All language subtitles for The.Staircase.S01E03-eng

Woman: And five, six, seven, eight.

One, two, three, four,

five, six, seven, eight.

How did your mom die?

Your mom mom, I mean.

Brain aneurysm.

Do you remember her?

Martha: No, I was only two when she died.

Sometimes I remember
things, but I realize it's just stuff

people have told me or stuff in pictures.

Then Kathleen became my mom.

I mean, first, it was Patty in Germany.

But...

really, it was Kathleen.

She took care of us.

(tender music playing)

Stay here after finals.

You know I have to go home.

Why do you have to?

The trial's not for a while still.

Because it might be the last normal-ish summer

with my family.

Okay.

I'll come visit then.

It'll get weird.

I'm not ready for that.

(sighs)

♪ ♪

If I go...

it doesn't have to be like a coming out party.

We can also pretend we're just friends.

(chuckles)

Promise me you'll at least call.

Yeah, of course.

♪ ♪

(thudding)

(theme music playing)

The blow poke.

What is it exactly?

Oh, it's a fireplace tool.

Something between a poker and a bellows.

(whistles) Nice ride.

Jim Hardin: Kathleen's sister had given one

to each of her siblings one Christmas years ago.

And after we had done

our initial search of the house,

taken measurements, photographs,

she noticed from looking at those pictures

that it was missing from the Peterson fireplace.

Now, we don't believe it was randomly misplaced.

Is there a chance you experts conclude

she actually died from a fall?

Now, a lot of people smarter than me

have said from day one

that it could only be one thing, a beating.

Todd: Where could it be?

Wherever Kathleen hid the thing.

I don't even remember Candace giving it to her.

Why would you?

Who the fuck gives fireplace tools

as a Christmas gift?

Let alone one fireplace tool.

They're kind of handy.

Michael Peterson: I swear
to God, that stupid thing

is in there somewhere,

and it ain't covered in blood.

How much to get rid of 'em?

Well, first of all, you
can't just get rid of 'em.

Bats are special that way.

You gotta relocate 'em.

It's not cheap.

(sighs)

Let me go over a couple of things with my husband

and, um, give us a few days.

Yeah, the longer you wait,
the worse it's going to get.

At least they're not in the plumbing.

Then you're really, you're fucked.

The boys are fucking us. Both of them need money.

Clayton's gotten fucked by the market.

And Todd's got this website thing.

Patty: What website thing?

Michael: (over phone)
Well, I don't know what it is.

With Clayton's qualifications,

he could get a job easily.

Michael: He needs to focus on school right now.

-No! Do it again, I dare you.
-(cloth rips)

Mike?

Dog's chewing up the damn furniture again.

The boys are going to
need your help again, Patty.

Oh dear. I don't know if now is the ideal moment.

Michael: Well, can you refinance the house again?

-The exterminator's done.
-Patty: No, not again.

The banks in Germany
frown on that type of business.

It's not good.

-(quietly): It's Patty.
-Patty: Mike?

Well, things are really bad at Nortel.

I can't ask Kathleen for more help.

(Patty sighs)

I understand, but I really cannot.

(door closes)

Caitlin: So whatever we do to Mike,

it affects them.

Fred Atwater: (over phone) Please stop worrying

about Martha and Margaret, Cay.

They're the ones who decided to support a killer.

But they didn't really have much of a choice.

Jay Trehy: (over phone) Look... (sighs)

I get it's a lot to process

but as your lawyer,

until you give me the go-ahead to strike,

Michael's going to keep
getting your mother's money

-to pay for his defense.
-Fred: Yes.

Jay: But I can get them to delay payment

until we get allocation sorted out.

Fred: Exactly.

I think it's time, Caitlin, but it's up to you.

I can't make this decision for you.

I don't really want to deal with this right now.

I'll be in Durham for the summer.

Maybe we can talk about it then.

These were all on Peterson's computer.

Can you confirm these are photos of you?

Did you have sex with Michael Peterson?

No.

"I was in the Marines.

Love to fuck, suck, and rim."

(chuckles, coughs)

Freda: Peterson wrote that to you?

Yeah.

Mr. Wolgamott.

Do you expect me to believe

that after all these emails,
after all these phone calls,

after all this back and forth,

that you two never actually met?

-Never.
-If you say you didn't,

it's not going to get you out of testifying.

(sighs)

I can't believe you want to show these in court.

It's a good thing I'm well hung.

I wouldn't go so far as to say that.

Brad Wolgamott: You don't think so?

Did you see this one?

We'll let the jury decide.

Well, I'm not surprised.

-Ron: (over phone) Me neither.
-Alright, Ron.

Uh, get something to eat and head back here.

David Rudolf: So, uh, that was Ron.

Bill Peterson: The search turn up
anything? They find the blow poke?

No, no, nothing.

But, uh, apparently

Deaver's still bashing in Styrofoam heads

with the one Candace gave them.

Tom Maher: And?

Well, that's the good news.

They haven't been able to show the blow poke

could create that scene.

The bad news is the DA is on a crusade

to find someone you slept with.

We should talk about the emails.

Bill: Which emails?

Uh, between Mike and Brad Wolgamott.

A few other escorts online.

Wait. An escort? What?

Bill, settle down.

Uh, Todd, maybe you and your mom

can help clean up a bit.

I'll make some coffee.

Sure.

Jean. Please, no family.

(Jean speaking French)

Tom, I never met up with any of those guys.

Yeah, I, I came very close
to meeting up with Brad,

but it didn't happen.

Period.

(conversation continues, muffled)

Sometimes when you listen,

you hear things you don't want to.

Michael: So there are some emails. So what?

Tom: These emails paint a very vivid picture.

David: You want a picture?

Huh? I'm a painter, too.

I get up there, and I read this.

In the same email where Mike's talking

about doing this, that, and the other,

Mike says,

"Evenings aren't great for me anyway.

"I'm married.

"Very happily married,

"with a dynamite wife.

"Yes, I know. I know.

"I'm very bi,

and that's all there is to it."

Bill: Can I see that?

That's not somebody hiding something.

That's someone who clearly loves his wife.

I mean, it's not only possible, but common

for these kinds of arrangements to exist.

The French do it all the time.

Tom: Without anyone to
testify that Kathleen knew,

it's just conjecture.

David: Well, unless they get a guy on the stand

to testify that she didn't know.

I mean, if some emails and some porn

(stammers) are all they got?

Hey, this is our biggest hurdle,

and I'm already over it.

I'm sorry, I don't understand.

What type of arrangements
exactly are we talking about?

Jim: What do we got?

We have no murder weapon,

and no one can say they slept with Peterson.

Man: Brad Wolgamott's
emails could help solidify motive,

but without proof of a meeting,

it may not be worth it to put him on the stand.

But if I get up there and I say,

"Do you really think...

"do you really think,

"that Kathleen Peterson...

"that this woman knew

"her husband was talking about fucking this

"and sucking that...

(laughter)

And God knows what else."

Rimming.

Y'all even know what that means?

Man: I believe it is, uh, cunnilingus

but from the other end.

(laughter)

Wait, don't you mean on the other end?

-Jim: Even with, uh--
-And people enjoy that?

Even with the Freda Black show...

the connection between the emails

sent in September to Brad

and Kathleen being killed in December

is a little fuzzy.

I want actual infidelity.

That's concrete. That's the story.

(tense music playing)

Art Holland: Do you
recognize this man right here?

Michael Peterson?

Have you noticed any kind of strange behavior

with Mr. Peterson or, um,

...homoerotic relationships

with any of your members?

(club music playing)

He's never come in here before?

You're absolutely positive? You sure?

♪ ♪

Patron: Dennis Rowe.

He mentioned something about Peterson.

Dennis Rowe?

Yeah. R-O-W-E.

He said he was fun.

Hey.

Hey. Hey, what's up?

You happy to be back?

Yeah.

I don't know. Yeah.

How's SF? Making a lot of friends?

(chuckles)

Boyfriends?

Martha: No.

So, you know, the DA's been
laser-focused on Dad's sexuality.

Well, they were before I left.

Yeah. Right. So,

I mean, you knew about the porn

and that Dad was talking with escorts.

-Dad was cheating on Mom?
-No.

I mean, they had an agreement.

And Dad's happy, and, and she was happy, so...

Have you talked to him about it?

No. I mean, I don't know.
That's between those adults.

I just feel like we should
be able to have that dialog.

If you want to go talk to him, go ahead.

Alright? I'll make sure I'm a hundred miles away.

(car engine stops)

(loud chirping)

(owl hooting)

(classical music playing)

Michael: Yeah, well, I'm glad...

Man: I'm glad you found me too.

(indistinct conversation)

Man: ...word of mouth, you know.

Yeah. I think so...

(conversation continues)

...I'm seeing people every other week.

Oh, what the-- Surprise!

What's going on?

Michael: Got you a massage.

I know it's been a little rough.

I thought you deserved something nice.

I'm actually running for,

uh, for Durham City Council, you know.

Some say that the city council does

more than the mayor's
office, you know, ever does.

-Is that right?
-Oh yeah.

You said you live by that
low-income development, right?

Masseur: Yeah. Yeah. Bit of an eyesore.

-Michael: Mm-hm.
-Masseur: Hi. You want to start face down.

-We'll get going.
-Kathleen: Sure.

♪ ♪

Masseur: How's that face cradle? Is it okay?

-Kathleen: Mm-hmm.
-Masseur: Right.

How's that pressure?

Kathleen: Mm. Good. Great.

Thank you.

That project could have been great.

And not just for the people who need--

Mike.

You gonna be here the whole time?

I'm just talking to a future constituent.

(masseur chuckles)

Maybe you should go to Blockbuster now

and, you know, before all
the good movies are gone.

Okay!

James, take care of my wife.

She's a delicate flower.

-(Kathleen chuckles)
-I'll do my best.

(door closes)

(contented sigh)

Ron: Do you know this guy? Dennis Rowe? R-O-W-E?

Mike?

No, I don't know who the hell he is.

You meet a lot of people when you're campaigning.

Well, apparently, he's a friend of Lori's.

Kathleen used to babysit him

and his brothers when they were kids.

My sources say he has a limp.

A limp!

Says you had sex with him four or five times.

Oh, you're shitting me!

-That's what he's claiming.
-Oh my god.

David: Rather know now than later.

Did he indicate where this
great love affair took place?

He hasn't given a full statement yet.

Oh, when he does, get it to me.

I'm dying to see it.

-Ron: Will do.
-Michael: Is that it, then?

David: Uh, yeah. Till we get more.

We're going to need to digest this

and rethink how we approach it.

Patty: When we lived in Germany,

Mike had many dalliances with men and women,

and I didn't end up at the bottom of the stairs.

-Patty.
-My ex-wife, everyone.

She'll, uh, she'll be around all week.

Mike, can I talk to you for a second?

(door closes)

How-how many more men are they going to turn up?

I, I don't know, Bill. I don't keep a diary.

But I'm pretty sure I never fucked a cripple.

No. You said, "No affairs, Bill."

Well, they weren't affairs.

I, I never, I never took any
of those guys out to dinner.

It was just sex.

Don't "Michael Peterson" me.

I mean, sex is affairs.

You... lied.

You slept around on Patty.
You slept around on Kathleen.

Well, I, I didn't lie.

What? You heard her.

I slept with men and women when we were married.

I only had sex with men

since I married Kathleen.

-Don't you get it?
-Kathleen knew?

And answer the question.

You sound like her right now!

"Just answer the question, Mike."

No, no. She knew, and she understood.

To say otherwise, it's,
it's just insulting to her.

I should have mentioned this, uh, before.

I'm going to go to Reno for a couple of days.

What? Well, for how long?

A couple of weeks.

I just, I need to try and figure out a balance

between home and Durham.

What? Come on. You can't
leave because you're pissed at me.

That's not why I'm leaving.

I'm leaving because I want to see my family.

What? Who's going to take care of everything?

Make sure, make sure the bills are paid?

Here-here-here's the latest Nortel check.

You go to the bank, walk up to the teller,

sign the back, hand it over.

It's not that difficult.

You're, you're here to take care of me,

not to give me a hard time.

I know it's hard for you to believe,

it's not all about you.

No, it is! It is all about me.

Make no mistake, for the next little while

or however fuckin' long this takes,

it is about me.

Now when it's your ass about to go to prison

for the rest of your life, it can be about you.

Take a breath.

(heavy breathing)

I loved her.

And she fucking loved me too.

Dennis Rowe: The first time
was about eight years ago

at the sex shop off the 110.

Then a few years later again at the YMCA.

-The Forest Hills Y?
-Dennis: Yeah.

You work out there?

On occasion. (clears throat)

Uh, so you didn't know

who you were having intercourse with?

No. I didn't know who he was
until I walked into his house,

and Lori introduced me to him.

After the party, did you tell Lori

about your connection with Michael?

No, I... I didn't...

I didn't see any reason to create a problem.

Do you know anyone else who might have slept

with Michael Peterson?

Dennis: Um...

You can tell us now or under oath.

I would talk to Tyrone Lacour.

You're friends with Tyrone Lacour?

Dennis: No. Not friends.

We're in a small community.

I told him the story after the campaign event.

He, he looked up Michael's picture

and-and-and thought he looked familiar.

Jim: Alright.

Well, Mr. Rowe,

what I'd love for you to do for me

is write down

what you remember from your encounters

with Peterson.

(CD player whirring)

Jim: Every detail, no matter how small.

We want to know everything.

("I Started a Joke" by Bee Gees playing)

♪ ♪

♪ I started a joke ♪

♪ Which started the whole world crying ♪

♪ But I didn't see ♪

(cart rattling)

♪ That the joke was on me ♪

♪ Oh, no ♪

♪ I started to cry ♪

♪ Which started the whole world laughing ♪

Woman: Uh-uh. No. Nothing.

Hey. More blood.

♪ Oh, if I'd only seen ♪

(grunting)

♪ That the joke was on me ♪

-(blow poke thudding)
-♪ I looked at the skies ♪

♪ Running my hands over my eyes ♪

♪ And I fell out of bed ♪

♪ Hurting my head ♪

♪ From things that I'd said ♪

Take another look, Tyrone.

Maybe an anonymous hookup somewhere.

Who's telling you this shit?

Someone trustworthy.

Reputable.

-I ain't no fag. Well, if
somethin' comes to mind...

give me a call. You've got my card.

Jim: Was that enough time for you?

-Dennis: Yes, sir.
-Jim: Let's see what we've got.

Jim: What's this list?

Names of other people I've slept with.

If you're going to get me up
there and ask about Peterson,

I'm guessing I'll also be asked

about the other important married men in town

I've slept with.

Some of whom I, I think you know pretty well.

♪ Oh, oh, oh, oh ♪

Your friends?

Jim: Acquaintances.

Donors, actually.

I don't see this playing out well for us, Freda.

Outing...

innocent people on the stand

in order to show what Michael Peterson was up to.

Well, we have the autopsy,

the crime scene, the photos,

the emails.

We have our theory.

A man who is hiding

gets caught and explodes.

Jim: It all feels circumstantial.

We have a theory

about a motive and no murder weapon.

Well, I guess we also still got Brad.

David: Their search has hit a dead end.

Michael: (over phone) I told
you I didn't know this Rowe guy.

Apparently, you're not as hot as we thought.

Michael: Why did it seem like
everyone wants a piece of me?

Well...

What are you up to this weekend?

-David: Working for you.
-What? No, forget me.

Just spend time with your wife and kid, man.

Well, Charlene's not so crazy about me right now.

Michael: Oh yeah? What'd you do?

Renovations and well, let's just say...

I admire the relationship you and Kathleen had.

Where she let you be you.

My wife and I are just not on the same page.

Oh.

David: Happy to talk my problems,

but, uh, I'm still on the clock here, Mike.

Well, geez. Never mind.
I can't afford you as it is.

Okay. Well... thank you, David.

Thank me when we hear "Not guilty."

-Good night.
-Good night.

(chuckles)

Nothing! Nothing!

They got nothin'.

-What's going on?
-Michael: Rowe guy crapped out.

DA's got nothing.

Dad, this is great.

(Michael chuckles)

Martha: Hey, Dad.

Would you talk about it with me?

Talk about what?

You really want to talk
about your dad's sex life?

Go to bed, honey.

Okay. Good night.

(shuts door)

(sighs)

Oh my god.

Oh!

(phone ringing)

Hello?

Brad: (over phone) Hey,
it's Brad. How's it going?

Uh, well, um... things are crazy,

but, um, you know, good.

You know, election's coming up.

You?

Brad: Not too bad.

So, look, I have to cancel.

-What?
-Yeah.

-Why?
-My schedule's changed.

I have to get up to Durham and back to Tampa

in less than a day and...

And I just think my ass might need

at least a couple days to recover.

(chuckles)

Well, uh, let me know
when you're passing through.

Brad: For sure.

Promise me something though.

What?

Brad: Stay hard till I get there.

Uh, yeah. Alright.

Brad: Take care.

Yeah, you too. Bye.

(operatic music playing)

♪ ♪

Kathleen: Oh.

Oh, that was really very good.

Thank you so much.

Uh, are you good or...

-I'm good. Yeah. I'll clear out.
-Yeah? Alright.

Thanks again.

♪ ♪

(water sputters)

♪ ♪

(operatic music continues)

(woman moaning)

(water sputtering)

(air whooshes)

Oh...

Goddamn bats.

Oh.

(operatic music continues)

(belt buckle clinks)

(woman onscreen moaning)

(moaning continues)

Uh, how was the massage?

Amazing. Until I had to take a shower.

I think the bats are chewing
the pipes or clogging them.

All I know is, it's a problem.

Mm-hmm. I'll figure it out.

Let's just enjoy the night. Hmm?

(clinks glass)

(Michael clears throat)

Hmm.

-Where are the dogs?
-Who cares?

Almost ripped up the rug today.

Oh yeah, I meant to ask.
How'd the talk go with Patty?

Oh, right.

Um, well, uh...

she can't refinance the house again.

It's something-- German laws makes it verboten,

so I, I think we're going to have to...

I think we're going to have to keep
chipping in to help with the boys.

(soft chuckle)

I know what you're doing here.

Butter me up with a massage and a romantic night,

and then you ask me to bail your kids out again

because you let them get away with murder.

Especially Clayton.

I, I know you're mad at him. I am, too.

You literally bought him
a car when things blew up.

Well, nothing actually blew up... that time.

Clay got lucky.

And you... are playing me.

Is it working?

The Great Dissembler, ladies and gentlemen.

(chuckles)

I guess we'll do what we always do,

just figure it out.

Some money for the boys.

We need to deal with the plumbing first.

And then...

Ohh.

We'll, um...

(moans)

And then...

we'll, um...

Oh... We'll deal with the bats later.

(phone ringing)

Hello.

Tyrone: (on phone) I know
you gave them my name, Dennis.

I will do you like that
Peterson bitch. You hear me?

You shut your mouth.

Shut it.

-Tyrone?
-(dial tone)

Shit.

Jean: (in English) What do you think of...

...when you think of Kathleen?

I think of just these

wonderful and funny moments.

-Hello?
-Man: Shh!

Michael: She was so funny.

There's this, there's this wonderful photo of her

in front of the Imperial
Palace in Tokyo just... looking.

Or just... how we talk about the kids.

Is it strange for you to be in
the house where she died?

No.

I feel her here.

Just imagine she might walk
through that door any moment,

just smiling,

laughing, just...

telling me I'm going to be late for something.

Shit. (sniffles)

(clears throat) Sorry. (deep breath)

Can we take a moment?

Yeah.

Michael: Come here, Margie.

I know you didn't come home just to hear me talk.

You finally found someone
who has to listen to your stories.

Come here.

Everyone, I'd like you to meet
my other daughter, Margaret.

-Jean: Hi.
-Michael: Is it weird being back?

Margaret: Yeah, it was a
little weird going through town,

like, but it's good to be home.

You guys hungry? Should we make some lunch?

Jean: Michael, are you sure
it's okay to shoot the girls?

Michael: (quietly) Sure.

You get used to it faster than you think.

Todd loves it.

(Denis speaking French)

(Jean speaking French)

Huh? What? Huh?

Come on.

(speaking French)

Devon: We've kept the
office just the way she left it.

The only things that are gone are the calendar

and the diary she had in her desk.

The police took them pretty early on.

Caitlin: What did Mike take?

Devon: Michael hasn't taken anything.

What about Martha and Margaret?

Did they come by?

No one's reached out this whole time but you.

I sent in my condolences pretty early on,

but once the investigation started,

I figured, better to keep my distance.

I don't know why I thought

that they'd be interested in this stuff.

(sighs)

Sorry, do you mind if I have a moment alone here?

Of course.

Take your time.

(somber music playing)

(indistinct chatter)

Good morning.

-Morning.
-David: The trial's around the corner.

We gotta control the narrative.

I don't see a way around it, so,

the interview would be filmed here,

but it will be syndicated to all ABC affiliates.

We can have the eyes and ears of the country.

What you doing?

Well, I'm just going through autopsy reports.

That's totally normal.

Nothing's normal anymore.

-I know. I was kidding.
-(phone buzzing)

Margaret: Martha...

(whispers): Hey.

So they want us to do an interview on the news.

-What?
-I know.

I don't want to do that.

-I know, I--
-David: So...

what do you think?

The reporter, Sonya Pfeiffer, is a friend,

so no curveballs.

This is what Caitlin would be doing

for the family if she was here.

Margaret: Uh, we're not sure.

It's just like a lot of people.

Well, seems like you're already
getting used to an audience.

Yeah, but it's...

it's a news show on TV.

It's, like, immediate.

What if we say the wrong thing?

No, you girls will do great.

Alright?

Look, you'll have to accept,

sooner or later,

everyone's going to know who you are.

♪ ♪

I'm not going to push you girls to
do anything you don't want to do.

You know (stammers) let Caitlin and Candace

piss on our family if that's what they--

-Margaret: Dad...
-No. No, I mean it. Fuck them!

I'd rather go to prison

that put you girls through any more pain.

We're okay.

We'll, we'll do what we have to.

Great. I'm going to get it set.

And, uh, Martha, think about dyeing your hair.

Bleach blonde isn't great on camera.

♪ ♪

(glasses clink)

It's really good to see you, man.

I've been thinking about you and your dad.

-Yeah.
-Your mom--

Yeah, man. It's, it's been intense.

I'm telling you, man. Cabo.

Look how tan I am. Right?

I'm fuckin' hot. Right?

(sniffs)

(sighs)

Fuck.

(Nate sniffs)

Nate: Oh.

Oh.

That's good shit, huh?

Man...

You know...

-the thing about my dad...
-I love your dad.

...is he's people.

You know?

What I'm starting to realize is

that people are just people.

And they go, and they, they create these labels.

(Nate sniffs)

They just try to categorize people.

(Nate moans)

What are you talking about?

It's just my dad is complicated.

-Nate: You wanna do another one?
-Yeah.

Dude, I'm telling you, Cabo's so fuckin' sick.

You got to get away from here, man.

Fuck, and I already did, like, all
the groundwork and everything.

Timeshare shit there, man.

Like, you can make ten to one

fucking on your investment,
I'm telling you, dude.

(door opens)

What--?

Oh fuck.

Fuck.

(sniffles)

I'm sorry, Dad, I--

Imagine people seeing my son

getting wasted around town.

They're gonna think we're a family of assholes.

Clayton's the fuckup, not you.

You're my centurion. I need you focused.

I know. I'm sorry, Dad--

Now go on up and have a shower.

(shaky breath)

(door closes)

-You okay?
-Todd: Yeah.

Just, um... give me a minute,

I'll get breakfast ready.

Margaret: We can do it.

No, it's fine. Just give me a minute.

Bill: What does that mean?
Can you forward me the letter?

Tom: Yes, we will.

Bottom line, though,
Caitlin's lawyer was successful

in stopping the payments coming from Nortel.

She and her biological father

have been identified as the next of kin.

On the life insurance?

Tom: You shouldn't count on it.

After everything I've done for her.

Greedy bitch.

Bill: I can talk to Jackie

about refinancing the house when I see her.

Maybe dip into Dad's savings.

My dad's in a nursing home in Reno.

He has some savings that we
were going to probably inherit.

Bill: It's not much, but...

Don't be gone too long, Bill.

Please, okay? I need you here.

Bill: Don't worry, Mike.
I'll be back soon enough.

(clears throat)

Don't worry.

David's a good friend.

I swear I'll make it painless.

You good? Alright.

Well, just, um, imagine I'm one of the girls

and we're, we're getting to know each other.

With the interview, are you going to ask

about our, our mom-mom in Germany?

No, well, just, just what you remember.

Uh, the good things.

Thanks. Yeah.

Sonya Pfeiffer: Okay.

(sighs)

This is Sonya Pfeiffer reporting

for WTVD Channel 11 News.

I'm with the daughters of
novelist Michael Peterson

who is preparing for trial
for the murder of his wife

Kathleen.

Today, they break their silence on the case

in this exclusive interview.

Born to George and Liz Ratliff

in Germany in the 1980s,

where their father was
stationed on a military base,

Margaret was only two,

Martha not even one,

when he died on a mission in Panama.

A year later,

their mother died of a brain aneurysm.

Within the course of two years,

they lost both their biological parents.

I remember almost nothing from that time.

Martha: Yeah. I, I only remember

what people tell me about that period.

Sonya: Two of those people were Michael Peterson

and his wife at the time, Patty,

who were neighbors and close friends.

It was confusing

when Michael left Patty for Kathleen.

-Woman: Exactly.
-Martha: Yeah, confusing but wonderful.

He's an adulterer.

Martha: Ka-Kathleen became our mom.

He loved her, and, and she loved us.

Sonya: And the wedding was here.

And you two were bridesmaids?

Margaret: Yeah, we, we,
like, sprinkled rose petals

up the stairs on the way to their bedroom.

It was like a movie.

-(phone ringing)
-(interview on TV continues)

Hello?

Margaret Blair: (on phone)
Hi, this is Margaret Blair.

I'm calling to speak with the DA.

Um, I'm Freda Black. I'm an ADA here.

Margaret Blair: I'm sorry to be calling so late,

but I've been speaking with God,

and he will not allow me
to stay silent any longer.

"Speak, Margaret, speak," He said.

I'm sorry. Who did you say was calling?

Margaret Blair. Liz Ratliff's sister.

Martha and Margie are my nieces.

I need to tell you about their mother's death.

You found another woman
at the bottom of the stairs?

Liz had been complaining for weeks.

For weeks about these, these
migraines she was having.

David: What the fuck, Mike? We're four weeks out!

How could you not tell me?

It was 20 years ago! In Germany!

Why would I, why would I even think of it?

I was helping her out with
something or other that night,

I don't remember what, but I left Liz

very much alive and on her way to bed.

The next morning, the girls' nanny, Agnes,

woke us up...

to tell us she'd found Liz
at the bottom of the stairs.

Patty: The Ratliffs were practically family.

We taught at the same school.

That's it!

Liz's autopsy. It's all there.

Margaret Blair: (over phone) Look, I
told you, this can't be a coincidence.

I know that he raised you, but he is not good.

That's our dad! You can say those things!

He's very manipulative, Margaret.

I haven't even told you half of
what we know about Germany.

I can't talk to you anymore. Goodbye.

Margaret Blair: Beware of false prophets who--

Martha: Jesus Christ...

She's crazy. (sighs)

Martha: It is kind of a weird coincidence

we've had two moms die
at the bottom of the stairs.

So what are you saying?

I'm not saying anything. I'm just...

We just haven't talked about it.

Don't freak out on me.

So you think there's some connection?

I can see why Aunt Margaret's suspicious.

Mom died of a brain aneurysm

which caused her to fall down the stairs.

It was an accident.

The same way Kathleen was an accident.

Yes, exactly.

And, like, isn't that weird?

All of it's weird.

Our dad died mysteriously in Panama.

In fact, where was Mike when 9/11 happened?

Oh, stop it, you sound fucking ridiculous.

Well, you're starting to sound like Caitlin.

It's like you don't even remember

what happened before Christmas.

Yes, I do.

And then Kathleen died.
And now we have to grow up.

Dad has been there for us always.

He didn't have to take us in, but he did.

That's all that matters.

So just stop questioning everything. Just stop.

I can't. Can't. I can't!

David: Was it strange for Mike

to have been over at Liz's without you?

Oh no, not at all.

After George died, Liz needed a man

to help around the house.

David: Well...

The DA's going to suggest some infidelity.

You know that, right?

Liz and I were good friends. That's it.

Patty: Under no circumstances

would she put carnal
desires above our friendship.

And as far as Michael's impropriety, at the time,

he was never very good at hiding it.

I didn't sleep with Liz.

This is all in German, Mike.

Michael: Patty can translate it for you.

It says what I've already told you.

Liz Ratliff died of a, of a brain aneurysm.

We'll, um, get a court-certified translator

and turn it all over to the DA.

We don't want to look like we're hiding anything.

Well, I'm not.

I'm going to need to speak
with the girls, uh, privately.

-Michael: By all means.
-No cameras, please.

Mike, can you please.

Thanks. I'll come get you when this is over.

The girls knew?

Not just about the aneurysm, but the stairs?

It's essential you're honest with me right now.

Ask them.

Hey, girls!

David: It must feel surreal

you're getting pulled into this.

Look, the most important
thing to me is the truth.

And if there's anything you want to say

about your mother's death...

anything at all,

now's the time to say it.

Wait, which mom's death?

Liz mom.

Your biological mother.

Hey, Mike.

Everything checks out. I'll stick
around in case you need me.

You girls okay?

It's us against them.

And they're, uh, clearly willing to go

as low as possible to hurt us.

And we can't let them.

There are no secrets between us anymore.

(door opens)

Rudolph's already filing a motion

to keep Liz Ratliff out.

We can argue the 404(b).

Oh yeah. Come on in.

I was just thinking about these two girls.

How are yours doing?

Oh, they're good.

I've been teasing 'em.

They've been eating so much mac and cheese

that, that their hair is going to get curly.

(both laugh)

-Never heard of that.
-Mm-hmm.

Jim: Hmm.

They're with Van this week.

(phone rings)

Uh-huh.

Uh, put him through.

Duane, what you got?

Peterson was standing over her

when he beat her.

The speck of blood on the inside

of his shorts?

The blood flew upwards.

And that was the last piece.

We've managed to replicate this crime scene

to a tee with the blow poke.

You got yourself a murder weapon, sir.

I'm looking forward to testifying for you.

Great work, Duane.

Hot damn. Uh, send that report.

I knew it.

I could feel it in my gut.

I never told you this before,

but, um...

I lost my brother and sisters in a house fire

when I was 13.

Jack was ten

and my two little sisters...

they were even younger.

Sophie-Anne and Mary.

I got out.

But... they didn't.

I'm so sorry, Jim.

Terrible things just happen.

You know.

Innocent children can burn up in a fire.

And women can trip and fall down the stairs

for no reason.

They can.

Start filing a motion.

We're gonna have to dig her up.

Freda: We'll need permission from next of kin.

The girls could say no.

They could.

If they find out she died of natural causes,

like the original autopsy said...

it's gonna look bad for us.

Maybe.

Or maybe we all find out the truth.

Let the games begin.

"To the esteemed lawyers
who are pursuing the prosecution

"of our father, Michael Peterson.

"we are writing to convey

"our feelings of distress in this matter.

"However, seeing that you have no compassion

"for the memory of our mother,

"we reluctantly consent to your request

"to exhume our mother's body.

"We are confident that you will conclude

"what experts concluded almost 20 years ago,

"that our mother died of a brain aneurysm

"and that our father, Michael Peterson,

"will be vindicated of these outrageous claims.

Sincerely yours, Margaret and Martha Ratliff."

Michael: Thank you.

Of course, Dad. Anything.

(exhales)

(reporters clamoring)

(lively classical music playing)

♪ ♪

(clamoring continues)

Man: Hold the door, please.

(Michael sighs)

(elevator beeps)

You're going to be smiling
in prison soon, you prick.

(inaudible)

(camera shutters clicking)

(inaudible)

♪ ♪

Bailiff: All rise.

Oyez, oyez, oyez.

This honorable court for the County of Durham

is now open and sitting for
the dispatch of its business.

The Honorable Judge Orlando Hudson presiding.

God save the state and this honorable court.

You may be seated.

-And good morning.
-All: Good morning, Your Honor.

This court is now prepared to hear the case

of the state versus Michael Iver Peterson.

Mr. Hardin, you may proceed with your opening.

Thank you, Your Honor.

Good morning.

In a very real sense,

this case is about pretense

and appearances.

(heartbeat thumping)

It's about things not being as they seem.

Man: One, two, three, four.

("Lawyers, Guns and Money"
by Warren Zevon playing)

♪ I went home with the waitress ♪

♪ The way I always do ♪

♪ How was I to know ♪

♪ She was with the Russians too? ♪

♪ I was gambling in Havana ♪

♪ I took a little risk ♪

♪ Send lawyers, guns and money ♪

♪ Dad, get me out of this ♪

♪ Ha! ♪

---oOo---