03x11 - Conspiracy Weary

[bunniefuu]

Previously on iZombie...

Look, what I found in my hate mail.

"If you ever need a sympathetic ear, I've got two.

Shawna." You're prosecuting Weckler?

The dominatrix k*ller.

He confessed even though you didn't have much hard evidence.

We need to find that memory card Weckler stole from Roxanne's dungeon.

James Weckler hanged himself in his cell this morning.

His brain is marinating in Ravi's blue juice down at the morgue.

In my vision, I was getting hanged.

So Weckler didn't commit su1c1de.

He was m*rder*d.

I landed us an invite to the zombie truthers meeting tomorrow night.

We're gonna capture a zombie.

Let the whole world see the monster it becomes!

They're starving Don E.

until he turns Romero and broadcasting it on a live stream.

You wanna go kick some ass?

- Don't do this!

- No!

Please, Ravi!

- Three...

- Don't do this!

Two...

Don't do it!

- Two...

Do it!

Do it!

sh**t him!

- Come on, now!

- sh**t him, bro.

Do it.

All right.

All right!

- Let's everybody keep our cool.

- sh**t him!

You really think these things feel pain, hmm?

Have honest-to-God human emotions?

I do.

I do.

Yeah?

I think that one might already be dead.

They're k*lling machines, you dumb sumbitch!

Those things k*lled our brother.

They'll k*ll us all!

Do it.

- Don't!

- Let's go!

Here we go, y'all!

Enjoy the show!

There's 100,000 people seeing this live.

Right now!

You didn't order a pizza again, did you?

Uh-uh.

Go check it out.

- What?

- Go!

Hit him again, bro.

What the hell?

I got something for you, boy.

One in the head.

Put your weapons down and your hands up!

This is your only warning!

Liv!

Hey...

What happened?

- Are you okay?

- Am I hit?

Uh-huh.

Hey, my rage wore off.

I need you to zap me so I can tear down this gate.

- With pleasure.

- Uh, Liv, please...

Can I?

Down!

Down!

Down!

Get down!

Liv?

It's been a helluva day.

You might tell your friends to quit pointing those g*ns at me?

I wanted to take them alive.

They wanted to go out like Butch and Sundance.

Who're you?

I'm the guy who just rescued a zombie from being tortured live on the Internet.

Along with my partner in crime here.

Blaine McDonough, owner, proprietor of The Scratching Post.

Chase Graves.

I've met a few of your employees, but we haven't had the pleasure.

How'd you find this place?

One of our people saw the live stream.

We took an educated guess that Harley Johns was behind it.

The tracker we planted in his truck led us here.

Where is he?

- Well, he escaped.

- How'd that happen?

Said the person who showed up late.

Hey, listen.

I've got a business proposition for you.

Why don't you swing by the Post?

Wine, women, song...

- We'll see.

- All right, then.

I should go, uh, check on my employee.

Friend of yours?

Ravi!

There you are.

Have you seen a girl?

Just Liv.

Who're you looking for?

- Rachel.

- Your zombie truther friend?

She escaped before us, but I can't find her.

Sorry, man.

Know anything about a Johns family compound outside the city?

No.

Why?

We've heard the brothers talking about such a place on the bug we planted in Harley's truck.

Think you could use police resources to help track it down?

Sir...

Uh, we found these in Harley's truck.

N.V.M.

308.

Ruger P89.

Those are the models used in the Baracus assassination attempt and the Tuttle-Reid murders.

This guy's responsible for a lot of dead zombies.

We need to find him, and we need to find him now.

I'll get my partner to track down the Johns' property.

I'll take these g*ns, too, make sure the ballistics are a match.

It seems redundant, but they're all yours.

Keep me apprised.

- You okay?

- Yeah, I'm fine.

You?

Good.

You wanna come over later?

Yes, ma'am.

Yes, I do.

You can pull a bunch of buckshot out of my back.

Ooh, kinky.

You mind putting those g*ns in my car?

I want to check on Don E.

He was in bad shape.

You were right, Blaine.

Revenge is a dish best served cold.

Doesn't get much fresher than this.

How about you, you want in?

I wouldn't say no.

Save some for me.

- Yeah!

- Pop a squat, girlfriend!

This is a surprise.

I thought you might have, I dunno, "ethics" or some such nonsense.

My ethics are outweighed by my need to find where Harley is hiding.

His brother's brain might have some answers.

This is nice.

Should we make this a weekly thing, or...

Liv, you up here?

I'm ready to go..

I'll be in the car.

What you got goin' on there?

Oh, that's the sex fort.

So...

How was your London trip?

Witty.

Harley made me call you with that excuse, so no one would wonder why I didn't show up for work.

No.

Really.

- What, you had a slumber party?

- Hmm.

It was more of a staycation.

Remember Shawna, the girl who wrote me that sweet letter?

The big Chaos k*ller fan?

You didn't.

Oh, but I did.

- Several times.

- Ah...

It's not just sex, though.

I mean...

Hmm.

No, I mean, it's mostly sex, but...

She has a lot of other qualities, and I...

I cannot wait to experience whatever those are as well.

I'm sure propriety and modesty are high on that list.

Hmm, all right, Carson.

You just worry about Lady Mary.

Rachel!

Thank God.

- Come in, come in.

- What did we just see?

Those were actual zombies, right?

But they weren't like movie zombies...

- It was...

- Hey, hey, slow down.

Uh, let me get you something to help you unwind.

- That's probably a good idea.

- Of course it is.

What's that?

- It's my roommate's sex fort.

- Oh.

How did you escape?

I was worried that you...

All of that g*nf*re, and...

Everything's okay now.

- Oh, God...

- No, no.

That's on me.

Just...

- The timing is bad.

I'm just...

- Hey!

You must be Rachel.

- I'm...

- Your roommate is the Chaos k*ller?

I need to get out of here.

Um, um...

Rachel!

Chaos Kidnapper if you must know.

_ I met your roommate downstairs.

He ravaged me with his eyes.

- I'm gonna need you to kick his ass.

- Can do!

I'm really excited that you're taking me dancing.

- Who said I was taking you dancing?

- I did...

Just now.

I'm meeting my friends at Club Rush for "Death to Disco" night.

I want you to come.

Yeah...

I'm not so into going out these days.

In public.

Like...

Ever.

I mentioned how Ravi's lady friend ran away at the sight of me, right?

Only five or six times.

Who cares what she thinks?

It's not so much her as it is the other three-and-a-half million people in the greater Seattle metro area who feel roughly the same way about me.

So they get to dictate how you live your life?

Hmm?

I'm not getting off until you say yes.

Oh...

I don't think you understand how ultimatums work.

Oh...

Okay, smartass, you're not getting off until you say yes.

All right.

I'll give it a sh*t.

Now, I, uh, believe we had a deal...

Hmm.

Hold that thought...

I need to immortalize this moment.

A selfie stick?

I knew this was too good to be true.

What else are you hiding?

A lady never tells...

- Oh...

- You awake?

I have Weckler news.

That I have to hear before coffee?

Sten, Clive and I went to see Gary Oberman, the prison guard who k*lled Weckler, and guess what?

Oberman's dead, too.

He treated himself to a luxury cruise, and then fell overboard.

Or didn't.

He could be the king of Baja for all we know.

That's...

That's odd.

Then we interviewed Weckler's daughter, Tatum.

The kid was evasive, like someone had got to her.

This case is bigger than we thought.

I'm thinking deep state.

Shadow government.

Wait...

The government's involved?

Well, not the "government" government, obviously.

But the people behind the government, the Illuminati.

Liv...

Whose brain have you eaten?

Who wants to know?

I do.

That's why I asked.

Bo Johns'...

One of the zombie truthers' ringleaders.

- I guess he was a bit...

- Excitable?

Paranoid?

Insane?

- Yeah.

- Got it.

So, how much of what you just told me was actually true, and how much was theoretical?

If Liv and Blaine hadn't arrived when they did...

I'm sorry, Ravi.

I should have talked you out of going undercover with those guys.

My desire to find Wally and Anna's k*ller got the best of me.

Liv?

Did you bring Clive up to speed?

- Yes, I did!

- Good.

We found these in Harley's truck.

- Where?

- Harley's truck.

What?

I believe this is the result of eating Bo Johns' brain, a man who insisted to me that zombies were the creation of the Shah of Iran.

These precautions aren't necessary, Liv.

You're right.

Sorry.

These were in Harley's truck.

They're the same type of g*ns used in the Baracus sh**ting...

And Wally's m*rder.

I thought we should run ballistics to confirm.

If Cavanaugh learns we have these, he'll go ballistic, so it'll have to be off the books, but I know a guy.

Ravi told me about the mystery Johns family estate.

I requisitioned property records, but it'll take a couple days to get the results back.

Any other leads?

We could try wandering around Wham Bam's.

Might trigger a Bo Johns vision.

That's better than nothing.

Let's go.

Uh, something's occurred to me...

I may have a suggestion for tripling your odds.

All those people that night on the street in Vegas, no one sees a sh**t!

It's because he didn't get sh*t.

Look at the cover of Don Killuminati.

There's Tupac crucified, and in the liner notes it reads, and I quote, "Exit Tupac, enter Makaveli." He is alive and well, and will return like a new messiah.

- That's insane.

- Oh, so you think he's dead?

No, of course he's not dead.

He's working for the Feds as an informant.

- He's mowing his lawn in Scottsdale.

- Stop!

You two sound crazy.

Sad to say, but Tupac is dead and gone.

Biggie Smalls' twin brother k*lled Tupac, and it's that twin that got sh*t in LA.

Biggie, at this moment, is sipping mojitos in Havana.

Okay.

Can we head over to Wham Bam's now?

Yeah, all right.

Ms.

Charles?

James Weckler's personal effects from county just arrived for you.

Great.

Right here's fine.

We're up two more points.

We might just win this thing.

- Can I count on your vote?

- Of course.

Good luck!

Our tech department's disinformation campaign has been reasonably effective.

Most people still talking about the live stream believe it's "leaked footage" from some Blair Witch-like feature film.

I know.

Small victories, Miss Gold.

The troops are on edge, though.

None of them think Zombie Island will be ready before Discovery Day arrives.

The civilian population feels differently.

They're still hopeful we can avoid direct confrontation.

Sir, I...

I was told I could find you here...

- It can wait.

- You're not a six-year-old, talk to me.

Uh, sir, yesterday, at Wham Bam's, I had a bite of Bo Johns' brain.

I just had a vision.

I know where to find their cabin.

Get your squad geared up.

Get ready to go in 30 minutes.

Copy.

Should I notify our friends at the Seattle Police Department?

No.

They've done all they can.

It's our turn now.

_ I'm sorry you had to come all the way down here for this.

I know this must be hard for you.

But I wanted to talk to you about your dad.

You know he didn't k*ll himself, right?

That's what I was told.

We know he had a memory card in his ssession when he d*ed.

There's incriminating footage of some powerful people on it.

I think one of those people k*lled your father.

Can I just take this stuff and go?

I have to get home.

This was in your dad's wallet.

- Do you know what this is?

- A key?

For a safe deposit box.

You are the sole heir, so it belongs to you.

But I was hoping that you would let me come along when you open the box.

I don't think so.

Okay.

I understand.

Which bank?

Hard to say.

I mean, if you worked in the DA's office, you'd just have the imprint scanned.

But, if you don't, then I guess you have to get a list of the 342 banks in Seattle, start visiting them one by one, hope for the best.

So uncool.

You might not care who k*lled your father, Tatum, but I do.

All I want is the memory card.

Then you never have to see my uncool ass ever again.

Take your time.

This was my mother's...

It's here.

Thank you.

I should go.

I'm already super late.

No, I'll give you a ride.

It's not a problem.

There's a bus that'll pick me up right...

- Tatum?

- Sorry.

Brain freeze.

I gotta go catch that bus.

Dude, it couldn't be more obvious!

Cruise's tan is way too even, and he's barely aged a day in 30 years.

Why do you think he does his own death-defying stunts?

It's 'cause he's already dead.

I'll bet he doesn't eat the brain of anyone over the age of 25.

So I should be thinking, "That's a raged-out zombie," next time I see Tom Cruise doing a chase sequence?

What the hell?

Did...

Did you see that?

- In the woods?

- Inside Harley's truck.

Wow, did we just have a three-way?

- What was the vision?

- It was a zombie chasing down Harley's truck.

Oh!

It was the dude you brought to The Scratching Post.

- What was the vision?

- It's news we already knew.

We're in Harley's truck, Liv squeezes in our headlights, frothing at the mouth.

He wants our brains, man!

I yell, "Go!

Go!

Go!" Harley g*ns it in reverse.

Her friend is chasing us down going like 60 miles an hour.

That's a slight exaggeration.

- Dude, I was there!

- We were all there.

This was on YouTube for God's sake.

Now how 'bout you two continue your vision hunt downstairs, and see if we can cover more territory.

- Sure.

- Why not?

Liv, I know it must be tough having someone else's thoughts swimming around in your head.

But we're looking for the man that's most likely responsible for Wally's m*rder.

I need you to focus.

I know why the radio's been acting up.

Zombies put a bug behind the dash.

They know everywhere we go and everything we say.

Did you get rid of it?

Hell, no.

We're gonna use it against them.

Take a few out.

What'd you see?

Lilywhite and Bell, in position.

- Hold tight.

- Copy.

- Text from Liv.

- Same.

"Harley knew his truck was bugged, he wants you to know about the cabin." It's a trap.

Sir, our intel is faulty, repeat, intel is compromised, over.

- What makes you say that?

- I just received a text from Liv Moore.

She said Harley knew about the bug in his truck.

All units, fall back.

Confirm receipt.

Hurley, Coyne, confirmed.

Clarke, Fallwell, confirmed.

Lilywhite, Bell, confirmed.

Finnegan, Coombs, acknowledge.

Do not press forward.

Fall back.

Finnegan, Coombs, acknowledge!

_ Sorry.

Bad habit I've developed recently.

Harley k*lled two more Fillmore-Graves soldiers yesterday.

- Oh, no.

- Lured them into a minefield.

Thank God no one else was hurt.

Justin was pretty messed up over it.

You know what I think?

Harley's whole redneck persona is a cover.

No way some wacko g*n-nut outsmarts an experienced m*llitary commander like Chase Graves.

He must've worked in counterintelligence, Black Ops...

Respectfully, Liv, if you're going to find Harley, you have to try to separate the facts from these theories.

You have to try to limit your suspicions.

I know, you're right.

Wait a minute, why are you sleeping in here?

Major's been having a lot of...

Company.

And this company happens to be very expressive in the boudoir which now constitutes most of our house.

Shawna?

I don't trust that girl.

No surprises there.

This isn't paranoid brain talking.

I want Major to be happy.

But there's something off about her.

She said they were pen pals.

I smell a lie.

It did start with a letter.

She wrote to the Chaos k*ller, told him she believed in his innocence.

- And included a photo of herself?

- Hmm.

So much for her innocence.

What did you say her last name was?

Uh...

- And what am I looking at here?

- Shawna's Tumblr page.

Scroll down.

What?

Oh, my God!

What the hell?

I'm all over it!

- Those are texts we sent each other.

- Yeah.

You can't un-see some of those.

The video she took of me?

All of these pictures...

I'm sorry...

I thought you should know.

Oh, I almost forgot.

Gross.

There's literally a trash can right next to you.

They're always watching.

And I don't want you to freak out, but I think Shawna's...

Crazy?

A zombie hunter trained by the CDC.

Getting close to you is step one of a nine-step plan.

- Step two...

- I'm going to stick with she's crazy, and she's using me for some kind of weird notoriety.

I'm so sorry, Major.

Hey.

Hey.

Uh, I've been trying to reach you.

I do have your real number and name, right?

I got your messages.

Sorry.

I was still pretty freaked out.

It's a lot to process.

Huh...

Oh...

There's zombies protecting Chaos k*ller victims, zombies protecting each other, you protecting zombies, and then, I find out you're living with the Chaos k*ller.

Correct.

Are you a zombie?

Uh...

- I am not.

- Okay.

But are you really?

No.

Look, check my pulse.

Okay...

You're human.

And a doctor.

And kinda my friend, I thought.

So help me wrap my head around this.

I've seen a zombie get cattle-prodded.

I've seen zombies bust down doors and crash through skylights.

I've seen the Chaos k*ller's sex fort!

How much crazier can the rest of the story be?

What if I told you that yes, zombies are real, and yes, they eat brains...

But they're not monsters.

Most of them, anyway.

They're just like you and me.

I already told you about the Lake Washington boat party m*ssacre.

But there's a lot I left out...

Justin said his unit marked a safe path through the landmines and checked out the cabin.

It looked like no one had been inside for months.

So it was a trap.

Babineaux.

This guy says he sold you some concert tickets?

Uh, yeah, that's right.

Cool.

Who are you gonna go see?

Music.

Thanks.

Yeah...

Axel, this is Liv.

Liv, Axel.

- What's with the glasses, Axel?

- What's with the skin, Liv?

Relax, both of you.

He's my ballistics guy.

These are from the handgun and the r*fle you gave me.

Striations on the slugs are identical to the ones from each of the crime scenes.

Whoever these g*ns belong to is your sh**t.

What's with that guy?

What's going on?

Why aren't you dressed?

- You okay?

- Not really.

- I saw your Tumblr page.

- Okay...

You know, I get that exploiting other people for their fame is a thing, but couldn't you have at least asked me first?

Whoa, whoa...

Who's exploiting you?

You posted stuff that was private.

It was just between us.

I'm trying to help you, Major.

You're basically a hermit because all anyone sees when they look at you is the Chaos k*ller.

I'm showing them the real Major, the one who is sweet, and smart, and funny, and charming.

And, okay, pretty easy on the eyes.

Don't you think it's time someone told that story?

I don't want to be any story.

I just want to go back to when nobody knew who I was.

Oh, baby.

That ship has sailed.

Look, if the posts bother you that much, I'll take them down.

Okay?

Can we call that the end of our first fight?

Maybe hold a peace treaty signing ceremony in Fort Us?

I'm sorry, Shawna.

I can't see you anymore.

Are you serious?

Yeah.

Fine.

Good luck finding a time machine.

_ Outside in 10, gentlemen.

We're running D-Day simulations.

You know what's out there, let's make sure we're ready for it.

And get your butts to a polling place as soon as we're done.

We'll need one of our own running this city when all hell breaks loose.

And if you happen to pass Pike Place on your way home...

Make sure you grab one of these.

Uh...

It's neck-and-neck in this special election to replace Mayor Gwen Davis, who resigned for health reasons...

Where've you been?

I've been calling and texting.

You prefer skywriting?

Only if it was encrypted.

I switched to a burner phone.

I got one for you too.

You never know who's listening.

I'm good.

Sit down, I've a lot to catch you up on.

James Weckler had a safe deposit box.

I convinced Tatum to let me come along when she opened it.

Guess what was inside?

The memory card Weckler stole from Roxanne's hidden camera.

It was recording when he k*lled her.

Look.

Hey, hey, here, who's he calling?

It's James...

Uh, no, not yet.

It, uh, it went bad.

She caught me, I had to, uh...

She's dead...

I had to k*ll her!

No.

You made me do this, you have to help me fix it!

Okay...

Okay.

Yeah.

Obviously, whoever he was talking to also made him steal that card.

- Hey!

- Just trying to protect you.

Whatever, all right.

I haven't even gotten to the big news.

Remember the phone call from prison?

Weckler asked Tatum, "Are they keeping you well-fed?" Yeah.

He wanted to make sure she was well-fed.

In brains!

- Tatum's a zombie.

- What!

I saw her go into a vision.

Frak me running.

Who would most want to keep Weckler quiet, but also know how to best thr*aten his zombie daughter?

Baracus.

He's somewhere in this footage, dressed in leather chaps, begging for Roxanne to whip him.

Oh, God.

He knows his political career is over if any of that footage gets out.

But he can't risk getting caught trying to steal it himself.

I checked the records.

Baracus prosecuted Weckler's B&E arrest when he was an ADA.

He got his patsy, now he needs leverage, which he gets when he finds out that Weckler has a daughter.

So Baracus turns Tatum into a zombie, promises to keep her in brains as long as Weckler steals the memory card for him.

Weckler screws up, he kills Roxanne, and so Baracus gets a prison guard to k*ll Weckler.

Then Baracus gets that same prison guard thrown overboard, off a cruise ship.

I buy the blackmail, but I'm not sure Baracus is a serial k*ller.

He is definitely mixed up in this.

- And I just voted for him.

- So did I.

All right, we did it!

Seattle has a zombie mayor.

Because this victory belongs to all of us...

Who is possibly also a m*rder*r.

We could not have done this without you.

- Hello?

- Hey.

Didn't you say Harley's cabin had been abandoned for months?

Well, that's what Justin told me.

Then why am I looking at a noise complaint about heavy machinery and construction going on at that address eight weeks ago?

- I don't know.

But I have a theory...

- I'm sure you do.

Tell me tomorrow, when we head out there.

Good night, Liv.

Let's enjoy this win tonight, because tomorrow, the real work begins.

Yeah, that's a great column.

For your college newspaper.

Next!

"DA Baracus snatches victory" "from the jaws of defeat." I pity the fool that has to read that.

All right, give me 1,000 words of your best Monday-morning quarterbacking.

What else we got?

The Chaos k*ller's been selling T-shirts of himself, profiteering off his notoriety.

Think piece on who's buying them, what it says about our society, blah, blah, blah.

Sold...

And I'm a size large.

Next?

I have a friend from college who's an intern at St.

Thomas.

There's been a couple of cases of some SARS-like virus they can't identify.

- They say it might get bad.

- All right, dig into it.

Get back to me when you got more.

Scoot.

Oh, nice of you to grace us with your presence.

So, any update on your "wingnuts who believe in zombies" story?

There have been a few developments.

You might want to make some room on the front page.

_ Neighbors a quarter mile away complained about construction noise.

Construction of what?

Forget heavy equipment.

This place hasn't even seen a vacuum cleaner.

Hey, wait till you hear the latest on the Weckler case.

We think that Weckler was being blackmailed by Baracus, who turned Weckler's daughter into a zombie, then had Oberman k*ll Weckler, and then covered his tracks by having Oberman "accidentally" fall overboard from a cruise ship.

Did Baracus then have whoever pushed Oberman overboard whacked?

He's dirty, Clive.

You heard it here first.

Anything?

You're the conspiracy theorist.

Why would you need to build a new outhouse when you already have indoor plumbing?

Notice anything unusual?

Yeah.

It doesn't stink.

I think I found that new construction.

Harley Johns...

You're under arrest for the m*rder of Fred Tuttle, - Anna Reid and Wally Reid.

- I didn't k*ll those people.

The m*rder w*apon we found in your truck tells a different story.

Just give me a reason...

Harley, got yer ears on?

Little busy, Wade.

I'll holler at ya later.

Hey!

That's it.

The message board said that's where zombies live.

What the hell?

Someone's sh**ting in there!

Get us the hell out of here, man!

It doesn't bring Wally or Anna back.

Hell, it doesn't even feel good.

I thought it would.

He didn't do it.

- What?

- He didn't k*ll Wally or Anna.

I had a vision.

Harley was in his truck with Bo outside Wally's house when the murders happened.

He looked completely startled.

It wasn't him.

I just k*lled an innocent man.

Oh, my God.

Major Lilywhite is a monster.

Chaos k*ller or the Chaos Kidnapper, whatever you wanna call him, the guy belongs in jail.

Now he's selling "k*ller Abs" T-shirts?

Are you kidding me?

If I ever run into that smug pretty boy, I'll show him some real chaos.

How is he walking around a free man?

Isn't there a law against profiting off your own crimes?

Half the city already hates this guy, so...

♪ Tim Finnegan lived in Watling Street ♪ ♪ A gentle Irishman mighty odd ♪ ♪ To help him on with his work every day ♪ ♪ He'd a drop of the Craythor every morn' ♪ ♪ Whack fol-de-dah now dance to yer partner ♪ ♪ Around the floor yer trotters shake ♪ ♪ Wasn't it the truth I told ya ♪ ♪ Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake ♪ ♪ One morning Tim felt rather full ♪ ♪ His head felt heavy and it made him shake ♪ ♪ With a barrel of porter at his feet ♪ ♪ And a bottle o'whiskey at his head ♪ ♪ Whack fol-de-dah now dance to yer partner ♪ ♪ Around the floor yer trotters shake ♪ ♪ Wasn't it the truth I told you?

♪ Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake ♪ ♪ Whack fol-de-dah now dance to yer partner ♪ ♪ Around the floor yer trotters shake ♪ ♪ Wasn't it the truth I told you?

♪ ♪ Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake ♪