Original subtitles

(whirring)

(music building to crescendo)

Looks like someone's overthinking something.

Ah. Not something, someone.

Someone I can handle. Ha!

Sounds like something I said,

when I started coughing up blood.

Like it?

I don't like this blank bit at the bottom.

Sorry, I looked.

You have no loved ones.

Here, do me a favour.

Kill me.

The specialist said if I had another ciggy, I'd die on the spot.

I've only a few days left anyways.

Come on!

(whispering) The shop next door.

Buy a pack. You'll be paid tomorrow.

You know, they say it's not the cancer that kills you.

It's the morphine.

(groaning)

Have a little patience, Clive.

(sarcastic laugh)

So, let me get this straight.

You killed me.

But you won't kill him.

Show me a killer without rules and I'll show you a convict.

He's begging for it. There's no need!

He'll be dead within the week. (exasperated sigh)

Don't tell me you weren't tempted. No.

Because I'm not a monster.

Oh, you keep telling yourself that.

Veronica, you deserved to be killed by me.

Poor, Clive, he doesn't.

(chortle)

So how do you decide who deserves it?

I just know.

(mobile pinging)

Like how I know I will never kill someone I love.

'Or let anyone I love be hurt'.

I'm sorry, when does this end? Huh?

You. Being here, annoying me.

Oh, don't worry. I found someone much better to do it.

Who?

Your rules.

There was one you didn't mention.

Do you kill kids? Never!

They're innocent and blameless. Then, dear...

.. you're fucked.

Your editor put something on your site.

Said he's looking for tips for stories.

Have you seen a crime?

I'm not sure.

You're not sure if you've seen a crime?

I'm not sure if it's manslaughter or murder.

Hughie gets in at nine.

I have to go to school.

Are you doing the Leaving?

Fifth Year. So that makes you...

.. eighteen? Seventeen.

V/O: Shit! No children, ever!

'If they can't drink or vote, I won't kill them.'

Let me take your name. Denis Reilly.

But I'll save you the trouble. I'll see him myself.

V/O: Denis is stalling. That means he wants something.

Why don't you tell me what it is you want?

Perhaps I can help. You know...

.. that's exactly what I thought you'd say.

#

So... any newcomers?

Or anyone back after a slip?

Sorry... uhm..

How do you do this?

You tell us your first name and... why you're here.

Right, uhm.. my name is Ward.

And uh...

.. my daughter reckons I'm an alcoholic.

Can you tell us, Ward,

when did you have your last drink? Uhm...

About a week ago. Bullshit! What?

I saw you neckin' a naggin in the car park.

(chortling) Neckin' a naggin' in the car park!

The reason I saw you was 'cos I was also in my car.

Drinking.

Okay, fair enough. You got me bang to rights here.

To be honest, I am a bit goosed. (laughs)

(uneasy chatter)

(clears throat) Tough crowd, huh?

Three years...

.. of a barring order.

Which ends today.

As did my sobriety.

I was dry for those years,

but I also beat myself up.

Even if he wasn't there to.

Because someday I knew he'd be back.

Ward, we've all been to hell.

All taken different routes.

And yet, we're here.

All in the same place.

It doesn't matter why you're here.

It only matters that you know that you can stop.

#

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(car engine starting)

(mysterious music)

Hello, Daniel.

(door closing)

Anybody asks, you don't know where I am.

That sounds exciting.

Meeting someone? If you must know,

I'm following a lead.

V/O: I'm all for Hughie getting back in the game.

'I just hope for his sake and mine

it doesn't involve that little shit, Denis.'

(bleating)

Is this a big deal?

You've launched an objection

to a telecommunications mast being built on your doorstep.

Not our doorstep.

That mountain.

This is David versus Goliath.

So yeah...

.. this story has potential.

Now, these death threats?

Here, you can listen to them.

Voicemails?

Even better.

Not voicemails.

Voices.

Coming out of this yoke here.

Sshh, do ya hear?

#

I'm proud of you. Ah sure, it's only been two days.

So, were they nice to you? She was.

She? Jackie.

Hold on, were you at speed dating or AA?

(Ward hushes her) Sorry.

I'm glad you met a friend.

(sighing) She's petrified, the poor woman though.

The ex-husband's quite handy with the fists, apparently.

She's afraid he's going to attack her again,

now that this barring order has been lifted.

There's nothing she can do about it.

I'll tell ya something...

.. I'd strangle the creep if I got my hands on him. Wow!

You seem to be really taken with her.

So, her husband...

.. what does he do?

Haven't a clue. (phone buzzing)

All I know is, if he wasn't in Jackie's life,

she wouldn't drink again.

(Ward clears throat)

Earth calling Elvira?

(phone bleeps)

I have to go. Where are you going?

I thought you were gonna maybe hang around

and meet Jackie. Sorry, I can't.

I have a deadline.

(foreboding music)

I know what you want.

No, you don't. You want me to confess to something I didn't do.

Well, sorry. It's not gonna happen.

No confession needed. I saw you push Mr Benson off that cliff.

Lower your voice! Okay.

What do you think I really want? I dunno.

Money. Nope.

I don't want that either. V/O: Oh, thank fuck for that.

Okay, well... just tell me what it is.

For my silence...

I want you to kill someone. Huh?!

(phone pinging)

Each day you say no, more tweets.

And the people of this town will find out what Elvira Clancy did.

Firstly, there are two o's in too.

And secondly, ya little shit--

Yo. How's things?

Do you fancy going for a walk? No!

I fancy going for a drink.

Feels weird to be in here instead of the pub, doesn't it?

Ward, why do you think you drink?

Oh...

A while back, a... friend was in a bad place.

You know?

Got themselves wrapped up in a mess.

They don't know it, but I covered up for them.

Ever since...

You've been drinking to forget.

Yeah, a cliche.

But there's a silver lining, you know?

No drinking...

No AA...

No, you. (she laughs)

See, I don't think you need AA.

That's what I've been saying! I'm a binge drinker!

(she laughs) No, I mean...

Do you need it?

Or do you need to sit down with this friend and have it out?

Because if you don't...

.. you'll be trapped in this boozy maze forever.

You're right.

But you see...

.. my friend's in a better place, you know?

And if I was to tell them the truth,

it would probably send them back to square one.

There's an alternative.

Why don't we have an alcohol-free week?

Then, if temptation comes our way,

sure, we've got each other's back?

Okay. I'll give it a shot.

I'll drink to that. (she laughs)

##

Someone's thirsty.

It's a shandy.

Okay, what's up?

Yeah. I uhm...

Did you know Maria Riedle?

(exasperated sigh) What?

Don't tell me. You think if you crack that case,

The Sunday World will come crawling.

(chortles)

V/O: Oh no. That is what he thinks.

I never met her, as such. But I liked her writing.

Her book? And her articles. Articles?

What articles, where?

Look, you asked me here to talk, so I'm going to give you some advice.

Don't end up like Clive.

Chasing that shaggy dog tale.

Yeah.

But it's a really big tale.

You know, when we first met, I pegged you all wrong.

You thought I was a kook who spent all her time

sitting around hoping she'd hear someone died?

(awkward laugh)

And now I've come to realise,

there's a lot more to you than that.

And I've come to realise how persuasive you are.

V/O: And hot.

When I interviewed for my job,

I read all my predecessor's old obits.

About seven years ago, she took a sabbatical.

Dealing with death made her question her own mortality,

blah-blah-blah. Anyway,

her secondment was called Patricia Ripley.

Only, no one ever met her.

A pseudonym.

So, Maria wrote obits for the Chronicle.

Probably needed the cash. How did you figure it out?

Easy, really.

Certain phrases in her articles.

Same phrases and writing style as in her book.

Man... you're something.

Hold on. Are we flirting?

So Hughie employed Maria?

But after she was killed, he told the Guards he never knew her.

So why lie?

He was going through his divorce back then.

Apparently, he was all over the place.

Mmm.

Fancy another?

Another and I'll be anyones.

V/O: Nicely delivered. Now, double check.

Are you seeing Mal this evening?

Ah... Mallory'll keep.

V/O: Yep... we're flirting.

'And it feels fan-fucking--'

(phone buzzing)

(sinister music)

V/O: This is starting to get really annoying.

#

(water splashing)

Whoa!

Okay. So you thought you saw something-- which you didn't!

Then you waited. And while you waited,

you dreamt up some crazy scheme about me hurting someone.

(chortles) Killing someone.

This is your final warning.

If this continues, you WILL get hurt.

Good.

No, not good. Yes, it is.

See... the person I want you to kill-- I don't want to know.

Yes, you do. Yes, I do.

That person...

.. it's me. What?

I want you to kill me, Elvira.

What is it with everyone asking me to kill them?

Seriously. Take your own advice,

and hurt me.

(loud splashing)

#

CLIVE: You're shittin' me. They're that desperate,

they're finally going to charge Daniel Buckley,

because, what, he's about to publish his wife's book?

He's broke. You see, this book...

.. it's gonna be massive. It's been shelved for five years.

And emails to her agent confirm

Maria refused to sell Daniel the rights.

Now, because she died before they divorced,

he inherited them and the book.

So unpublished, no motive.

Now he's handed them one.

Profiteering off his wife's death.

That's novel.

Get me my phone.

I've seen the files.

I know what they're about to charge you with.

Our boy came good.

Okay, Daniel.

He'll be there.

Daniel?!

You're fucking mates with him. The man killed his wife!

Hold on, back in the woods I asked

if you're sure this scumbag did it and you told me--

Okay. I lied. Yeah.

I thought it was him.

But not now? Why? Because you had afternoon tea with him?

Chemo. What?

When?

Before you made contact with me!

He thought he was a goner.

So I asked him, 'Did you do it?'

And he said, no, yeah? Dying men don't need to lie.

I believe him. (Emerson sighs wearily)

Fuck!

Okay.

Uh...

How long has he left? Lucky duck's in remission.

Now listen...

.. forget everything you know.

Daniel used me to lure you to town.

It doesn't matter when I go.

It only matters that you help him.

If you want to get paid,

you have to clear his name.

You lied to me.

You set me up!

Gathering all that information from the Guards, only hand it to Buckley.

You're angry. There's an understatement.

Then do something about it! Fuck you!

Buy your own fags next time.

A woman died, Emerson.

Put that ego aside. Do your job!

(laboured breathing)

And help me and her rest in peace.

#

(spluttering)

I forgot to tell you. It needs to look like an accident.

What? Like this?

(furious gulping)

(music builds)

(gasping)

You're crazy!

And you're suicidal.

Yet given the chance to die, you fight.

You don't want to die, Denis.

(Denis coughs) No more than I do.

#

(distant echo of priest talking)

You said you needed it to look like an accident.

Like you didn't kill yourself.

That's my Mam.

She's super religious.

Sees suicide as shameful.

It would kill her.

But it's my only way out.

I can't live with myself anymore.

Denis, is someone hurting you?

Can I tell you a secret?

Sandy Benson didn't have cancer.

He was a liar, who hurt me.

Now tell me who hurt you. What are we now, friends?

Why do you want to die, Denis?

I met her online. V/O: Oh, shit.

Just emails. We never actually met.

She told me she loved me. So I sent her videos.

What a dumb-dumb.

Turns out it was a lad from school.

He's blackmailing me.

What are you giving him? Everything I make.

College money... and if this continues, I don't go.

Okay, I'm listening. Go on.

That's the thing. You know him.

Oisín Markum. He's your friend Mallory's cousin.

Oh no, go to the Guards. He said if I went to anyone,

Mam would see my 'handiwork'.

He's mental, Elvira. I believe him.

That's why I swim.

He's afraid of the water, so at least he can't get me in there.

You know?

Do you like him? (she sighs)

It's okay if you do. Look... I just know he's a mess.

V/O: I don't kill kids. Ever. I can't kill Oisín.

He's in your class. That makes him, what?

V/O: Please say seventeen. Just gone eighteen.

Oh for-- The moron stayed back a year.

V/O: No matter what age he is, no! It would kill Mallory.

I'll talk to Mal. They're tight. She'll make him stop.

And if she doesn't? You tell me.

The tweets... they get worse and worse.

Until, well...

They don't.

#

(cheerful knock)

Thought I might surprise you.

Who's at the door? No one, hun.

He says he's changed.

Where are you going?

Where do you think I'm going?

Please Ward, for me. Don't drink.

(rustling)

So Daniel, is it? I hear you killed your wife.

How's that going for ya?

Maria wrote most of her second novel here.

Even among the used johnnies and empty chipper wrappers,

it was the only place she found relief.

At peace. Why am I here? You tell me.

Cos you need to find a patsy. Someone to pin this on,

so the Guards back off and you can publish some poxy book.

Guilty as charged.

Nah.

No... no thank, you. Look--!

Hear me out. Then decide.

I'm hot property, Emerson.

The falsely accused who hasn't spoken to the media in five years.

If you still think I killed my wife, then do your worst.

But if you develop doubts,

and really want to know who shot Maria...

.. then let's make it interesting.

You'll write my biography, along with the already agreed fee,

that's more money than you could ever dream of.

Okay.

Come on, I'm listening. Actually, I'll do the listening.

Tell me what the pigs know, and I'll tell you what they don't.

EMERSON: Maria left the pub around 11.

Search started late.

Cops thought she was on the overnight bus to the airport.

And then there's that snowstorm. Hits the night she died.

Means locating her corpse takes three days.

I really loved her, you know?

Only I made one fatal mistake.

You fatally killed her?

(sarcastic chortle)

No, no.

I brought her to this... unwelcoming edge of the world.

Word was you roughed her up.

Even pointed your rifle at her.

Wouldn't believe everything you read in the papers.

Does it not bother you? All these people thinking

you killed your wife. Donal - same again.

For everyone! (mutters of approval)

I know how to deal with people. They've eliminated all bar you.

Ask yourself why? No alibi.

Owned a recently used rifle. Which, may I add,

the police refuse to return.

Actually, I meant to ask. How's Mallory?

She's in those files, right? Briefly.

The reason 'briefly',

is because Mallory and the rest lied about what your girlfriend did.

Mallory and Maria fought. Mallory told me.

It matches her statement. Fought, right.

About what? Maria accused Mallory of stealing her drink.

Mallory left. Maria followed her into the forest.

Drink... that's what you think?

Try handbag.

Try a very expensive orange handbag.

Containing Maria's passport.

You see, Maria would have fought tooth and nail

to get out of this town. And you know what?

I think she did. I think Mallory stole the bag.

Assumed Maria would rush for the bus.

But Maria needed her passport, so followed Mallory into the woods.

And who may I ask, told you this?

Speak of an ass, and one will appear.

Ward? Got pickled a while back.

Blabbed about the bag to Clive.

So you think Mallory killed your wife,

over some wanker handbag? I'm simply presenting some facts.

Plus Mallory's was searched.

No rifle. No. Yet she lied.

To the law.

And more interestingly, to you.

Hughie lied too. And Ward. He said he was drunk that night.

Which tells you that the only person telling the truth is me.

Or, that the truth is tied to the person telling the best story.

(whimpering)

Same as last time, right?

Keep him on the leash, don't work him too hard,

and watch out for other dogs. He gets scared.

Okay... (cheerfully) Come on, Rocco!

(flat voice) Come on.

(yelping)

(whirring)

What happens if Rocco catches the pork chop?

That dumb mutt's not got the balls.

I saw Oisín today. Oh yeah? How was he?

He seemed... well, out of it.

Says the woman who spent her teens in blackout-city.

Mal, I'm only saying. I know. He's trouble.

But I love the little scut.

Everyone thinks the poor chap's a scumbag.

V/O: He is.

This town loves to bad-mouth him. Ask me, they're the scumbags.

Don't say it... don't.

I'll fight to the death to protect Oisín against anything anyone says.

Including you, babe.

(sinister music)

You know what I want?

To get away with murder?

I want my wife to be remembered for more

than what her husband did before she died.

Maria was shot with a hunting rifle, but not at close range.

The bullet passed straight through her abdomen.

She was found here. She wasn't shot here.

So... whoever killed her, moved her?

And they left their mark.

#

Right, so Maria's standing here.

And pow! The bullet passes through her stomach

and lodges into the tree behind.

So, entry. Exit.

It probably means it took her a while to die.

So what am I looking for here, man?

What, this bag, the passport? They're both longshots.

The rifle. find it and match it to the one the pigs have,

then we're in business.

I swear to God, if you're lying to me...

Come on. Get your phone out. Time to go on the record.

#

(Emerson coughs)

(exhaling) It's good.

(door closing)

Don't, Dad. Please.

Sorry, love. Too late. (sad chuckle)

Sorry. What happened?

Jackie...

She invited her ex over.

The bastard's back in her life again.

Dad...

This isn't your fault.

I should have went after him, you know?

And done what?

Jesus, Dad. Killing someone isn't the answer.

V/O: Listen to me!

Well, if he was dead...

.. I'd still be sober. And me and her would be together.

V/O: I should have done something.

'Listened to Dad's cries for help. Dealt with this brute myself.'

I'm sorry, Elvira darlin'.

I can't stop.

Yes, you can. I can't, love.

Please understand.

I can't, darlin'.

I have to go.

What, another wee deadline, is it?

Yeah. Something like that.

I'll bring you back some chips.

(suspenseful music)

V/O: Mammy's gone to work.

'Time to pay Denis a little visit.'

(knocking)

(door opening)

You've sent your last tweet!

I've taken my eye off the ball long enough.

You made me hurt someone I love. I could have saved him!

But you and your little 'kill-me' bullshit-- Bullshit?

Oisín texted me, saying he wants more money.

And I don't have it. He said he'll post the videos tomorrow.

Perfect.

Perfect! Because you'll meet him.

And he'll get his money.

A former reporter from where I work died. This is my pay.

I want it back. How?

You said Oisín can't swim.

Any time PE goes to the pool,

he refuses to get into the water.

Then, Lake Driscoll, it is.

The shitty part, where no one goes. Meet there tomorrow evening.

And where will you be?

Watching.

Ah, come on. The minute you told me what he was doing,

did you not think this could happen? Never!

You're blackmailing me. He's blackmailing you.

It has to end.

Steal a bottle of vodka from the supermarket.

Make sure he sees it. We need him out cold.

Denis...

Do you want your friends to see those videos of you?

This is murder. No, Denis.

This is freedom.

If we don't do this, you'll spend the rest of your life in fear.

And I don't want that for you.

Oisín can drink.

Vodka won't cut it.

My mother's a slipped disc, from work.

Her medicine cabinet is full of painkillers.

Super strong stuff.

I'll crush some up, throw them in the booze.

It should do the trick.

But how will you know how many to use?

I'll just know.

Jesus.

You use them. How do you think I sleep at night?

#

(hacking)

(suspenseful music)

You took your time! Sorry.

Whoa, whoa. The bag.

Sure, I gave you your money, didn't I?

The bag, or your mammy sees you pulling your plum.

I'm meant to be going to a party.

Sure, stay. We'll have a party here.

(laughing) Nice one!

Here, uhm... look, can we talk?

No. Now, fuck off!

(sinister music)

(drumming heartbeat)

(music continues)

Sorry, Oisín. But you brought this on yourself.

#

(effort grunts)

(panting)

(sinister music)

Oh, shit! My money!

(gushing water)

V/O: He should have deleted his Twitter account by now.

Bingo!

(message pings)

V/O: This is it! She's heard about Oisín.

'Just keep it simple. I'm sorry for your loss, I'm here for ya.'

'Is there anything I can do.' Hiya!

Hi!

Is everything alright?

Your text, it sounded... I dunno.

I need a favour. Name it.

I need you to write an obit. Asap.

Okay. Here goes.

For who?

Mal, whatever it is, I'm here for you.

(sobbing)

It's for Rocco.

Sorry? (sigh)

Mr Breslin's dog.

The batteries ran out on the toy truck, and...

he got his paws on the pork chop.

Choked.

Poor thing is gone to the big kennel in the sky.

I told Breslin we'd give Rocco a proper send-- hello! Me...

I told Breslin we'd give Rocco a proper send-off.

He said it wasn't good enough. Threatened me with the works.

Look... I said I'd do anything.

And that's when I thought about... you.

You promised him I'd write an obit for his dog.

I know it's not something you do, but...

(singsong voice) Please?

#

Oh, hi Elvira.

Can you see him? Of course, I can see him!

I'm not blind.

Is this about me?

No, it's about me. I've a tip for your newspaper.

And your boss is going to pay me.

Whoa, hold on there now. I don't even know what it is yet.

So relax the cacks, alright.

Elvira! What's wrong now?

Why are you here?

Uhm... God... eh...

Is it okay if we publish an obit for a dog?

A dog?

We'll publish one for a chair if they pay. Now scram!

Elvira!

Leave!

(foreboding music)

V/O: My plan was foolproof. What the hell went wrong?

'Time to get to the bottom of this.'

(tv playing in background)

When's your birthday, Denis? Your 18th birthday, when is it?

Uhm... it's a couple of months from now.

No, please.

Stay where you are.

You look comfy.

Everything worked out perfect.

Did it, now.

But Oisín is still alive.

I'm sorry.

Okay? I couldn't live with his death on my hands.

Help! Help me!

I can't swim! Help!

I'm coming, Oisín!

Your money got ruined in the water.

Oisín gave me that.

Plus everything he ever stole from me.

So you two are best buds now.

I did CPR on him. Ripped his shirt open

and his chest was covered in burn marks.

He was mortified. He never learned to swim

'cos he didn't want anyone seeing his body.

To learn that his father used him as a human ashtray.

We talked for hours. He's already like a totally different person.

Everything is good now. Not for me... it isn't.

You were okay with him dying?

I didn't make him drink the booze.

And I'm not the one who put the pills in the drink.

If he had drowned, the water would have killed him.

Along with his stupidity, but... not me.

Who are you? You came to me.

You wanted him dead. YOU wanted him dead.

You say everything so matter of fact, it almost makes sense.

But the real fact is, you get off on this.

Hey, I have something to show you.

It's really cool.

Take a look. My job is all about being prepared.

I write advances.

Obituaries for people who haven't died yet.

This is an obituary for a dog.

I prepare for people's deaths, so when they do die,

I'm ready to go.

I'll tell no one.

Not about Oisín. Not about Mr Benson.

Do you like it?

Are you going to hurt her? Do you like it, Denis?

I left a blank bit,

where it says how your mother died.

That's the bit I only find out at the end.

You're a monster. (laptop slams shut)

No, I'm not.

(sobbing) I swear, I won't tell anyone. Please.

No, please just tell me you won't hurt her!

I'm not a monster.

(shouting) Just tell me you won't hurt her!

(gulls crying)

Wow...

You cleaned up. Yeah...

I'm making some changes. No more drugs or stealing or anythin'.

Oh, okay. (sniggering)

I need you to clear out the bedroom as well.

There's too much stuff in there. What? You want it... gone?

I'm trying to help you. By making me move a room full of stolen gear?

Think about it. What if something happens to me?

I die... what then?

Well then, the cops go through your gaff,

find my crap and I'm screwed.

(exasperated sigh)

#

(moderate thud)

Huh... you did come back after all.

Get your cheque book out.

First I want to see what I'm dealing with.

Good God.

It's been in the sea?

The lake.

I went fishing. There are no fish in Lake Driscoll.

I wish someone had told me that.

The only thing me and my mate caught was this.

All tangled up in the reeds.

This mate of yours...

Can he keep his mouth shut?

For the right price, you'll never hear from us again.

This is gonna cost me, isn't it?

(satisfied laugh) You have no idea.

(music builds to crescendo)

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