Original subtitles

(door clangs)

(lights buzzing)

Corrections officer: Alright, 640, you're out.

Come on. Let's go.

Let's go!

(clears throat)

(handcuffs clicking)

Walk.

(inmates chattering)

Pod 640.

(buzzer sounds, door clangs)

(inmates clamoring)

Corrections officer: Move.

♪ ♪

Commissary worker: Is that it?

Uh, yes, I think so.

-Yes, or you think so? -Uh, yes.

Commissary worker: Your balance is 345--

Oh, sorry. Thank you.

(inmates shouting)

Inmate: How could you do that to me? You just fucked me!

Motherfucker!

-(screams) -(alarm blaring)

Inmate: I'll kill you!

I'll fucking kill you!

Michael Peterson: Peterson 640.

♪ ♪

(bucket rattling)

You know why he jacked you up, right?

No.

He was waiting on a single cell for five years.

Was next on the list, and they gave it to you

because you're famous.

Officer: Bell.

Lock-in time!

See you around, Staircase.

Officer: Close her.

(doors clanging)

Sophie Brussard: Dear Michael,

an old friend visited last week

dying to see the Louvre.

Walking through the museum reminded me

that you don't have the luxury of relaxing

while you wait for your appeal.

Our deadline is tight.

Trust that we are working as fast as we can

to get your story in front of the world

and finally get you the trial you so deserve.

In the meantime, you said the prison library

wasn't stimulating.

So here's a little something to get your brain working.

Fondly, Sophie.

(theme music playing)

(speaking French)

Café?

Just look at my fucking face, David.

David Rudolf: I hear you, Mike, I--

-No, I, I don't... -I hear you.

I don't need you to hear anything.

I just need you to look at it.

The longer I'm in here,

the more likely it is I'm going to get killed.

When will we know about our appeal?

Mike, you know I don't know.

It could be tomorrow.

It could be three months.

So, three months. Th-that-that's how long

I've got to survive?

David: Uh...

I'd be shocked if it went longer than that. Sure.

I-I-I'm not supposed to be here.

I mean, th-this wasn't supposed to happen.

This, this wasn't supposed to be.

Mike, I know. I know.

Bill Peterson: Our appeal contests the seizure

of Michael's computer.

It was unconstitutional.

Without that, the State would have no grounds

to bring in the emails, the, the escorts.

Oh yeah. We're, we're quite confident.

(chuckles) Yeah.

Of course, you can quote me.

I hope you'll quote me.

That's, that's why I called you back.

-Sell. -The whole set?

Mom loved them.

How's work?

What do those movie people have you doing?

You know, just entry-level stuff,

answering calls, scheduling.

But they, uh, they hired their last editor

out of admin, so...

Hmm.

Clayton Peterson: You like LA?

Margaret Ratliff: It's fine.

The people are nicer than you think.

Bill: Reno's just a day away from you.

Martha, too.

You're welcome any time you guys need a break.

Not sure Martha's boss would let her have a day off.

Where's she at now?

Some customer service thing.

-(both snicker) -What?

Martha's not really...

-Service oriented. -...pleasant.

-(laughter) -(door opens)

-She's-- -Todd Peterson: Hey, hey.

-Hey! -Clayton/Margaret: Hey!

You made it.

-Hey, man. -Clayton: Hey.

Hey.

Come on, sit down. Food's warm.

Great.

I'm gonna go pour myself a beer. Does anyone want one?

I don't think we have any.

I brought some. (door opens)

-Hey. -Hey.

Payton: I'm making pasta. You want in?

I just quit my job.

Payton: Oh shit.

What happened?

Nothing. I just didn't really want to be there anymore.

-Payton: You okay? -Sure.

(cell phone chiming)

(sighs)

(chiming continues)

(speaking French)

(Denis speaking)

(Sophie speaking)

(Jean speaking)

(laughing)

(Jean speaking)

Denis: Oh, merde.

(Denis speaking)

(door slams)

(inmates chattering)

Inmate: Hey, yo, Staircase!

I ain't fucking done with you, you hear?

You hear me, yeah? I ain't fucking done with you.

-Corrections officer: Sit down! -I ain't fucking done with you.

-(inmates shouting) -Sit down!

Take it to your table.

Sophie: Dear Michael,

I was so happy to receive your last letter.

As I read it, I could hear your voice,

which I have become so familiar with

over the past year.

Which is strange, since you have no idea

what I look like or sound like.

What do you hear when you read my letters?

Brigitte Bardot or Pepe Le Pew?

Yes, the documentary is going well, thank you for asking.

I'm working day and night to get it finished,

and I remain convinced that once the world sees it,

it will help your appeal.

(cart rattling)

You gonna stab me with that pen, Staircase?

I was thinking I could just off myself.

Boom, boom, boom.

What do you think?

They'd make me clean it up.

You know about stamps, right?

They're better than money.

Bring 50 "37s" to the yard,

and we'll take care of your problem for you.

Or don't. Up to you.

(cart rattling)

(horn honks)

Sorry about the election, Michael.

You know I voted for you.

Oh, you were the one?

(chuckles)

(paper rustling)

I'm so fucking disappointed in you.

I can't believe you opened my mail.

Michael: (on phone) My house, my mail.

And don't change the subject. This is serious.

Tulane is going to take your scholarship away.

Margaret: (on phone) Well, I'm sorry.

Look, Dad, I'm just,

I'm struggling at the moment.

Yeah, well, sorry doesn't cut it, missy!

These grades are, are laughable!

What the fuck are you doing down there in New Orleans anyway?

-Trying to get the most beads? -Gross. No.

Look, Dad, I really,

I really feel like there's something wrong with me.

I've, I've always had issues.

My, my friends think that I have a learning disability--

Margie the Martyr.

That's just medical jargon for lazy,

which I agree you've always been.

Why are you being so awful?

-I'm going to call Mom. I don't... -Michael: Go right ahead.

Kathleen and I are on the same page.

And guess what?

We're not paying for your plane ticket home

for Thanksgiving.

Dad, stop.

We need to start saving money for when they drop

your financial aid.

Margaret: Are you kidding me?

(hangs up phone)

I hate him.

Martha: (on phone) What did you do this time?

I'm not going home for Thanksgiving.

He's not getting me my plane ticket.

Martha: Shit.

Was he, like, normal dad angry

or was it like spring break angry?

I don't know. I don't know. He was...

something.

Martha: Well, if you're not going,

I'm staying in San Francisco.

(rustling)

David: (on phone) Bill, Bill, we need to be patient.

The appellate court has had it for months now.

(David sighs)

Look, it's, it's all about

how many appeals were filed ahead of yours.

Do you think that there's any chance

that we could expedite with an oral argument?

David: Our case is strong. You said so yourself.

Just sit tight. This is going to be in the rearview in no time.

I need to get back to the kids.

David: Okay. How are they doing?

You know, their 60-year-old father

was just brutally assaulted by a meth head

and thrown into solitary confinement for a week.

How do you think they're doing?

David: I'm doing everything

in my power to help him, Bill.

And I'm selling everything the man owned

to keep writing you checks.

Clayton: So you learning Spanish?

Todd: No. No, you don't really need to.

I mean, Cabo's mostly resort town.

Lot of Americans.

That's why the timeshare business is booming.

(rock music playing over loudspeakers)

Here.

(sighs)

The girls, man.

(can pops)

You know, you should come down sometime.

Nate knows all the good spots.

Yeah, I don't see Becky letting me do that.

What do you mean "letting" you do that?

Just bring her.

(inmates chattering)

Big Ray: Hey.

Get over here.

-Got the stamps? -Fifty, right?

Yo, Staircase.

What's good?

Hi. Nice to meet you.

Jesus!

He alright?

He's worried you won't be cool because he's white.

That true? My skin make you nervous?

What? No.

-Does it make you nervous? -No, of course not.

I can tell by the way you said that you're lying.

-I don't like liars. -I'm not. I'm just, uh...

I, I don't know how things work.

(laughter)

Hey, we ain't got a problem taking

a white guy's money.

Unless you're in the Brotherhood.

You're not a Nazi, huh, Staircase?

No, of course not.

I voted for Gore.

(BK snickers)

"Voted for Gore." (laughing)

Alright, man, we all set.

Hit me up every Monday, you stay set.

You ain't got to worry about that crackhead no more.

Alright, man.

(laughs)

Big Ray: Hey.

You lift?

Michael: Dear Sophie,

despite my doubts about a higher power,

my hands are clasped in prayer for you

to get the documentary out sooner rather than later.

My appeal is set to be decided on

in less than three months.

I always felt the documentary was the best way

for people to hear my side of the story.

I feel I must ask a question that is long overdue.

Why on earth are you still writing to me?

You're a smart, accomplished woman

in the prime of her life

who sounds surprisingly like Pepe Le Pew.

And I'm a convicted criminal

waiting for some assholes in black robes

to admit mistakes were made and free me.

David: (on video) The fractured cartilage

in Kathleen's thyroid indicates

a strangulation attempt is...

merely possible.

Dr. Radisch: (on video) I would say it was highly, highly likely

an attempt at strangulation was made.

David: But can you say that

with a reasonable degree

of medical certainty?

Yes. Yes, I can.

(knock on door)

(speaking French)

Of course, I miss her.

I miss seeing her face every morning.

I miss her laughing at my jokes,

even when they weren't funny.

What can I do about it, you know?

Her being gone and this trial,

I can't change any of it.

Clayton: I'm worried about you.

Michael: A great deal of selfishness and ego

goes away with age.

You can't help it, you know.

You watch yourself get old and fat and stupid.

And so you worry about other things.

Other people.

Those you love.

Like you guys.

♪ Whenever, wherever ♪

♪ We're meant to be together ♪

♪ I'll be there and you'll be near ♪

♪ And that's the deal, my dear ♪

♪ There over, hereunder ♪

♪ You'll never have to wonder ♪

(panting)

-Kathleen. -Carol.

Hi. Hi!

I can't believe this.

I was just talking about you last night.

-Oh. I was telling my friends

how you set me free.

Aw.

Oh. Okay.

Oh man, it is good to see you.

You too. You look good.

Yeah, I am good.

-Where are you working now? -Bowman and Girard.

It's a mid-sized firm downtown.

Money's good?

Not great.

About little more than half

of what I was making.

But it's fine.

The hours are completely humane.

You know, when I took a step back

away from it all,

I can see I was really, really struggling at Nortel.

But it used to be fun, right?

I mean... it was work,

but we were doing pretty well.

Yeah.

Then it changed.

Now, I can actually see my kids.

We've even got a Club Med trip planned.

Turks and Caicos.

-Can you believe it? -Oh, that's great, Carol.

That's... it's really great.

(people chattering)

Hi.

Hi. Um, this is a family heirloom.

I'm sorry, it's not for sale.

I'm sorry.

Bill: Larry. You should have called, Larry.

We would have let you in first.

Oh, that's okay.

Didn't want to be a bother.

But weren't there two?

-Two what? -Deer.

Uh, to be honest, I have no idea.

Well, how much you want for this bad boy?

-Oh no, no, no, no. -Nonsense.

Michael needs the money.

Let's call it... a hundred.

Thank you.

Remember, I'm right next door if you need me.

Oh, come on.

-I'm retired now. -Oh.

Got nothing but time.

Michael: So, for my peace of mind,

I need someone dedicated

to making the commissary deposits every week.

It's, it's all my food,

uh, writing materials, stamps.

-It's, it's everything. -I can take over.

Todd: No, I've got it.

I've done it the past six months. It's fine.

Yeah. But you're in Mexico, and I'm in the states. It's easier.

You know they have banks in Mexico.

I'm just trying to give you a break.

Let's just say it's Todd, okay.

It's Todd. You get the dogs.

I hate those fucking dogs.

(chuckles)

You know, Bill's expecting a good haul

from the estate sale.

And the house? Any interest?

Uh...

we're less optimistic there.

What's that supposed to mean?

It, it's looking like it's going to go for less than asking.

What, like a million?

More like... seven-fifty. Seven.

Seven? Are you kidding me?

It's got six fucking bathrooms! Why?

(clears throat)

Because of what happened in there.

So I'm going to be broke when I get out of here.

-(man shouting) -Man: Yo, man,

I don't have to fucking be here!

Man 2: Okay, okay.

Man: I fucking don't.

-This is horrible. -Todd: Clay.

It is. I don't know how I survived--

You only did four years.

-Clayton: I know. -And you were guilty.

Sorry.

Sorry. I'm just...

I'm just upset about losing the house.

(classical music playing)

(door closes)

(Francois speaking French)

(Denis speaking French)

(Rosalie speaking French)

(classical orchestra playing)

(music stops)

(sighs)

(orchestra resumes)

(music stops)

Okay. Slower still, yes?

(music restarts)

(inaudible)

Conductor: (clears throat) Thoughts?

Notes?

One more time, please.

(music restarts)

Sophie: Dear Michael,

I've so enjoyed our correspondence.

Perhaps too much.

Because of that, I need distance,

and I will be taking a break from writing you.

I hope you understand.

To keep you occupied, I'm sending along another book,

since you're sticking to your lie

that you finished Proust.

It was my favorite as a young girl.

But I haven't read it in years.

I'm hoping you can read it and then tell me

if it's as good as I remember.

I fear my memory has distorted

my perception of it.

Hopefully, you can tell me I'm wrong.

Fondly, Sophie.

Michael: Dear Sophie, I'm sad to know

you can't write me for a time.

But I understand.

I know how complicated life can be.

I felt I had to respond

to thank you for the book, though.

It was also one of my favorites when I was young.

I've often felt like Alice during this whole ordeal.

Like I've gone through the looking glass.

And prison is every bit the hell it's made out to be.

Worse than war.

Hell, war was even fun sometimes.

But it's full of interesting people

who can be funny, gentle, loyal.

It's hard to square up with what I know they've done.

Corrections officer: Head count, gentlemen.

Let's go, gentlemen.

Michael: It'll make for a good novel one day.

I can feel my imagination turning on

thanks to you.

I've actually been thinking a lot about Paris lately.

Closing my eyes and imagining

this little cafe Kathleen and I used to frequent in the 4th.

La Reine Rouge. Do you know it?

When I win my appeal, I would like nothing more

than to go there with you.

We could sit, have a glass of wine, and people watch.

I feel like you'd enjoy that too.

You documentary subject and hopefully one day, friend,

Michael Peterson.

(Sophie speaking)

Oh, merci.

David: Can you say that with reasonable degree

of medical certainty?

Dr. Radisch: Yes. Yes, I can.

David: Okay.

(slams key)

Et voilà...

Clayton?

Oh!

(exhales forcefully)

(door opens)

(door closes)

Nate: It's too hot outside for that shit.

(overlapping conversations)

Nate: You girls were really something tonight. Come on in.

Oh, can't stop, won't stop.

Okay.

Come on in. We'll show you the place.

I like it. I like it.

2,400 square feet.

Brand new construction.

A tub you could drown in.

And fuck me...

the pool.

It's a goddamn work of art.

You ladies...

yeah, you'd look pretty good next to it.

Woman: Hmm. Hmm.

(Nate chuckles)

("Slow Motion" by Juvenile and Soulja Slim playing)

♪ Slow motion for me slow motion for me ♪

♪ Move in slow motion for me ♪

♪ Slow motion for me, slow motion for me ♪

♪ Move in slow motion for me ♪

♪ Ughh! I like it like that ♪

♪ She working that back, I don't know how to act ♪

♪ Slow motion for me, slow motion for me ♪

♪ Slow motion for me, move in slow motion for me ♪

♪ Ughh! I like it like that ♪

♪ She working that back, I don't know how to act ♪

♪ Slow motion for me, slow motion for me ♪

♪ Slow motion for me, move in slow motion for me ♪

♪ I'm a dick thrower ♪

♪ Her neck and her back hurting ♪

♪ Cut throater, have you like a brand new virgin ♪

♪ It's like when you get used of it then you start serving ♪

When you come to Cabo...

no one knows who you are.

You can do anything you want.

It's fantastic.

(girl chuckles)

Well, my family's been vacationing here for years,

so everybody knows us.

Well, that's exactly why you need this place.

And I-I'm telling you, we could have you

in this condo by Monday.

Oh, easily.

Keys in hand. Done, yours.

Woman: That is crazy.

Real estate takes forever in Boston.

Nate: Well, you know...

things are faster down here.

Uh, ten rolls of stamps, please.

-Commissary worker: Any stationery? -Uh, not today. No.

Oh, and one of those honey buns, actually.

-Alright. -(scanner beeps)

Try again next week.

Try again?

-No money, no order. -What?

There's no money in your account.

No, my son Todd puts, puts money in every week.

-Just look again. -Why would I look again when there's nothing to see?

Check next week.

You don't understand. I need this.

I really need this. Step out of line, 640.

-Please, I don't... -Now.

-No, I need this! -Step out of line now!

-Inmate: Hey, Staircase. -Inmate 2: Hey.

(inmates shouting)

♪ ♪

Hey, BK. How's it going?

Chillin'. You seem hyped though.

I don't have the stamps.

Not today.

Soon.

I see.

I just need one more day. That's all.

I need the stamps,

or J-Smoke gonna fuck your ass up.

This ain't no damn charity.

Start the game over.

(inmates chattering)

So my son forgot.

He didn't put money in the...

It's a free country.

Stand where you got to stand.

Thank you.

(tense music playing)

(waves crashing)

(seagulls squawking)

Fuck! Fuck!

Oh shit!

Oh shit!

Oh my god.

Pick up, Nate. Pick up, Nate.

-(line beeping) -Fuck!

Fuck! (inhales sharply)

(sighs)

(cell phone ringing)

Dude. What happened last night?

Nate: (on phone) Are you joking?

There's blood.

Nate: Goddamn it, dude.

You fucked up the whole deal.

Nate, Nate, what happened to the girl?

-Nate: What girl? -The one that I was, um,

that I was hanging with, the girl with the pink bra.

Nate: What? She left right after you fell

and hit your head or something.

You better not have fucked the place up.

Yo, Todd.

Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. So she's okay?

Nate: Whatever. She's got a massive fucking hangover.

But... look, bro,

you need to lock your shit down.

Otherwise, we're gonna have to rethink

this whole business arrangement.

And I set my account to auto-pay, so it'll never happen again.

Michael: Thank you. Thank you so much.

Yeah, of course, Dad.

What the hell happened with Todd?

It's not like him.

I don't know, he must be really busy

with his real estate thing.

He says it's going really well.

Oh, good for him.

Hey. Dad.

It's just... this is a lot.

I wasn't going to mention this until things were...

What? Oh god, what? What? What is it?

No, it's, it's good. Becky's pregnant.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh wow.

You're going to be a grandfather.

Come here.

Alright, 640, make space.

Um...

well, I, uh,

I hope my appeal comes through be-before he's born.

You know, I want to be there for you.

Well, David says any day now.

And we think it's going to be a she.

A she?

Oh wow. Now girls are a handful.

You know that, don't you?

Yeah, that's... (chuckles)

...that's what I keep hearing.

Yeah.

Oh my god.

Whoa, whoa, Margaret, what are you talking about?

Margaret: Dad didn't tell you?

I thought you were on the same page.

Wait. Wait. What happened?

Margaret: He went through my mail,

found out I got some bad grades,

and flipped out, that's what happened.

He told me you weren't going

to buy me a ticket home for Thanksgiving.

So, I'm not coming.

Well, no...

I can give you the money for a ticket.

Mike doesn't need to know.

Margaret: It's too late. I made other plans.

With who?

Margaret: I'm going to Aunt Blair's.

Aunt Blair's?

Oh, come on, you do not want to go to Rhode Island.

Margaret: Whatever. I, I've got to study.

I'll see you at Christmas, if I'm invited.

(phone disconnects)

Kathleen.

Your table's ready.

-Kathleen: Oh. -It's been too long.

Kathleen: George, so good to see you.

She really did seem lighter

not working at Nortel, you know.

There was a brightness to her.

-Diane: Good for her. -Check in with her in six months.

-What does that mean? -Well, she's, um,

she'll be tearing her hair out with boredom.

She's addicted to the grind.

Another bottle?

It's pricey.

You really think you have everyone's number, don't you?

I mean, I think I got Carol's.

I'd love for someone to take the wheel.

Have an easier job. No job.

Diane: What are you talking about?

You're a workaholic, too.

What would you even do?

Carl: Uh, go fishing more, for starters.

Diane: Uh, no, you wouldn't.

George: Everything okay, Mr. Peterson?

Yes, George. Fantastic.

Um, another Sancerre.

George: Fine choice, Mr. Peterson.

Oh, Kathleen, I've been meaning to tell you.

We're going to my sister's for Thanksgiving.

So thank you for the invitation, but...

Maybe just I can come?

Well, I'm thinking of sitting this year out, actually.

Diane: Oh really?

Yes, Kathleen, do say more.

Well, some of the kids aren't coming home.

Who?

Don't you look so surprised.

Margaret.

She's going to Rhode Island to be with Aunt Blair.

Aunt Blair?

Jesus, that kid's a glutton for punishment.

What about Martha?

She hasn't picked up her phone.

Diane: I'm sorry, honey.

I know how important Thanksgiving is to you.

Kathleen: No, it's okay.

My sister's been begging to host for a decade,

so I might just take a page out of the Carol playbook

and take the night off.

Hey. A toast to giving ourselves a break.

Carl: Yeah. To, uh, what's her name?

-Carol. -Carl: Carol?

-To Carol. -All: To Carol.

(glasses clinking)

So, since we're going to be out of town,

you know what that means, buddy?

-What? -You're going to have

-to come over and feed the bats. -(Diane laughs)

Have we told you the latest with those fucking things?

Who knew they were so hard to get rid of?

-Hmm? -(Carl chuckles)

(inmates chattering)

-Do you mind? -Hm.

Thanks.

You know, for the assist.

The other day, you know.

Not telling me to scram.

Sorry to hear what happened.

Oh.

That's all sorted out now, so I'm...

No, I'm, I'm good for a while.

You know, my, uh...

my youngest was busy with work.

And my oldest, Clayton?

I'm going to be a grandfather.

You're really relaxed.

When I lost, it took me a minute.

Lost? Lost what?

Newsreader: In October 2003,

novelist Michael Peterson was convicted

of the murder of his wife,

Nortel executive Kathleen Peterson.

His defense team led by David Rudolf

immediately filed for an appeal.

But today, a three-judge panel

rejected Peterson's arguments that his trial was filled

with inflammatory, irrelevant evidence

and judicial mistakes that prevented him

from getting a fair trial.

The decision comes nearly a year after his conviction.

Now, Michael Peterson and his defense team

are headed to the North Carolina Supreme Court

where they will have one final...

So, hang, hang on a second. Can you hear me?

-Can you hear me? -Michael: Yeah, I can hear you.

Okay. Um, look, Mike,

we obviously didn't want you

to find out this way, alright?

I'm, I'm sorry.

Oh, you didn't want me to find out standing

next to Bob the pedophile?

You didn't think that was ideal?

Look, I, I understand your anger, Mike.

It was one appeal in a stack of a thousand.

Uh, we didn't know

when we were going to hear, and we can't exactly just,

you know, ring your doorbell, so...

What does it say? What does it say?

The ruling? Can you send me a copy?

Yeah, we'll send it. Of course, we'll send it.

It says, you know, they actually agreed

with our argument that the state's conduct

in seizing your computer was unconstitutional.

So why am I still fucking here?

Because then they ruled two-to-one that it was...

Immaterial to the final outcome.

Wait, immaterial to the outcome?

My fucking life. The outcome?

Tom Maher: Yes. That what they found on your computer

didn't sway the jury one way or another.

Well, listen, listen.

Because it was a split decision,

the appeal automatically goes up

to the state supreme court.

And our odds are much better at that level.

So how long will that take?

David: Well, uh, could be another year.

-Or... or two. -Fuck.

Michael: Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I know. Well...

I am with you

until this is over.

Right here.

You know that, right?

Come on, I can't get off this call

if you're mad at me.

No, I'm not mad, Dave.

I, I got to go.

-David: Alright, uh-- -(slams receiver)

(heavy breathing)

Let me, uh...

let me see if I can get her.

Can you guys...

can you guys hold on?

-Todd: (on phone) Yeah. -Clayton: (on phone) Yeah.

I'm here.

Margaret: (on phone) Okay, cool. One second.

-You okay, bro? -Todd: Yeah.

Yeah, all good.

(line ringing)

(cell phone buzzing)

Hey. (clears throat)

Margaret: I can be in San Francisco tomorrow.

I'm fine.

Okay, let me, let me loop the boys in.

So what's important to remember

is that this isn't the end.

There's going to be a second appeal.

Is this just going to go on for years?

It has not been years.

It's been, what, maybe ten months?

It's been three years since Mom...

Look, we just need to... buckle up.

Alright? Refuel.

Right. There's still moves left on the board.

Yeah. It'll all be fine.

Jean: Bonjour.

(audience laughs)

(applause)

(classical music playing)

Michael: (on screen) Um, no.

...one night, she was...

You know, this, this house is, is filled...

Michael: ...with so many memories.

You know, I, I feel her here.

Michael: I, I just always think

she might walk through that door any moment.

Smiling, laughing,

reminding me that I'm, I'm late for something.

(classical music playing faintly)

(audience applauding and cheering)

-(door opens) -(cheering intensifies)

(audience chattering)

(Rosalie speaking French)

(laughter)

Oh! (laughs)

(people chattering)

♪ ♪

Man: Hi.

-Oh my god. -Oh god.

I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to...

Margaret: I got it. I got it.

I got it. I got it.

I didn't mean to scare you. I, I, uh...

-You're, you're new here, right? -Uh, yeah, kinda.

Sophie: Dearest Margaret,

We've never met, but I spent

many precious hours with you and your family.

This documentary is the result of those hours.

We hope we did justice to your family's story.

Please know that to me, this is not the end.

Yours truly, Sophie,

editor, Maha Productions.

(classical music playing)

Corrections officer: Hey, 640.

Visiting hours.

What?

Staircase.

♪ ♪

Michael.

Sophie.

-You're here. -(Sophie chuckles)

I am here.

Yes.

Wow.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪