09x14 - Wild Child

[bunniefuu]

(theme music)

(man panting)

(man screaming)

What a way to die, mauled to death...

Henry... you don't know that's what happened.

You didn't see it, George.

Those terrible scratches on his face alone would let you know if you did.

Sir.

What have you, George?

Sir, the man who discovered him was checking his snares this morning.

He seemed surprised, almost disappointed to find out he'd snagged a human.

I suppose he was expecting his dinner.

Right. Have him come down to the Station House for a word.

Do we know the victim's identity yet?

He has nothing on his person, sir.

We searched the area for his wallet, no luck.

Judging by the scratches on his face, I'd say he was att*cked by an animal of some kind.

Higgins has a theory, sir.

Uh, George...

Does it pertain to this case?

He certainly thinks it does, he hasn't shut up about it.

(Higgins sighs.)

Henry?

Sir, it's like a...

I only saw it for a minute.

Saw what?

You better follow me, sir.

This way.

Now, I warn you, sir, it's not a pretty sight.

I'll prepare myself.

You may want to keep your distance as well.

(girl grunting)

Stay back, sir.

It may look harmless, but I've seen that thing k*ll and eat a live chicken with my own eyes.

Really?

Look no further, sir.

It's your k*ller.

(grunting)

How do you know about this, Henry?

Well, I paid to see it, sir.

Ten cents, but it was worth it.

From the shores of Borneo, sir.

Could have been the mountains, I don't recall exactly, sir, but someplace...

Who cares for her?!

Well, a keeper. He collects the money.

I don't know, she hardly seems to be...

What the hell are you two doing in here?

Show's not open for another hour.

Detective Murdoch, Toronto Constabulary.

But you still have to pay.

Ten cents each you owe me.

I've paid once already. He hasn't...

Who are you?

Mick Travis.

And this is my property, so police or no police, you're trespassing.

Now what do you want?

A man was k*lled last night not half a mile from here.

Where were you?

"Where were you?"

Don't you be flimflamming with your penny-ante questions.

You're not interested in where "I" was.

Very well.

Where was she?

She was locked up all night and nowhere near your dead man.

(Murdoch): And why do you keep her caged?

To keep her safe.

It's in her own best interest.

And charging admission to view her in a cage, is that also in her best interest?

She's... paying her keep.

Mr. Travis, is it?

Aye.

You're coming with us to the Station House.

I have no reason to.

Do I have to arrest you?

Come on!

Don't lay your hands on me.

(girl grunting)

I'm doing nothing the law says I can't!

Unlawful confinement of a person or persons.

You're coming with us.

I finished my anatomy report on the unclaimed bank robber.

Mrs. Braxton?

Yes.

I appreciated the opportunity, Dr. Ogden.

Well, if you put what you learn to good use, her unfortunate death will not be for nothing.

I trust that she offered some challenges.

Yes, she did.

Good.

Now we can give Roland's mother a proper burial.

Thank you, gentlemen.

So what did you glean?

Surely there was something.

There was indeed, Dr. Ogden.

Mrs. Braxton was not a full woman.

Meaning?

She had no ovaries.

She was born without a complete reproductive system.

She couldn't bear children?

Whoever she is, she isn't your baby's mother.

Who is this girl that you keep locked up?

And don't give me that story about Borneo.

I... came across her in the Appalachian Mountains some ten years ago.

Well, she came across me, more like.

How so?

I was asleep in the caravan when I heard something rummaging around my campfire.

In the darkness, I thought it was a bear and almost sh*t it.

Where did she come from?

No idea.

You ask me, she was raised by wolves.

Highly unlikely.

Sir, she's as wild as the day is long, mister.

So, you keep her caged like a beast.

Look, she's clothed and fed and in a better state than when I found her.

And before you start, she's legally mine.

I have the paper to prove it.

There you go.

Named her Fen for the record.

Check for yourself.

And she's happy where she is.

I very much doubt that.

There's no force the way I handle her.

She's content as long as she gets fed. So no law broken.

See for yourself.

I've nothing to hide.

Do you know this man?

Never clapped eyes on him.

I had to stop myself from throttling the man who keeps her.

I had neither the ability to arrest him or to rescue her.

She is his legal property.

That's appalling!

A man is allowed to exhibit a young girl in a cage, and there's nothing I can do about it.

(Julia sighing)

What of our victim's body?

His wounds were mostly superficial, the most pronounced being facial lacerations.

He was gouged, likely by claws or nails.

And this.

A deep bite on his right hand.

The wounds were made with pointed incisor teeth.

So likely an animal att*ck then?

That would have been my conclusion if not for the s*ab wound in his upper back.

The thrust was a downward motion, but not a fatal blow.

Then how did he die?

He bled to death.

If he hadn't been trapped, he may have survived.

What time would he have been stabbed?

I couldn't say. I only know that he d*ed between 2 and 4 in the morning.

He may have been in the snare for hours afterwards.

That or that he was att*cked while in the snare.

By this feral child?

No, she was inside a cage at the time of the m*rder.

William, I'd be most interested in examining her if it would help.

Of course.

Thank you, Julia.

Oh, I spoke with the nanny at the hotel, and she assures me that Roland is fine.

I know you were concerned about leaving him with a stranger.

She'd let us know if he needs us?

Of course. Of course.

And the animal bones that I saw in her cage, George, some of them are too big to be from chickens.

She may be eating cats and dogs even.

Maybe even a goat? Could be a small goat, Henry.

You know, you joke, but the keeper told us she fought off a wolf when she was 7 years old.

She has a nasty scar on her arm to prove it.

These would be the wolves that raised her, I assume.

Don't be so ridiculous, George, it wouldn't be the same wolves.

The att*ck likely came from a rival pack.

Henry, let's get to work. Right?

What were you hoping to catch, Mr. Hewitt?

Well, it wasn't a man, I can tell you that.

You see, something is k*lling livestock at my farm.

I reckoned whatever it is roams the ravine and I aimed to catch it.

Your farm is near where you set the snare, correct?

Yes.

Were you home that night?

Did you not hear a man cry out?

Well, I heard noises, but I thought it was the animal I was looking to catch. I didn't know it was human until I checked the snare this morning.

God rest his soul.

(knocking on door)

(indistinct chatter)

♪♪♪

(woman): My detective agency is at your disposal.

I appreciate that, Miss Pink.

How can I help?

I have just learned some distressing news about the baby William and I adopted.

Well, about his deceased mother actually.

What is it?

She wasn't born with a complete reproductive system.

She couldn't have been Roland's natural mother.

Well, that must have been a bolt out of the blue.

It never occurred to either of us to question his parentage.

And what do you want me to do?

Find out if his natural mother is alive.

Can I ask for your discretion?

Absolutely.

What do you know about the mother and her husband?

Not much.

Nigel Braxton was a safecracker from England.

His wife, Joanne, was from Stratford, Ontario.

I think her maiden name was Perly.

And they have no surviving family.

How old is the child?

About 9 months.

Are you sure that you want to know the truth?

What do you mean?

It's a question that I ask all of my clients.

What I find out for them isn't always what they'd hoped for.

At this moment, I can't say.

I will be in touch.

Thank you.

She's gone!

I came back from the Station House to set up for the show, and she was gone.

Has this happened before?

She's never been set free.

I don't know what she's capable of.

This lock, it's faulty. Did you not notice?

Sure if I noticed, I would have fixed it, wouldn't I?

This means the girl could have gotten out the night of the m*rder.

(indistinct chatter)

Constables will pair off and search for this girl in an orderly fashion.

The local farmers who are upset about their dead livestock will be joining us.

The armoury has been opened, but only use force if necessary.

Having said that, be cautious.

This girl could be vicious.

Crabtree, bring the lads up to speed.

(small chuckle)

Our little man doesn't seem too harmed by his day with the nanny.

I won't be staying for dinner; I'm joining the search for the missing young woman.

You think she could be the k*ller?

I don't know, but I'd rather a mob didn't decide.

Still have no idea who she is?

No.

But in spite of Mr. Travis' claims, she wasn't always feral.

At the very least, she had a mother who gave birth to her.

Yes, she did.

Are we ready, men?

(farmers): Ready!

I say we sh**t whatever it is and ask the questions after!

(farmers cheering)

You pull a stunt like that and it'd be m*rder.

I'll personally see to it that you all bloody hang for it, no matter who pulls the trigger.

She k*lled a man and won't get away with it as long as I'm standing.

Night will fall soon, that's when she's likely to move.

Ready the torches!

You'll not be readying anything until I say so, got it?

Right then.

Each of you will pair up with a constable.

Crabtree, you talk to that farmer.

You, stick with me!

♪♪♪ (indistinct chatter)

Keep your eyes open!

Yes. Do you see that trail?

Ah, George, there you are!

Sir.

I need you to come with me.

The girl, Fen, she's likely to flee from the light of the torches.

But then, sir, how will we see?

With these.

Good gracious!

Now, George, if you were trying to get away, which direction would you be likely to go in?

Sir, I would follow the river.

Exactly.

(door closing)

So you have something?

Not yet.

I need more information on Roland.

Any physical details that may help to identify him?

There's nothing.

He's completely perfect.

Freddie, now that you're here, I've been thinking...

Yes?

If Roland's parents were looking for him, surely they would have informed the Constabulary.

Maybe so.

Perhaps... they don't care.

You're having second thoughts.

You asked if I wanted to know the truth... perhaps not knowing is the best course.

You wouldn't be the first of my clients to change their mind.

No father could be better than William.

He loves the boy. He truly is his son.

And you, Julia?

I can't bear the thought of not having Roland.

Well then it's settled.

He couldn't have better parents, you must never question that.

(Julia sighs.)

I'm gonna take this way!

Come on, over here!

I've got nothing!

Help me!

Nothing that way!

Look. Over there!

It won't get away this time!

Everyone, stay close.

It's over here! Come on!

Keep up with them! Go! Go!

Move it!

Alright, alright, I see it!

There! There!

Oh! Ugh! Ugh!

(Hewitt): Get it! Get it!

Hewitt, get back!

No! Don't hurt me, please!

Dead or alive!

Please!

He's no more of a beast than I am.

Let's leave the man in peace.

♪♪♪

Can you see alright, George?

Sir, as clear as day.

Ugh! Argh! Well, not... quite as clear as day, but I can see. I can see.

Shhh!

What is it?

It's Mr. Travis.

Looking for his girl, no doubt.

That's the thing, George.

He's quite purposefully walking the opposite direction, towards his campsite.

That's odd for sure.

I'll follow him, George.

You keep going along the river. That's the direction he just came from.

Sir.

(strange panting)

(girl panting and grunting)

Sir?

(girl grunting)

Sir! Sir!

(Murdoch's sighs in frustration)

Come here quick!

(girl grunting) Sir!

It's alright.

(girl grunting)

It's alright.

(George screaming)

Sir! Sir! Sir!

AAARGH!

George!

AAAH!

Get off him!

(girl grunting)

Stop! Hold still.

You're fine.

(handcuffs clinking)

Well done, George. You're alright?

I think so, sir.

(girl grunting)

She's tethered!

Someone is hiding her here.

Travis most likely, sir.

Alright.

You must have stumbled upon her lair.

You approached her. She felt threatened, so she att*cked you.

Should I bring her back to the cells?

No, no.

The Toronto Asylum under Dr. Ogden's care will be best.

Right.

Do you think she's the k*ller, sir?

Certainly seems capable of it.

I'd have to agree.

Alright.

(Fen grunting)

Fen, I'm going to put you to sleep for a little while.

(indistinct chatter)

(Dr. Ogden exhales.)

My goodness!

Hard to believe it's the same girl.

Her persona was very much exaggerated.

Her hair and body unwashed...

That's quite a scar.

Yes. From an animal att*ck some years ago.

Mr. Travis claims that she was mauled by a wolf.

It's quite possible, William.

Her teeth have been deliberately filed down into points.

I took an impression.

It matches our victim's bite mark.

I'd be worried about that, George.

Dr. Ogden looked at it, she says it's healing nicely.

It does hurt like the Devil though.

Maybe you caught something.

Something?!

Rabies?

Henry, she's a girl, not a dog!

What if she bit a dog before she bit you?

George, you're not thinking clearly.

That's a symptom, you know?

Where is he?!

Huh?

You've no right to keep her!

She's my property, and I've a lineup of customers waiting.

Well, then they'll just have to wait.

But thanks for popping in because we've got some questions we'd like to ask you.

What were you doing in the woods last night?

Looking for the girl. Why else?

You were not looking for her; you were hiding her!

Now, why would I do that, huh?

Stop playing the innocent. You let her out, tied her up, no doubt waiting for the perfect opportunity to go back, get her, and leave town.

Meanwhile the Constabulary and half the neighbourhood are on a wild goose chase looking for her.

Enough with the lies, Mr. Travis. What is going on?

You're right.

I was leaving.

I wanted to get her as far away from this town before you bloodthirsty lot strung her up for something she had nothing to do with.

We have evidence that she att*cked the victim.

Like what?

Her bite mark on his hand.

You call that evidence?

(Travis laughing)

I warn all the spectators not to get too close to her cage.

That only proves the man can't listen to sound advice.

When did the victim see her?

How would I know?

Lots of people come through.

She's quite the attraction.

Now, where you keeping her?

She's in better hands than yours.

(Fen grunting and panting)

You're safe here, Fen.

Safe.

No one will hurt you.

(Fen grunting)

(Fen panting)

Would you like to listen to some music?

(Fen grunting)

(piano and guitar music playing)

(Fen panting more slowly)

(Fen grunting)

What are you trying to say?

William.

You're just in time to see these gestures she's making.

(Fen grunting)

What do they mean?

I have no idea. They require further observation.

But her appearance, her choice in food, the scars; they all suggest she's been living in the wild for some time.

Fascinating.

I can understand why people would want to pay to see her.

Well, Julia, surely not.

(Julia): What are we doing but watching her, William?

About time you paid for help. How much you offering?

Five cents.

Ten.

A nickel, final offer! What do you know?

I seen him.

Did you now?

He went to see that beast in the cage.

What of it?

I took him there. Near the river.

(birds singing)

♪♪♪

What?!

It was right here two days ago!

Yes, I'm sure it was.

Give us that nickel back, you little thief!

The tent was right here!

Honest! I swear it's the truth!

Here. You stay out of trouble, alright?

So, the victim was definitely att*cked here at Travis's campsite.

Which the lying sod failed to tell us he moved.

Bloody Irish tinkers!

Nothing but trouble when they show up in their caravans.

Ten to one that that Kn*fe's the m*rder w*apon.

Not a single fingermark, sir. There are traces of blood, but it's been deliberately wiped clean.

Had to be Travis.

The girl wouldn't have the wherewithal to do that.

Exactly.

But then, what about the bite marks?

Well, the victim got too close to her.

As you discovered, Fen reacts violently when approached.

Indeed she does.

So the victim and the girl were involved in an altercation.

Or Travis set her on him.

Either way, Travis stabbed him and then tried to cover it up. But why?

Any news from the victim, Crabtree?

Nothing yet, sir, but I've widened my search, sent out a province-wide description.

Constables.

Come with me, I've found the k*ller.

"Constables."

See. I got it. A vicious coyote.

And he's the k*ller?

He is indeed.

Ah... So, uh... explain to me how he could use that?

♪♪♪

(Fen panting)

(indistinct chatter)

(distant woman): Bye-bye!

Julia!

This is a nice surprise.

How are you?

(Baby babbling)

I just picked up our little man and thought we'd drop by for a visit.

I've been trying to get Fen interested in food.

She shows a passing interest in oatmeal.

(Fen grunting)

(Murdoch): Any other changes?

She's still making the gestures, but I haven't been able to decipher any pattern.

It certainly doesn't match any sign language that I can find.

(Murdoch): Perhaps it is just random.

(baby babbling)

Hello, Roland.

Am I ignoring you? (Julia chuckling)

Oh!

The nanny says that we are to feed him more often.

Hahaha!

He's hardly underfed, William.

I agree, but she insists.

There. No?

See, you're not even hungry.

(Fen grunting)

Do you see that, William?

(Fen grunting)

You like the baby?

You want to see the baby?

(Fen grunting)

I think she's more interested in you, William.

Pa!

She's speaking.

Paaa! Paa.

After a fashion.

Paa...

Do you think maybe she recognizes that I'm Roland's father?

And that's what all the speaking and gestures are about?

It seems to be some form of primitive language.

Pa.

Well, we know she had a father at some point.

It appears so.

(indistinct conversations)

I've been expecting your call.

You have?

You don't seem the type of person who's comfortable with unanswered questions.

I want you to keep looking for his parents.

Well, in fact, I've carried on with my search, anticipating this very thing.

So you have something?

Please tell me it's not a mother pining for her lost child.

Not exactly. After her parents d*ed, I found out that Joanne Perly left Stratford.

But the trail went cold after that.

So I checked into Mr. Braxton.

It seems he left England for the bright lights of Brantford.

There, he met and married Joanne.

How did they get Roland?

The woman I think was Roland's mother lived out of town on a homestead.

She went into labour earlier than her time.

There were complications, and she d*ed.

What happened to Roland?

The rural midwife was the only person present.

She reported that the baby was never delivered.

The midwife was Joanne Braxton.

She stole the dead woman's child?

It's the only birth she attended that fits with Roland's age.

And then she and her husband left the area shortly after.

What about Roland's father? Is he still alive?

He is.

He was working out of the province at the time of his wife's death.

He never questioned the official report.

My God!

No one knows the baby exists.

No one misses him.

No one mourns him.

He is yours, Julia.

Is this good news or bad?

What would William say?

He still doesn't know.

Keeping a secret this profound from him would be a betrayal of the trust between us.

But if I tell him...

He will feel duty-bound to return Roland to his father.

So leaving him in blissful ignorance could be the better path.

If you think you can do that.

Sir?

I found a missing persons' report that matches our victim.

Who is it?

A Hugo de Jaager.

Left his family home in Peterborough for Toronto a week ago.

Hasn't been heard from since.

What's all this?

Sir, this is his research.

He told his mother before he left he was sure he was going to find her this time.

"Her"?

The girl, sir.

The feral girl.

Finding her became his life's work.

George, these were written years ago.

Mr. de Jaager would have still been in school.

Indeed he was, sir.

I took the liberty of going through his material.

His diaries were very intriguing, very well-written for a young lad.

And what did you learn?

Well, sir, it seems young Hugo preferred his own company to that of other boys.

He spent long hours wandering the woods near his family farm.

I suppose you could say he was a loner type, sir.

In any case, one day while exploring one of his usual haunts, he came upon a strange and wondrous sight ... a pair of feral creatures, sir, a girl and a boy.

He describes them in great detail, sir, their wild appearance, their animal-like movements, often on all fours, sir.

I can probably illustrate...

Perhaps another time, George.

Thank you. Go on.

Right.

Sir, when Hugo tried to convince his mother, or anybody else who would listen, about the children, they dismissed his tales as wild imaginings.

But he never stopped looking for the children, sir.

This is all very interesting, George, but what has it to do with our case?

Hugo stopped trying to convince people about the children.

They became part of his own private world.

Until one day, the partially decomposed body of a young boy was found in the woods by some hunters.

Apparently, he'd been att*cked by wolves.

Near the boy's body was the torn and bloody clothes of a young girl.

But the girl was never found, dead or alive.

He became haunted by the mystery of what happened to this young girl.

It took hold of him as you can see.

He's been searching for her ever since.

And he came to Toronto believing that he had found her.

According to his last words to his mother, sir, he was quite confident.

I think perhaps he did find her and paid the price for it.

♪♪♪

When am I getting my property back?

Settle down, Travis. We need to ask you a few questions.

We now know that you found Fen somewhere a little closer than the Appalachian Mountains.

(utensil clanking in pot)

So what if I did?

So where was it?

Would be 20 miles or so outside of Peterborough.

Not a very glamorous locale, so I dressed it up a little.

Give the punters their money's worth.

So the whole story's a lie?

Not all of it.

I did almost sh**t her thinking she was a bear.

She was very young, no more than 8 I reckoned.

Badly injured and starving.

I fed her, treated her wounds.

She recovered, got back her strength... but never uttered more than the odd sound.

And never took to being civilized.

Happy in her own filth.

And that's when you started thinking she could help pay her own way, and you created the myth of "The Wild Child."

That's about the sum of it, yeah.

Until Mr. de Jaager discovered your campsite.

He threatened to expose your show as a hoax, and you realized you were about to lose your meal ticket.

What are you saying?

What the detective is saying is you had clear motive for m*rder.

(Travis and Brackenreid laughing)

I'm glad you find it funny because you're under arrest, Travis.

Seems like I'm not the only one with a gift for the tall tale, huh?

You gents have come up with a beaut.

Might even work it into my show.

This was the m*rder w*apon.

My constable found it at your old campsite, the one you were staying at the night of the m*rder.

Why did you move campsites?

I move whenever I want.

It's the beauty of a home on wheels.

This is your Kn*fe, is it not?

Might be... might not be.

But I doubt you can prove I ever touched that thing.

So if I'm the m*rder*r... show me the evidence that'll hang me.

I didn't have enough to hold him in custody.

The only person who knows what happened that night is Fen.

The bite mark is proof enough that she met Mr. de Jaager.

But we can't communicate with her.

(Roland babbling)

William, how did those two children come to be living in the woods? They were so young.

George is combing The Peterborough Examiner for clues.

There has to be a story, but likely not a happy one.

(Roland babbling)

And one that we may never know.

Julia... when he is old enough, we're going to have to tell Roland about his parents.

As hurtful as it may be to learn that they were criminals...

... you should know.

Should know, hmm? (Murdoch chuckling)

Are you sure?

Yes, I should meet Roland's father.

His name is Harold Connor.

Julia, it will be hard to turn back once you go down this road.

♪♪♪

(knocking on door)

Good day.

Good day. How can I help you?

I'm collecting for the local children's hospital.

Would you care to make a donation, however modest?

Well, cabinet makers don't make much, but I think I could contribute a little something.

(coins clinking)

Every penny counts.

Do you have children?

No, I don't.

It's a shame.

There was a time when I thought I'd pass my skills on to a son, or a daughter for that matter.

But it wasn't to be.

50 cents, would that be enough?

Absolutely.

You know, you might have more luck in another part of town.

People around here are barely putting food on the table.

It's not they don't have good hearts, you understand?

I just don't want my neighbours feeling badly for having to say no to you.

Of course, it's very thoughtful.

Thank you for your time.

Have a good day.

(coins clinking)

(door closing)

I started when the poor boy's body was found, and I'm working backwards from there. I'm down to 1890.

It's very illuminating, sir, once you drop into the minutiae of it.

Here's a story about a sow that gave birth to 13 piglets.

Now that's a North Kawartha township record.

Very interesting.

Sir, come look at this.

A farmer reports two British Home Children ran away from his employ: a boy, 8 years old, and a young girl of 5.

Seems the farmer was more concerned with the hardship of replacing them than the welfare of the children.

These Home Children, they were orphan workers, sent there as cheap labour. They were often very mistreated.

Whatever the reason they may have left, these could be the two children Mr. de Jaager saw in the woods.

The girl could be Fen, sir. The timeline matches, this is 13 years ago.

It says the boy was mute.

Sir, that's probably why the wolves caught him.

The poor thing couldn't cry out to scare them away.

Wolves are like that, sir, they'll go for the weakest of the bunch.

Perhaps she tried to save him and almost got herself mauled to death.

If I'm needed, I'll be at the Asylum.

Check into that detail.

Julia.

I believe I've discovered the origin of Fen's gestures.

You have?

She ran away with a boy who was mute.

Pardon?

Right, uh, sorry.

George found a report of two Home Children who ran away in roughly the area where Hugo de Jaager says he spotted two feral children.

They would have been about 8 and 5 at the time.

Wasn't the boy 11 when he was k*lled by wolves?

Yes, and Mr. Travis figures that Fen was about 8 when he found her.

The two of them survived all that time alone.

Perhaps they developed this language to communicate with each other.

That's extraordinary, William.

(Fen grunting)

Fen?

Fen.

Fen...

This man. Man...

Um... who... hurt... this man?

Perhaps using her own experience of pain may help to convey the question you're trying to ask.

Fen.

Hurt.

(slowly): Hurt.

Hurt.

Pff! Pfff!

Hurt? Hurt.

(Fen moaning loudly)

Yes, hurt.

Fen... this man.

Who hurt... this man?

Pa! Pa!

That's the same gesture and sound she made when she saw you with Roland!

Is she saying father?

She could be.

Paaaaa! Ah!

I think she's trying to tell us who hurt Mr. de Jaager.

(Fen): Pa!

You were feeding Roland when she became so animated.

Perhaps she's referring to the man who feeds her?

Her keeper, Mick Travis.

Is she trying to tell us he is the k*ller?

(Fen grunts once.)

(Fen grunting)

There's only one way to find out.

What the hell am I doing here?

Look at it as a field trip!

(Travis): Look, I've cooperated with you clowns. If you think I know anything else, you're wasting your time!

Pa?

GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!

I've just had enough of you, you lowlife piece of... Ah! (Fen grunting)

(screaming and grunting)

Get off! Get off!

(Travis): My property and lay off!

(man): You can't do that, she's a human!

(Fen grunting)

Don't lay your hands on her!

(stabbing sound)

(man screaming)

Come on! Get off! Get off!

Shh! Shh!

Shhh! It's alright. Shh-shh!

Are you alright, sir?

I think so.

It's alright. Shh! See, Fen? No harm done.

Huh? I wasn't hurt.

Fen was helping, I know.

Pa. Pa.

It's alright, girl. It's alright now.

Fen stabbed Hugo de Jaager.

She was trying to protect Mr. Travis.

You caught your m*rder*r.

Makes you happy, does it?

You're going to advocate for Fen to remain at the asylum.

Yes... though I can hardly argue that she wasn't in her right mind when she stabbed Mr. de Jaager.

She was attacking a man she thought was harming her father, a perfectly rational action.

But she didn't have men's rea, a guilty mind, so I have considerable leeway.

Can she be helped?

I don't know.

But with further attention and care, she may be able to learn to control her wildness.

And become civilized.

(Julia sighs.)

Given the behaviour of some of the so-called civilized people we encounter in our work, I wonder what we'd be teaching her.

Well, she did show us that she's capable of empathy, Julia, by attempting to protect Mr. Travis the way she did.

It is the hallmark of humanity.

No matter what we may think of him as a man, she saw him as her father.

William, there's something I have to tell you.

(Julia sighs.)

You have to look your best, little man.

You're about to meet someone very special.

♪♪♪

(sigh)

Mr. Connor.

Detective Murdoch.

He... he is a miracle.

Meet your son... Roland.

(Roland laughing)

He's a... he's a lovely little man, and it's been our honour to care for him.

You are the very best of people.

I have some things for him that you might find useful.

I'll arrange to have them sent over.

I cannot thank you enough times.

I wish you a long and happy life together.

(Roland babbling)

(touching music)

(Julia sobbing briefly)

(Julia gasping)

(Julia crying)

Announcer: On an all-new Murdoch...

Solving a secret code.

This is why he was m*rder*d.

Are you sure you want to do this?

I want to see what he saw.

Announcer: This time, going undercover...

Bloody, copper!

Announcer: Isn't what it's cut out to be.

Murdoch Mysteries, next Monday at 8:00 on CBC.