All language subtitles for Marianne S02E01.

So, are they biting?

Nope.

I'm not the one
scaring away the fish, am I?

No, look,
I didn't even put a line in.

I can't see anything,
so there's no point.

I'm just here to remind myself

of what it was like to be young.

Same here. I love the water,
but I can't swim.

I'd go swimming
on the way to school,

just before, like that, calm.

What's your school now?

The court.
I'm an examining magistrate.

Do you put people in prison?

No, it's not up to me.

What do you do?

I listen, I try to understand,

I sympathize,

I give my opinion, I advise.

You're a judge who doesn't judge.

Right.

And me, a fisherman who doesn't fish.
What a team!

Yes, with a swimmer who doesn't swim
because it's too cold.

For me, it's just a footbath.

BUNDLE OF NERVES

"And a river runs through it."
Have you seen the film?

Redford isn't great, but Brad Pitt,

29 years old,
at the peak of his career,

a real treat for the eyes.

Meet Gérard Loiret, 42,

owner of the Auberge des Postes,

a hotel-restaurant in the next town,

for which he built an annex here.

He had a site appointment
this morning at 7 a.m.

with the architect
and project manager,

who recovered the body.

What was he doing all alone,
at 7 a.m., at the water's edge?

Peeing.

If we turn the body over,
you can see that his fly is open.

Is the weewee out?

Of course, one might think

of a roll in the hay,

but in this case, we stay inside,

it's more comfortable and discreet.

You're a classic, Pastor.

Signs of someone's knees
were found on the ground.

It's true.

I'm proud of you, Pastor.

Since you got back on the market,
you don't lack imagination.

Death was probably caused
by a violent blow

to the cervical spine.

The victim's fingerprints were found
but no other trace beside it.

The murderer was at least
three yards behind him

when he hit him.

With what? That's the question.

I can understand why he wanted
to build his hotel here,

it's magnificent.

The birds, the sun on the water...

Isn't there something shiny
down there in the water, Pastor?

Farther down. It was at the big rock.

We could have waited for forensics
to find a pair of boots.

The truth waits for no man, Pastor.

I would have gone if I were you,
but I went swimming this morning,

and I've just redone my manicure,
top, bottom, the lot,

so...

And there you are, so...

Right there.

Right there.

What is it?

A pétanque ball.

I don't need coffee to warm up,
I'm not hypothermic.

I'd rather talk to the widow.

Pastor, there,

it's the village bar,
the meeting place for snitches.

In 30 minutes,

she'll still be a widow.

Nope. Why?

No one's answering the phone.

-Good morning.
-Good morning.

-I'll be right there.
-Great.

I tried several times, but nothing.

Sorry, I'm busy.

For lunch?

No, two coffees, please.

Did you know Gérard Loiret?

Everybody knew him here, Gérard.

Whenever he had a moment,
he'd come down to play a game.

It relaxed him.

Did he play boules?

He always won.

Just yesterday, he beat Ratier.

-Ratier?
-Ratier,

the champion from Toulouse
who does all the competitions.

No?

He was on the terrace,
bragging about his exploits,

and Gérard challenged him.

The other guy laughed out loud.

And Gérard won, right?

13-10, 13-8, clean.

You should have seen the look
on the other guy's face.

I'll bring your coffee.

With some chocolate, please.

Of course, miss.

He said "miss".

So Ratier got revenge

for a game of pétanque
lost in front of everyone?

As a motive, it's not...

The doctor just left.

He gave Mrs. Loiret sleeping pills.

Can you come back this afternoon?

Have you been working here long?

Three years.

They took me on for a trial period,
and I stayed.

Did your boss have enemies?

Problems, debts, recent redundancy?

No.

Between your boss and his wife,
tensions, disputes?

They worked hard for their hotel,
but I didn't notice anything.

Here!

"Warm welcome, generous table.

"Thank you, Laure and Gérard,
for these tasty moments.

"Alain Ratier."

He's Toulouse's boules champion,
isn't he?

Yes.

Does he come down here often?

Once a year,
for the tournament in Le Tholonet.

He arrived yesterday afternoon.

Not all was lost.

Are you sure?

Thank you.

Alain Ratier was a bouncer
in a Toulouse nightclub.

He has a criminal record,
six convictions for assault.

Wow.

And to conclude
this little exhibition,

Alain Ratier will give us
a demonstration of speed.

Please be quiet

while our champion concentrates.

Alain, whenever you're ready.

Thank you, Alain.
We'll let you get ready

for your next game.

T-shirts with Alain Ratier's face

are on sale
at the organization's stand.

You're the Lucky Luke of pétanque.

Captain,
that was impressive, wasn't it?

-Captain?
-Sorry, what was I thinking?

Captain Pastor,
Criminal Investigation Department,

and Marianne Vauban, examining
magistrate. Pleased to meet you.

Did you know Gérard Loiret?

L'auberge des Postes?

Why "knew"?

He's not doing too hot.

He died this morning.
His neck shattered,

probably by a pétanque ball

thrown over three yards
with power and precision.

How far away were you,

big shot?

Girls?

Tile at five yards, heading?

See?

You'll have no trouble
finding suspects here.

That's true,

but not all participants are staying

at the victim's hotel.

You're the only one Loiret
defeated in front of everyone.

Getting beaten like that

by a small local player,
that's got to be scary.

It's nothing to do with that.
I arrived late and was exhausted.

I was going easy.

I'd certainly had a bit
too much to drink.

There was nothing
humiliating about it.

Where were you this morning,
around 7 a.m.?

I arrived here at 6:30 a.m.

I helped my sponsor put up the tent,

and I didn't go anywhere
until my first game.

If you'll excuse me,
I have a tournament to win.

Thank you, Xavier.

He's a big shot.

It won't be long now.

He won't be the first to get lost
in the maze of the courthouse.

Come on in.

He was in the archives corridor,
just before it was sealed.

We could have waited a long time.

Go ahead, Mr. Lancsin, sit down.

Come on.

Take your time.
We're only two minutes away.

We're doing fine.

The symbol of justice is a turtle.

-Is it good?
-It's good.

All good? Wonderful.

Here we go.

Mr. Lancsin Enzo, right?

You're here today

because a complaint
has been lodged against you

by Mr. Bailleul and Mrs. Rollin,
present.

Let me summarize.

So, you're an employee
of Magicland theme park

and you're employed
as an exotic host character.

Here we are.

So that I understand correctly,
you are

dressed as a lion
from head to toe all day long

and your job
is to welcome all visitors

of the amusement park
with a kind of hug,

cuddle,

is that right?

-Yes, no?
-Yes.

-That's it.
-Yes.

It was during this embrace

of Mr. Bailleul's person
that you took advantage of him

to pull down his jogging pants,

exposing him in his briefs.

We can also see

from the many surveillance videos
and photos of onlookers,

Instagram videos, etc,

that Mr. Bailleul,
once his pants are down,

chased you, accompanied
by Ms. Rollin, all over the park,

and it took no less

than three security guards
to arrest you.

Isn't that normal?
He assaulted Xavier.

Please, Mrs. Rollin,
don't make it worse.

Mr. Lancsin,

what happened?

I don't know.

He doesn't know. That's wonderful.

The suit is old.
My hands must have slipped.

He grabbed my jogging suit,

he pulled on it,
and I nearly ended up naked.

Yes, it's true
when you watch the videos,

your gesture is unambiguous.

It's extremely sharp and precise.

This is where you lose me.
I don't understand,

Mr. Lancsin.

No criminal record,

a clean record, a serious student.

Frankly, you knew

that there
were all these CCTV cameras.

Did you want to get caught?

That's annoying, Mr. Lancsin.

It's annoying because
the complaint could just as easily

be reclassified as a sexual assault,
and that's serious.

Psycho!

Alright.

What about you?

What are theme parks?

Is it a shared passion?

A little something
to rekindle the flame?

It was to see our daughter.

She plays a raccoon
by the roller coaster.

With all that,
we couldn't talk to her.

Just you wait.

Your daughter?

Yes.

Raccoon.

Do you know anything
about comics, Pastor?

Not really, no. Hello, Marianne.

Yes, hello.

Zacharie is back
from camp this evening.

He doesn't want
to go back to his foster family.

I checked. They're not...

There are worse things.

I figured a gift like that

to make the pill go down...

Does he often tell you
about his mother's murder?

Yes, a little.

Manga!

Not bad.
You know anything about that?

Not at all.

I've made progress
on the current investigation,

if you're interested.

The pétanque ball

that was used to kill Gérard Loiret

came from the trunk of his car.

I went back to see his wife,
his widow.

It's amazing
what comes out every month.

It's incredible.

You have to be in prison
to have time to read everything.

She explained
that her husband had requested

that Ratier let him win
in front of his friends

in exchange for room and board

for the duration of the tournament,
a gift of 500 euros.

That's why he left a kind note
in the guest book.

A historical comic.
Would Zacharie like it?

Do you like it?

No. I mainly read police reports.

Why did the victim want to win
against the super champion so badly?

The rumor mill.

He wanted to silence those
who claimed he cheated at bowls.

It kept him awake at night.

Who was claiming that?

She mentioned Jules Mattéo,
a local winemaker.

I don't know.
I can't find it. I'm fed up.

Why not give him a book?

Which one?

I don't know.

Pagnol's Marseilles Trilogy,
for example.

That's good.

Plus, it's local.

A good idea. Thank you, Pastor.

If he doesn't like it,
I'll say it's your fault.

Great.

Here, take off your bag.

You brought back the rain.

So, honey, how was it?

-It was great.
-Great.

If you're here,
can I eat at your place tonight?

Sure.

Cyrano can't wait to see you.

Afterwards,
though, I'll take you home.

And Zacharie...

Yes, I know,
it's not the worst foster home.

Far from it.

Here's a little present for you.

-What is it?
-Open it, you'll see.

-The Marseilles Trilogy.
-Yes.

Is this about Marseilles'
best three soccer players?

Right, exactly.

Read a little of it, please.

So, did you miss me?

Yes, horribly.

I can't do anything
without you, Zacharie.

Alright, then.

I think he's the kind of winemaker

who consumes more than he produces.

He's not a potential suspect.

He can't throw a ball far enough.
He couldn't hit a barn door.

What do you know?
I find you very presumptuous.

It's true that he's not...

Mr. Mattéo?

At your estate,
we were told you'd be here.

Yes, a beautiful estate.

I don't know anything about it,
but it's magnificent.

Are you investigating
that asshole's death?

He's a friend.

Why did you spread the word
that he was cheating at boules?

He always won.

To win, you have to train.
He didn't have time with the hotel,

and he was neck and neck
with the Jimenezes.

The Jimenezes?

Yes, the Spaniards,
a father and his two kids.

They had come up with a scheme
to fleece everyone.

The father spotted
a few flamboyant tourists

and he'd tell them
even their kid could beat them.

So he'd call the kid
and they'd bet 100 bucks

and the kid would beat them.

If his son was really gifted,
it's a scam, not cheating.

There's one thing I don't understand.

How do you cheat at boules?

How does it work?

Are they remote-controlled balls?

You stuff them.

I don't know what that means.

Stuffed like tomatoes?

No. You take a ball and fill it.

In the old days,
it was done with mercury.

Today, they do it with rubber.

Some fill them with liquid air.

Sorry, but,
what difference does it make?

Stability.

The balls are a little heavier,

therefore easier to stop and steer.

You still need to know how to play.

-Yes.
-Yes.

By the way, Lorenzo, the Jimenez son,

got caught two years ago
at the Le Tholonet tournament.

The referees checked his balls
and disqualified him.

Did Loiret beat Ratier
with stuffed balls?

Not that game.

No, Loiret took the balls over there,

balls for customers.

So, Loiret, cheater, not cheater?

There's no doubt about it.

There's no proof so far.

That's why I'd like an autopsy.

Has the victim
already been autopsied?

I'm not talking about the body,
I'm talking about the balls.

Didn't Selma tell you
to talk to forensics?

It amuses her.

She's funnier than her job,
that Selma.

What's that?

It's Selma with a man.

No, but who is he?

I don't think it's her father.

I hope not, anyway.

I'd say he's more of a friend...

-A guy.
-Huh?

How long has this been going on?

I don't know.
I'm not inside Selma's head.

Why don't you care?

There's nothing between you.

There's nothing between you?

Remember when you thought

-that Selma and I were together?
-Yes?

We were together.

I knew it! The secretive one!
For how long?

-How long?
-No.

Was it good?

Not very long.
We saw each other two or three times.

It was very nice,
but we said to ourselves,

"It's fine like this.

"We'll live our separate lives,"
you know?

No.

What's the big deal?

I thought there weren't any,

but seeing her with that guy,
I don't know, it just...

Bravo. Welcome to the 1950s.

You can have sex friends, sexting,

and Selma, nothing at all,

she keeps quiet, she stays home?

She can do what she wants.

I'm just saying I'm surprised,
as you can see.

-Yes, I see.
-I'm very surprised.

I'm even surprised
to be so surprised.

You're not saying anything.

What should I say?

I know you,
with your airs and graces.

"Hello, Selma. How are you?
"Your lipstick, all that... "

Don't say anything, not with
your eyes, not with your mouth. OK?

Finally.

You've worked out for the day.

Here we are.

Cotton in a mercury bath.
Suspicion confirmed, stuffed ball.

That's not pretty, my little Gérard.

You've pushed
the jack a little too far.

OK, he was cheating. Now what?

Opening it,
as I've just done, is very simple,

but to close and weld it

with such precision
without it being visible,

you need highly sophisticated
equipment and real know-how.

All right, I'll make a list

of all the local
precision engineering companies.

Yes, that's good.

What's wrong with him today?

He barely said hello.

If only we knew
what men's hearts were stuffed with.

The great mystery.

Hello?

Yes.

Huh?

Hello, Marianne.

So...

After dinner,
the family decided to watch a movie.

The eldest son,
Nolan, chose Pretty Woman.

Zacharie declared
that Nolan had provoked him

by telling her
that he'd like the film

because, and I quote,

"it's the story of a whore,
like your mother."

He really said it.

Yes, alright, Zacharie, please.

Zacharie hit him first.
It ended in a brawl.

The second brother joined in
and then the father.

Naturally,
the family lodged a complaint.

Obviously.

All they do
is provoke me all the time.

I know, honey.

I don't have many solutions,
Marianne.

There are no available families,
and I don't want

to put him in an education center.

You know how it is.

Do you have someone you trust

who could take him in?

Someone who would accept him
as he is, with his story,

and who could
provide him with some stability.

Someone with a 2CV and a ferret,
for example?

Stop smiling.
You'll split your lip again.

Yes. It's temporary, really.

Until we find another foster family.

I imagine I have to sign something?

You already have it. Great.

You've done your homework.

So...

I've never done this before.

In a way, I'm happy.
This is better for him.

Yes, but Zacharie isn't just anyone.

It's not like you're doing this
for just anyone.

No, that's for sure.
Zacharie is Zacharie.

Perhaps that's
what disturbs you most,

not living alone,

even if it is temporary.

Yes, where are you taking me?

There are
62 precision engineering companies

in the region
capable of making pétanque balls.

I suggest we start with Gastaudos.

Why this one?

Gastaudo, like Ratier,
appears along with his wife

on the victim's guest list,

those who stay for free at his inn.

Great, because 62 companies

would have been a bit much.

I don't make pétanque balls.

I do gates, railings, banisters,
and metalwork.

We're looking for an artist,
someone who could open the ball,

stuff it, and close it up again
without it showing.

OK.

We have a few options.

Police custody,
we could consider that,

and a small leak
in the local newspaper,

which is never good for business.

Then there's a tax inspection.

Yes, it's happened to me. It's not...

It's not great, especially
when you have nothing to hide.

It's messy and time-consuming.

Lastly,
there's the labor inspectorate.

A classic.

Today's safety standards are madness.

Come on, JC. Cut the crap.

There was a fatality.

I don't want to get involved.
Tell them.

Gérard was a big shot,
so it was bound to end badly.

OK, I'm the one
who stuffed the balls.

It's not the crime of the century.

It may not be the crime
of the century,

but if he scammed people,
they might have held a grudge.

He never scammed anyone.

He never played for money.
It was all for his own glory.

Did you stuff a lot of balls?

No.

No, no, or no, yes, a little bit?

JC, did you do it
for other customers?

It wasn't for other customers.

Gérard ordered some more,
some special ones.

-Special ones?
-Yes.

He had a friend
who played in tournaments

and he wanted to stuff the balls
without changing the weight.

I told Gérard it was going
to cost over 2,000 francs.

Two thousand?

It's the ring on your finger,
darling.

It was our 15th wedding anniversary.

Very pretty. Bravo.

A husband in love after 15 years,
you're lucky.

Have you met this famous friend?

He wanted to be discreet.

Yes. Friends usually
want to be discreet.

Yeah.

I imagine
you made some small sketches,

plans we could look at?

Yes, it's a ball.

Let me see the initials.

"LJ."

"LJ."

Like Lorenzo Jimenez, for example?

Or Jennifer Lopez, Lionel Jospin.

Slightly less likely.

I don't understand

why Jimenez would order stuffed balls

that weigh
exactly the same as normal balls

for an additional 2,000 euros.

-Are you listening to me, Pastor?
-Huh?

You're not listening to me,
you're worried about Selma.

No, I'm fine. It's nothing.

I don't understand how they met.

Honestly, who wants

a network engineer?

Pastor, did you investigate
Selma's boyfriend?

Investigate? No, not really.

Yes, you did.

No, it's...

It's just that when the guy left,

I saw his license plate
and memorized it

unintentionally, by reflex,

and I did a little poking around
to make sure she's not in danger.

"By reflex"? "Unintentionally"?

"Poking around"?

Pastor, do you hear yourself?

That's an abuse of power.

You can understand.

What's that supposed to mean?

You asked me to steal DNA.

That's different.

I was investigating the death
of a woman,

not the death of your self-esteem.

Yeah, well...

You're completely off the rails.

Cut the crap and I'll be nice

and pretend I know nothing.

Mrs. Rollin and Mr. Bailleul,

are you sure you want
to pursue your complaint

against Mr. Lancsin?

Of course, of course.

What a question!

Very well.
Mrs. Rollin, I'll ask you to leave.

Why?

Because the first victim in this case

is Mr. Bailleul

and because that's the way it is.

Do I have to explain myself to you?

I want to talk to him.

Thank you.

You know what I love
about human nature, Mr. Bailleul?

Everyone's got something to hide.

Everyone.

A little thing,
a big thing, a medium thing.

You, for example,
have a medium thing.

Well, medium-big.

You didn't tell us
there was a Mrs. Bailleul.

You completely forgot to tell us.

A Mrs. Bailleul in the Paris region.

And you share your life
with Mrs. Bailleul from Paris

and Ms. Rollin from Marseille
and your daughter Emma.

What are we here for?
To judge my morals

or this little prick?

That's none of your business.

Yes, sorry,

but it is my business.

Why are we here?

For fun? A foursome?

When Mrs. Bailleul from Paris

spotted her husband on social media

half-naked with another woman

chasing a lion on the other side
of France,

what did Ms. Bailleul from Paris do?

She filed for divorce.

Yes, but so what?

This very assault was seen

by your companion in Paris,
Mrs. Bailleul.

No? You don't get it?

Mr. Lion,

stand up, please.

Nothing shocks you?

No.

For one, the size.

Compared to the young man

with long hair who was here,

this lion is smaller.

And the costume,

it seems like

it's a little too big
for the person inside.

Or else,

the person inside

is a little too small
for the costume.

Still no? No?

You may sit down again, Mr. Lion.

Mr. King of the Savannah,
may we have the honor

of seeing your face, please?

Emma?

When I heard you were coming
to the park to see me,

I asked Enzo to lend me his disguise.

I knew you'd come after me

and that it would end up
on social media.

I found your second phone.

I had no other choice, Dad.

You would never have gotten
a divorce otherwise.

So, as far as we're concerned,

the complaint is dismissed.

I'll let you take your daughter

to find

your companion, or whoever she is.

All the best.

I have a feeling

that the trial will start
in the corridor.

Here, Pastor.

I brought it back
because I had too much,

and if I keep it,

I'll finish it and regret it all day.

If you don't mind,
I'll have some later.

I'm making progress
on the Jimenez trail,

which is more interesting
than we imagined.

Really?

Where do I start?

A dubious real estate deal
or Lorenzo Jimenez's suicide?

I'm all ears.

Two years ago,

when Lorenzo Jimenez was caught
at the Tholonet tournament,

he vehemently denied cheating

and claimed he didn't know
his balls were stuffed.

The scandal was enormous,
and he never recovered.

He hanged himself ten days later.

It's starting to get serious,

this ball business.

Yes, what is it, Ronnie?

I'm occupying Pastor too much

for your liking?

No, not at all. I was just looking
at your nail polish.

It's very pretty, very feminine.

Yes.

Have a nice day.

What's wrong with him today?

He looked at you differently.

You know, sometimes,

when we work with people for years,

we don't know why,
but all of a sudden,

we see them differently.

And the real estate deal?

Yes, sorry.

Some time after the death
of his son, Dario,

the father sold the house
he had in the village,

an old shack, for a pittance.

He sold it to...

Gérard Loiret, the victim.

Yes. Bingo.

Loiret must have had friends
on the town council

because one year later,

the zoning miraculously changed.

Yes, for the hotel annex.

Land for which he paid
one-20th of its value,

on which his body was found.

Is that Dario?

The boss sometimes hired him
for hotel receptions.

Is he in the restaurant business?

He works wherever he's hired.

It was more to help him

that the boss took him on
as an extra.

I haven't seen him
since he left the village.

And who are these two?

Dario's children.

Lorenzo came to help us
with the service that day

with Maria.

Maria had fun throwing flowers
at the bride and groom.

It was fun.

And now, Maria Jimenez
for her last shot.

13-7 for Maria Jimenez.

Congratulations, Maria.
You're in the semifinals.

Did you see it? The show's
in the audience too, Pastor.

Congratulations, Mr. Jimenez.
Your little girl has talent.

A Mauresque, please.

You're obviously cops.

Bad guess.

I'm Marianne Vauban, magistrate.

And he, it's true,

he is Captain Pastor.

And you are exploiting your children.

Here we go.

How I bet is none of your business.

Yes, it is. Shall we say it?

Technically, it is our business,

but we won't quibble.

It's true that a junior women's
tournament is no big deal.

How much would you have made

if Lorenzo had won
the tournament two years ago?

I lost a lot two years ago, ma'am.

Gérard Loiret's death
is being investigated.

Where were you four days ago

between 6 and 7 a.m.?

I was staying with cousins.

The ones you bet with?

No, I have many cousins here.

I haven't seen Loiret in two years.

You didn't answer my question.

How much did you bet

on Lorenzo's victory
at the tournament?

Ten thousand.

Holy cow!

Ten thousand is a lot.

I borrowed it.

That's handy.

You were aware
that Loiret was building

on the land you sold him
for a pittance?

What he does on the land
is none of my business.

You're ripped off and you don't care?

Ripped off?

He lent me 10,000 bucks

to bet on my son.
I put the land up as collateral.

I sold it to him.

Look how silly we are.

Gérard, the generous lender.

Did you know that Lorenzo had planned

to play with rigged balls?

If he'd told me,
I'd have kicked his ass.

I'm not thirsty anymore.

Here.

Well, we're crossing our fingers
for your daughter.

Have a nice day.

We're letting him go
when he has a motive to kill Loiret?

He has an alibi.

His cousins? That's rich.

I love a rich flan.

Especially when it's well done.

It wasn't Dario
who ordered the special balls.

It was Loiret.

He substituted them
for Lorenzo's without his knowledge.

Since they weigh the same,

he didn't know.
The kid was disqualified

and Loiret got his hands on the land.

As Zacharie would say,
he screwed them good.

Dario had two motives,

the loss of his land
and his son's suicide.

No, you have to titillate him
another way.

We'll call the ironworks.

What is it? Gastillau?

Gastiou? I can't remember.

Call them and tell them
we have an order for them.

This is going to be good.

Come on.

Aren't you coming in?

Are you impressed?

It's not like
you've never been here before.

It's weird
to think I'm not going back

after dinner.

Every morning,
I'll be able to see Cyrano.

And me too,
you'll be seeing more of me,

you know.

Come on. Let's see
where you're going to sleep.

First, I thought of the cellar.

I thought that'd work.

Or a small bed can be on the stairs.

That could work.

We have a small room here.

It's a bit small.
We'll find something better.

Oh, no. Here, we have a room...

Yes, that's good.

-Here?
-Yes.

-It's not a bit...
-Yes, it is a bit...

Just needs a little imagination

and elbow grease.

What kind of grease?

Never mind.

Not too offensive.
Not like last time, Maria.

Are you listening?

I'll bet you 50 euros
that I can beat anyone here.

You, your daughter,
your niece, your aunt,

or you, Ratier, the champion.

Fifty bucks per game.

OK, let's do it.

Five hundred euros.

You afraid of the weaker sex?

Can you play boules?

I could play before I could walk.

Shall we toss for it?

The great champion and the bookmaker?

-After you.
-Let's go.

Pastor, the money.

-Excuse me.
-Please.

Not bad. There'll be worse.

So...

A little warm-up.

No, I'm still a little rusty.

It'll come back.
It's like riding a bike.

You don't forget it.

It slipped out of my hand.

It doesn't matter.

It doesn't...

Good for you. Beginner's luck.

It won't last, ladies and gentlemen.

It won't last
because the game's over.

13-0, over.

Already?

I thought... Isn't it played to 21?

That's another game.

It's also played with a jack,
but lighter,

and rackets.

That's ping-pong.

You owe Dario 500.

I say you cheated.

What?

You cheated.

That's nonsense.

I'm not paying
until we check his balls.

I ask for the balls to be checked.

If the ball stops before 30 seconds,

it's stuffed?

-Yes.
-That's it.

The suspense.

Nineteen seconds.

Nineteen seconds.

It's stuffed. Pastor, please.

Just a moment.

I swear
I've never stuffed any of my balls.

I know.

Hold it tight.

Here we are.

That's what I call a good joke.

It's a set-up. It's a setup.

Exactly.

You've got it all figured out.

You had absolutely nothing
to do with it, Mr. Ratier.

While I was provoking you,
Pastor stole your balls

and exchanged them
with those we had made,

the same weight, 700g.
We looked it up on your website.

It's exactly the same, identical.

Did you feel the difference?

-No.
-Exactly.

That was exactly the point.

So the person playing
with it unknowingly

would be disqualified

and the people
who bet on him would lose

their land, for example.

Dario Jimenez, you're under arrest
for the murder of Gérard Loiret.

Go home. Don't worry.

THOLONET TOURNAMENT

Lorenzo swore to me
that he hadn't cheated.

He had nothing to do with it.

I didn't believe him.

I insulted him.

I even disowned him.

He hanged himself.

When I realized

that Loiret had tricked us,
I killed him.

How did you figure out

that he had set the whole thing up?

After thinking about it,
I figured it out.

I'm sorry,

but where exactly did you kill him?

-On my old land.
-Yes,

in the field, but where exactly?

On the grass? In the shed?
By the workshop? By the river?

I've confessed, ma'am.

He confessed.

Frankly, Pastor,
his confession sucked.

It's no better than a stuffed ball.

It's nonsense. He doesn't know
the details of the crime.

The interrogation just started.

It's all just empty phrases,
"I did this, I did that,

"I went like this, I went there."

It doesn't make sense.

So what, he knows the real murderer?

Yes, he knows the murderer.

He's protecting the person
who killed Lorenzo in his place.

It had to be someone
who was close to the kid,

who mattered to him.

I'm the one who killed him.

Lorenzo and I were getting married
as soon as we had money.

I never believed he cheated.

I knew he couldn't do it.

I began to have doubts about Loiret

when work began on Dario's property.

His scheme with Ratier,
I figured it out.

I went to see Gérard
at the construction site,

told him I would report him.

He laughed.

He told me the cops
weren't going to investigate

a two-year-old story
about rigged balls,

that he was safe,

and that I was fired.

I saw something shiny
in the trunk of his car.

I wasn't thinking.

I shot the way Lorenzo had taught me.

I didn't want to kill him.

I don't want Dario to take my place.

He's already suffered enough.

Whatever the circumstance, humans

are always the same,

greed, passion, revenge, and balls.

I think I need

two or three days
to get some fresh air.

You were right.

I went too far with Selma.
It's not like me.

That's my Pastor.

Are you OK?

How's the bed?

Yes, the room is fine.

I wonder if it's smaller

than in my foster family.

Smaller? You know what?

You can call the judge and tell her.

Come on. For tomorrow morning,
7:30, no later.

Any later, it's a mess.

What's for breakfast?

Tea, chicory, coffee?

-Hot chocolate.
-Hot chocolate, of course.

I have that too.

For the bathroom,

I have a little routine
that takes about 40 to 45 minutes.

Do you want to go first?

Maybe it's better if you...

-We'll see.
-We'll see, yeah.

You're right. Good night, honey.

Marianne?

Yes?

You're not going
to give up on my mother?

No.

I'll never give up, Zacharie.

You know me, I don't give up.

Good night, kitten.

Good night.