07x05 - Murdoch of the Living Dead

[bunniefuu]

(shrieking)

(animal howling)

Doctor?

Given the position of the body, drowning appears most likely. Of course I will have to complete my examination for certainty.

What have you, George?

George?

Sir. This was lying next to the unfortunate lady's body.

Mrs. Harriet Fuller, 301A River Street.

River Street is just behind that ridge of trees.

Right.

We'll leave you to it, Doctor.

Pardon me, sir, is this the residence of Harriet Fuller?

Are you Mr. Fuller?

Mr. Fuller, my name is Detective William Murdoch of the Toronto Constabulary. I'm afraid I have some rather unhappy news. I regret to inform you that your wife Harriet Fuller was found dead this morning.

It seems she drowned in the nearby river.

Mr. Fuller. I understand that this is rather upsetting, but we will need your help.

Perhaps he's hard of hearing, sir.

He can hear just fine.

And you are?

Betty Fuller.

Is my ma really dead?

I'm afraid so.

But I'm sure your father will take good care of you.

That man is not my pa.

How do you mean?

It looks like him, but it's not him.

Julia.

Where is she?

Waiting in my office.

Give me a moment alone with her, if you don't mind.

Yes, of course.

So, you've got Doctor Ogden doing your job for you now?

Sir.

Betty isn't interested in speaking with me.

Hopefully Dr. Ogden will have better luck.

And I'll try mine with this supposed father.

Is Jeremiah Fuller your father?

Yes.

Is the man that we saw on the porch today Jeremiah Fuller?

Yes.

Then why did you tell me that he isn't your father?

Betty, you won't get in any trouble.

He is my father. But he isn't.

That is, he looks like him, and he talks like him, but it isn't him.

I don't understand.

He went away for a few days just last week.

Now he doesn't smile, or shout, nothing.

I don't know who is inside of him, but it's not my pa.

Did you see your mother last night?

What did you see?

Just her. In the water.

I ran but he caught me.

This new man who isn't your father?

Did he hurt you, Betty?

No.

Did you see him hurt your mother?

Not last night.

Thank you, Betty.

You've been very helpful.

My ma wore a necklace.

May I have it?

I'll be sure to ask after it.

If Betty believes that her father k*lled her mother, she may have created some explanation for his actions.

In this case, it's some other person inside his body was responsible.

That man is either completely bonkers or a criminal genius.

I couldn't get a single bloody rise out of him.

He remains unaffected.

He doesn't seem to give a toss about anything.

Not even the fact that his wife is dead. Did he say anything at all?

Just kept going on about some bloody flowers.

You have a cr*ck at him if you like, Murdoch.

You'll not get a thing out of him.

Mr. Fuller. We met earlier.

You remember?

This is Dr. Julia Ogden.

Hello.

Mr. Fuller, I understand you took a trip recently.

Where might you have gone?

I couldn't sleep.

You mean, last night?

Is that why you went into the woods?

I like the woods.

There are lots of flowers.

Did your wife like the woods also?

She's dead.

Yes, she is.

Did you see your wife last night?

She didn't know how to swim.

You saw your wife in the water.

Was she alive when you saw her?

Mr. Fuller, you also saw your daughter, Betty, last night in the woods.

You were chasing her.

She was scared.

Why?

Mr. Fuller.

Why was Betty scared?

(Murdoch): You were right, sir. Nothing.

Can we prove he was in the woods?

He freely admits it.

We can't prove, however, that he k*lled his wife. Not yet.

Then as unpleasant as it may seem, Murdoch, we have to let him go.

And his daughter with him.

Sir, I am not entirely comfortable releasing the girl to this man's care.

Neither am I, Murdoch.

But our hands are tied.

Yes, sir.

Let's take a trip to Corktown.

No better way to learn a man's ways than to ask his neighbours.

(people shouting)

Murdoch, you start upstairs. Crabtree, downstairs.

I'll start across the way.

Sirs, what exactly are we asking?

Let them tell you, George.

Gentlemen. Shall we?

I just need to ask you a few questions, Miss. About Jeremiah Fuller.

There's nothing to worry about. I just need to know a bit about him.

I wouldn't know anything, Mister. I'm sure I couldn't tell you a thing.

That's a delicious cherry pie, Ma'am.

I'm wondering if I can ask you a couple of questions about Jeremiah Fuller?

Don't ask me. I don't know anything.

You be on your way.

Well, you forgot your...

What you know about Jeremiah Fuller?

You're that detective that was here earlier.

Yes, Ma'am.

Detective William Murdoch. Toronto Constabulary.

And you are?

I'm Miss Rosina Denman.

I always knew this day would come.

What day is that?

The day that poor Harriet found herself dead at the hands of that good for nothing husband of hers.

Miss Denman, did you see Jeremiah Fuller k*ll his wife?

Who else would've done it?

He used to b*at that woman senseless.

Did she go to the police?

She never spoke a word against him.

Because he worked and provided for his family.

That's more than you can say for most men.

But then he changed.

How so?

That no-good disappeared for a few days.

Nobody knew where to.

But then he returned.

That he did. Wouldn't work.

Barely smiled. Quiet as a mouse.

Like a different person got inside him somehow.

Did you see Mrs. Fuller yesterday?

I was at my church group all day.

I didn't come home until after dark.

And Mr. Fuller?

He went wandering off into the woods just as I got home.

Like a man possessed.

Nobody's talking to me, sirs.

Everyone seemed scared to death of this Fuller bloke.

By all accounts he was a rather violent man. At least, until last week.

Well, then he must be play-acting. For our benefit.

I don't know, sirs. I'm fairly convinced.

Something happened to him during this disappearance of his.

George, find out where he went.

Ask down at the pier , the train station, his coworkers down at the dock yards.

Someone knows something.

Sir.

Will do.

Radical personality change?

So what Betty said about her father is correct.

Everyone who knew him agrees that he was a man prone to v*olence.

Now he's a docile child.

Given that he disappeared for some time, he may have suffered some sort of traumatic event.

And that would change him completely?

Anything is possible, William.

Our minds are fragile constructs.

Detective. Excellent timing.

Dr. Grace. I trust you have something for me.

A great many things indeed.

For one, several old injuries.

A few broken bones. And most recently, a bruise around her eye that was almost entirely healed.

Approximately 2 weeks old, I would say.

Consistent with a violent home life.

That was my supposition.

Have you confirmed drowning as the cause of death?

The absence of water in her lungs disproves it.

But I did find this.

She was strangled.

Her larynx was crushed. By someone rather strong.

You can see evidence of only one hand on her neck.

Based on the pattern of the bruising, I was able to extrapolate the size of the k*ller's hand.

Quite large, isn't it?

Indeed.

Excellent work, Doctor.

Thank you.

And this may also be of some help.

I believe Mrs. Fuller was wearing a necklace.

The pendant appears to have been trapped under the k*ller's hand.

Doctor. Sir. I've discovered where Jeremiah Fuller has been.

He's been dead.

And it's legitimate?

Doctor Grace verified it.

And city records confirm it was properly filed.

Then Jeremiah Fuller paid this Doctor Sabet to sign off on his own death. Crooked bloody Frenchman.

But why?

And why return home?

What if the doctor was mistaken?

What if Mr. Fuller turned up on his slab but wasn't really dead?

We've seen that before. Remember Cecil Fox?

Sirs, there is another explanation.

Perhaps Jeremiah Fuller is a Revenant.

A... a walking dead.

Oh, that's a new one.

Sirs, it's not unlike a ghost in that it has unfinished business in this world, but rather than a fleeting apparition, a Revenant continues to inhabit its own dead, decomposing corpse.

It was a real problem in Medieval England, Sir, to the point that people would have to be buried with stones in their mouths to keep them from rising from the grave.

George, Jeremiah Fuller was not buried with a stone in his mouth.

My point exactly.

George, find this Dr. Sabet. A conversation with him should help dispel this latest theory of yours.

Or confirm it.

What if Harriet Fuller was the agent of her husband's supposed demise?

Perhaps she tired of the beatings and arranged for him to disappear?

Only Jeremiah Fuller managed to escape his captors, returned home and k*lled his wife.

Certainly possible.

One way to find out.

Did you k*ll your wife, Harriet Fuller? Answer me!

Not a match.

So what now?

We've got no other suspects and no apparent motive.

Harriet Fuller had no enemies.

No, but she did have a very observant neighbour.

I shouldn't have let y'all in.

Mrs. Denman...

It's Miss Denman, Inspector. I ain't married, thank the Lord.

You and Mrs. Fuller, were you friendly?

She was a good, God-fearing woman living a hard life.

Ain't we all?

Miss Denman, what can you tell us about Mrs. Fuller's final hours?

I'm sure I've told you all I know.

Quite a view.

You can see the whole neighbourhood.

Everyone can see everyone.

Poor folks' penny opera.

Even the smallest of details could help us.

For Mrs. Fuller's sake.

Harriet was all smiles and happiness while her husband was gone, out all hours.

I think she'd found herself a fancy man.

I don't judge, mind you.

It's not easy for a woman to make her way in this world.

And when her husband reappeared?

She turned dark and angry. And no more going out.

At least, until that last day.

Did she tell you where she was going?

No.

She never told her business to a single soul.

But I know that she took Betty with her.

Poor child.

Thank you, Julia She wouldn't come without you.

I know what it is for a girl to lose her mother.

Were you here with your mother?

Will you show me where she took you?

The butcher shop This was last.

An office building?

She was a cleaner here.

But I don't know why we came.

What do you mean?

It was my ma's day off This one.

And who was inside?

I don't know.

(rustling)

Toronto Constabulary. Show yourself at once.

Sir. Doctor.

Constable!

George?

What are you doing here?

This is the last place that Harriet Fuller visited before she was k*lled.

Really? See, now that's very interesting.

Oh, yes, I thought so too, George.

What, no, I mean yes, but it's interesting how I came to be here.

This address was registered along with Jeremiah Fuller's death certificate.

This is the office of Dr. Sabet.

Well, he doesn't appear to work here any longer.

No, because he vacated the premises the day Harriet Fuller was found deceased.

Did he?

Yes, sir.

Apparently the landlord had never met him, no forwarding address was given.

I wonder why not?

And I wonder why Harriet Fuller visited him on her day off?

Maybe he was Mrs. Fuller's paramour.

Or maybe not.

Betty. Come on in.

Betty, did you see the man your mother was speaking with?

I was told to wait outside.

Did you hear what they were saying?

She wanted him to fix something.

She was going straight to tell on him.

What was she going to tell?

I didn't want to go home, but she made me.

She gripped my arm so it hurt.

Betty, let me take you home.

George, we need to find this Dr. Sabet.

He appears to be the key to everything.

Sir, you need to have a look at this.

Blood.

Maybe Harriet Fuller was k*lled here, not in the woods.

No, George. Harriet Fuller had no wounds from which she would have bled.

So this is somebody else's blood.

But whose?

Sir, I can't find any record of this Dr. Sabet anywhere. There's no medical license, there's no domicile, neither Dr. Grace nor Dr. Ogden have ever heard of the man.

Aside from that office, he seems not to exist.

He can't have vanished into thin air.

Unless, that's exactly what happened.

George.

There are still a great many earthly explanations we've yet to dismiss.

Yes, but sir...

Detective, the Inspector needs you.

Has Dr. Grace been called?

No need. We've got the guilty party.

And a full confession. He was really chuffed with himself.

He said the victim put his father in jail.

And we've got plenty of witnesses to corroborate.

Take him away, lads.

Sir, why was I called?

This is "Knuckles" Johnson.

Petty thief and all-round useless waste of space.

Back in the day before I was at Stationhouse Number Four, Murdoch, I arrested Johnson on armed robbery charges.

He was sentenced to fifteen years.

That was ten years ago.

Yet here he is, with papers claiming that he's Kenneth Jamison.

Hm! I agree. This is strange.

Yes, but the strangest part, Murdoch, is the man himself.

Knuckles was one mean bastard.

Forever knocking heads in just for the fun of it.

But here he didn't even raise a single finger.

Not even the slightest howl of protest.

He took his b*ating and went down like a sack of spuds.

A known violent man, acting in an uncharacteristically docile manner.

Any of this sound familiar, sir?

Indeed.

But what on Earth could Knuckles Johnson and Jeremiah Fuller have in common?

He d*ed of severe trauma from multiple blows to the head.

No defensive wounds on the hands or arms.

He didn't fight back.

It would appear not.

Do you believe this man to be involved in the death of Harriet Fuller?

I'm willing to entertain any explanation.

A dead end, it seems.

(chuckling)

Doctor Grace, have you any other findings?

Not at this time.

But I will conduct a more thorough examination of the body, with your permission.

Any explanation for what is going on would be most welcome.

Sir! Dr. Grace!

I took the liberty of looking into Mr. Johnson's past.

At the risk of repeating myself, he was dead.

Kevin Johnson, nickname Knuckles.

Declared dead three weeks ago.

Signed by this same elusive Dr. Sabet.

Sir, you'll be pleased to know that I no longer believe Jeremiah Fuller to be a Revenant.

Well, yes, George, I am happy to hear that.

Since, given the evidence, it seems quite clear to me that these men are actually...

Haitian zombies.

Yes.

And it would appear that their Bokor master is this Dr. Sabet.

Yes, sir.

And it's his sorcery that's making him so difficult to locate.

Sir, that's exactly my thinking.

Keep me apprised, Doctor.

Sir, Haitians are French and so is he, I imagine. Sabet.

(ding)

That's Knuckles Johnson.

He d*ed three weeks ago.

And the body?

Incinerated.

Why was he not buried?

I don't make the rules, I just follow them.

Where is Dr. Sabet?

Don't know who you mean.

Do you know a Kenneth Jamison?

Never heard of him.

I'm sure there's nothing left I can tell you.

(man screaming in distance)

It's time to deliver the medicine.

You'll be leaving now. Good day.

The Bokor is a... a sorcerer of sorts. He steals the soul at the moment the body dies, and he traps it in a jar or a bottle.

He then casts a spell to revive the dead body.

Hmm...

So the body awakens without its soul.

Yes. Precisely.

Like Jeremiah Fuller. Like Knuckles Johnson here now.

Both men were declared dead, and then reappeared as shells of their former selves. Ugh!

It is a compelling argument. But George, what happens to the bottled up souls?

I don't know. The Bokor hides them for safekeeping, I suppose.

I have no doubt this Dr. Sabet has a dozen of the things.

Which could mean, Emily, that he is amassing a Zombie army.

Ugh... For what purpose?

I don't know. To do his bidding, I suppose. Take over the city, gain control.

A sort of Zombie king?

Yes, it's quite possible.

The ear cavities appear normal, although there is a proliferation of wax.

Now on to the nose.

Oh, I don't know if I want to look up this man's nose.

Just hold the light steady.

Sinuses are inflamed.

Possibly an infection. Hm.

I wonder...

My sinuses often get inflamed.

If any dust at all gets up around there.

In fact, my Aunt Nettle has a little teapot that I've taken to pour some water up there just to clear things out.

Not quite as clear as this chap, though.

George, I need to see Jeremiah Fuller.

No need to worry, Mr. Fuller. You won't feel a thing.

I was under the impression that an X-ray revealed only bone matter.

Also excess fluid, indicative of infection.

And if my theory is correct, the image will prove that Mr. Fuller is suffering from a significant sinus infection.

Meaning what?

One step at a time, Constable.

First the evidence, then the explanation.

All done.

That was it?

Jeremiah Fuller disappeared, he was declared dead, then reappeared a changed man.

We know his wife, Harriet Fuller, was unhappy about this.

Was she unhappy that he returned or unhappy with what was done to him?

The same phenomenon occurred with Knuckles Johnson.

Declared dead, then reappeared also changed.

It's all to do with this Sabet character. Anything at the prison?

Only that the Infirmary assistant, Gus Smalls, is most certainly lying. He became extremely nervous at the mention of Dr. Sabet.

Knuckles had the false identification papers on him.

I've got the lads on the trail of it.

Let's hope it leads straight to your mystery doctor.

Sirs.

Ah, Crabtree.

What is it this time? Aliens? Warlocks?

Sharp-toothed Leprechauns?

No, sir.

Zombies.

Zombies, ahh.

Your theory has risen from the grave, has it? Ha, ha, ha!

When we're all done having a big laugh, Dr. Grace has discovered something in the morgue.

See here the damage to Mr. Johnson's frontal lobe.

His brain suffered trauma during the b*ating.

No. His brain was tampered with. Scrambled, in a way.

Tampered with? But there were no holes to his head.

No, there were not. In fact, there was no evidence of any type of surgery whatsoever.

I assume you have an explanation for what happened?

Indeed.

It would appear as though the brain was accessed Through the nose, sir. Somebody pushed a scalpel up the poor man's nose.

Corresponding damage to the sinus cavities confirms it.

That's horrible. And bloody dangerous.

So who did this to him?

And who did it to Jeremiah Fuller as well?

This X-ray of Mr. Fuller's sinus cavities exhibits similar damage, also explains his earlier nosebleed.

So both men had some sort of brain surgery, and both men had similar personality changes.

Is that actually possible?

To poke around someone's brain to change the way they act?

Have you heard of Phineas Gage?

No.

The American rail worker who had an iron rod thrust up through his skull and lived to tell about it.

Lived, yes. But apparently he was a changed man.

He became unreliable, rude, and altogether opposite of the person he was before the accident.

And in our cases, the same area of both Mr. Fuller and Mr. Johnson's brains was specifically targeted.

What does that part of the brain control?

Phrenologists believe that it controls one's knowing faculties.

One's memory, in effect.

There may have been something the perpetrator wanted Mr. Johnson to forget.

Which would imply Mr. Fuller had the same knowledge, but we're quite certain the two men didn't know each other.

William, I can't help but be reminded of a similar case, involving surgery of the brain.

As am I...

Doctor Bates.

Sabet... it's an anagram!

Dr. Luther Bates. He's to present a paper on this very subject.

The implications of brain surgery.

I expected that he would be opposed to it, but perhaps not.

Imagine a society filled with a calm and benevolent citizenry.

It is possible, and here is your proof.

This man was a collector of debts.

He reveled in the screams of pain and pleas for mercy.

Any attempt to confront him only caused the debtor more suffering.

Now, he is as meek as a mouse.

Not a bully anymore.

I have found a way to rid the world of crime and v*olence.

No more overcrowding of jails.

No more terror in our streets.

No more need for police.

This man b*at his wife.

Threatened his neighbours.

Was one small step away from taking a life.

Then he came to me.

You see him now.

Docile as a sheep.

This has gone far enough.

Gentlemen, my findings will revolutionize mankind.

Thank you. Thank you.

(applause)

Dr. Bates. You are coming with me.

This is vaguely reminescent of another time you attempted to ruin me.

Dr. Bates, where are you currently employed?

The prison infirmary.

It was the only position available to me after your Dr. Ogden reported me to the psychiatric board.

And your current research?

Imagine the eradication of criminal behaviour.

A worthwhile goal.

Worth the sacrifice, for the greater good.

I'm not sure the prisoners you sacrificed would agree.

Contrary to your perception, I'm not a k*ller, Detective.

I'm a healer.

I have signed volunteer statements.

Each man knew the risks involved and was prepared to accept them.

And what were they to receive in exchange?

A new life. Freedom. A chance to start again.

I had the full sanction of the Warden and his superiors.

I've done nothing wrong.

You created death certificates for each of the men's old identities, then provided them with false new papers, allowing them to seamlessly blend into society.

All facilitated through your office on Dundas Street, kept under the name of Dr. Sabet.

I have no idea who that is.

You deny being Dr. Sabet?

Categorically.

Don't worry, pet. You're perfectly safe.

You' b be with me?

The entire time.

Dr. Bates, will you please read these words?

Now, Betty. Close your eyes.

It's alright.

I will not. This is ridiculous.

Now will you leave me alone?

That's him? Are you're certain?

So, Sabet, Sa-bett, Bates, whatever your bloody name is, Harriet Fuller was with you the night before she was k*lled.

Her daughter just confirmed it.

Which means nothing.

Harriet Fuller worked as a cleaner in your office building.

Is that how she knew what you were up to?

Perhaps she caught you forging papers and asked you to take her husband on, as a patient.

You couldn't say no, or your whole operation would have been scuppered.

So you operated on Jeremiah Fuller. In that office.

It was his blood we found on the floor.

But the wife wasn't happy, was she?

Nonsense.

Now gentlemen, if you don't mind...

We do.

Harriet Fuller wanted you to fix what you had done.

Jeremiah Fuller did not become a more productive member of society.

He became a drain on his already strained family.

That is what you argued about.

That is why you k*lled her.

Mrs. Fuller was going to proclaim you a fraud.

Right before your big presentation.

That's an insignificant opinion at best, easily dismissed by the academic community as female hysteria.

Hardly a motive for m*rder.

Now gentlemen, if you don't mind.

I did as I was asked, by a desperate woman in need.

With stellar results.

Place your hand on this drawing.

Happily.

Bloody hell, Murdoch. I was convinced that Bates was our k*ller.

As much as I wanted to believe it myself, sir, the evidence indicates otherwise.

So who k*lled Harriet Fuller?

Sirs, the forger of the death certificates we've been looking for.

He has a soon-to-be-unemployed cousin at city records who's been taking care of the rubber stamping, for a not unsubstantial fee.

Well done, bugalugs.

Sir, this is Gus Smalls.

The assistant at the prison infirmary.

From employee to resident. Not a pleasant transition.

George.

Sir.

Do we have all of the death certificates signed by Dr. Sabet?

I'll fetch them now, sir.

Each dead man was given a new name with the same initials.

So I know it's right.

But why make one for Jeremiah Fuller?

He returned home as himself.

It's all my fault.

I prepared them al.

I forgot to throw Fuller's away.

That's all of them. I swear.

And what about all of these?

Did this many men die during the course of the experiments?

You... could say that.

Say what?

Did they or didn't they?

Their bodies aren't dead.

But it's like the rest of them is.

Thirteen men unaccounted for.

As in, dead, but not dead.

Without new identities.

Where are they?

Mr. Smalls. You will tell me.

They haven't had their medicine.

Hello?

Dr. Bates?

(man moaning)

(moaning)

(moaning)

(moaning)

You're trespassing.

I'm here to arrest you, Bates.

This time I have proof.

Hmm! Of what, exactly?

Accessory to m*rder.

And how do you expect to prove that?

These men are your early test subjects, failed experiments, are they not?

Volunteers, like all the others.

Falsely reported as dead.

For their own good, in these cases. As you can see, I was not particularly successful.

Instead of eradicating their violent tendencies, I heightened them.

And created a tool for ridding yourself of unwanted naysayers. Like Harriet Fuller.

I don't know what you mean.

She was going to contradict your research.

You were about to present your findings.

Become wealthy. Lauded.

So you dragged her down here to these cages and let your "work" take care of her, then discarded her body by the river.

I didn't touch her.

You can't even prove that I was here when that happened.

All you have is forged paperwork, unattributable to me.

Gus Smalls confessed everything.

You're done for, Bates.

No! I'm afraid, Detective, you won't have a chance to prove anything.

All my hard work.

Such a waste.

I would have changed mankind.

I would have saved us all.

But I will start again, I promise you.

I will have my day.

But you won't live to see it.

Bad luck.

That one's a biter.

Inspector!

Sir, we're getting numerous reports of aggressive men wreaking havoc. Havoc?

Overturning carts, breaking windows, threatening people.

How many reports?

At least a dozen, sir.

And all coming out of the woods, from the direction of the Don Jail.

Bloody hell.

Do you know what this means, sir?

Yes Crabtree, I know...

Yes! We're under att*ck!

We're under att*ck from the Zombie army!

I'll break out the armoury!

Crabtree, you will not break out the armoury.

These are not Zombies. They're men.

Maybe not of right mind, but men nonetheless.

Not to mention the fact that they're unarmed.

Head down to the docks and round up as many fishing nets as you can.

Nets, sir?

Yes, Crabtree. Nets.

Oh, and find the dog catcher.

Zombie army...

(woman screaming)

There they are, lads!

Come on, let's go!

Well done, lads. Higgins, take him in.

Yes, sir.

Sir!

Murdoch, are you alright?

Sir, you look very pale.

I'm fine, George.

Nonsense. Get yourself inside. We can handle things out here.

But sir, Bates...

Listen, we've got every man out on the streets.

We'll find him. Crabtree, with me.

Excuse me, sir, unhand me at once!

What are you doing?

I'm sorry, but you deserved it.

(growling)

Emily, are you hurt?

Not at all, but I believe he may be.

Take him in, lads.

I'll make sure the lady gets home safe.

There really was a Zombie army.

You were right, George.

That's nice of you to say.

Are you cold?

No.

I was just thinking... that man...

It's all right, Emily. I'm here now.

Perhaps you... might not be elsewhere tonight.

If I may be so bothersome...

You'd only be bothersome if you kept me away.

Well, that's all of them.

Sir. I only count twelve men. There should be thirteen.

You sure about that?

Well, I'll get the lads back on the street. We'll find him.

Not you, though. Not until we find you a new badge.

Right.

Sir, what's to become of them?

Brain damaged criminals?

Not for us to decide, me old mucker.

I think the detective might have something for you.

Her necklace.

It's yours now.

Have you decided what you'd like to do, Betty?

I have.

Do you think they'll be alright?

I do. And so will you, if you would just loosen your tie.

I'll be fine.

Well, thank goodness that horrid Dr. Bates won't be able to hurt any more people.

Well, Julia. Dr. Bates has not been found.

He's still out there.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no...

(screaming)

Announcer: Next Monday, the number one Canadian m*rder mystery...

Sara!

Julia, is it possible Sara Bosen k*lled herself?

(gasp)

Your wife does have a phobia.

(man screaming)

Announcer: All new episode. Murdoch Mysteries, next Monday at 8:00 on CBC.