Original subtitles

- I should've gone on a swamp tour.

- I don't know.

I swear he's got a meth lab on his farm,

the way he keeps going for days.

- I don't know what else to tell you, Hamil.

Just get the neighbor to quiet down.

Look, we got every major drunk from Mardi Gras down here.

There's no room.

- He tried to give me a speeding ticket.

- Just make it happen.

- Yes, sir.

- How we doing, Winslow?

- Morning, Sheriff.

- Well, New Orleans P.D. sent us another handful

to hold overnight.

And Hamilton's out at Sable Ranch.

- Again?

All in all, not that bad a year.

- Honestly, not bad at all.

She's got a gun!

- I killed him.

- Drop the gun now!

- Get on the floor now!

- Put it down.

- On the floor!

Spread 'em!

- Wait. She has something in her hand.

- What is it?

- My God.

It's a fucking scalp!

- Oh.

- Who?

Who'd you kill?

- They're all dead.

- Who's dead?

- Honey Island Swamp.

- I need an available boat unit out to Honey Island Swamp now.

Hamilton, you there?

- I killed him.

I killed him.

- Any injuries?

- No, nothing noticeable, sir.

- Are you trying to tell me that none of that blood is hers?

How many bodies you say there were?

- 20, 30.

- Mm-hmm.

And you're the only one who made it,

just a few scratches.

No major injuries, huh?

- Yes.

- You see how this could look just a tiny bit suspicious,

don't you?

- Sheriff Fowler, there is no answer at the Dunston house.

- Try again.

- I have, five times.

- Well, then get in your car

and drive over there, Deputy Elbert.

- Yes, sir.

I'm on it.

- Nobody's home.

Crowley killed them all.

- Enough about Victor Crowley.

- He slaughtered...

- We know who Victor Crowley is.

And we also know...

what reality is.

So let me see if I got this straight.

You suspected Victor Crowley

of killing your father and your...

- Brother.

- Brother.

Right, so you jumped in a swamp tour boat...

An illegal swamp tour boat...

And headed back out into the swamp

armed with nothing but a handgun.

A ghost wiped out everyone in front of you.

You found out that your family was dead.

And you barely escape with your life.

But then the next night,

you go back out into that same swamp,

chase that same damn ghost,

and you bring more people with you?

Now, why would you do something like that?

That has to be the stupidest story

and some of the most idiotic and contrived decision-making

I've ever heard.

- I'm telling you the truth.

- I don't think you realize

the kind of deep shit you're in, little girl.

You come into a Goddamn police station

covered in someone else's blood, head to toe.

You're carrying a weapon

and a piece of somebody's fucking head.

And the best you've got for me for an alibi

is some kind of urban legend?

Hey!

I am talking to you.

Let me tell you something.

You go up in front of the judge,

you better come up with a better excuse...

- Sheriff, come in.

- Yeah, I'm here.

- Sir, it's, uh...

- What is it, Hamilton? Spit it out.

- It's a fucking massacre out here, sir.

I mean, we've only covered about

40 yards, and we've already come up with about four bodies.

I mean, we...

Jesus.

They don't even have faces, Louis.

- Look, we're gonna have to call in

every Goddamn paramedic in the state

and a full recovery team right away.

We're talking about

DNA-and-dental-records-level shit out here, man.

Shit, they don't even have teeth, though.

- We got a girl in custody.

I'm on my way.

- All right, but we're gonna have to call in state, Sheriff.

We don't even know how many bodies

we're dealing with out here.

Shit, we just keep finding pieces everywhere.

- I said, I am on my way, Deputy.

- Sir, do you want me to go?

- I'll call you if I need you.

Get the fire and paramedics out there right away.

- I'm on it.

- Fuck off.

- This is Deputy Winslow. I need all available...

- All right, everybody, get your dicks out of your hands.

Time to go to work.

These dead bodies ain't finding themselves.

Come on now. Double time.

- Would you tell them there's not gonna be an official comment

until there's been a full investigation

of the crime scene?

I'm probably gonna be out there all day.

What?

- Sheriff, I think you have a...

- Shit.

- Hi, Louis.

- Not today, Amanda, okay? Seriously.

- I need this. I need this, Louis.

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

- Oh, come on.

Multiple bodies. Honey Island Swamp.

Girl in custody.

- That is police business, okay?

It's not what you think it is.

- Oh, this has Victor Crowley written all over it.

Are you out of your mind?

Please let me on that scene.

Let me cover this story.

- Get in line.

- You know, for the last ten years,

I've been a punch line on the media blacklist

for my Crowley study.

This is an opportunity...

- Crowley study?

Is that what you're calling it right now?

I thought it was more like obsessive sensationalism.

- Now, you just listen here.

I am wounded.

I would like to have access.

Please let me break this story.

Please, Louis.

- As of right now,

all we know is, there's a possible murder

outside of Jefferson Parish.

No further comment.

- I heard "massacre."

I heard "unidentified bodies in pieces."

- Jesus H. Christ. - "Faces missing"?

- Amanda, that is a police frequency.

Stay off of it.

- I have First Amendment rights, Louis.

Come on.

Let me work on this story.

Give me a chance here.

It's me.

- So how's Arwin?

- She's good.

No worms or fleas, and she's been living with me.

- Well, maybe a vulture picked 'em off.

- Sheriff! - Sheriff!

- Can we get a comment?

- Come on, guys. I can't.

Not today. Please.

Come on.

- Sheriff, Sheriff, can you give us any information at all?

- Bloodsuckers.

- Sheriff! Come on.

Something?

- Hey, Elliot.

How you doing?

- Not today, Mrs. Fowler.

- Well, actually, it's Miss Perlman now.

- Well, you'll always be Mrs. Fowler to me.

And it's Deputy now.

- That's nice.

How's Adrianne?

- We broke up.

2005.

- Oh.

So where's the suspect?

- That's none of your concern.

- Really?

'Cause I'm about to post her bail.

- All right, people, we're gonna have to spread out

the recovery search a few more miles.

Hyde keeps finding pieces.

- Which way?

- Take your pick. They keep popping up everywhere.

- Right.

Where the hell are the paramedics?

- Always the last ones on the scene.

You know that.

Speak of the devils, huh?

- You Hamilton?

- Yeah, that's me.

- Jim Duffy. You in charge?

- Yeah, for the moment,

but Sheriff Fowler from Jefferson Parish is on his way.

Just a little tied up with press.

- Fuckin' maggots.

- Yeah, you're telling me.

- So what are we talking about here,

three bodies, six?

- Shit. Try 20 or 30.

- What the fuck happened?

- Well, it's all under investigation,

but we do have a girl in custody.

- A girl?

You guys think a girl did this?

- Shit, yeah. We got good reason too.

- You guys don't tell us how to do our job,

we won't tell you how you suck at yours.

Uh, all right, guys,

let's start gathering the bodies over here.

Bob, Randy, bag and tag.

Andrew, come with me.

- What happened?

- Some people died and made a mess.

Barney Fife back there, he says they got a girl in custody.

- A girl? - Yep.

- We're not gonna be out here all night, are we?

- How the fuck do I know, Andrew?

What are you, scared or something?

- You know where we are, right?

- Be a man. Have a Twinkie.

- What girl did that?

You're awake.

I'm Amanda Perlman.

You don't know me.

I tried to post your bail.

But you have to go before a judge for that,

and there's no bail set, so...

I'm a journalist.

I'm sort of the local expert on the Victor Crowley legend.

Had a big, splashy article not long ago,

local legends and lore.

- The Bayou Butcher.

Yeah, I saw you on Montel.

- Oh, you saw that? Yeah.

Well, you know, not my best career move.

Been trolling county websites ever since,

but, you know... I just...

I have a belief and I have a passion

for the Victor Crowley legend.

And it's kind of made me a national journalism joke.

And one minute, you're on national TV.

The next minute, you're...

- What the fuck do you want from me?

- Well, I don't want to waste your time.

I can see you're busy.

I just wanted to, you know,

interview you about what happened,

find out what you saw.

Listen, I can help you.

You know, if I can prove that the ghost of Victor Crowley

actually exists, that would help me a lot.

- So you want me to help you, right?

Right?

- Yeah, that's right.

I mean, right now, you're looking at a lifetime in jail.

I might be the best chance and the best friend you've got.

- No offense, but fuck you.

I want a fuckin' lawyer, not a blogger.

- All right, Amanda. I gave you your two minutes.

You can't be back here. If Louis finds out...

- Now, you just listen to me.

We're gonna run through this again,

Marybeth Dunston, daughter of Samson Dunston,

washed-up local drunk, who,

if he's even got enough education

to sign off on your death penalty acceptance,

would have to be poured out of a local bar to do it.

And let's not forget your brother Ainsley.

How many dozen DUI he got?

Oh, and those three months community service

for defacing a church?

Look, I know you didn't do this,

but you're gonna go down for it 'cause you're po' white trash.

You know what they do with po' white trash

who are convicted on a capital charge?

The state of Louisiana will execute you.

So you go ahead and you sit in here.

You can bark at me like a big dog in a cage.

But at the end of the day,

you can either help me prove Victor Crowley exists,

or you can wait for the lethal injection

that's gonna end your miserable life.

- Do it.

- I couldn't help but notice,

your pappy ain't been here to see you.

Must be happy hour somewhere.

Maybe he'll show up

after he's panhandled enough pocket change for a Pabst.

- My father is dead.

Victor Crowley killed him.

- Please, tell me what happened.

I know I can help you.

Fine.

I'll wait.

- Son of a bitch.

Where the hell are the other guys?

- Holy shit.

Where the fuck did all this rain come from?

Randy.

One, two, three. - Holy shit.

What'd you guys bring me, a giant?

- Yeah, it's hard to tell.

This poor bastard was lying on top

of the biggest chain saw I've ever seen in my life.

I haven't found his head yet,

and his body's in a lot of different pieces.

- Jesus.

- Yeah, well, I thought you might want to take a look

at this one right away.

They guy looks like he had all kinds of muscular

and skin deformities.

And he was only wearing overalls.

- Get the fuck out.

- I know, right?

Anyway, it looks like this one in particular might be...

don't know... a crucial component in all of this.

- Wait a minute. You don't think that...

- I'm not saying shit, all right?

All I'm saying is that you might want to drop

whatever you're doing and check this one over first.

- Awesome.

Gonna be fucking creepy, but awesome.

Let's go.

Come on, big man. We got a date.

One, two...

Dude, I'm telling you this may be it,

and I've seen some crazy shit, man.

I was working on an Asian male, head severed off,

leg cut off below the knee.

I'm telling you, man.

He looked kind of like you, man.

- Oh, what? Because I'm Asian?

- No, dude, because you were...

- Yeah, I get it.

We all look the same, right?

Ha, ha, ha. It's hilarious.

Asshole.

- Oh, fuck that.

- He was shredded to pieces.

There was nothing left to possibly get back up again.

I mean, taking his head off wasn't enough.

Dismembering him was.

I got away.

- Now, what time was this?

- This morning. I don't know.

Reverend Zombie thought that by letting Crowley

kill the three people that were responsible for his death,

somehow the curse would be lifted and...

I don't know... he would just go away.

It was all bullshit.

- Hmm.

According to my research when I interviewed a voodoo priestess...

And she was a real voodoo priestess...

- She was a real voodoo priestess, of course.

- I know it sounds crazy.

But if anybody should be a believer,

I would imagine it would be you.

According to the legend,

Victor Crowley is cursed as a repeater.

Each night, he has to return exactly as he was

when he died, okay?

He has to relive the night of his death in an endless cycle

over and over again.

You can't kill him.

He's already dead.

It's kind of sad, really.

- I sawed his body into little pieces.

I'm pretty sure he's dead.

- I don't know.

The priestess said no amount of physical damage

can keep him from returning again and again

in his original form.

- He's dead.

- He's not.

- Any sign of the Sheriff yet?

- Nothing yet.

- Aw, shit.

Well, he should be here soon, all right?

I'm on channel six when you see him.

- Hey, any more bodies?

- Man, it's hard to tell.

It looks like we got a whole area down there by the cabin,

a whole crime scene over there, a whole mess of bodies.

Even more to the east.

My call?

I think the victims were in two separate groups.

Hell, they probably didn't even see each other down there,

coming each way, different directions?

Man, how the hell do you deal with that smell?

Takes a couple years, but you do get used to it.

Another day on the job for me.

- You know, close the door, man.

I'll be on six.

- Randy?

- Freeze!

Don't move!

- Shit. Whoa!

- Hamilton?

- Get off of me right now, damn it!

- Holy shit. Holy shit.

Help! Help!

- Hamilton!

Hamilton, do you read?

Sheriff?

Lou, are you there?

- I heard it. I got a call into state.

I'm bringing everyone and everything I can bring with me.

We should be out there in less than 30.

- You still think he's dead?

- I killed him.

- You didn't. But I know how.

- How?

- To rid the swamp of that curse,

we've got to give the ghost what he wants.

- But he's searching for his father.

- His father endlessly, night after night.

Once he has him, he can finally find peace and pass on...

- That is impossible.

Thomas Crowley has been dead for years.

- I can explain all of it.

But first I need to know that you're gonna help me out.

- I already told you everything that I know.

- You are the only living relative of Samson Dunston,

the man who caused all of this.

You are the only one who can end it.

That means you are the only one who can make it stop.

You heard what I heard on the radio.

How many more people have to die before this is over?

- I can't. - You can.

We're going for a ride.

- Oh, hell no.

- All available units, we have a report of a man down

by the Honey Island Swamp.

No response from fire, paramedics on site.

I need all available units to Honey Island.

All available units to Honey Island Swamp.

- Elliot, you have to help me, because if you don't,

everybody in that swamp is gonna die.

You open that door.

- Look out, look out!

- Open it!

- Oh, he's coming. Cover me!

- Now!

- All right, here's what we know now.

A group of Jefferson Parish P.D., paramedic, and fire

respond to a report of a multiple homicide

right here in this area.

There were 12 people, all of whom are now MIA.

We have one suspect in custody.

And our last contact was about 45 minutes ago.

But we did receive distress calls of an unknown attacker

and multiple men down.

- So who's left?

- We're not exactly sure.

- Do we know if the attacker is still in the area?

- Well, we have to assume so, yeah.

But, guys, I want you all armed and at the ready.

We got no idea what we're dealing with here,

so let's be prepared for anything, okay?

- Is the attacker armed?

- Definitely, but we just don't know with what.

- I'll take it from here, Sheriff.

Officer Hawes, Louisiana State SWAT.

- Uh, nice to meet you, sir,

but actually, these are my men and, uh...

Sir?

Sir?

- All right, everybody listen up.

You will give one verbal warning,

and then you will shoot to kill.

Do I make myself clear?

- Yes, sir.

- Good.

Let's stay together and move out!

- Son of a bitch.

- What do you got in there, a nuclear warhead?

- No, but I brought about every other toy

I could get my hands on.

- You don't fuck around.

Mikaela Dougherty.

- Cory Schneiderman.

It's a pleasure.

- You planning on taking out a T-Rex tonight?

- You do know where we are, right?

- Smelly swamp?

- This is his swamp,

Victor Crowley.

- I'm sorry. I'm new here.

I just transferred from Arizona.

Who's Victor Crowley?

- A long time ago, there was this little boy

who was born deformed, and he...

- Come on. Let's go, dipshit.

- That guy's such a fuckin' asshole.

I'll tell you about it later.

- The NRA would be proud.

- I'm a member.

- Can you please take these cuffs off of me?

- Absolutely not.

I shouldn't even be doing this.

I could lose my job on this.

- Where am I gonna run,

locked up in the back of this fucking car?

- Will you please shut up?

- How far is Ozona?

- Ozona?

It's up the 11 freeway on the other side of Nicholson.

- What's in Ozona?

- Mrs. Fowler, Ozona is nowhere near Honey Island Swamp.

What we need to do...

- We need to get to Ozona is what we need to do.

And for the last time, it's Miss Perlman, Elliot, okay?

Just, you know, call me Amanda.

Do that. Amanda.

- I thought you were Sheriff Fowler's wife.

- Ex-wife.

- I need to call the Sheriff and let him know what we're doing.

- No, you absolutely do not, not yet.

- Do you understand how much trouble my ass is gonna be in?

- I tell you what.

Get me to Ozona, and then you can call Louis

and tell him we're on our way.

Deal?

- What is in Ozona?

- Thomas Crowley.

- Thomas Crowley? Thomas Crow...

If he were alive,

wouldn't he be like 300 fucking years old by now?

- He's dead.

- So what are we gonna do, dig him up?

- Not exactly.

- Tell me about the suspect.

- Well, she turned herself in this morning.

She was covered in someone else's blood, holding a shotgun.

- Did you get a confession?

- No, she kept carrying on about some local legend

named Victor Crowley.

- Yeah, well, I'm familiar.

She was in custody when your men made the distress call, correct?

- Yes, sir.

My guess is that it's one of these Crowley impersonators;

you know, some local nut that's heard the ghost story

one time too many.

But she's clearly part of it, though.

- Yeah, well, I'll be the judge of that.

I suppose if anybody's a Crowley expert,

that would be you, right,

being that your wife is Amanda Fowler, correct?

- Uh, ex.

She's my ex-wife.

- Got a few of those myself.

- Yeah, it's complicated.

You know, when I transferred from Houston,

I thought she and I, we just clicked so good, you know?

But then... I don't know...

- I was just making small talk, Sheriff.

I really don't want to hear about your divorce.

No offense.

- So when did you transfer?

- About a month ago.

So far, so good.

Though, Mardi Gras has been a trip.

- Fucking Mardi Gras.

It's the worst time of the year for all of us.

Everyone flocks to Bourbon Street,

thinking it's gonna be like one of those Bayou Beaver DVDs.

And instead, they get toothless 60-year-old women

flashing their sagging pancake...

- Just a bird.

You're really freaked out, huh?

- Yes, I'm really freaked out.

There's a reason this swamp is condemned

and closed off to the public.

Enough people disappear, enough bodies pile up,

and eventually, you can't help but believe

there's some truth to the ghost stories you hear around here.

I've only been living here for three years,

and I'm already a believer, I'll tell you that much.

- Hey, I get it.

I believe in ghosts too.

I swear I saw one in my bedroom when I was six years old.

But it just smiled at me and walked out.

It wasn't scary,

kind of peaceful and comforting.

- This isn't Casper the Friendly Ghost.

- How do you know?

- 'Cause Casper doesn't tear you in half

with his bare hands.

- Fucking Christ.

- You still believe in friendly ghosts?

- What the hell did this?

- Oh, God.

God, we're fucked. We're fucked.

We're so fucking fucked. We're...

- Will someone shut Schneiderman the hell up?

- It's a good thing you got that girl in custody, huh, Sheriff?

- Who you calling?

- I'm trying to reach the person we're going to see,

see if he's home.

- Who we going to see?

- His name's Abbott McMullen.

I did a bunch of interviews with him a couple years back,

my original Crowley piece.

- Okay.

- What are you doing? Why are you stopping, Elliot?

- Old Man McMullen? Abbott McCrazy?

- Yeah. Your point is?

- We are in some serious shit here, Amanda.

We have friends in that swamp that are seriously injured

if not dead.

And I just took our prime suspect out of jail

against the law and against my better judgment.

And now you have me out here on some wild goose chase,

chasing I don't know what

with a more morbid version of Wednesday Addams

in our backseat,

who could possibly be a psycho killer.

- Yeah, I'm sitting right here.

- No offense.

- None taken... asshole.

- Hey, I'm still an officer of the law,

so watch your mouth before I add a few more charges to the list.

- Oh, can me telling you to go fist your own ass

be another one of them charges?

- Okay, see? That's it.

- Okay, no, no, no. Stop!

Come on, guys.

Abbott McMullen is the only living relative

of Thomas Crowley.

Thomas Crowley is his great uncle.

- And?

- He has Thomas Crowley on his mantle in an urn.

- So fucking what?

- The only way to give the ghost of Victor Crowley peace

is to finally give him what he wants.

- If that's true, then why didn't you

just bring him Thomas Crowley's ashes years ago?

- Because I can't.

Only the person responsible for his death

can finally deliver what it is he's looking for.

I tried to have this conversation

with your father two years ago,

and he pulled a gun on me and told me to go fuck myself.

- Classy family.

- Go fuck yourself.

- Look, I know how insane this sounds.

But until somebody has a better idea,

this is the only option we've got.

So I suggest we stop the fighting, we start driving,

and we try to put an end to this once and for all.

Louis is out in that swamp, your best friend, my husband.

- You mean your ex-husband, right?

Just drive, please.

- I hate to break it to you again, lady,

but my father's dead.

- He sure is.

But you're not.

- No way one person did all this.

- For fuck's sake.

Will you stop dancing around what's really going on here?

- Shut up, Schneiderman.

- No, sir, with all due respect,

whether you want to believe it or not,

this has Victor Crowley written all fucking over it.

- Control your deputy, Sergeant.

- Schneiderman, stand down.

- Are you kidding me?

These are somebody's balls.

Balls are not supposed to be hanging from trees.

Yet, I'm finding myself looking at fucking balls, sir.

- That guy knows what's up.

We need to get the fuck out of here

and call the National fucking Guard or some shit...

- Shut your fucking mouth.

This whole thing could be some sort of a joke...

A sick, perverse, practical fucking joke.

- That doesn't look like a joke to me.

My deputy's right.

I'm calling in the military, and we're leaving.

- Don't shoot! Don't shoot!

- Hold your fire. Hold your fire!

Hold your fire! Hold your fire!

Who the hell are you?

- I'm Andrew.

I'm what's left of the first response team, sir.

Look, we got to get the fuck out of here right now.

Thank God you guys showed up.

- Why don't you tell me what happened then?

- What happened?

Fucking Victor Crowley happened, that's what.

Look around.

- Then why are you still here?

- I hid underneath someone else's body I found over there.

All right, he massacred everyone in minutes.

- And you didn't fight back?

- No, I didn't fight back. I hid.

And that's the only reason those aren't my balls

hanging from that tree.

Okay, please... Please.

We need to leave right this second.

- This is Sheriff Fowler, Jefferson Parish.

I'm trying to reach Colonel Mesco, Louisiana National Guard.

- Repeat that, Sheriff Fowler.

- We got a sit...

- Cancel that request.

- Copy that.

- This is SWAT team leader Tyler Hawes.

The situation's under control.

Cancel that request.

- What's your 20, Officer Hawes?

- Do not answer that.

All right, everyone listen up.

I will not... and I repeat not... be losing my job

by calling in the fucking military

until I figure out what exactly is fucking going on here.

Do I make myself clear?

Yes, sir.

- Is this guy kidding?

- Fuck this shit.

Your ego is putting all of us in danger.

Fucking fire me. I don't care.

I'm leaving.

- Officer Schneiderman,

are you aware of the consequences

for fleeing the scene of a murder?

- Yep.

But at least I'll be alive.

- Don't do it, Deputy.

- Calm down.

What are you? Are you scared?

- Yes. Yes, I'm fucking scared.

How the fuck are you not scared?

- He's like a tank.

No matter how many bullets he took,

he just kept getting back up and coming.

If we don't leave right this second,

nobody's gonna be alive tomorrow.

- Then where is he?

- I don't know.

I've been playing dead and hiding until you guys showed up.

Last I heard was screaming coming from over there.

- Hold your fire. Hold your fire.

Hold your...

Go check it out.

We got him.

- Good job, fucktards.

- Oh, my God.

Hide!

Go! Hide, hide!

- Move. Move, move!

Go!

- Hey, guys. Yeah, yeah, guys.

Check this out. Who wants in on this?

No, no, no. He lives there.

Stop!

This is not a good place to hide, okay?

I think he lives here, so... bushes over here.

Hey, you. You want to hide in the bush?

- We're so gonna fuckin' die.

We're so gonna fuckin'...

- Shut your fucking mouth.

- Stop! Guys!

- Oh, shit. Shit, shit.

- Ugh!

- Stop, stop!

Stop. Don't fire! Stop!

Help me! Help!

No!

No, no! Help!

Help me! No!

- Move your head.

- Help me! Thank you!

- I got you. I got you.

- Move back, move back, move back, move back.

- Oh, shit.

Oh, shit.

- Fire!

- Ugh!

Help me!

- What the... What the fuck?

- Get down!

- Ah!

- Ugh.

- Ah!

- Uh!

- Ah!

No!

- Let's do this, you little bitch.

- Oh.

- Oh, fuck this!

- Ah!

- Schneiderman!

- Help!

- Schneiderman, get back!

- You're gonna kill him!

- He's already dead.

- Guy was always a fucking dick anyways.

- What's up, swamp bitch?

Running around in your fucking overalls

killing everybody I fuckin' know.

- Oh, my God! Please!

Please, God! Please stop.

- You want your fucking daddy?

I'll give you your fucking daddy, you deformed douche.

- Sorry, Rick.

Eat this, motherfucker!

- Ugh!

- Ugh!

- Whoo!

Yeah!

Whoo!

You see that?

Now, that's how you take a bitch out.

- Run!

- Come on!

Back to the boat!

- Come on!

- Get up!

- Ugh!

- Oh, damn it.

Fuck you!

Fuck you!

Oh!

No!

- This is it.

- I spent two days interviewing Abbott McMullen

for my Crowley story.

You never quite get the smell out of your sinuses.

- And you think he's just gonna hand over the ashes

of Thomas Crowley to you?

No.

But he'll hand 'em over to you.

- Wait.

What?

Stay here.

- Where the fuck am I gonna go?

- Amanda, this is crazy.

You can't do this.

- I tell you something.

By the end of the night, if I'm wrong,

you can personally haul my little ass to jail.

- Oh, I intend to.

- 'Cause this is the last chance we've got

to bring this to an end.

- How?

- That girl is Samson Dunston's bloodline.

Hey, Mr. McMullen. Remember me?

- Who are you?

- I'm Amanda Fowler.

- From the paper?

- Yes, sir.

- I ought to shoot you dead

for waking me up at this crazy hour.

It's the middle of the night, for Christ sakes.

It's 8:45.

- Well, that's what I said.

Who is the colored?

- Who's the...

Deputy Winslow, Jefferson Parish.

And you do know that the whole Civil Rights thing

did take place, just FYI.

- I didn't do nothing to that little girl.

There ain't no crime in looking.

- I'm sure you didn't,

not a nice tolerant man such as yourself.

- This here is harassment.

I'll have your job.

- After tonight?

Yeah, you just might have my job.

- Mr. McMullen, we just wanted to visit with you

about a matter of extreme urgency.

- What? Was there a fire?

Is Sarah Jane all right?

- She's fine. She's fine.

We just wanted to have a minute of your time,

just a minute.

- Well, all I got's a minute.

Got a lot of irons in the fire, you know.

- Oh, yes, I know. I know that.

Thank you. Thank you very much.

- And don't you try to steal nothing.

I got eyes in the front of my head.

- Why don't you just offer me

some fried chicken and watermelon while you're at it?

- I ain't got no food.

- It was a joke.

- You mumble. I can't understand you people.

- Forget it. - What?

- Forget it! - Faggot?

I ain't no faggot.

Oh, well, come on in.

If you're here to talk about Victor Crowley again,

I told you everything I had to say yesterday.

- Well, actually, Abbott, that was ten years ago.

- What? Speak up.

- Yeah, I'm not here to talk about Victor Crowley.

- Well, then, what the hell you want?

- We are here on official police business.

You've got a piece of evidence

that is part of our investigation.

We wanted to borrow it and then bring it right back to you.

- And where is your warrant?

- You're not under arrest. It's okay.

- You're not in any kind of trouble, Mr. McMullen.

We just need to borrow an item from you

and return it to you briefly.

- You know, you mumble too much.

I can't even understand you.

- Oh, you know, when last we spoke,

you told me that these are Thomas Crowley's ashes.

Isn't that right?

- No, them's my uncle's ashes.

- That's right.

These are your uncle's ashes.

- What the hell are you doing, you little harlot?

- I am just gonna borrow these for a little bit,

and we're gonna bring 'em right back.

- Oh, over my dead body.

- Mr. McMullen, I'm afraid I must insist.

I'll bring your uncle's ashes back to you personally.

- What the hell you want with my uncle's ashes anyway?

- I'm taking these as evidence.

This is part of a police investigation.

Show him your badge.

- Show him my badge?

- Show your badge.

- It's official police business, sir.

- That's right.

- Who'd you rob this from?

- Who'd I...

You know what? That's it.

I'm through. I'm done.

- Abbott, I promise, we'll be bringing 'em back.

We'll be bringing 'em right back.

- I said, over my dead body.

- Well, then, you leave me no choice.

- Go ahead. Shoot me.

Go on, do it.

Shoot a defenseless old man.

Go on, pull the trigger.

- Abbott, I'm sorry, but we are leaving now with this urn.

Open the door.

- Do it. Shoot me.

Go on. Do it.

Yeah, I knew you was a coward.

You come barging into my house

with some negro thief claiming to be a cop.

- Fuck it. Fuck you.

- I am a veteran.

I went all the way to Korea.

- Fucking white people.

- That's right.

Run, boy.

Pow.

Yeah, gotcha.

- Let's get the hell out of here.

- Is he... Is he still following us?

Where'd he go?

- Oh, God, he knocked the wind out of me.

- What are you doing? No stopping.

Stopping... Stopping very bad.

Ugh!

- Who the hell was that?

- I don't know.

- Well, he was a paramedic.

Doesn't he work with you?

- Yeah, but I don't know his name.

- Hey!

We got to get back to the boat.

You're going the wrong way.

- See? Fuck that guy.

- Well...

You got to be fucking kidding me.

- You're Samson's bloodline.

You have to be the one to give the ghost what it wants.

- The fuck I do.

You can't bring me back there.

- We don't have a choice.

The one who caused the ghost's death

is the only one who can make it right.

- I had nothing to do with this.

- But your father did.

I'm sorry, but, Marybeth, this is the only way

to make it right.

- And why are you just coming up with this plan tonight?

Why now?

- I told you.

I approached your father years ago.

It didn't exactly go over well.

And until you waltzed into the police station

wearing Victor Crowley's innards,

what proof did I have that he was real?

Stop!

- You're gonna get us killed.

- Stop it, Marybeth. Stop!

- Turn the fucking car around. You can't...

- You have to go, Marybeth.

Only you. Only you.

You're the one.

- Ugh.

- Oh.

- Oh, God.

- Come on, man. Let's go.

- Where's your boat? - What's wrong with this one?

- I don't have the keys.

- What? Why?

- I work with a bunch of redneck racists.

They don't let me drive anything.

- Christ almighty.

Let's go!

- Fuck it.

- Back in the ambulance.

Move it!

- Shit!

Oh!

- Fuck!

- This is Sheriff Fowler, Jefferson Parish.

This is Sheriff Fowler.

This is Sheriff Louis Fowler.

God damn! It's dead.

Does that work?

- Yeah. - Thank God.

- This is Sheriff Fowler, Jefferson Parish P.D.

S.O.S. Repeat, S.O.S.

We are under attack in Honey Island Swamp.

- This is the National Guard's frequency, Sheriff Fowler.

Did you say you're under attack?

- Yes, please.

We need help immediately, okay?

Listen, you got to send military assistance or something

as soon as possible, okay?

We're pinned down here.

We got SWAT team officers dead.

We got deputies dead. We got...

Fucking half the Louisiana police department is dead.

- Who's attacking you, Sheriff?

- Victor Crowley.

- Repeat that.

- Crazed gunmen.

They're heavily armed,

and they're firing everything they got.

We need military assistance.

You got to send some kind of chopper or something,

airlift us the fuck out of here.

- Understood, Sheriff.

We are dispatching air support immediately.

What are your coordinates?

- What the...

- I ain't got no fucking coordinates, you moron.

I'm in Honey Island fucking Swamp.

It's not that big.

You'll see six major league fucking police boats,

and they'll be parked alongside the shore.

That's where we'll be, okay,

pinned down in an ambulance taking heavy fire.

- We're on our way.

Hold tight.

- Finally.

Fucking finally something goes right.

- Wait.

Be quiet.

- What?

- He's gone.

- Nobody move.

- Maybe he gave up.

- Even if he did, nobody steps outside this fucking boat.

Nobody touches anything without my say-so,

do you understand me?

- Sounds good.

- We're staying put

till the National Guard gets here.

- Randy.

That guy's name was Randy.

I knew his name.

- What is that?

- I don't...

- Shut up and listen.

- Where the fuck did he get a grinder?

- Oh, shit.

It's a gas belt sander.

It was in the evidence pile outside the boat

with those other weapons.

I might've... okay, okay, okay, I put it there.

My bad.

- We really need to call the Sheriff and let him know...

- Elliot. Elliot, no.

If you do that, he will order you

to take me and Marybeth back.

- Yeah, probably. - And then what?

I take full responsibility.

I'll say I pulled your gun.

- Yeah, right.

- I'll do whatever it takes, Elliot,

because I am not wrong.

I am not.

- I'm sorry.

- Oh, don't do it, Elliot.

Please don't do this.

- Sheriff, you there?

Lou, come back.

Louis!

This is Deputy Winslow. Heather, are you there?

- Elliot, where the hell have you been all night?

Shit is going down out at Honey Island.

- Yeah, I'm aware.

I'm boarding a boat now.

- Do you have the Dunston girl with you?

Please tell me that isn't true.

- Look, I can explain everything.

Just... when's the last time you talked to the Sheriff?

- It's been almost two hours

since we heard from anyone out there.

But the National Guard received a distress call

from a paramedic boat, and they're on their way in.

What the hell's happening out there?

- Look, who placed a distress call?

- Why did you take the suspect out of her cell?

- Who sent out the distress call?

- They said it was the Sheriff.

He said there's a group of gunmen

attacking them or something.

We can't get a response from anyone here.

- Don't you see? Louis is alive.

- Yeah, two hours ago.

- He called in the military.

He said it was a group of gunmen.

Don't you get it?

He did that so that he would be sure that they would come.

What's he gonna say, "Victor Crowley's attacking us"?

You got to think about this.

We have got to get out there.

And we got to get out there now.

- And then what?

- And then we make sure she puts that monster

back in his grave, where he belongs.

- Oh, shit.

Should we run for it?

- Where, back to the woods?

- No, to his boat.

While this fucker's distracted sawing through this wall,

let's open the door and run for the other boat.

- Even if we get a head start,

there's no way the three of us make it.

It's like he's everywhere at once.

- What are you doing?

- I don't know.

We have to find something to fight back with.

- An RPG didn't take him down.

You think a couple of needles will?

- Well, we have to do something.

- We're running out of time here.

What's the ETA on that chopper?

- Chopper's coming in from Baton Rouge.

ETA, ten minutes.

- We ain't got ten!

Damn it!

- He must've chewed through the wiring.

- Hey, I see the other boats.

Let's pull around.

- We don't have time.

We're close enough.

- You heard her. Let's go.

Let's go.

- Ugh.

- Now, listen, you've got to trust me.

- Look, I promise,

I won't let anything happen to you.

You know that promise?

It's fading fast.

- Come on, get it together.

- Let's go.

- Get your hands off me!

- This will be over soon.

- Yeah, it will be.

- Ugh.

It's got me! It's got me!

Get it off! Get it off!

Get it off!

Get him off!

- Sheriff?

- Louis?

Lou!

- Now what?

Sheriff?

- Louis, answer me!

- They're all dead.

- He's not dead!

- He is so dead.

- No, he isn't. He called for help.

He's not dead.

Here! - No!

- Take it. Take it!

- Get out of my face, bitch!

- Take it!

- Sheriff!

- Victor?

Victor, come out!

Come and get your daddy.

Victor Crowley!

Victor Crowley, we've got your daddy!

- Why did he stop?

- Louis? - Shh!

I'm trying to listen.

- Sheriff Fowler!

- I think it's them.

- Oh, thank God.

- Louis, where the hell are you?

- Amanda?

- Who's Amanda?

- Oh, my God. It's my wife.

- Okay.

- Amanda.

- Oh, my God.

- Victor!

You come out here to me right now.

I've got something you've been needing a long time.

- Sheriff Fowler!

- Don't even.

- I still have ammo.

- Fowler?

- Just stay put.

- I can reach it.

- Stay away from that hole.

- Shh.

- Victor, where are you?

- Okay.

- Don't.

Don't... don't... don't do it.

- I want to see you.

- Stop.

- You come out now!

- Stop.

- I got your daddy here, Victor!

Ow!

Andrew, help!

- Come out!

Come and get your daddy!

- This is bullshit.

Amanda, we need to find the others.

- Found 'em. There you go.

Look around.

Victor, come on!

Where are you?

- He's...

He's here.

- Freeze!

- Oh, God.

- On the floor now!

- Cover her.

Don't let anything happen to her.

- No. - Only you.

- No! - Only you!

We can't kill him unless you put it into his hand.

Go! You hear me?

You do it. You do it.

Do it.

- Here.

- Don't shoot until he has it.

- Here he is.

- I'm sorry for what...

they did to you and...

I'm sorry.

And I'm sorry for what my father did to you.

- I'm sorry.

Daddy?

- Take it. Take it.

- Step back, Marybeth.

I said, step back!

- Oh, honey. Oh, honey, I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry.

- He's dead.

- No, Elliot! No!

Elliot! No!

Give him the ashes.

Ah!

I knew you were real.

- I came to save you.

Ugh.

Here's Daddy, motherfucker!

- Ugh.

Ah!

Ugh.

Got to get up.

Get up.

Get up.

Get up.

Fucking do it already.

Just one more time.

Come on, do it.

Come on, do it.

Come on, do it. Come on, do it.

Come on, fucking do it already!

Come on! Get up!

Oh, God damn it.

Do it already.

Fucking do it already!

Ugh.

Fuck it.

Ugh.

- Hey!

Hey!

Over here!

I'm here!

Get me the fuck out of here!

Help!

Help!