01x04 - Common Sense

[bunniefuu]

Jean speaking French...

Sophie speaking French...

Jean speaking French...

Sophie speaking French...

Jean speaking French...

Okay.

I know you've been reluctant

to speak on camera about

your relationship
with Michael until now.

So thank you.

Of course.

How long
have you been together?

Hm... 12 years.

Right after the trial ended.

How did you meet?

Well...

Hm...

C-Can we start with
something else?

Okay, let's start with today.

Do you think today is proof

that the justice system works?

It's hard to say.

What is justice?

I've said from day one

that it can only be one thing.

Speaking French...

This is Sonya
Pfeiffer for ABC 11 News.

It's been a long and winding
journey, but we're here.

Day one of
the Michael Peterson trial.

A year and a...

A trial's simply two sides

competing to tell
a better story.

We're gonna contend to you

that after a vicious argument
with his wife,

Michael Peterson
m*rder*d Kathleen

in cold blood,
b*ating her in the head...

with this.

And where is this

elusive m*rder w*apon?

They can't find it
because it doesn't exist.

The fact of the matter is,
Kathleen had some wine,

some champagne,
and some Valium

and fell.

And 12 jurors declare

one of the stories the winne.

And that story
becomes justice.

And what sort of
sexual activities

would you perform for men

that you might
have been prepared

to perform
with Michael Peterson?

I mean, pretty much
anything under the sun.

I mean, pretty much
anything under the sun.

Is it fair to say
the men you serviced

were bisexual as opposed
to being h*m*?

I'd go so far
as to say that they were

mostly straight married guys

with some minor
h*m* tendencies.

Can you identify state's
exhibit 72 for me, please?

Yes, that is my... blow poke.

You blow through it.

And you gave one of these blow pokes

to every member
of your family?

Yes.
For Christmas of 1984.

Including Kathleen?

Yes. She was not only
my older sister,

but she was my best friend.

You did state to police

the only relationship you saw

between Michael and Kathleen

was a "truly loving,

respectful marriage."

Right?

That was
an old version of me.

The new informed me,

the me sitting here
in this courtroom,

can confidently say
that I have no idea

who the hell
Michael Peterson was then

or is now.

Does that clear it up for yo?

Justice is a, is a construct

little more than a game,

a game that shapes
the outcome of a man's life.

As for what's
happening today,

this feels
bigger than justice.

I would say, um, it's fate.

You've got cast-off
outside the header

and on the west wall
of the hallway.

How could that happen?

The assailant was standing

on the outside
of the stairwell,

swingin' the w*apon...

and creating this

blood cast-off pattern.

So to be clear, in your opinion,

this had to have been a b*ating?

That's correct.

The impact spatter

on the inside
of the defendant's shorts

simply does not occur

unless he's standing
over her as he strikes.

And that's consistent
with crime scenes

you've overseen in the past?

This is extremely consistent.

And why should we trust you?

Well, sir, I've written
over 200 bloodstain reports

and overseen... 500 scenes.

That guy looks like a penis.

No further questions, Your Honor.

You may be dismissed.

- Let's take a 10-minute recess.
- Jesus.

It looks bad on TV, dude.

What do I keep telling you?

Do not watch that sh*t.

Yeah, but the commentators
are saying...

Hey, listen to what I am saying.

I am sitting here
where it's real.

We gotta get going.

Things are going great. Okay?

When Radisch takes the stand,
things are gonna go our way.

Yeah, look, I... I just really
feel like I should be there.

Clay, hold on.
Hold on one second.

Alright.
I'm headed back to Reno.

I'll see you in
a week and a half.

Todd!

Todd.

So... tomorrow is huge.

They're going big,
showing these autopsy photos.

So we really need
everyone there.

Arm-in-arm. United front.

I can't go. I'm sorry. I can't.

Okay, I hear that. I do.

And no one's going to force you.

Of course,
you're going to force me.

That's what
this meeting is about.

I mean,
would anyone really notice

if she wasn't there?

Um, I mean, maybe
10, 15 years ago, no.

But, you know, now there's...

cameras everywhere.

Everyone sees everything.

So...

if you're absent
and Caitlin is there...

Optics aren't great.

I mean, Clayton's
been asking to come home.

- You know, maybe he should...
- No, no, no.

No, not for this.
Just keep pushing him off.

Okay.

Well, maybe Martha could take

one of Kathleen's Valium,
you know.

- Or just a half.
- No. No! I'm not going to go.

I'm not going. I'm not
going to sit there and watch.

I'm not going to do it.

I'm sorry, I'm not.
I'm not going.

I'm not going.

State your name and profession

for the court, please.

My name is
Dr. Deborah L. Radisch.

I'm a forensic pathologist

and the associate
chief medical examiner

for the state of North Carolina.

And you performed the autopsy
on Kathleen Peterson?

That is correct.

If it pleases the court,

I'd like to display
exhibit 79a and 79b,

in a large format
for easy viewing.

These images are... graphic.

Proceed.

I think I'm going
to have a panic att*ck.

Yeah...

- Can't we object?
- Shh.

- David, stop her...
- Not now.

Dr. Radisch,

you ruled Kathleen's death
a homicide.

I did.

From blunt force trauma
to the head.

You think
the fractured cartilage

in Kathleen's thyroid indicates

that a strangulation attempt
is merely possible?

It's more than possible.
It's probable.

But your report said
it was only,

what, suggestive of
a strangulation attempt?

I would say it was
highly, highly likely

an attempt
at strangulation was made.

But can you say that
with a reasonable degree

of medical certainty?

Yes. Yes, I can.

Okay. Then would you say
with a reasonable degree

of medical certainty that
Kathleen Peterson was k*lled

by blunt force trauma
to the head?

Yes.

- Okay. May I approach?
- Yes.

I just want to put
these binders up here.

- Ms. Radisch.
- Dr. Radisch.

Forgive me, Dr. Radisch.

Um, I want you to tell me

if, um, these appear
to be a collection

of all the autopsies

involving blunt force trauma
to the head in North Carolina

from 1991 to 2003.

Objection.

Overruled.

She may respond
however she'd like.

I don't think I can give you
an accurate answer to that.

- Not today.
- Lright.

Alright. Well, we went back
at least a decade

and pulled the case files
for every b*ating death

in the state of North Carolina.

Two hundred fifty-seven,
to be precise,

and found that in every case,

whether the object was hollow

or hard

or thin or heavy,

every single time,

the b*ating resulted
in either a skull fracture

or massive injury to the brain.

In many cases, it was both.

Are you aware of this?

No. Because like I said,

I haven't had a chance
to review these...

Alright.
Well, let's, let's just assume

for right now that it's true...

which it is.

Kathleen Peterson didn't have
any skull fracture, did she?

She didn't, but she
did have a multitude...

- Doctor...
- ...of facial injuries

- and broken cartilage.
- These...

These are
yes-or-no questions, Doctor.

Was there skull fracturing?

No, there wasn't.

She also didn't
have any broken bones.

- No.
- Or contusions on the brain.

No, she did not.

Or edema, did she?

No.

Given that
some combination of these

was found in literally
every one of these cases...

is it possible in order
to reach the conclusion

that Kathleen Peterson's
death was...

a homicide...

that you were coached
by the DA?

Objection.

Withdrawn.

Nothing further,
Your Honor.

You may be dismissed.

Did I ever tell you about the
first time I heard classical music?

My parents and I were,
uh, we're driving back

from a Little League game
and, um...

I was upset about something.

I guess we must have lost.

And, uh...

we were listening
to, uh, to Armed Forces Radio,

which was, you know,
it was the only,

only station we could get
growing up near Dad's base.

And as we were pulling up
to the house,

a sweet little place,

this came on.

Mahler's Fifth.

First Movement.

My dad went to turn it off,
and I grabbed his hand.

I said, "Stop. No."

It was the most fabulous thing
I'd ever heard.

Now, Dad didn't listen.

He just flipped it off,
went inside.

He never liked to be
too far from his bourbon.

But my dear mother,

she turned the radio back on,

and she stayed
in the car with me.

And we listened.

And the music...

washed over me.

Just... it overwhelmed me.

And I was...

hooked.

Just so much emotion,

so much drama, so much truth.

All without saying
a single word.

David won't let me talk,
so I take it out on you.

I don't know how
you're gonna get all my

rambling into one film.

Our editor is suggesting
we make it longer, actually.

TV series.
Maybe six or eight episodes.

Really?

Oh. This is the part.

The facts
of the case suggest truth

is indeed stranger than fiction.

A second woman,
Elizabeth Ratliff,

mother to Martha
and Margaret Ratliff,

was found dead
at the bottom of the stairs

20 years ago in Germany.

The coffin will leave
its Texan home

and begin a 1,200-mile journey

across middle America
to North Carolina,

where an autopsy
will be performed

by medical examiner
Deborah L. Radisch.

Do you believe
in objectivity?

No.

The only way to get close
to objectivity

is by recognizing
how subjective we are.

We see the world based
on our past experiences.

And I think the only way
to get close to objectivity

is to realize
it doesn't exist.

Doesn't look good, Mike.

Both at
the bottom of the stairs,

both have seven lacerations.

Peterson...

Ratliff.

They look nothing alike.

And they're saying
that the brain was clean.

No signs of an aneurysm.

In what f*cking universe

can they assign the same person

that did Kathleen's autopsy
to do Liz's?

It's a conflict of interest.

Why didn't you stop this?

You went too hard at her, Dave.

Radisch?

Oh, I'm sorry,

was I supposed
to take it easy on her?

What does this mean?

Like, really mean?
Like, no spin, no bullshit.

What, what can Hardin
do with this?

They're going to call
more witnesses.

People from Germany
who were there,

- who remember it.
- Remember what?

It was 25 years ago,
and nothing happened.

The Germans said
there was an aneurysm.

You know,
there wasn't even any blood.

Well, there was
some blood, Michael.

So, what's the strategy?

We keep appealing
to common sense.

This is a strange coincidence,
nothing more.

There is no such thing
as a staircase k*ller

who emerges every 20 years

to hurl his victims
down the steps.

Okay.

Caitlin, are you going
to be the best dancer...

I'm gonna try.

- Yeah. We need help.
- I'm getting this.

- I'll show you.
- Okay.

One, two...

- I always...
- No!

We'll try again, we'll
try again, we'll try again.

What are you doing here?

Well, so the DA's
whole case revolves

around proving
that Dad b*at Mom...

uh, Kathleen,
with the blow poke.

So what I'm doing

is I'm looking through
all these videos

to prove that
it's been missing for a while.

And has it?

Mostly. It doesn't seem
to be there.

Is this project related
to the second autopsy finding?

It's...

It's my fault, you know,
I could have said no.

Right?

Caitlin. Hi!

- Hello.
- Merry Christmas.

That's all you're getting.

It looks delicious.

All right...

Merry Christmas.

You didn't remember
to pick up my suit, did you?

I have that town hall debate.

It's at the VA.

In your closet.

The plumber is coming
to fix the pipes

but we need to do
something about the bats

or else it'll happen again.

We will. We will.

- How's the neck?
- Oh, much better.

Except when it hurts.

...as he continues
to make gains in Afghanistan

with the help
of British forces.

Bush continues
to assure the world

that this w*r
is a w*r on terrorism...

...not on Afghanistan itself.

Al Qaeda is to blame...

Oh...

Ohh!

I feel like you're mad at me.

I'm upset, yeah,
because you were late.

Well, I'm sorry.
I was, um, studying.

I mean late again.
You're always late. So...

Alright. Well, I just said
I was sorry, so...

Well you're always sorry, but
nothing ever seems to change.

Okay.

Um, what's going on here?
Where is this coming from?

Not everyone gets
a second chance

- in life, Clayton.
- Oh, okay.

- But you did.
- Yeah. Okay.

And you seem determined
to screw it right up.

Look, I did my time,
alright?

I don't give a sh*t
about spring break, Clayton!

Jesus.

I'm still pissed
about what happened in July.

- Okay?
- Wait. For real?

Yeah, for real!

It was a big deal.

And you really don't seem
to understand that.

If Becky is completely over it,

why do you get to hold
some kind of a grudge about it?

- That's total bullshit!
- Okay. Alright.

- You know what?
- You're treating me like I'm,

like I'm some kind of
a f*cking child.

You're right.

You're a totally responsible,

fully formed adult.

So... yeah,

let's just listen
to the radio in silence

while I drive you to school.

You know what, Kathleen,
you go around acting like

you're so morally superior
to everyone.

You've never copped to the fact
that you started f*cking my dad

when he was still married
to my mom.

What, I...

Who told you that?

We all know.

We just don't rub
your face in it.

You're a f*cking hypocrite.

You mind your temper, Clayton.

North
Carolina's medical examiner

has released new information
on Elizabeth Ratliff.

And in a shocking turn
of events,

the autopsy reveals
a second staircase m*rder.

The prosecution
announced this morning

they'll be flying in
a key witness

from Germany, Agnes Schafer,

nanny to Martha and Margaret,

Ratliff's biological
daughters.

I got there at
7:30 in the morning like always.

And it was
the first thing I saw,

Liz just lying there
like a doll.

Was there blood?

Oh yes. Everywhere.

The floor.
The walls. The stairs.

Blood everywhere.

What did you do next?

Well, my first concern

was for Martha-Baby
and Little Gee-Gee.

I loved these
little girls so much.

I... I went upstairs
and got them.

- And then what?
- I made sure they were okay.

And then I went
to the toilet and vomited.

Ease up.

And after that?

I went and got Michael next door.

He came in, took a look around,

and said that Liz
had a brain aneurysm

and that she must have fallen
down the stairs from that.

And had anyone with
any medical authority arrived

who could verify
this guess of his?

No. Michael sort of
proclaimed it.

And... and then it was true.

That's when I started
getting a feeling.

What sort of feeling?

That Michael had done
something horrible.

Bjection. Speculation.

Sustained.

Ms. Schafer,

in your statement
to German police,

you never mentioned
the blood or the vomit

or any suspicions at all

against Michael Peterson.
Why is that?

I'm not sure I understand.

Well, if you didn't
mention anything at the time

and there are no photographs
to corroborate,

I'm just wondering
how you could be sure

any of this happened at all.

Well, that's easy.

When I saw the reports
about Kathleen,

Liz's death started coming
back to me in flashbacks.

Right, and... I'm sorry.

You've been having flashbacks?

Yes.

They come in short scenes,
they're very vivid.

Um...

Just to be clear,
you-you're referring

to these mental images
as... flashbacks

and not actual memories.

Yes.

Hmm. Isn't it also true

that you remained employed

by Michael Peterson
for the period of a year

following the event?

Isn't that a questionable thing to
do if you thought he was a m*rder*r?

But that's why I did it.

I wanted to keep an eye on them.

Michael was very strict
with the boys.

- Alright, well, let's stay on topic.
- I am.

I stayed because I didn't want
the same for the girls.

- Objection, Your Honor.
- I failed.

I should have
protected you, Martha-Baby.

I should have
protected you from him.

Your Honor, move to strike.

Get to the car.

Mr. Peterson, did you b*at
your baby daughter in Germany?

Mr. Peterson,
just one question. Tell us...

- Martha!
- Jesus Christ, Martha.

Martha.

Hey. Are you okay?

- Come on! What the f*ck, Martha!
- Martha.

Martha.
Martha, knock it off. Todd!

I'm trying, okay.

Open the door, dammit.

- What was Agnes talking about?
- Open up!

What was she going to say?

How do I know?

She's a broken woman
who wants her 15 minutes.

She told me the truth.
She said that she loved us.

For Christ's sake.
Now is not the time.

Martha!

Just answer the question.
Please.

I'm telling you,
she's full of crap.

Then why do I feel like this?

Michael!

- Martha.
- Because they want you to.

Now open the g*dd*mn door.

Martha.

- Michael!
- Dad.

- Only one question.
- Now!

Mr. Peterson.
Mr. Peterson, one question.

Mr. Peterson.

Mr. Peterson, one question.

Damn it, Martha!

Come on. Hurry, Todd.

Mr. Peterson!

Now about subjectivity,

how can we relate to stories
that thr*aten our own?

Some of us go
toward the thr*at.

We search
and question and dig.

And some of us rationalize.

Try to force the stories
to fit together.

Some of us simply don't engae

and bury the thread
deep inside.

And some of us...

seem not to be
threatened at all.

So we open Mike's defense
with the jury walk-through.

Now this provides the context
for all the experts,

all the science,

and says we, the defense,

are going to invite them in.

Why wouldn't we? Alright.

The staircase is an open book,

and so are we

because we have nothing to hide.

David, I'm not sure it's a good idea.

Hey, look who I found
creeping outside.

- Oh my god!
- How you doing, Clay?

Clay.

- Clay!
- Oh, hey.

Hey, guys. Hey, Mom.

Hey, Clay. What's up, man?

Uh, yeah, nothing much.
I just, uh...

How-how long
are you in town for?

Uh, I took a couple weeks off.

I thought maybe
I could get the Trans-Am

up and running again.

I wanted to help,
so I came home.

I hope that's okay?

I'm glad you're here.

- Your Honor, how are you?
- Great. Great.

- Are we ready to bring in the jurors?
- I believe we are.

Darren,
please bring in the jurors.

Alright, let's go, people.

Here you go.

What would you
say is a storyteller's job?

Hmm.

What do you mean?

This way.

I mean, should he present the truth

as he sees it?

Or is persuasion
also part of his job?

Maybe she can do both.

But, you know,
in my experience,

people don't like
to be persuaded.

So the storyteller must accept
that she can control

what the story says

but not how it is read.

You can only
show what looks to you

like the truth...

knowing that it may look
to someone else like a lie.

I swung my w*apon at you.

And here you can see
the cast-off pattern.

We found no cast-off

in the staircase
at the Peterson house.

And what do you make

of the blood spatter

that you did find, Dr. Lee?

That it
is plentiful and chaotic,

like someone coughing,
shaking her head,

moving around.

Not an organized att*ck.

Hey, Rain Man.

So in your
opinion, Dr. Lee...

Knock it off.

...would you say

Kathleen's death
was an accident?

In my opinion, yes.

The scene is more consistent
with a fall.

There was simply way
too much blood for b*ating.

I mean...

You oppose SBI agent
Duane Deaver's findings?

But didn't you recently
complement his skills

as a blood spatter analyst?

I don't recall.

Okay.

Do you recall giving him
a copy of your book?

Oh yes.

May I approach, Your Honor?

- You may.
- Thank you.

Please read this inscription
right here.

"To Agent Deaver,
one of the best.

Keep up the good work.
Sincerely, Dr. Henry Lee."

Thank you.

You wouldn't write that if you
didn't feel that way, would you?

Well...

I give everyone courtesy.

That's Chinese culture.

Uh, what was I
supposed to write,

"Dear Duane.
Don't quit your day job"?

Dr. Lee,

you can't definitively
rule out a b*ating

in the death
of Kathleen Peterson, can you?

No.

But no one can.

Thank you. That's all.

It's an outrage.

Pure and simple.

So I think we take some fund,

form an exploratory committee,

and see if we can find out

what went wrong.

See, that's
exactly the sort of answer

I want to change.

Maybe discussing
potentially evaluating

actually doing something.

- Now...
- I want to talk about the lie.

Uh, sir, you need
to submit questions.

You said you received
a Purple Heart in Vietnam.

- Sir...
- Now, now, hold on a minute.

That's a sacred thing.

And you know what? You didn't.

- Sir, if you can just take a seat?
- Can I be heard?

That's not something
you make a mistake about.

No, sir.

If you would
like to submit a question...

You lied! He lied! He lied!

If you could
just calm down, please, sir?

And to top it all off,

we have an
imaginary m*rder w*apon.

So, uh, at the risk
of tempting fate,

I think Tom would agree that
we are about ready to close.

- Yes?
- I want to testify.

Look, Mike, uh,
we've been over this.

No. They, they don't know me.

Who doesn't know you, Mike?

No, the jury.

Now, it's, it's my life
on the line here.

And I want to tell my story.

You know, tell them
how much I loved Kathleen.

You know, I deserve
to be heard here, don't I?

- Yeah. Dad's right.
- Clayton.

- No, he deserves to talk.
- Come on. Come on.

- He's the one on trial.
- Listen!

Listen. I hear what
you're saying, Mike.

I do.

I... just listen
to me for a second.

I know how nerves can flare up
at the eleventh hour.

But we cannot let them
take the wheel.

Your case is strong.
We just have to stay calm.

See it through to the end.

Come on, m*therf*cker! Come on!

Come on!

Yes!

f*ck me!

I found it. I found it.

I found it.
I found it. I found it.

I found it!

I found the f*cking blow poke!

Clayton, don't
f*ck with us right now.

- Seriously, don't f*ck with us.
- I am "us."

Why would I f*ck with us?

I found it right there
just like that.

You found it right there because
you f*cking planted it right there.

What? I didn't plant it!

Jesus! What the f*ck
is wrong with you?

This is a good thing.

It's not like
there's blood on it.

Of course, there's
no f*cking blood on it.

You know what?
This is so classic you.

You come home out of nowhere
and you come and you f*ck up our sh*t.

Would you both just shut up!

Just shut up.

I mean, I don't believe it.

How many times
did they search this place?

I should call Dave, right?

Dad?

She must have put it there.

Look, Mike, the thing's intact.

There's no blood.

This could be good,

provided you're telling
the truth.

Well, of course, I am. Jesus!

Alright, so we hold
all the cards here, right?

This works for us.

The DA says the blow poke's
the m*rder w*apon.

We prove him wrong.
It's right here.

It's f*cking clean.

What else are they wrong about?

Right?

Now, if you can
answer these next ones

just as truthfully as you can.

Alright? Because if we
put you on the stand

to say how you found
the blow poke,

Hardin will zero in
on any uncertainty,

any, um, evasion.

Right. Of course. You got it.

Okay.

Alright.

So I understand you have a DUI

on your record, is that right?

Two DUIs?

Good. Uh, always be honest.
Don't let him catch you lying.

Alright.

Uh, April 1994, you were
a sophomore in college.

Got in a little trouble,
is that right?

Yep. Went on spring break.

Right.

And, uh, how much
prison time ultimately

did you end up
spending for planting

those pipe bombs in Duke?

Well, they didn't go off.

To be fair,
they weren't designed to.

They were just like a diversion

so I could get
to the laminating machine.

Wait, the laminating machine?

- Here we go.
- Yeah.

To make fake IDs

to get beers for me
and my buddies.

But it was... uh, four years.

All told, four years
in Fed for the bombs.

It wouldn't have been that long
except they found more here in my room.

More bombs?

Do, do we really need
an audience?

Uh, well, you're
going to have one in court.

My son is finishing
his second master's in May.

Computer engineering.

That's great.
Turning over a new leaf.

But, um, while we are
still on the old one,

I need to ask you
about July 4th, 2001.

Oh yeah.
I, I was drunk, I guess.

And me and Becky had a fight.
She called the cops.

Because?

You hit her, correct?

We had a fight,
and I shoved her once.

Not hit. She called the cops,
but she forgave me.

- We're, we're engaged now.
- H-h-hang on.

Tom, h-how can they
even bring that in?

Uh, look, they get a whiff
of domestic v*olence,

this could be
a real issue for us,

given what Agnes has alleged.

Victims often become
the abusers.

Right? They'll ask,
did your father ever hit you?

- What?
- Ever hit Kathleen?

No, my dad never
hit anyone. I would have seen.

Okay, but maybe there
are things that happened

in this house
that you don't know about.

You're aware that the state
has p*rn photos

and videos
from your dad's computer.

Did you know anything
about that prior to the trial?

Uh, about any of what?
Can you be more specific?

Uh, his sexuality.

Oh, well...

he's a pretty sexual person.

I was always jealous of him
and Kathleen's sex life.

Ew! Oh my God.

Jesus Christ, Clayton.

What, Todd?
Nothing but the truth.

Okay. R-right.
Uh, specifically,

were you aware
of his interest in men?

I-I mean,
we never talked about it.

Because a son's role is not
to question his father, right?

But I walked in on him
jacking off once

to something kind of gay.

- What?
- Petersons are f*cking crazy.

What do you mean, the Petersons?

I mean, you and Todd and Dad.

Like, why can't you guys
just be normal?

Margie, can you keep
your little sister in check?

No, she's right. I'm sick
of defending you guys, too.

Oh, really? Really. You're going
to say that in front of our mother?

Our mother, that took
you in off the street.

Well, all you
do is hit her up for money.

You guys make everything worse.

You rack up debt.
You embarrass us.

- I mean, how are we supposed to...
- Hey!

I run a successful website.

You sound like a psychopath!

I beg your pardon, Michael.

It's the children.

You'd be in some f*cked-up
German brothel right now, okay?

- Hey!
- I said, be quiet!

That's enough!

Clay's not testifying.

- But, Dad...
- Forget it!

If anyone is going to testify
about this f*cking blow poke,

it's going to be me!
And I am going to testify.

For the good of my case,
for the good of this family.

And before we all
f*cking k*ll each other.

Should have just stayed
in Baltimore.

No use trying, David.
My mind's made up.

Uh-huh.

Well, maybe you're right.

Can we talk it through?

They are going to ask you

about the Purple Heart

to establish a pattern of lying.

Well, I...

it's true, I lied about that.

About being injured in Vietnam.

And you told everyone,
including Kathleen,

that for your bravery,
you earned a Purple Heart?

Why, Mike?

Because...

I was injured,

just not in the w*r.

It was afterward.

A car accident when
I was stationed in Japan.

But I do have a Silver Star.

And a Bronze Star, with valor,

because... once...

a marine in my command
was blown up by a grenade.

Here.

John Cuddy.

We were close.

I dragged his mutilated body
back to the foxhole.

He d*ed in my arms.

So did Kathleen.

You learn CPR
in the m*llitary, don't you?

Yes.

Well, when you
first called 911...

you said Kathleen
was still breathing.

Then you called back

a couple minutes later,
said she wasn't.

In between, did you perform CPR?

No.

- No. I was in shock.
- Shock?

Vietnam vet.

Bunch of different colored stars

and obviously saw combat.

You went into shock?

It wasn't like w*r.
It wasn't like anything.

It was just,

just her...

in pain...

leaving me...

and me begging her not to go

and... she wouldn't listen.

It was the worst moment
of my life.

I believe you, Mike.

But how does a jury know

it's not just
another Purple Heart?

Not just another lie.

I want to leave it
up to you, I do.

I mean, it's your life.

But I can get the blow poke in

without putting you
or Clay on the stand,

and your case
won't suffer for it.

But if I don't tell them...

how will they know?

Let me know what you decide.

Dad.

It's fine, Clay.

A coup
for the defense today

at the tail end
of the Peterson trial

as the alleged m*rder w*apon
has surfaced.

Rudolf has produced

the so-called
missing blow poke,

arguing that Durham PD
did not search

thoroughly enough for it

and failed to ever ask
the defense

whether it had been found.

Alright. Does this appear
to be the blow poke

that Mr. Hardin mentioned
in his opening statement

as being mysteriously missing?

Yes, it does.

Thank you. No further questions,
Your Honor.

You may be dismissed.

Alright.

Does that witness conclude
your case, Mr. Rudolf?

Yes, it does, Your Honor.

The defense rests.

Though it's not yet clear
whether this ninth-inning discovery

has given the jury
more questions or answers,

it certainly
has changed the game.

Sneaky shits.

Ultimately, um,

you know what,
it doesn't change the autopsy.

My mother was beaten to death,
whether it be with a blow poke

or something else,
and Michael Peterson did it.

Amen, sweetheart.

Caitlin Peterson,
where was the w*apon found?

Okay. How does this bit sound?

Do you really think
Kathleen knew

Michael was bisexual?

Does that make
common sense to you?

Do you think
it was okay with her

that he was writing
those emails to Brad?

I'm not even going to mention

the rest of what we found
on his computer

because it is obscene.

I-I'm sorry. Obscene?

Obscene.

Is that the best
we got for this guy?

No, he b*at his wife like a dog!

I want to nail his ass
to the wall.

Not to mention

the rest of what we found

on Mr. Peterson's computer,

because it is filth.

Pure-T... filth.

This is hardcore p*rn.

This ain't people involved
in relationships.

This is just any-which-way.

And it is not how
so-called soul mates...

conduct themselves.

Your job is not to decide

whether Michael is innocent.

Your job is to decide

whether the prosecution

has sufficiently proven guilt.

Which they have not.

Their case is riddled
with holes,

unanswered questions,

doubt after reasonable doubt.

The missing m*rder w*apon

isn't missing.

And it was never used...

in a m*rder.

There is no credible motive.

And you don't just decide
to k*ll your wife for no reason.

I think about that old expression,

what if these walls could talk?

Ladies and gentlemen,

the people contend to you

that these walls are talking.

Kathleen Peterson

is talking to us
through the blood

on these walls.

She is screaming out

for truth and for justice.

The defense has told us

Kathleen Peterson d*ed
in an accident.

But Kathleen

is telling us

she d*ed of m*rder.

Kathleen was my life.

I've whispered her name
in my heart a thousand times.

I would never have done
anything to hurt her.

And we will prove it in cour.

December 21st, 2001,

Michael Peterson turned
himself in to the police.

Only five years earlier,

the future looked bright
for Michael and Kathleen,

getting married at their
Forest Hills mansion with family.

To Kathleen, our sister.

And to Michael,

our new brother.

Kathleen's
sisters now find themselves

standing with the prosecutio,

hoping for the jury to delivr

some justice for their siste.

Well, it's
going to be a beautiful sunny day today.

And we can expect
much more of the same

over the next
couple of days.

You might want
to do something...

Todd?

Margaret?

Kids?

Ms. Forewoman,
would you please pass

the bailiff the verdict?

Thank you.

Now, if you think you're going
to have difficulty

accepting the jury's verdict,

we're going to give you
an opportunity

to leave right now.

Alright, Ms. Clerk.

Ladies and gentlemen
of the jury,

you have returned
the following verdict

in the case of
State of North Carolina

versus Michael Iver Peterson.

And...
that's all she wrote.

Want to grab another?

We got that nice Pinot
from Bill.

Mm. I should
really call it a day.

I still have
to check that email.

Well,
I don't know who you are,

but my wife never says no
to a second bottle.

Oh, she sounds fun.

She is.

Oh hey.

You're still up.

What's up?

Kathleen?

I always knew, I think,

somewhere underneath.

I mean, who knows,
maybe I even liked it.

What are you talking about?

Why didn't you tell me?

You could have told me.
It could have been our secret.

I think...

Yeah, I-I think I could
have lived with that.

Kathleen, come on.
What are you talking about?

I'm talking...

I'm talking about the p*rn...

and the escorts and the men,

the men, the men!

Whatever you think you saw...

you're drunk.

I'm a writer.

Alright?

It's called research.

Research?

Oh my God.

Stop lying, Michael.

Oh, God, the lying!

The arrogance, the selfishness.

I mean, Jesus!

You have managed me
and humiliated me,

and I swore to myself
that I would never be

this woman again,
this f*cking victim.

Kathleen, come on. Come on.

This is ridiculous.
Let's just...

Oh no, you don't, pal.
Not this time.

No, no, you don't get to Michael
Peterson your way out of this.

- Listen to me.
- No.

No, you listen to me!

I am, I am your wife.

And I'm, I'm leaving you.

No, you're not.

You're, you're tired
and you're drunk...

I am not drunk!
Stop saying that.

I am not drunk. I am leaving!

I am done
playing house with you!

Lower your voice.
Lower your voice, Kathleen.

You are nothing
but a f*cking fraud.

You are nothing
but a thief and a con man.

And you have nothing.

You are nothing.
Do you hear me, Michael?

I have given my whole life

to a pathetic
closet case nothing!

I said shut up!

Oh!

Stop!

Oh my God.

Oh God.

Kathleen. f*ck!

Just... Oh my God.

Oh f*ck. f*ck!

f*ck.

Oh God.

Alright. Okay?
Here you go.

No. No, honey.
Honey, it's okay.

Here you go. You're okay.

You see? You're alright.

No, no, no.

You're alright. It's okay.

It's okay.

Uh, you tripped.

Oh God. Baby.

Honey, you're alright.

Okay. Okay.

Kathleen?

Kathleen.

Ms. Foreperson,
on behalf of the jury,

do you affirm this verdict?

ForewoYes.

Mr. Peterson, would you
please stand where you are?

Is there
anything that you would like to say

before the court
imposes sentencing?

I would only...

It's okay.

It's okay.

It's okay.

It's okay.

Alright, Ms.
Clerk, the defendant is imprisoned

to the state of North Carolina
Department of Corrections

for the remainder
of his natural life

without the benefit of parole.

Bailiff, would you please take
the prisoner into custody?

Hold here.

You'll be taken outside
in a minute.

Not now, Jean. Please.

- Are you alright?
- No, I'm not.

I'm scared.

Okay, Sophie.

Let's try this again.

What is your relationship
with Michael Peterson?

It's okay.

Mr. Peterson, would
you please stand where you are?

Alright, Ms. Clerk.

The defendant is imprisoned
to the state of North Carolina

Department of Corrections

for the remainder
of his natural life

without the benefit of parol.

Bailiff,
would you please take

the prisoner into custody.

Dear Michael...

you don't know me,
but I know you.

I've followed your story
with bated breath,

hoping for the exoneration
you so deserve.

I know you're innocent
and that you and your family

have been failed
by a broken justice system.

I know because I've seen it,

moment by moment,
frame by frame.

And rest assured,
while you wait for freedom,

your story will be told.

I will tell it for you.

Sincerely yours,

Sophie.

Hm?

Kathleen and I
were watching a movie,

um, "America's Sweethearts."

I-I think it was probably
around 11 o'clock.

Um...