Original subtitles

I'd like to leave it at that.

My daughter Rianne and I kindly request to give us some space

to allow us to come to terms with our loss.

A question, I see? -Yes.

Mr Franck, if you will allow me?

I understand, and with all due respect, of course.

But I consider it my duty as a journalist

to remain critical, despite these painful events.

After extensive analysis, the decision was taken

to refrain from further investigation into the cause of your wife's death.

I am curious to know if you agree.

I mean, did it not surprise you

that it was drowning, of all things, that caused your wife's death?

In interviews, she always expressed her love for swimming, the water, sailing.

Also, there were anomalies in the items that they found.

According to my information.

And yet...

no further investigation?

What are you suggesting?

Which conversation would you like to start, in public?

You're saying: 'I don't believe in your grief.

That your heart was broken.

That you'll feel amputated for the rest of your life.'

Yes, my wife was a good swimmer.

Are you suggesting she forged her certificates? A conspiracy?

I have not shied away from what happened or avoided the press.

What about your responsibility as a journalist?

Do you have pressing reasons to ask these insinuating questions?

I'm not asking for compassion.

But I do hope

that your insinuations serve an honest purpose.

Can you guarantee me that much, Mr Laurens?

Yes?

Mrs Golf?

If tomorrow's autopsy shows she's been here since the inauguration

it means all murders were committed on the same night.

Because of the new mayor? -Perhaps.

Or maybe it was meant to seem that way and it has nothing to do with it.

But if this was the intent, they must know the convent well.

We'll search it again.

I want to talk to everyone: the residents, the nuns, the cleaners.

And we're searching all the rooms, one by one.

But first, we're going to interview someone else.

How hard do you want to lean on him?

Hard enough to make him tell us what we want to know.

You're not here a lot, are you, Dustin?

Carry on. It can wait.

We searched the convent that first day

and you said you'd show us everything.

Now we hear about on an old wing that has been abandoned.

You keep hiding things. -No, but I can understand that you...

It just didn't enter my mind. I'm not hiding anything.

I could even show you the sewers, if need be.

Is there another way to gain access to the old wing?

Excuse me?

Is there another way to get in? -No. No, no.

The only way into the old wing is from inside, if that's what you mean.

So the only way to get to that part of the roof is from inside the convent?

Yes.

So that limits the number of people who had access to a very small group.

Yes. But I really wouldn't know who.

If I knew anything that might be of help, I would...

Look at me.

Look at me.

Any idea what I can do with this finger?

Well?

The sound people make will always stay with you.

I don't want to do this.

But then you will have to help me.

Do you understand?

Help me.

Tell me what you know.

Right, if that's your choice...

I swear to you, I don't want to do this, but I will.

Until blood and shit run down your legs.

I'll do it, I swear.

So tell us what you know.

Tell us! Speak!

Tell us!

Start talking!

Start talking!

This kind of interrogation...

It's always a...

A bit of a quest.

A quest for the fear.

What are you afraid of?

Hm?

Where is your fear?

You're not afraid of pain or humiliation. I mean...

You're not even afraid of death.

We held a gun to your head and you gave us nothing.

This is not about you, right?

This is about something else.

You're protecting something. Or someone.

It's a lost battle.

You're not going to win this.

You will lose everything.

Stop this. Talk to me.

Tell me what you know.

Who are you protecting?

I am protecting the people who need me.

The weak.

No.

No, no.

You're not being honest.

You're hiding something.

You can release him in the morning

but I want to know where he is, what he does, who he talks to.

So do I.

Right, but will you keep an eye on him? -An eye?

The curate. -Oh, right. Yes, of course.

What is your impression of him? -Well, he seems a little sad.

How long have you known him? -Who?

Lindemann. -Right.

We used to have pastor Dunkers. He was great.

He was like a father to everyone.

At first, things were all right with Lindemann.

Same as with Dunkers: If someone somewhere was...

In spiritual need? -Yes.

Then he would always be there for them.

He gave it his all. At first. Lindemann.

But at some point... What can I say? That became less.

Less? -Yes.

As if he had nothing left to give.

We saw less of him.

And when we did see him, he seemed to be crying.

Yeah.

Yeah. He went a bit weird.

Weird? -Yes.

Isn't the life line the one below? I think you're confusing them.

Three murders. Three specific murders.

The entire village has an alibi.

Can I get you another drink? -Water.

Water? -Please.

No one has a motive.

That curate knows something, but won't talk.

We're back where we started.

I'll do tomorrow's autopsy alone. You get some rest.

Lara? Whiskey.

May I...?

Hey? Does he no longer want his water?

Letting off steam, I see? You have my blessing.

The same again, please? For me?

Whiskey, that is. Not water.

I say. What a mess. Are you getting anywhere yet?

Is it...?

Oh. You can't say, of course.

Glad she was found. Mrs Golf.

But tragic, of course. That she...

Well...

I've had it up to here with all this.

Your colleague's called it a night?

Interesting man, your colleague.

Took some getting used to. But he seems capable.

You, too. No worries.

I'm not one of your EMB sceptics.

It's an intriguing organisation.

Albeit a little bit mysterious, perhaps.

But capable, I'm sure.

Trying to relax here. -Hm?

Trying to relax here. -Me?

Well, yeah. Drink helps.

That relaxes? -Yeah. It certainly does.

The more, the better.

There's a time to work, and a time to...

But work demands focus.

Focus? As in one thing that you...?

The danger...

Where?

Where? Well...

You never know from which side danger will strike.

It's no different in politics, you know.

Anyone will stab you in the back.

I just don't know... -So I recognise that.

I just don't know how to do this anymore.

It's complicated.

When...

When you can't trust yourself.

You can't be trusted?

When you go undercover. -I see.

That's bound to be confusing. I get that.

They say the same about actors, you know.

That they find it hard to step out of a role.

I mean, just look at Marnix. Always acting the host of Slam It!

Oh, well...

Otherwise a nice man. -You don't know who you're talking to.

Hm... -To which persona.

Sounds like a fairly schizophrenic existence.

I can take a lot, I think. -Good for you.

Lara, can we have two last whiskeys, please?

Last ones. Because you're the mayor.

Anyone can quaff strong liquor, in any capacity.

Listen, that wife of yours is a bit crazy.

What?

I see her dancing in the graveyard at night

dressed in weird robes.

Really. With Baileys.

Shut up, woman. I don't like this.

You don't have to like it. I'm just saying what I saw.

And I'm very clear about what I saw. -Just leave me alone. What is this?

Madame Mouli.

No, she was alive before she went into the water.

Most certainly.

We pumped gallons of water from her lungs.

Gallons.

She certainly was reluctant to go.

Yet not a trace of violence? -No and that is an inconsistency.

She appears to have gone in of her own free will, but when she wanted to emerge

that stone on her foot was enough to keep her down.

When did she die? -Ha. Body in the water.

Notoriously hard to date.

A few days would be my guess. I can't be any more precise.

At some point, a great amount of gas accumulates in the body

which pushes it up.

Her feet were so swollen that we had to cut open her shoes.

Water bodies. They stink.

Oh, this is so pretty. Do you know it?

Can we assume she died on the same night

as the other murders? -That seems entirely probable.

Simple music, but they're such great guys.

With their blond manes blowing in the wind.

I don't know if it was the masseur who did it.

We can only hope. I just want them to leave.

Insolent barbarians, that's what they are.

Fascists!

They humiliated me, Leopold. They're animals.

What did you tell them, Dolf? -Lots.

I mean, nothing important. Nothing about...

Nothing relevant. -Don't worry, Dolf.

I've already spoken with their boss.

It's just, they have to demonstrate they're doing something.

This is serious stuff. We have a psychopath on the loose.

If we're rid of him, we're rid of the EMB. The sooner, the better.

In the meantime, they'll be turning the convent inside out.

Who cares?

Let them look. You're way too nervous.

But after the convent, where will they go looking next? The graveyard?

You worry too much. Like always, Dolf.

They're looking for a psychopath. Let them.

Wait!

Hey!

Dustin.

We can use your help.

Sure. I will, but...

Annemiek, could you give us a moment? Thank you.

Well, you said you wanted me to keep an eye on the curate

so I followed him.

All the way to the Lourdes Cave.

He went there to meet Leopold Franck.

Leopold Franck? -Yes.

Could you overhear what they said? -No.

I was too far away. I couldn't hear a thing.

Good job, Dustin. We'll be right there.

Mouli called this morning.

Leopold Franck had been to see her

asking if we would be gentle with his daughter.

I can do tonight.

That is, if Rick isn't late or I won't make it.

Bye.

What a night.

Council meeting all day.

I can't talk to the press, so I sat discussing a roundabout all day.

Honey... -Yes?

You will question everyone in the convent.

The nuns, the residents, the cleaners.

So, not the cleaners. Just the four nuns and the nine residents.

You will ask everyone the same questions.

They are all on the form in front of you.

If there is anything that stands out... Yes, Dustin?

So, uh... What if people resist?

Let's assume that no one will resist.

Sure, but what if they do? -Then you call me, or Malone.

But it won't happen. They're elderly people and nuns.

Is it about lunch? -Yes.

When everyone's been questioned and you have all the answers on paper: Lunch.

Just Slam It! Hello!

In the days before she fell, did you see anything unusual?

Something that made you think, 'Well, that was kind of strange'?

Everything was like it always was. Except for the outing.

To the town hall. That was great.

Was it? -Yes.

Party time? -Well, I may have had a glass.

Maybe a couple. -How many?

Did you possibly see any weapons

that could potentially have been used on the victim?

Do you have an alibi? -Yes.

Who can corroborate this?

It's all in the game. -I'll take the risk.

Bam! Slam It! I told you so!

What is your relationship to the victim?

What was that? -It is water.

No, your relationship.

No? I see you hesitating? No?

Okay. So, a no.

And...Slam It! Bagga boom!

No.

No.

Open the door.

¡Abre la puerta!

Get me the curate again.

Whose room is this?

I don't know.

You're lying. Why?

The worst has already happened.

It stops here. Just give up.

Redeem yourself.

I only look for the good.

The good.

The good is not women full of sand.

Women burned in the woods, women drowned in a reservoir.

That is madness.

The good is love.

Love transcends all.

It's indestructible.

Love shines brighter than any light.

Everyone had an alibi.

Except for the residents.

This is the room of the murderer.

Hello? -Good day, Mrs Van Hulst.

Walter Wintjes here, of the daily Our Country.

I'm calling because we'd like to do an interview with you.

We'd like to do a portrait, highlighting many different angles:

That of the mayor's wife. The daughter of Leopold Franck.

But above all: Who is Rianne Van Hulst?

Oh, gosh. I'm not very interesting, you know.

We beg to differ. -Who is it?

And so do our readers. -Uhm...

All right. If you think people would be interested... Fine.

Excellent. I'll send you an email with the info. Okay?

Bye now.

Well?

She'll do it.

The local paper. About an interview.

Human interest. Background. -Oh?

Don't you worry: Not about you, purely about me.

They assured me. -Oh.

Okay.

She was right here. Like this. Dancing like a maniac.

I could see her from a distance.

Edouard Leo Sibelius Love transcends all - R.I.P.

burned

buried

drowned

That's what I do not like, Ianneke.

I'm not being difficult. I just ask for some respect.

Oh? -Yeah.

I like having fun, but you won't see me groping Lara, for example.

However much I might want to. -Excuse me?

Mrs Golf. Water.

Mrs De Boer. Earth.

Mrs Verhage. Fire.

Air. No air yet.

Four. Those signs always comprise four units.

Four seasons.

Four primal elements: Fire, Water, Earth, Air.

Verhage also fell off the roof. -Fire and air in one go? No.

No, that's too careless.

Motive? Suspect?

That curate is hiding something or someone.

We'll have to go over the convent's lists again.

A fourth murder?

Possibly. But no one else is missing.

All of the murders occurred in or around the convent.

So we have to assume those elderly people are in danger.

So?

We close down the convent.

I'm sorry to play this card, but I still happen to be the mayor here.

Lindemann was personally attending to Verhage these past months.

Her health was deteriorating rapidly.

I went to the graveyard with Ianneke.

It's possible.

Mrs Van Hulst.

Dancing in the graveyard.

Beside this tombstone.

My breast fills with the air of longing.

I am the blood flowing to my fingertips

to say what words dare not. Cannot.

My muscles bear witness of a desperate...

Tender circles in the air.

My heart beats a rhythm of complete surrender.

There is only rhythm. There is nothing but music.

Feel the earth.

See the fire.

Taste the water.

This is real.

Please, can it hurt?

One can never feel enough.

My muscles bear witness to a desperate need for connection.

This is real.

I am nothing.

I am only real when I am nothing.

This is real