.

Put out an APB, New York State.

-Okay, good night. -Good night.

A smell of burning filled the startled air.

CC de Poitiers was no longer there.

Best fucking barbecue I've ever been to.

Sir, sir. Why did you do that?

Why'd you move the pictures?

Because they all hated her.

Every single one of them.

But did any of them have an actual motive?

She hurt each and every one of them, one way or another.

Okay, but which one of them did it?

Have you read Mary Shelley's Frankenstein?

I'm not much of a reader, sir.

Mmm.

"The monster is dead, and the villagers are celebrating."

Huh?

In the story, the villagers aren't just celebrating the death of the monster.

They killed him themselves.

So, what if it was all of them?

---oOo---