All language subtitles for drago agapios lake lady

Katz?

Katz, what are you doing here so late?

I'm sorry, Mr. Durst. Shapiro wanted
the rest of these molds ready by morning.

Okay. Yeah, good.

So this is... this is Miss Morgenstern,
my son's girlfriend.

She's writing a piece about
my business for The Brownie,

their... their high school newspaper.

Okay.
As long as I don't need to talk.

That guy, he knew
this wasn't an interview.

He suspected
this isn't an interview.

But he won't say a word.

You know why?

Why?

Because he needs his job.

I know.

I just don't want to lie anymore.

I don't wanna lie to Allan.

We'll tell him when we're ready.

Listen to me, you're gonna live
like a bohemian princess.

I'll have my own studio

and you'll have a room
to write in of your own,

and we'll be free.

Hal...

we may have company.

Thanks for meeting me.

Sorry you had
to come all the way out here.

My car wouldn't start.

What can I get you, sir?

Just coffee, please.

Coffee.

So, to what do I owe this tête-à-tête?

Seth hasn't been himself since you left.

I know.

I'm sorry.

He doesn't want to talk about it,
but last night he finally opened up.

What did he say?

He said he doesn't
feel safe at your place.

I see.

I see.

Doesn't feel safe.

Here.

What's that?

Divorce papers.

- I've been advised to file...
- Okay.

Under grounds of abandonment.

Here you go, sir.

Thank you.

Will I get alimony?

- What?
- What?

I'm serving you the end of our marriage

and that's...
that's the first thing you say?

- You haven't given me anything until now.
- You have this

new, fancy job at The Star.

You know what they pay me there.

- I don't.
- What, am I supposed to get a lawyer now,

or should I just
get on my knees and beg you?

This was your choice.

This is what you wanted.

Do you remember that?

- You walked out that door...
- Wait a minute.

- You met someone, didn't you?
- You walked out on a...

- You met someone.
- Yes, I did.

Yes, I did.

How old is she?

- What does that matter, Maddie?
- Come on. Just give me a laugh.

- What is this, Maddie?
- How old is she? How young...

She'll be 25 in September.

Well done.

- No, I'm happy for you. I really am.
- Ma-Maddie, will you please stop?

- Does she keep kosher?
- What does that...

- Of course she does. Of course she...
- Of course she does.

- That's wonderful.
- You're excited?

- Finally.
- Maybe now if we get a divorce,

I can, finally sell my car
without your permission.

I guess you can.

I still need your help, though.

- Did you hear me? I need your help.
- Yes, I heard... I heard you.

I heard you.

I will cover the lawyer costs.

- I will do right by you.
- Thank you very much.

But you need to stop
pressuring our son to stay with you.

- Do you promise me that?
- I'm not pressuring him.

- He's my child, I wanna spend...
- His grades are plummeting.

He needs a stable example
in his life right now.

He needs to be with his father.

I'm stable.

I read in your article,

that the last thing little Tessie
asked for was a seahorse.

She went into that store
searching for the marvelous,

but was punished for it.

Just like I was for wanting more.

Just like you will be.

Hey, Maddie.
You stop by Goska's?

Sure did, Lou.

You're aces, Maddie.

- What a fox.
- Here we go.

Talk about a scoop.

Dear Miss Helpline,

I wanna report a rat infestation
on the north side of 86th Avenue.

They're disgusting...

and the city isn't doing anything
to take care of the problem.

- Everyone in the area...
- Dear Overwhelmed,

I looked into it
and alerted the city as to your situation.

I've been assured that,
as soon as the cold weather is over,

there will be a full investigation
and a safe and effective poisoning.

What's going on?

Mr. Heath says that you called the DPW

about some lights not working
in Druid Hill Park?

Yeah, we received a letter
Mr. Heath didn't wanna publish,

so I just called them.

Some man passed by, and noticed
that they were out. What happened?

Park workers who went to fix the lights,
they found a dead body there.

A Negro woman.

God.

They wanna talk to me?

No need for that.

I'll just give them the letter.
They'll move on.

And, what about Mr. Marshall?

No.

I give them the letter and it's all done.

Did they figure out who the woman was?

The body was in really bad shape.

They identified her as Cleo Johnson.

Cleo Johnson?

I read about her in The Afro.
She's the one who went missing

the same night that
Stephan Zawadzkie was caught in the park.

Sorry. I-I must have tossed it.

I, don't have much room.

Really?

Anything you remember?

Just a-a short note from Bill Smith.

Bill Smith?

- Geez.
- What?

Well, that's a fake name.

Might as well be Mickey Mouse.

Listen, if you do find it, keep it tossed.

Marshall doesn't
want anything to do with this.

And, you know,
let The Afro deal with this.

Sure.

So is this the office
I have to look forward to?

Think your bagel delivery
will get you a better one?

Edna...

I was wondering
if I could ask you for some advice.

First mistake.

- What's that?
- Never ask for permission.

- Sorry, I just... I don't...
- Second mistake.

- What?
- Never apologize.

I have an ethical quandary
I'd like to talk to you about right now.

Strike three.

What?

Always read the room.

I'm sitting in the fucking can to get away
from those yammering cocksuckers

so I can have five minutes of peace
to get my work done.

Do I look like I have the inclination

to share my words of wisdom
with you right now?

Stephan?

Maddie.

I was hoping you would come visit.

But I guess you already got your story.

Is that why
you sent me the letter?

To get me to come see you again?

What letter?

Okay.

Let's start over.

Why did you kill that colored woman?

I never even heard of this woman

until they started
asking me about her today.

I was with you,
Maddie, remember?

No one knows that but you.

I get a letter from Bill Smith

in the same park where they caught you

the night that she went missing.

Why did you send me that letter?

When I send mail,

it says care of
the Baltimore Department of Correction.

You could have asked someone
on the outside to send it to me.

An accomplice.

Wh-What for? If I had done it,
why would I want them to find her?

To get me involved again.

No.

It ain't me.

But every time someone
turns up dead in that lake,

it does seem to lead to you.

The thing they both have in common
is not me, Maddie.

It's you.

The lady in the lake.

Few months in the drink
will do that to you.

Did her mother have to see her like that?

Afraid so.

She ID'd her.

Are there any similarities
to the Durst case?

Not much, other than them
both being floaters.

But she was murdered?

Impossible to say in the state she's in.

No trauma to the skull,
no signs of strangulation or suffocation.

As far as I'm concerned, she could
have gone for a swim and frozen to death.

In the middle of winter
at the top of a fountain?

Right this way,
Miss Morgenstern.

- Thank you.
- Yes.

Get me the transcript from Duke's trial.

All right. Well, I'll let you know.

I said I'll let you know.

Hi, Ms. Murphy.

I'm Maddie Morgenstern.
I-I write for The Star.

So Cora said,
but I've never seen your byline on it.

I write the helpline column.

So the world knows me
as Miss Helpline.

How can I help you, Miss Helpline?

Well, you've been
covering the Cleo Johnson story.

I have been. For three months now.

I'd like to know more about her.

What for?

Well, for a story, of course.

When that poor girl was missing,

she didn't even rate
a few words in your metro column.

But now that y'all think some
white killer has something to do with...

I actually don't think
he had anything to do with it.

- Who do you think did?
- That's what I'm hoping to find out.

Your paper did quite the piece on him.

Exactly.

Actually, I... I worked on that.
I just didn't get credit in the byline.

Let me get this straight.

I-I bust my ass following leads,

getting interviews,
putting timelines together

and you want me to hand it all over to you

so you can finally
get your byline in The Star?

No, thank you, Miss Helpline.

With all due respect, Ms. Murphy,

when The Afro prints a story,
only colored folks pay attention to it.

If The Star runs a story,
everyone has their eyes on it.

If that's all the respect I'm due,
I can do without it.

I, read up on what's
transpiring in your white world.

You wanna look into mine...

then, honey, you can do the same.

I live in the Bottom, Ms. Murphy.

I prefer
to think of it as our world.

Well, thank you for your time.

Someone show
Miss Helpline the door.

There you go.

So sorry. Excuse me.

Excuse me. I'm so sorry.

Officer.

Ma'am.

Not exactly how I pictured us
spending time together in public.

So you knew her?

Not very well, ma'am.

It's a tragedy for the entire community.

We won't rest until
we find the party responsible.

Excuse me.

- Hallelujah!
- Hallelujah!

Hallelujah!

Hallelujah!

The Lord is love!

And to love someone...

is to know them.

So let us welcome to the pulpit,
Merva Sherwood.

Eunetta was my only daughter.

But when her father left,

she started thinking that she...
was the mama of the house.

Yeah.

Eunetta always wanted
to sing with her father,

and her friend Dora.

She was a good girl.

Keep going.

Tell them!

Slappy, why don't you
get on up outta here, you heathen.

Tell the Lord why you won't
let me sit next to my children

at my own wife's funeral.

Good Lord,
protect me from this man!

Protect you from me?

You shook hands with
everybody that put her in that casket.

And you're scared of me?

She was with you that night.

If she would've stayed with me,
she'd still be alive.

She left for y'all 'cause
she thought you was gonna help her.

But you didn't.

That's why she in that dirt.

Ain't that right, Mrs. Summer?

You ain't give her that job
because you thought it'd make you look bad

'cause she worked for Shell.

And he knew that.
Ain't that right, kingpin?

Not right now, Slappy.

He tried to play her, man.

I know you hurting,
but I'ma need you to go and sit down.

What, I can't talk
directly to him no more?

You know a nigga coming up in the world
when he got his own house nigga.

- Be a good boy and...
- All right, all right. Come on.

You want some of this too, pigga?

- Come on, Mr. Johnson, let's... let's...
- Now it's Mr. Johnson?

My name didn't mean shit for you
when my wife was wearing it.

We don't gotta do this here now.
Come on. Let's step outside. Come on.

You know my wife was fine
when this tall, dark brother here

would be at the bar every night
taking sips with...

- Daddy!
- He don't even drink like that.

Come on.

Mr. Johnson.

Mr. Johnson.

- I ain't talking to you, lady.
- I'm Maddie Morgenstern.

I'm a reporter for The Star.

- I don't think that you killed your wife.
- Yeah?

And I don't think that Stephan Zawadzkie
had anything to do with it either.

- What you know about him?
- I wrote the big story on him.

And I can help you tell your story too.

Listen, there's a woman in there,
does hair, name of Lucille.

Cleo used to keep Mr. Gordon's books.
Did you know that?

What does that have to do with Lucille?

My son made runs
for a bookie that takes Lucille's bets.

Christmas Eve, her number came in.

My God, I think I was there.

Cleo was gone that night.
You see where I'm going?

Cleo split a bet with Lucille?

That wasn't no bet.
She knew them numbers were coming in.

Cleo never made the bets
'cause she lost her daddy to it.

Score on a number you shouldn't know,
you end up face down in the lake.

You understand what I'm saying?

I do. I do, Mr. Johnson.

Mr. Johnson...

if you are willing to stand
behind your words, I think I can help you.

Help me?

You don't know whose floor
you're dancing on, do you, Ms. Reporter?

You better learn fast.

- Ms. Morgenstern...
- Hi.

What are you doing here?
We don't open till next week.

I just saw you at poor Cleo's funeral
and I... I was in the neighborhood.

So I thought I'd come see your new shop.

Wow.

This new place is lovely.

It must have cost a pretty penny.

Like I said, it ain't done yet.

But I'll let you know as soon as we open.

What are you looking to do?

I was thinking, actually,
of going a little bit more curly.

What were you doing
at the funeral, Ms. Morgenstern?

This young lady...

You doing some kind
of exposé about Ms. Johnson?

No, no,
I... I'm just interested in her story.

Was she a friend of yours?

No, no.

I mean, she sat in my chair
once or twice, like you,

but that's about the size of it.

Come back next week.

I'll give you a discount.

- I guess I'll see you next week.
- Okay. Bye-bye.

Dear Miss Helpline,

It's impossible
to get on a train or trolley

without having vulgar graffiti...

Dear Offended,

As parents in Baltimore,

we are all concerned about
the profusion of graffiti and vandalism

overtaking some areas of our city.

Dear Miss Helpline,

I'm tired of having to wear clothes
when the weather is warm.

Every time I strip down to my skivvies...

Dear Nudist...

Sweet Maddie, I know what
the fucking Pharaoh is.

Well, Cleo Johnson was a barmaid there.

She also kept books for Mr. Shell Gordon,

who has been running
the biggest numbers game

- in Baltimore for the past 20 years.
- Look, I also know

- what the goddamn Nigger Pool is, Ma...
- Don't use that word with me.

What? Pool?

I believe that she was involved...

- You believe? O...
- in a bad bet that got her killed.

Okay. Who's your source?

Who is your source?

Cleo Johnson's husband.

For fuck's sake.

You take that to Marshall and he'll send
your little ass to The Afro, Maddie.

And that's why I'm coming to you.

I believe this woman was murdered
and we should be covering this.

Even if she's Black.

Look... Please.

- You... You're...
- What?

Scraping the bottom
of the barrel here, Maddie.

You... You got nothing.

Bullshit.

You're a coward, Bob.

And you're already
on thin ice, Mrs. Schwartz.

Now you go back to your desk
and you back off this piece of shit story,

or you're gonna wind up
in the trash right along with it.

Hello. I'd like to
speak to Mr. Gordon, please.

- Hello.
- Sorry, ladies.

Members only.

I'm a reporter for The Baltimore Star.
I-I saw you.

I saw you yesterday
at Cleo Johnson's funeral.

I'd like to speak
to Mr. Gordon about Mrs. Johnson.

- Can't help you with that, ma'am.
- No, excuse me.

Excuse me.

Let me get this straight.

Baltimore's preeminent newspaper

wants to do a profile
of a murdered Negro woman

who was an employee at this club,
and the owner refuses to speak to me?

You're giving me no choice but to print

the accusations made against Mr. Gordon
by Mrs. Johnson's husband.

Wait here.

Thank you so much.

I'm sorry,
I-I don't believe I got your name.

Reggie.

Reggie.
What happened to your leg?

It was a training accident.

I'm a... I'm a boxer.

I would think that boxing
would get you a bruised eye.

Jumping rope.

Come in a few minutes and say
they're expecting us in the newsroom.

- You're sure?
- Yes.

Hello. Thank you.

Hello.

So to whom do I owe this pleasure?

I'm Madeline Morgenstern.
You can call me Maddie.

Well, in that case,
you can call me Shell.

So you're doing a story on Cleo?

I am.

Some beautiful tropical fish you have.

Reggie is a fish expert.

What can I do for you?

- Can we get you something?
- No, thank you.

You sure? Yeah, so it seemed to me
like you could use a drink.

I'll have a scotch. Thank you.

How well did you know Cleo?

I've known her
since she was a kid.

She kept your books.

Sure.

And how aware was she of your...
how should I put it... your side business?

Or is it your main business?

And what business is that?

Do I need to say it?

Well...

- Thank you.
- I prefer straight talk over innuendo.

You've been running
the biggest numbers game

in colored Baltimore for over 20 years.

I've been investing in Black Baltimore,
Ms. Morgenstern.

If it didn't serve Black power,

the numbers game would be legal
on every street corner.

I guarantee that'll happen
if your white government takes it over.

Hey, boss. I'ma go downstairs...

No.

You stay here.

Relax that bum leg of yours.

Where you going?
The Baltimore Star is here.

They're taking an interest
in the Nigger Pool.

My interest lies in Cleo Johnson

and the money I believe she came into,
courtesy of the aforementioned pool.

What money is that?

Well, you tell me.

I don't know what you're talking about.
Do you know what she's talking about?

I do not know what she's talking about.

I'm sorry.

Ms. Morgenstern,
they're expecting us over at...

- the office.
- I'll be out in a minute.

- And this is...
- This is my assistant, Ms. Weinstein.

We are on a very tight deadline
for this Cleo Johnson story

and I would love to get
your official response in print.

Thank you so much, Ms. Weinstein.

What about Dora Carter?

- I understand she worked for you as well?
- She's in Paris.

She left for bigger and better things.

Much to the, disappointment
and heartache of our young Reggie here.

You and Miss Carter were in love?

I... I'd like to think so.

Just out of curiosity,
where... where were you Thanksgiving?

You celebrate that?

Yes, most of our people do.

It's an American holiday.

Must be nice fitting in?

Helps, doesn't it?

I respect the Jewish people. I do.

You have endured a genocide.

You have overcome racism.

But in this country, in this city,
white makes right.

And as far as I'm concerned,
that's all you are.

Well, you can join a long line
of people who want to tell us who we are.

The same way you came here
to tell me who I am, Ms. Morgenstern.

Everything I do
is at the service of Black power.

Black financial power.

If a few pennies

allow the burdened
to keep their eyes raised with hope,

and every so often the hope pays off,

I'm here for that.

And what about Cleo Johnson's hope?

How'd that pay off for her?

Cleo worked all around town.

Will you be subjecting
her Jewish employers

to your slanderous inquiries
or just the Black ones?

Dear Miss Helpline,

The electrical power on 39th and Davis
seems to have a mind of its own...

Dear Powerless,
The Star's already...

Cleo worked at Hecht's,

where she modeled in their windows.

a Negro
family just moved in...

Many men could have seen her there

and developed some kind
of obsession that got her killed.

Dear Concerned
Mother, I believe...

But Hecht's
belong to your people, right?

Dear Dog Lover...

So I'm sure you neglected
to pay them a visit.

- Hello.
- Good to see you, Mrs. Schwartz.

I'm afraid we're closing.
Um, is there anything I can...

I'm actually here
to ask about, Cleo Johnson.

She was a model in your window?

Of course I remember Cleo.

- Such terrible news.
- Yes.

She was a beautiful girl.

In fact, you should remember her too.

Me?

You left with the dress
she was modeling last Thanksgiving.

Took it right off her back,
in a manner of speaking.

And it looked better on you,
of course.

Dear Miss Helpline,

Some help you are.

Maddie,
let me help you with that.

I can do it myself.

Searching for clues with
that dress hanging in your closet.

Come on, Maddie.
Do you think I wanna do this?

There's nothing I want more
than a child with you.

But not now.

Now we need to make sure
you become a writer.

You're nothing but
a little girl trying to forget her past.

You don't know whose floor
you're dancing on, do you...

So you can finally
get your byline in The Star?

slanderous inquiries
or just the Black ones?

But every time someone
turns up dead in that lake,

it does seem to lead to you.

What are you doing here?

What are you doing here?

What's going on?

I saw her the day that
Tessie Durst went missing.

- Saw who?
- Cleo.

Cleo Johnson.

I bought this dress off her body

and then I found Tessie.

And then I met you.

And Stephan talked to me.

And then when Cleo went missing,

it was the same night
that Stephan escaped.

So they think he did it.

But I'm following everything,
and every time it comes back to me.

Maddie.

- Maddie, you need to stop, okay?
- It always comes back to me.

You knew her too.

Cleo Johnson's husband
said that you liked her.

Did you like her?

Maddie, that was before you and I.

Come on, just... Come and sit down.

You sent me to Lucille.

- Maddie, come on. Let's sit down.
- Cleo's husband

- said that Cleo gave her...
- Let's sit.

The winning numbers
and that's why she was murdered.

That was just his story, okay?
That's just a story.

You don't think Shell Gordon
had anything to do with it, do you?

Don't... Don't...
Don't interrogate me, Maddie.

- I'm just here to help you.
- Cleo...

Wanna help you out.

- You have a lot going on right now.
- Cleo worked for Shell at the Pharaoh

and she... she...
she... she... she kept his books.

Maddie... Hey, Maddie.

Half the colored folks in Baltimore
work for Shell Gordon.

- This isn't gonna lead you anywhere.
- Do you?

Maddie, I didn't come here for a fight.

I know what you came here for.

Don't do that.

Don't tell me how to do my job.

This isn't your job, okay?

Your job is not playing detective, baby.

Because Ferdie Platt's on the case?

First Black homicide
detective in Baltimore.

- Well, mazel tov.
- Why are you...

You don't care about Cleo Johnson
any more than the whitest cop in town.

- And you care about her, Maddie?
- Yes.

The only thing... Listen to me.

The only thing that you are worried about
is clearing the name of your pen pal.

- He didn't kill her.
- Right? Be honest.

And I suppose you know that
because he told you?

- Yes, I believe him.
- Yes, of course you believe him, Maddie.

- And you also believed his mother.
- There's no other suspects.

And maybe...

maybe you forgot to report
that you know Reggie, who's a boxer,

who happens to have
a tropical fish collection.

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

Okay? I really don't, but this...

this is not your
high school newspaper, Maddie.

People's lives are at stake.

This is not just about Maddie.

I wanna be alone.

Is that how you ask someone to leave?

I wanna be alone.

You're always alone, Maddie.

Good morning, Mrs. Zawadzkie.
I'm Maddie Morgens...

I know who you are, Ms. Morgenstern.

May I have a moment of your time?

Our shop's been closed,
so time is all I have these days.

Thank you.

Can I get you anything to drink?

Coffee, if you have it?

How do you take it?

Um... Milk, cream...

Which one?

- Milk, if that's fine.
- Make yourself at home, please.

Thank you.

Have you heard any news from my son?

No. Have you?

He doesn't say much lately.

I think he likes talking to you more.

I think he's probably afraid.

They're delivering his verdict soon,
Mrs. Zawadzkie.

Kasia.

Kasia. That's a nice name.

- Katarzyna is nicer.
- Thank you.

But not when people here
say it with their American accents.

You're... You're Polish?

Born and raised.

My mother is also from Poland.

- Yeah?
- Yes.

- Where from?
- Warsaw.

Thank you.

This is from Bauhof's.

I only buy from there.

W-where... where are you from? In...

Treblinka.

It's a beautiful village.

Farms. Green forest.

All year round.

- Good people.
- Yes.

Everyone likes to say we hated the Jews,

but the truth is,
none of us ever even seen one

until the Germans
built their death camps there.

I'm sorry.

Now you can't even
speak its name, you know.

I met an American soldier
at the end of the war.

I was a pretty girl,
if you can believe that.

You're still pretty, Kasia.

I can see why my son likes you.

I didn't love this soldier, you know.

I just wanted to get
as far away from there as I could.

Get a fresh start.

Man plans, God laughs.

I never heard that before.

I love my son.

- Of course.
- But his...

his head isn't...

They won't let him enter
an insanity plea, you know that?

It's probably because they believe
that he also killed Cleo Johnson.

Yes. Soon they'll say he was
the one who shot President Kennedy.

Kasia...

I think I might know who that Black man
in the fish store was with him that day.

If you talk to me, I can write
a big story that will help Stephan.

What does it matter anymore?

The Black man with the bruised eye
that you were talking about.

The... Remember?

You do... You don't wanna help find him?

If they could find him, that would
give Stephan significant leverage.

Tak, I heard that.

I gave his description to the police,
to the DA, to anyone who asked.

What do you want from me?

I'm a mother.

I have a son just like yours,

an only son.

He's almost the same age.

I wanna help Stephan as best I can.

If you really wanna help,

maybe it's better
he stays inside a little.

Stay out of trouble?

Do you know where your son went
that day he escaped?

- To see me.
- No.

To see me.

You're lying.

He broke into my apartment,
waited for me there.

I never heard of this.

- Well, I never told anyone.
- Stephan would have told me.

Boys don't tell their mothers everything.

If he told you something,
you would have gone to the police

and they would have been here
long time ago.

Well, he didn't tell me anything then.

After they found
Cleo Johnson's body, I called him.

You were right.

He loves talking to me.

You're full of shit.

He didn't tell nothing

to you... or nobody else.

You're here alone on your own...
trying to get a story out of me.

You think I'm some stupid Polish peasant.

- I don't think you're stupid, Kasia.
- Jewish bitch.

Fuck you, Jewish whore!

I will not rot in jail for you.

You would have done the same for your son.

You want me to die in jail?

Is that what you want?

Would that make you happy?

God.

Operator. Hello?

Is there anyone there?

Is there anyone on the line?

Hello?

>>>>oakislandtk<<<<<
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