Original subtitles

Previously on "Damnation"...

We're on strike.

You ain't taking your milk to town.

There was a strikebreaker.

He killed Sam right in front of his own boy.

- It has begun. - Jesus knew he was at war.

The question is, do you?

You're burying the bodies

of three men we just killed.

Whatever doctor hired them will be sending more.

Have you ever seen this man?

He was last seen murdering my husband.

You're gonna save my poor immortal soul?

No, I'll kill you

and drag you to hell with me.

- Who was that? - My little brother.

Did anyone see you?

It was dark.

You'll be suspected.

The local preacher?

They won't even imagine it.

They'll think it's the strikebreaker.

And what's he going to do?

Well, he's gonna leave town.

That strikebreaker knows

that if he shows his face again,

I'll string his viscera

across these treetops like tinsel.

Maybe we can win this war; maybe we can't.

But I'm not going to let people keep pretending

it's not going on.

What did it feel like?

Nailing up Sam's body?

It felt like touching God.

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What?

Just wondering...

about just what sort of mother

brings both you and your brother into this world.

Mother's had nothing to do with it.

Now, I want you to read me the rest of my letter.

"Our client"

"expects this farmers' strike to end immediately,"

"and quietly."

"It's imperative that we not allow"

"our foreign enemies to continue"

"infiltrating our dearest industries"

"under the guise of organized labor."

Signed Martin Eggers Hyde,

PhD.

- Who is it? - Tina.

I got something for ya.

Huh.

They're right.

Uppity slut redecorated my room.

Okay, spit it out.

Big happenings in town.

Like what?

Some lunatic nailed up a farmer's body

to the front door of the bank.

Even hung a sign around his neck.

And what'd it say?

Ask her.

She's your precious reader.

We're going into town.

Looks like I'm gonna need those

smart-ass brains of yours again.

What side am I on?

How about the side

not murderin' and crucifying farmers

for wanting to sell their goods for a decent price

to support their wives and children?

I'm on the side of keeping this damn shop open

and a roof over my head.

And I'm sure those farmers are having a grand old time,

bitchin' and moaning about the price of biscuits.

But the rest of us got businesses to run.

We're on the side

of peace and quiet.

I don't care a bit for what's going on lately.

Farmers refusing to sell what they grow.

Cowboys carrying dead bodies around town?

Modern times for ya.

How's that nail progressing, Raymond?

I see cause for optimism.

Mm-hm.

Once he's down,

I want you to keep watch over Sam's mortal remains

until he's planted all the way in the ground.

Sure thing, Uncle Sheriff Don.

And here I was told

that this is a quiet corner of the Earth.

You know, I asked around...

Apparently, Sam did happen to have his gun drawn.

Like I said, self-defense.

Even though he had no earthly idea

you were cowering in the back of Pete's truck.

But now, I wonder...

What is your excuse gonna be

for nailing up his body?

Did Martha look at you cross-eyed?

Crucifixion's not really my style, sheriff.

See, I'da... I'da shot Jesus before he even got to town.

Oh yeah. Picked him right off his damn donkey.

- Morning. - Morning, ma'am.

Gentlemen.

Didn't anybody ever teach you any manners?

Do you want to be the one to teach me?

Well, my mistake, Sheriff.

See, I was under the impression

that you were familiar with that...

young lady's acquaintance.

Did you nail up his body?

Nope.

But something tells me

there's a religious sensibility at play here.

Do you think that maybe

somebody's trying to send a message?

Oh, I think they've managed that.

It appears that

someone nailed up Sam Riley's body last night.

Someone. You mean that damn cowboy.

Did anybody see him do it?

I saw him drag Sam's body into the speakeasy.

Who else is it gonna be?

I saw the sign he hung on Sam.

"Which side are you on?"

What the hell does that mean?

It means they just killed and crucified our friend.

Now what are we gonna do about it?

After what they did to Sam,

do you all want to punish them?

- Do you want to kill them? - Yes.

Do you want to break their fucking backs?

- Yes. - Good.

Then start channeling that anger

into something more than just simple revenge.

Because you have more power than that,

but you have to stop

seeing yourselves as individuals

and start seeing us all as one body.

God's body.

You... are God's chosen people,

not the rich or powerful or elite.

And if we have to starve this town

for 40 days and 40 nights

to make Gods' will be felt,

so be it!

'Cause letting them steal your farms and homes

is not an option.

Giving it to the banks and the businessmen

who look down their noses at you is not an option.

After what they did to Sam,

I wanna see a plague

of strikes and blockades.

- Yes! - I wanna see bankers and grocers

too terrified to fix food prices.

Yes!

I wanna see God's body grow.

Yes!

That was, uh...

- quite the sermon. - But?

But I don't know how much support you have

other than these farmers.

Most of the town doesn't even know

the bank's fixing prices.

Well, they would if your newspaper

would actually report the news.

- You gonna write about any of this? - Course I am.

If not for the paper, then at least in my novel.

What novel?

My debut novel, as yet unfinished.

That's why I'm out here, you know?

Earning my literary stripes

like Hemingway and Dreiser.

Excuse me,

but what kind of preacher goes around

carrying a pistol on him

and then shoots like that?

A well-prepared one.

There's nothing in the Bible says

I can't defend this church

against cowards and thugs.

Why are those Black Legion bastards

shootin' at us anyway?

I can think of one reason.

Shouldn't we call in the sheriff?

You're a few years late on that one, college boy.

Sheriff used to be an old bloodhound,

but not anymore.

He's just a politician these days.

Useless.

If we're gonna find out who's coming after us,

we'll have to do it ourselves.

I'm afraid I don't understand.

Well, the request is simple.

I would like the daily newspaper

from each major metropolitan center

of the United States

delivered to room three of the brothel each day.

Why, to check on your stock holdings?

I'm not exactly the sort of lady

who's used to explaining away

- her pastime indulgences. - No, you are not,

but according to the boys of the speakeasy,

you are the sort of lady

that suck-start a Model T Ford.

Well, I suppose some cocksuckers

do just about anything

if you throw enough money at them.

Hm.

I'm sure I can begin delivery today.

How reasonable.

Now, Sam Riley's death...

And the disturbing desecration

of his remains. I wonder...

Will you be reporting such filth in your paper?

You of all people are worried about filth?

- I print the news. - When it suits your interests.

Now, as far as I've gathered,

Sam Riley's death...

simple case of self-defense.

Nothing newsworthy.

And that crucifixion business?

Well, it looks like someone's

trying to rally some kind of Communist form of revolt.

Are you going to let them

use your newspaper to do it?

Or are you gonna stand proudly

on the side of law, order, and country?

Holden Tribune! Two cents!

Here. Keep it, partner.

Gal could get used to this.

So? What'd the sign say?

"Which side are you on?"

Do you know who nailed him up?

You met my brother.

- He's a preacher. - And you're a bright girl.

Does he seem like a man of God to you?

Guess I don't need to ask you

which side you're on.

I don't have a side.

Got a job.

Someone nailed up Sam last night.

Across the door of the bank.

Christlike.

I wonder...

What is in that basket?

May I?

Please.

Well...

What do we have here?

I have not had a home-cooked biscuit

since Edna passed.

May I?

By all means.

It's dry.

Last time I saw Sam's body

was at your chapel,

while your husband was holding

some kind of political rally.

I wonder,

where was Seth last night?

Well, with me, asleep in our bed.

You tell your husband I need to speak with him.

Yes, I'm sure you do.

Whatever old boy you shot, he sure is a bleeder.

Or was a bleeder.

Either way,

he squirted his fair share.

Appreciate the help, Preston.

You know, reporter boy's not the only one

wondering what your story is.

Where'd you learn to shoot like that?

From my father.

Was he a preacher?

No.

Well, preachers come and go through here.

Why are you so set on helping us out?

'Cause I've seen what happens

when you don't have someone on your side.

Blood trail ends here.

Gunman could be anywhere now.

So we'll have to draw him out.

What's the trouble?

That's what we tryin' to figure.

We're just passing through,

on our way from Nebraska to Detroit.

You got any black hoods in that car?

Hell are you talking about?

Careful how you talk to my friend.

What are you doing up in Detroit?

Our friend's leading an auto workers' strike.

Taking on strikebreakers.

We figured he could use a hand.

You armed?

Is it a problem if we are?

That depends.

You really are taking on strikebreakers,

you ought to take a few of these with you.

And if we aren't?

Then you better get the hell out of town,

'cause we're done being victims around here.

Sorry to interrupt,

but is your name Martin Eggers Hyde?

Martin Eggers Hyde, PhD.

Well, ahoy, Mr. Rumple.

I am so glad we are able to meet in person.

Well, please, join, course. So forth.

Coffee?

Do you find yourself pleased

with the agent the Pinkertons sent

to help you deal with your bank's, uh,

farm nuisance?

Somehow this Creeley

managed to kill the farmers' leader

and pass it off as self-defense.

Yes, uh, Mr. Turner

is a beautifully designed instrument.

Just why are we trying to bankrupt these farmers?

Rumors to the contrary,

we are not actually in a depression.

In truth,

our species is currently

enjoying a great evolutionary leap forward.

- It is? - Well, up till now,

it's been a open secret

that the unwashed rural masses

are a unfortunate necessity

for a properly civilized society.

We needed the unwashed rural masses

to harvest our food, mine our coal, fight our wars.

Well, who else is gonna do it?

Us?

But...

very soon,

all the filthy rudimentary tasks

we needed the rural masses to perform for us

will be accomplished more reliably, effectively,

and hygienically, by machines.

It's not the 19th century anymore.

Have you ever tasted a Twinkie?

A what?

Perfectly engineered glimpse into our culinary future.

But to make a long story short,

uh, the farmers have bankrupted themselves,

by not evolving.

Time's come to forego nostalgia,

foreclose on the farms,

and begin auctioning them off

to the highest bidder.

There's not exactly a...

lot of excess cash in circulation right now.

Well, I have a feeling

you'll find interested parties.

Your... capacity

for finding profit in the dry market

has not gone unnoticed by my client, Mr. Rumple.

You gonna arrest whoever did it?

Is this what you're gonna do?

Or are you just gonna keep on

with business as usual, Sheriff?

Huh?

Business as usual.

If you won't get justice for my father,

we'll do it ourselves!

Been this quiet all day?

Folks have been spooked since that cowboy

came in with Sam.

Everyone feeling lucky?

All three of you.

Donald, your operation has gotten slower

than a constipated mule.

You feeling the same crunch?

A bit.

It appears that the twin pecker-shriveling specters

of politics and religion can spoil even my profits.

It's the cowboy.

He's targeting me.

You know, first thing he did after killing Sam

is come into my speakeasy,

then he just shows up at your brothel,

and he shacks up with Bessie?

Come on.

Your girl has become a popular local attraction.

'Sides, I like the cowboy.

Why?

Because he's got money.

You keep an eye on him.

20 bucks says he's running

some kind of blackmail scheme,

just like that revenuer agent came here in '23.

That revenuer agent

was a federal employee

and therefore, by definition,

- a worthless shit-sucker. - Mm-hm.

This cowboy works in the private sector.

He actually has to work for a living.

- There's a difference. - Better be.

Or I'll toss that swaggering bastard's body

down the same well I dumped the revenuer in.

♪ My father was a miner ♪

♪ And I'm a miner's son ♪

♪ And I'll stick with the union ♪

♪ Till every battle's won ♪

♪ Which side are you on, boys? ♪

♪ Which side are you on? ♪

♪ Which side are you on, boys? ♪

♪ Which side are you on? ♪

Looks like Sheriff Blair is bringing in more than

just strikebreakers.

We need to keep our spot at the mine secure

without getting picked off, one by one.

Are any of you men named Gil Butler?

The leader of this miners' strike?

I'm Gil.

Who are you?

My name is Connie Nunn.

I've taken a professional interest

in the topic of labor unrest.

How can I help you brave men?

Look around.

Start by cooking us a decent meal

and cleaning up.

Yes.

This place could so use a woman's touch.

Recognize this man?

Get away from me!

Have you ever seen this pamphlet,

or one of similar authorship?

Go back to hell, you bitch!

I'm sure you fancied yourself to be some kind of hero.

Daddy?

Daddy?

Daddy!

Oh, my poor dear child,

Here.

Come to me.

So have you and your brother always hated each other?

No.

There was a time when

we were all we had in this world.

What went wrong?

Everything.

Attaboy.

Hey, what's going on?

You were right. We need to

spread word about price fixing,

- so keep an eye out. - For what?

If Black Legion gunmen are here,

they'll still be showing signs.

If you see an angry bloody man in the crowd,

get my attention.

Did Seth do it?

The Bible says it's not always our place to understand.

Did your husband nail up my husband's body

across the front of the bank

to start off some kind of revolution?

Because if he did,

I want you to thank him for me.

I never cared for Sam's strike,

or Seth's sermons, for that matter.

I was raised in a good home, you see.

I was taught to know my place

and not call attention to myself.

And look where it's gotten me.

My husband's dead.

My son's in jail.

And now this.

The bank foreclosed on your farm?

Whatever it takes to bring

those sons of bitches down,

do it.

Standing there in your fancy suit!

Yeah, wipe that smirk off of your face.

We don't want this strike.

A farmer doesn't grow food so he can hoard it.

He grows it so he can sell it.

Then what are you waiting for?

A fair price.

Now, 30 miles away across the state line

in Sioux Falls, butter is 40 cents a pound.

But here in Holden, it's 15 cents.

Sioux Falls farmers are getting double the price that we are

for corn, wheat, pork, milk, you name it.

Well, there's something rotten here in Holden County!

In fact, right now,

the prices are so low

the farmers can't sell their goods,

which means you'll all soon go hungry,

and all for the benefit of the Holden Savings & Trust

and the moneyed few.

The newspaper won't report the truth.

Courts won't hear us out.

And the sheriff's department stands back and does nothing,

even when the bank's hired thug

shoots and kills two farmers!

Well, worst of all,

are the so-called Black Legion.

Now, these Black Legion men

claim to be defending the American way of life.

In truth, I think they just like playing dress-up.

Like little schoolgirls.

It's a bold charge, Preacher.

Yes, it is.

But we will remain

peacefully organized in resistance,

and we invite you all to join us.

Brother Preston Riley will tell you how.

What? Me?

Give 'em hell, Preston.

Uh...

Butcher shop.

I, uh,

I suppose I... I do have a few things to...

to get off my chest.

I personally have my doubt about Sam Jr.'s guilt

in the murder of Pete Collingsworth.

Shit.

Who sent you after us?

Was it the strikebreaker?

I don't know what you're talking about.

You can squeal now or later.

Doesn't matter to me.

I'm a patient man.

We sent ourselves.

We don't want your strike here.

Now, we got jobs,

families, children...

I know fathers like you.

Your kids would be better off without you.

If you want to see your family again,

from this moment forward, you'll tell me

every single move the Black Legion is gonna make

and if you let one word slip sideways,

God's body in the form of your wet brains

will be splattered across these walls.

Understood?

Ouch.

Good.

Now rejoice.

Jesus... Oh...

For the long, hard walk to salvation

has just begun.

How's your cowboy treating you?

You know.

- He's a rough and rowdy screw. - Oh, Christ...

Sometimes he screws me from behind...

Sometimes he screws me in the shower.

Sometimes he screws me so hard in the mouth,

I think my throat is gonna bleed.

- Why do you speak... - Like a whore?

I blame it on my raising.

I know, I haven't been much of a father to you.

Sheriff, you have such a gift for understatement.

But I'm ready,

now, to be a... a governing presence

in your life.

Oh, your bitch wife is finally in the ground.

Are you lonely?

Lonely enough to acknowledge

your half-dark bastard girl?

I haven't exactly shown you,

but I do have...

love in my heart for you.

If I tell you I gave a shit,

will you hurry up and get to the point?

Why is this Creeley here?

Why is he nosing into my business?

Oh, relax, he's not after your precious enterprise.

Tell me,

what's the cowboy really after?

Tell you.

Sheriff, you know me.

I don't do nothing for free.

You're gonna wanna use more shortening next time,

unless it's your aim for these biscuits

to have the texture of dried-up cow turds.

Thanks for the suggestion.

Being found pleasing to men

is quite important to me.

Huh.

Admirable sand, lady.

But let's talk.

How long have you and Seth been together?

One year?

Two?

- Long enough. - So, two.

And has Seth ever told you anything about his... his past?

No.

I can't imagine that he would.

Do you know anything about Seth?

I know that if you lay a hand on me,

he'll kill you.

Well, he might do that anyway.

See, he can't help himself,

'cause killing is Seth's God-given gift.

But you already learned that, huh?

What do you want?

I want you to live.

Leave Seth.

Take your cause somewhere else.

Or else,

you're gonna find out who that demon really is.

Do you really think

I'm going to believe you over my husband?

No, no, I don't.

See, I tried warning her about Seth too.

She didn't believe me either.

Are you okay?

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