Sleeping Dogs (2024)

[bunniefuu]

f*ck!

Name three objects

in this room.

Chair, lamp, clock.

Three objects

not in this room.

Whisky bottle,

airplane, racehorse.

f*ck.

Today's date.

Thursday.

The date,

not the day of the week,

Um...

September. Sep...

How about the year?

What's your city of birth?

Do you remember

your mother's name?

How about your father?

This is an

experimental procedure.

Electrodes will send impulses

to the target areas

in your brain.

New neural pathways

should develop,

but the results can be

a little less predictable,

especially given your history

of substance abuse,

a common trigger

for Alzheimer's.

Hello.

Is this Roy Freeman?

Hello?

Yeah.

Um, my name is Emily Dietz.

I work with

the Clean Hands Project.

Clean Hands Project?

Yes!

We are a legal action

nonprofit

and we advocate for inmates

who have been disenfranchised

by the system.

Okay.

Would you have a few minutes

to speak?

Yeah.

What's this about?

It's... regarding

an old case of yours.

Emily Dietz.

Mr. Freeman?

Ms. Dietz.

Oh. Hi.

Emily.

Emily.

I really appreciate you

meeting with me.

No problem.

You said it was about,

uh, an old case, huh?

Yes, sir. Isaac Samuel.

Isaac Samuel?

Um... I... I'm sorry.

I-I don't, uh...

Oh. Of course.

I'm sure you've seen

more cases

than you care to remember.

Yeah. Something like that.

He was convicted

in the Joseph Wieder m*rder

at Waterford College

ten years ago

and is scheduled

to be ex*cuted

end of next month.

We've tried to get a stay

from the governor,

but it's not looking good.

Okay.

I don't recognize him.

What's he got to do with me?

Mr. Samuel requested to speak

with the detectives

who had interrogated him

the night of his confession.

I interrogated him?

And I have yet to locate

your former partner.

What does he want

to talk about?

I'm afraid he didn't say.

That's something that you

will have to ask him yourself.

Isaac Samuel?

Yeah.

I'm Roy Freeman.

I used to be a detective.

I've been told

you wanted to see me.

Yeah?

Yeah.

Okay.

Well, here I am.

How are you doing?

Oh, you know,

I'm blessed, Roy.

Ten years,

three hots and a cot,

member of

the death row book club.

Prison got my body,

but Allah got my spirit.

Like you give a f*ck

how I'm doing.

I see.

So, this lady,

uh... Emily Dietz,

from the Clean Hands Project,

she told me you wanted

to talk to me.

Is that what you wanted

to say?

No, you're here 'cause

I want to know how it feels

to know an innocent man

is gonna be put to death.

Right.

And, uh... you are

the innocent man?

Yeah.

Don't get me wrong, Roy.

I'd done some bad sh*t,

made some bad decisions,

but k*lling Joe Wieder

ain't one of them.

Isaac...

you confessed.

You were brought in

for questioning

and you confessed.

So now you're telling me,

all this time later,

suddenly you remember things

different?

Ain't nothing sudden about it.

I've been in here ten years.

Ten f*cking years.

Nothing to do but replay

that sh*t in my head.

How it really went down.

Right.

That's why I'm here.

So you can tell me

how it really went down.

Look, I know you ain't no cop

no more,

the way they sh*t-canned you

over that drunk-driving

accident,

but maybe you want to clear

your conscience.

At least hear me out...

this time.

I'm listening.

Night of the m*rder,

I was so strung out,

I ain't remember sh*t.

You guys hammered me

all night.

By the time I saw those

photos, I was so f*cked up

I thought I must have done it.

You broke in,

you b*at him to death.

We found your fingerprints

all over the house!

Come on!

Just admit it, son. Admit it.

This was you. This was you!

You did this! This is you!

This is all f*cking you!

Admit it!

Yeah.

Why did you go to his house?

The year before

Wieder got k*lled,

I got rung up for theft.

Formula for my little man.

And Wieder testified as

an expert witness for the DA.

I told the judge

I was so high that night

I wasn't thinking straight,

but Wieder said I knew

exactly what I was doing.

So they tried me as an adult.

You know what it's like

to be 18 years old

and some skinhead's bitch?

Let's just go back over this.

Wieder testifies against you

and gets you prison time.

You go to his house, it's late

at night. You're angry.

You don't like this--

I ain't no k*ller!

I just wanted my son back

and I thought maybe

Wieder could help.

Yeah, I went to his house.

I waited for his caretaker

to leave

and I went round the back.

I even made it

all the way inside.

Hello, Shadow.

But then

someone else came in.

Oh! Back so soon?

And then

sh*t just went bad.

I'm sorry.

I panicked and I left

before I could see who it was.

No!

Okay. So you never touched him.

Uh, but you don't...

I'm telling you the truth!

Okay, Isaac.

You think I'm lying.

Well, ask Richard Finn.

He'd tell you.

You're gonna have

to remind me.

Um... who-who

is Richard Finn?

He came to see me

a few months back.

He's writing some book

about the m*rder.

A book?

Yeah.

Look, uh,

Isaac, I just don't see

that I'm gonna be in

a position to get involved.

You already involved, Roy!

This is on you.

You were there when I signed

that f*cking confession!

Make it right!

I paid for what I did

when I was 18.

Make this sh*t right

or I'm dead!

The medication

can aid synaptic regeneration,

but you must keep

your mind active--

books, puzzles, anything

to stimulate your brain.

It was you!

It was you! Admit it!

You did this! This is you!

Well, ask Richard Finn.

Hey!

Roy?

Yeah.

What the f*ck

are you doing here?

I was just

in the neighborhood.

Come in.

Hey.

Come in,

come in, come in.

Come in, come in.

You know, I can't remember

the last time I saw your face.

There you go, Roy.

You know when it was?

Ahh, it must have been

ten years ago

when those f*cking sons

of b*tches took your badge.

Yeah, I suppose so.

Listen, I hope you're not still

carrying around all that sh*t.

I mean, we all drank

on the job back then.

That accident,

that could have been

any one of us.

Cheers.

Cheers.

What's up?

You on the wagon or something?

Uh... well, yeah.

My-my doctor says it'll

mess with my medication, so...

You're sick, Roy?

No. I'm doing, uh,

like a clinical trial.

I've got Alzheimer's,

so they put these little

pulses into my f*cking head.

It's supposed to

stimulate memory.

Jesus Christ, Roy.

If you hadn't have said

my name at the front door,

I wouldn't have known

it was you.

So you...

you have no memory

of you and me on the job?

No.

f*ck.

No, I-I read old case files

and it's all fresh

information for me.

Yeah, but it's not just

my time on the job.

My whole f*cking life

is a black hole. I...

f*ck, man.

Remember Cat?

My wife.

Anyway, she, uh...

she passed last year.

Cancer.

I'm sorry.

Yeah.

f*cking cancer.

Department health fund

wouldn't pay

her hospital bills.

I had to sort it out.

Anyway, you didn't come here

for that sh*t.

What brings you by, Roy?

Okay. Uh... you remember a guy

called Isaac Samuel?

He got convicted for m*rder,

that thing that happened

at Waterford College

with a professor?

Ahh. You've been

talking to the lady

from the advocacy group.

I didn't call her back.

Oh, well, I took the call

and, uh, she said that Isaac

wanted to talk to me, so...

You spoke to Isaac Samuel?

Yeah. I went down

to the state prison

and we talked and, uh...

he tells me he didn't do it.

Come on, Roy. That's what

they all say on death row.

Yeah, I know, I know.

But I gotta say, Jimmy,

he was... convincing.

He mentioned another guy

that came to see him. Uh...

Finn.

Richard Finn.

Does that name ring

any kind of bell with you?

It was so long ago,

I-I-I don't remember...

Well, I read the file

and when we dusted that house,

Finn's prints are

all over the place inside.

All through the house.

So?

They were there. Who cares?

Richard Finn said

he wasn't at the house

the night of the m*rder.

That's in his statement, okay?

But we never followed it up.

We never corroborated

his whereabouts

and I just kinda found that

a bit strange.

Is that not strange?

What's your point?

I don't know.

I was just thinking

that you and me,

we'd maybe go and talk to him,

see what he has to say

for himself.

Why?

I don't know.

It's just a feeling.

That's all I got to go on

these days.

Besides, my doctor says

I gotta keep my mind active,

so what the f*ck, huh?

Sure, Roy.

I'll look into it.

I still got a few friends

on the job.

Okay.

I'll be in touch, Roy.

Ah!

- Yeah.

- I found your boy.

I found Richard Finn.

The landlady found him

when she let the gas man in.

How did he die?

Overdose. Fentanyl.

Only one needle hole.

What?

He's not much of a junkie.

There's no track marks.

So he's a newbie.

Didn't know what he was doing.

You alright there, Roy?

He was there.

At the crime scene.

Yeah. You said that.

No.

No, not just his prints.

He was there the next morning

when we were there.

Is this what you're

remembering,

seeing him at the crime scene?

This guy's prints are

at the house. All over it.

He turns up to the crime scene

the next morning.

We talk to him.

His alibi for the time

of the m*rder

is that he was home alone.

And we don't follow it up.

We don't talk to his friends,

we don't talk

to his neighbors.

Isaac Samuel's prints

were all over the house.

He had motive

and he confessed.

It doesn't make sense.

Well, it doesn't matter now.

The dead don't talk.

Yeah, maybe.

But they do leave sh*t behind.

From ashes to ashes,

from dust to the dust,

so it must be.

Oh, God,

the spirit of all our joys,

the cause of our delights,

the glory of

our darkest nights.

Uh, Mrs. Finn?

My name's Roy Freeman.

I, uh...

I understand this is

a very bad time,

but can I just ask

a couple of questions

about your husband?

Uh... I'm her husband, Eddie.

Oh, I'm so sorry, Eddie.

Hi. Uh... is the other Mrs. Finn

around here somewhere?

Uh, no.

She and Richard weren't

exactly on the best of terms.

Now, is there something

I can help you with?

He was my brother.

I'm looking into a case

that your brother was

particularly interested in.

Recently he went to visit

a death row inmate

and he mentioned he was

actually writing a book

on the subject.

I wondered if you knew

anything about this.

I'm gonna get a ride

home with Aunt Jude.

Yeah.

Okay?

Okay.

Okay.

I'm, uh... just over here.

Here.

I found it in his apartment.

He called it

The Book of Mirrors.

The title doesn't make

any sense to me.

Book of Mirrors...

Isaac Samuel,

that, uh, death row inmate,

he said this is about

the Wieder m*rder?

Yeah, well,

if Richard were here,

he'd probably call it

a crime memoir or some sh*t.

You read it?

Much as I could stomach.

It's a bunch of

self-aggrandizing garbage,

you ask me.

About some girl he was

obsessed with in college.

So, uh, you guys weren't close?

Look, I don't mean

to speak ill of the dead,

but Richard wasn't

exactly someone

that you wanted

to get close to.

How long had he been using?

dr*gs?

No. No.

I never knew him

to be into dr*gs.

It just didn't seem his thing.

Then again, with Richard,

nothing was ever really

how it seemed.

I mean, he'd always

been a little bit off,

even when we were kids,

but this last year,

last couple of years, even,

something just

didn't seem right.

What was different?

I don't know. He was...

agitated, paranoid.

Just like he comes across

in that book.

Now, listen, if I were you,

I wouldn't waste

too much time on it.

Okay. I can keep this?

Be my guest.

"Memory is a fickle thing.

What we can recall,

what we can't.

Rare moments

that forever imprint,

banalities that don't.

Sufferings so painful,

they're buried deep

in our mind's recesses,

forgotten till time

digs it back up.

Whatever the memory, though--

good, bad, unremarkable--

it never comes back

all at once.

They're always

doled out in fragments

like pieces of a puzzle

you have to wait to complete."

"When you'll get

another puzzle piece...

that's anyone's guess.

Months, years,

could be a decade."

Richard Finn.

"Like it was with

the m*rder of Joseph Wieder.

Ten years of never

understanding it."

"Or as I now know,

misunderstanding it."

No.

"And all because of her.

Laura Baines.

She was one

of those rare unicorns

who knew everything

about everything."

Nobody made better use

of chromatic counterpoint

than Rachmaninoff.

"Double bachelor's in

art history and neuroscience."

...between lower cortisol levels

and their predisposition...

"A master's in math."

The beauty

of what Odlyzko showed

is that the distribution...

"Spoke five languages."

"She knew exactly who she was.

If only I did back then."

How's the punch?

The way you've been

skulking around,

waiting for your moment

to come and talk to me,

I figured you'd at least come up

with something better than,

"How's the punch?"

I wasn't skulking.

Not just skulking.

Leering too.

Oh! Skulking and leering.

You're making me sound like

I'm a serial k*ller.

Well, I can say

I knew you when.

I'm, uh, Richard.

I know.

It's on your chest.

Oh. Right.

And yet, uh, here you are,

nameless and shrouded

in mystery. Seems unfair.

"Oh, what's in a name, really?

That which we call a rose

by any other name."

Oh, great!

Another bardolater.

So, uh, what's your thesis

about?

Um...

No! Don't tell me.

Let me guess. Okay.

Okay.

Uh... it's probably

something controversial.

Probably.

Yeah.

Okay, "Cross Gender Interference

in A Midsummer Night's Dream."

Boom.

Close.

"Memory Reconsolidation

Through Accelerated

Resolution Therapy."

Oh. One of the Bard's

lesser known works.

Um...

Psychology department.

I'm Laura.

What, you just like to crash

other departments' mixers?

Oh, uh, no,

I came with a friend.

Well, a colleague, really.

Professor Wieder.

I'm helping him

with some research

and he's administering

my thesis.

Right.

On memory reconstruction

through the accelerated

reconciliation?

"Memory Reconsolidation

Through..."

Yeah, okay.

No. Sorry. I'm just

being hard on you now.

It is a bit of a mouthful.

How many wishes do you get?

Oh.

It, uh... It belonged

to my grandmother.

I read somewhere

that, uh, when a woman

plays with her jewelry,

it means she's flirting

with you.

Oh! Really? Hmm.

Well, you shouldn't believe

everything you read.

Okay.

Choke me!

What?

Do it!

Harder!

Oh! Oh!

"From that moment on,

it was like we were

inseparable."

"For the next few months,

we did everything together.

She made me feel like

the best version of myself."

So... what do you think?

What do I think?

I think you're f*cking

brilliant, Richard.

I mean, other people

need to read your work.

You should send it to...

to Harper's, The Atlantic,

all the big fiction rags.

"It was like I was

experiencing the world

for the first time

through her eyes."

You're so talented.

Thanks.

Just, uh, one second. Sorry.

Hey, Mom.

"But not everything

was looking rosy."

Uh-huh.

"A few months after we met,

my father

d*ed of a heart att*ck.

My mother couldn't afford

my room and board.

Laura wanted to help

and that's how I first met

Professor Joseph Wieder."

Laura. Welcome!

Uh, sorry we're late.

Not a problem.

Hi.

Hello!

Had to finish a call with

our friend in DC, anyway.

Ah! Mm-hm.

Mm-mm.

You must be Richard.

Laura's told me a lot

about you.

All lies, I'm sure.

Exaggerations and half-truths.

Those I can live with.

Do we feel like martinis?

Sure.

Yes!

So, Richard, Laura tells me

you want to be a novelist.

Literary memoir, actually.

Mmm!

Oh?

I'm not familiar.

Well, you see,

a traditional memoir is

someone's life story.

The genre's not concerned

with questions of truth,

imagination, memory, style.

Literary memoir has

a fictional element, then?

No, no, I wouldn't call it

fictional, really.

No.

Oh. Sorry.

No, you see, uh, the author's

telling the truth of the story

as he believes it to be true.

They. As they believe it

to be true.

Self-perception

and personal experience

have a part in it.

Okay.

More wine?

Please.

Yes!

You know something?

Ten years from now...

we'll look back

to this dinner

and all we'll remember is

the Chateau Leoville Barton.

Oh, I doubt that.

The mind replaces memories

all the time.

It's innate to its wiring.

Especially if you drink

too much.

Do the thing.

- Hmm?

- Come on!

It's not a party trick.

Wait. What is she

talking about?

It helps explain

what we're working on.

Okay, then. Pick a memory. Hmm?

From your childhood. Anything.

Objects, moments, people.

Anything you can

easily recall?

Uh...

- Okay.

- Uh...

I remember we had

this green shag rug

and, uh...

...four goldfish

named after the guys in KISS.

That's a good memory.

How about something that

you wish you could forget?

Um...

Did your parents ever hit you?

No.

Did you ever get lost

in a shopping mall

or a big supermarket?

I mean... come to think of it,

there was this one time

we went to a toy store,

and, uh...

I... I couldn't find my mom.

Were you scared?

I mean, I haven't

thought about it

since it happened, but...

Yeah.

I looked for her everywhere.

And you eventually found her?

Uh... outside smoking.

Huh. It's... crazy.

I'd forgotten all that.

At the, uh... the heart

of our research, uh...

Joe's research

is the thesis that most people

experience trauma,

but the mind blocks

those memories

from ever actually presenting.

The trauma you

experienced that day

was your mother

abandoning you.

You were a child. Vulnerable.

And that fact that your mother

might actually harm you

is too traumatic to process.

So you suppressed it

from memory.

But the effects of that trauma

still linger

in your subconscious

and become part of the fabric

of who you are.

Wow. Okay.

That's...

Therapy with dinner.

Cheers.

Richard.

Would you come with me?

I've got something

I'd like to show you. Hmm?

Okay.

Okay.

That's a lot of books.

I can offer you $500 a week

to organize it.

To classify them

electronically,

when you can, until you're done,

which, if I had to guess,

won't be anytime soon.

I... I mean, I don't really

know what to say. Uh...

Laura told me about what

happened to your father

and the situation

that you're in.

So you might want to

just say you'll do it.

Thank you.

"Working for Wieder

was a dream.

New worlds opened up.

A curated collection of

the world's greatest thinkers.

For every two

I'd catalog...

I'd find myself

reading another.

Eventually, though, all

the time I spent at Wieder's

exposed me to something

I wasn't expecting."

More books?

Yeah.

The professor wants me

to donate them,

but there's some good sh*t

in here.

Say, uh, what's with the bats?

His dad's.

Collected them, I guess.

Signed too.

Willie McCovey. Al Kaline.

Ted Williams.

You wanna finish this?

I gotta work.

Yeah. Sure.

Thanks.

"A laugh."

Yeah.

"A hand grazing an arm."

"One thing's clear."

Hey, it's me.

I'm sorry, but I have

to bag on dinner tonight.

I'm stuck at the office

helping Joe,

but I'll, uh... I'll see you

when I get home.

"Laura Baines was more than

just Joseph Wieder's

research fellow."

I'm supposed

to be working.

Don't you have

a research paper due tomorrow?

Yeah.

I have so many patient

notes to transcribe.

Stop!

Oh, God.

Do you like that?

You know I like that.

You know I do.

"Despite our time together,

I didn't know

Laura Baines at all."

"And when I found

that manuscript...

I realized

I wasn't the only one."

Are you hungry?

Oh, hey. I didn't know

you were home.

What have you got there?

I don't know.

I found it in, uh...

It was lodged in the back there

behind some books.

Oh. Huh.

Laura. So eager.

Oh.

Come on.

Before lunch gets cold.

Do you like to cook, Richard?

I don't really know how.

Well, you should learn.

Maybe you're good at it,

maybe you're not, hmm?

Experiment.

Mm-hm.

Laura likes a man

who can cook.

How are things going

between you two?

We're just friends.

Oh, come on.

I got the impression

you were more than that.

Is that what she told you?

I don't need Laura to tell me

something to know it.

I can sense things.

I've known her

for some time now.

Right. I mean,

I-I would never presume...

But, Richard, she brought you

into my life to help,

not to complicate things.

And that's what I'm here for,

to help.

Well, good.

To that end, then,

I think-- and these are

just my thoughts--

I think it would be better if

you stopped seeing each other.

Wait, what?

Nobody likes it when things

become overly complicated.

I'm going out of town to meet

some people about my book.

I imagine when I get back

you will have sorted out

some new arrangement.

Bon apptit.

"He'd crossed a line,

but I never sorted

anything out.

She sorted it out for me."

Babe?

You home?

Hey, uh...

I got you some stuff

from Bamboo House.

You know,

those dumplings you like.

Babe?

"She was gone.

And then the next day,

it happened."

"Professor Joseph Wieder

was found dead.

Beaten to death.

Some junkie

confessed to the crime."

"The Waterford College

community digested the tragedy

and I went on to become

a novelist of no repute,

toiling in obscurity."

"And Laura Baines?

I later found out that a week

before the m*rder

she went to see Susan Avery,

Wieder's contact at

the Department of Defense,

claiming ownership

over Wieder's work."

No, it doesn't work like that.

The US Government

commissioned the study.

The grant is for

Professor Wieder.

But I wrote it!

Look, Ms. Baines,

I don't know what arrangement

you made with Dr. Wieder,

but I recommend you take it up

with the university

or directly with him.

Oh, come on! This is my work

and he just

put his name on it!

I'm sorry.

Is that all you can say?

This is bullshit!

You can't just get away

with this!

"After the m*rder,

she disappeared.

It was like she'd fallen right

off the face of the Earth."

"Until the day

I saw her again."

"Until...

I saw her again."

Until you saw her again where?

Ah, you m*therf*cker!

You know what?

She's probably dead.

Her social security

number is still active.

She's got no address,

no social media presence,

no place of business, nothing.

Just one old pic

from high school.

So what?

She's a private person.

It's the same with

Wayne Devereaux,

Wieder's caretaker.

No phone number,

no job history.

I did a reverse address

search, nothing.

It's like everyone from

Wieder's life at that time

is now a f*cking ghost.

You know what?

You're making me feel like

I want to be a f*cking ghost.

The only one I've been able to

track down is Finn's ex-wife.

I'm gonna go and talk to her.

And what the f*ck's

she gonna say to you?

I don't know.

She might know something.

You know? Finn might

have been onto something.

That's a lot of somethings

and maybes and ifs and buts.

Look, man,

if Isaac Samuel is innocent

and we've put away

the wrong guy,

come on.

That's a chance for us

to make that right.

The guy confessed!

I know he confessed, okay?

He admits he was in the house

on that night. He says that.

But he also says

before he could do anything,

someone else came in

to the house.

Who?

Who came in, Roy?

I don't know.

Well, if you don't

f*cking know,

then I don't

f*cking know either.

I'm gonna take a piss.

And he drops in another one!

This kid's on fire!

Hey!

What the f*ck, man?

I'm sorry.

Hallucinations are

often a common byproduct

of the procedure.

But I've only ever seen

pictures of her.

Yeah, well,

it indicates recall,

even if it wasn't really her.

Same with the snippets of

memory you've reported.

It means your neural pathways

are starting to reactivate.

So I'm not just going

completely crazy, then?

Far from it.

You're actually what we'd call

a good result.

Treatment's working.

Put that down!

Ms. Finn?

I'm sorry

to disturb you. I...

You the cop?

Roy Freeman, yeah. I called.

Yeah, I'm actually,

you know, uh...

...retired.

And so I'm not with

the police anymore.

Good. Never liked cops.

Doesn't make sense.

Richard was a lot of things--

paranoid, deluded,

real misanthrope.

But he wasn't a druggie.

So you think his death

was an accident, maybe?

I bet that c**t,

Elizabeth Westlake,

had something to do with it.

I'm sorry.

I-I don't know who that is.

Yeah. Neither did I

until recently.

Crazy-ass bitch.

They had some big argument

a few weeks before

Richard moved out.

Elizabeth... Westlake?

- Yeah.

- Yeah. Okay.

Richard started

drinking again.

And one night he comes home

screaming on the phone

all pissed.

Huh. No, no, no.

No, no, no.

No, no, no,

you listen to me, okay?

Don't you f*cking lie to me!

He must have thought

I was asleep.

Okay, I-I know what you did.

Yeah.

And you're not gonna

get away with it.

You ever ask him

what the argument was about?

I tried not to talk to Richard

when he was like that.

Right.

So I waited

until he was asleep.

Next day, I called the number,

and got her voicemail.

What else do you know

about her?

Know what she does?

Do you know how they connect?

No.

Nothing?

You just called her

a crazy-ass bitch.

Look, all I know is

I never heard him talk

to anybody like that before.

Not even me.

You ask me...

she k*lled him.

Ms. Westlake.

Oh. Mr. Freeman.

Have we met?

I'm sorry. I have a condition.

I forget a lot of stuff.

Well, I'm sorry.

We met in passing

a long time ago.

And I'd read about your

accident in the newspaper.

Would you mind

if I asked you where?

Where did we meet?

I wish I could talk.

But I need to

get to the office.

That's okay.

I actually just

wanted to talk to you

about Richard Finn.

Now, there's someone

I'd like to forget.

Why is that?

I guess you've

never been stalked,

made to feel like you always

need to be

looking over your shoulder.

Oh. Yeah, well,

you know, uh...

he had it in his mind

that you had something to do

with Joseph Wieder's m*rder.

So you've spoken to him?

No, I haven't. Uh...

I tried to,

but he passed away.

I see.

Yeah.

He left something behind,

though.

A memoir.

And I was wondering if you'd

like to have a look at it.

You could just tell me

what you think.

I've worked very hard to

forget that time in my life,

Professor Wieder's death,

and I'd rather not relive it.

Totally understand. Yeah.

You know, though, uh...

there is a man

who is on death row

for Joseph Wieder's m*rder

and his date's coming up

pretty soon.

So maybe you could just,

you know, take a look.

If I have a free moment.

Great. Thank you.

Thank you very much.

Alright.

Alright.

You have a great day.

You take care of yourself,

now, Roy.

This is it, man.

Mr. Devereaux?

Mr. Devereaux?

It's been a while.

Took me a second there

to place you,

but my story's the same

as it was then.

I just never got to tell it

to you 'cause...

you already had your man.

Well, if it's okay with you,

I'd like to hear it now.

Yeah? Why is that?

I'm just going back

through things.

Making sure all the right

boxes got checked,

you know?

Okay.

Well...

Professor Wieder

found me

when I was a shell

of who I was.

He helped me get back

on my feet.

He got me a job

working maintenance.

I mean, I remember it

crystal clear, man.

He was like a celebrity.

Everyone loved him.

He did

all sorts of work.

I don't know what exactly,

but there was always

people visiting.

Thank you so much.

Important people.

People from the government,

Department of Defense.

He was running a trial

for them

out of his department

at the college.

Trauma patients.

Testing a medication

he developed.

I guess I was

a perfect candidate.

I was first on the ground

in Iraq.

Saw my share of it

before taking a b*llet.

I didn't know the real damage

till I got home.

Just couldn't get right.

Wieder found me at the VA,

said I fit his

research profile.

What kind of research?

Wayne, what if I told you

that through medicine

and suggestion

you could replace the memory

of your trauma of Iraq

with better memories

or perhaps erase the memory

of your trauma altogether?

Man, I'd say sign me up.

By activating opposite

sides of the brain,

we can release

the emotional experiences

trapped in our nervous system.

But before we make

that bad memory go away,

we have to fully confront it.

Breathe.

He said it was effective

for dealing with PTSD,

but that was only part

of the treatment.

Take one in the morning.

And one before bed.

The rest was that

medication he developed.

He said it could wipe

the slate clean.

But you just told me

about Iraq.

Does that mean

the treatment didn't work?

Oh, it did for a time.

Details faded.

No more panic att*cks.

But those pills, man,

I mean...

...they had some f*cking

mean side effects.

I didn't recognize

myself anymore.

I'd black out.

No idea where I was,

how I got there.

So you stopped

taking the medication?

Mm-hm.

Yeah, against

the professor's wishes.

Where's your car?

I came here by taxi.

You want a ride?

ASPCA in the city buys

my offcuts for dogs.

You sure?

Yeah, man. Seat's free.

Do you know anything

about Laura Baines?

Oh, man. I don't think anybody

ever really knew Laura Baines.

Her and Wieder were a thing,

yeah?

I don't know nothin'

about that.

From what he said, she's just

a lab assistant, nothing more.

I mean, maybe

she'd like to be.

But if they were,

I never saw it.

Not that

I didn't see others.

I'd come over the house

every now and then,

to fix this and that.

There were a lot of women.

He kept a record of them too.

What kind of record?

He had one of those

old-school camcorders.

I guess he liked to

revisit his past exploits.

Did Laura Baines

ever call him out on it?

No, man. Only time

I heard them exchange words

was over some research paper

they were writing.

But the night he was k*lled,

her and Finn,

they came over to the house

and there was some kind

of argument.

We need to have

a rational conversation

without

all this accusation.

- You're f*cking lying!

- He's not lying!

Oh! You wanna defend him now?

I don't need defending.

What were they fighting about?

f*ck if I know,

Finn got real pissed off.

Know what?

f*ck the both of you.

You deserve each other.

Are you f*cking kidding me?

He left

and I went to go out front,

talk to him,

maybe see what's what.

But he was just... gone.

Or he never left.

In Finn's statement,

he says he was home alone

at the time of the m*rder.

Well, I mean, I can only

tell you what I saw.

What about Laura?

You see her leave?

Yeah, later in a taxi.

So where'd you go?

My usual. Old Warren.

The bartender there, Diane,

even she was one of

the professor's girls.

He was a good man.

He lost his way,

that's all.

It can happen

to any one of us.

But it's like the Bible says.

"Do not judge

lest you too be judged."

Thanks for the lift.

Yeah. It's me.

He's home.

Diane Lynch.

A very, very interesting read.

Aren't you gonna invite me in?

Can I get you a water?

Maybe some whiskey.

I, uh... I don't have any

in the house.

Doctors.

I can't even remember

the last time I had a drink.

One of the few benefits of

your condition, I suppose.

You can't remember

the bad times.

Can't remember the good times,

either.

That's too bad.

Must be hard--

no memory of friends, family,

past experience.

No context for who you are.

Your place in the world.

I can't imagine

what that's like,

to feel so lost.

So alone.

So what did you think

of Finn's book?

It was...

a bunch of bullshit.

So, you two were,

uh... never lovers?

No. That was just

his little fantasy.

People make things up

all the time.

Lie to protect themselves.

Manufacture histories to

appear more than they are

'cause the reality

is too painful.

I spoke with Wayne Devereaux.

Hmm.

He seemed to confirm

a lot of what's in there.

Wow. Another reliable witness.

Makes sense, though.

Lots of vets

who suffer from trauma

turn to escapist invention--

video games,

p*rn.

So, did he invent

the research study

Wieder was working on too?

No. Wayne was a participant

in that.

But if I remember correctly,

he didn't respond favorably

to the protocol.

He resented

what it did to him.

He was prone to bouts

of anger, aggression.

You seem to know

a whole lot about him.

Well, I transcribed Wieder's

patient notes. All of them.

Sometimes you learn things

you'd prefer you didn't.

He said that

Wieder was intending

on publishing

his findings, so...

That's what you do.

You work for years

and then

you publish your findings.

But he d*ed

before it was complete.

Do you feel he was giving

you the credit you deserved?

He d*ed before we could

work that out as well.

A drug that can help people

forget past trauma.

Seems to me someone could make

a whole lot of money

out of that.

Now you think someone

k*lled him for money.

You may not have memory,

Mr. Freeman,

but you do have

quite the imagination.

People k*ll for a whole lot

of different reasons.

I reached out to Susan Avery,

Wieder's DOD contact.

I know who Susan Avery is.

She collaborated with Wieder

for decades.

So then you also know

that she's taken over his

department at Waterford.

Hmm.

You know, this conversation

would have been a lot better

with whiskey.

You used to love

a good drink, Roy.

Now call the play.

I'll give you five seconds

to unbuckle your g*ns.

One.

Two.

Three.

Enough fun.

Unbuckle them.

Harry,

Jackson, get the hardware.

Doc!

Anybody else

want to try their luck?

Get moving!

Come on, keep moving,

all of ya!

Oh, f*ck.

911. What's your emergency?

Yeah, uh, I wanna report

a sh**ting.

Mr. Freeman, I'm going to

read you your rights.

You have the right

to remain silent.

If you refuse this right,

anything you say can be used

against you in a court of law.

You have the right

to an attorney.

If you cannot afford

an attorney,

one will be appointed to you

by the court.

We all done?

Case closed.

Another one off the books.

Let's go celebrate.

I'm buying.

Yeah. Let me catch you up.

I'll wait for you in the car.

If you cannot afford

an attorney,

one will be appointed to you

by the court.

Do you understand the rights

I just read to you, sir?

You know,

you're one lucky sonofab*tch.

Those security cameras caught

him trying to run you down.

There's gonna be

a lot of red tape,

but, uh, it'll prove

it's self-defense.

Thanks for coming down.

Yeah, course.

You'd have done

exactly the same thing for me.

CSI found

two vials of fentanyl

in Devereaux's truck--

the same sh*t

that k*lled Finn.

They're calling it a homicide.

What?

Devereaux k*lled Finn?

For what?

Stop him IDing him

for Wieder's m*rder?

Sure. Makes sense.

No. No, it doesn't make

f*ckin' sense.

In his own g*dd*mn book,

Finn is pointing 100%

to Elizabeth Westlake,

not to Devereaux.

Something's not right.

Yeah, something's not right.

Something's not right

with you, Roy.

Isaac Samuel

committed this act.

Isaac Samuel confessed to it.

In one month,

there will be justice

and he will be dead.

And you can move on

and forget about all this.

Was I a good cop?

Were you a good cop? What?

What the f*ck

are you talking about?

Was I good at my job?

Or was I a bad cop?

Was I a sh*t cop?

Was I a lazy sonofab*tch

who just marked his card

and showed up?

Roy, you were one of the best.

You were a great cop.

My name's not on

any of the sign-offs.

What?

In the Wieder file.

My name is not on

any of the officials.

Not the incident report...

not the witness sheet,

forensic findings,

Samuel's confession.

None of it.

It's just your name...

on all of it.

What are you trying

to say, Roy?

I've been going back through

30 years of case files.

Thirty years.

Every one, every document,

every single one...

we co-signed.

My name right next to yours.

Except for this one.

Why is that?

I see what you're doing here,

Roy.

You've interviewed

everyone else.

Now you're gonna accuse me.

Jesus Christ, Roy,

you're some

f*ckin' piece of work.

You come to my house

out of nowhere,

asking for my help,

and now you accuse me?

f*ck you, Roy.

f*ck you.

I ain't no k*ller!

You're in rare form tonight.

Where is she?

She won't be coming in

for a while, Roy.

Okay.

Uh-huh.

I'm out.

Oh, don't take my car, Roy.

Hey,

I will bring it back tomorrow.

What you did,

I will never forget.

Tomorrow.

We're not open yet.

Was there

an old gray-haired guy

used to run this place?

Eric? Eric O'Toole?

Yeah, he's retired. Is there

anything I can help you with?

It's my pop's place now.

Yeah, I'm looking for a woman

who used to work here too.

Her name's Diane.

Oh, you mean Diane Lynch?

Yeah, right. Any idea

where I could find her?

Yeah, just over

at Calvary Catholic.

She d*ed about five years ago.

Oh, you don't say?

f*ck.

Was she a friend

or something?

Eh, she gave a deposition

in a case I was working on.

I was just following up.

So, you a cop?

Used to be.

Well...

On me.

My grandfather was a cop.

I just recently remembered

I actually, uh...

I like to do this.

Don't we all?

To Diane.

Hey.

You mind if I use your bathroom?

Just around the corner,

other side of the jukebox.

Thanks.

- Hello?

- Mr. Freeman?

It's Susan Avery

returning your call.

Blunt object to the head.

Um, Susan?

From Waterford College.

I have something for you.

You sure I can't get you

a glass of water?

No, no, I'm fine.

You said you had something

for me?

I don't know

where the original is.

Probably in storage at

the DOD, if I had to guess,

but that's the only copy

I had from my time there.

The Mirror Effect.

Wieder was quite proud

of this work.

He thought

it would help people

who were suffering

with their trauma.

It's award-worthy research.

It was never published?

At least not under his name.

I don't understand.

I gather

you haven't read her book.

She updated Wieder's research

with additional findings

she culled together

over the years

she was getting her doctorate.

So, she stole his work?

It happens all the time

in academic research.

Besides, who would protest?

Wieder's dead.

But you contracted it?

It's not as simple as that.

Before Wieder d*ed,

Laura Baines came to me

with that manuscript.

Yeah, I heard

she wasn't happy.

She claimed the work

was hers.

Wieder wasn't giving her

the credit she deserved.

This is bullshit! He can't

just get away with this!

So, how did she publish it?

We'd been circulating it

in a number

of the VA hospitals,

but the department's

priorities changed.

A few years later

after I started working here,

I found her book review.

So... why didn't you

go after her?

There was nothing

to go after her for.

The project was shuttered.

Wieder used to live

around here, right?

Over on Chestnut. Apparently

the house is still empty.

Blunt object to the head.

Any sign of it?

No. Couple of bats

in the garage, though.

One's missing, right?

Caretaker there said they were

all signed by Hall of Famers,

so probably worth

a lot of money.

You wanna go talk to him?

I will. Come on.

Sir.

What you got there, Roy?

Never did find

the m*rder w*apon

from the Wieder case, did you?

You put this here?

Put it back

in the hole, Roy.

Both of youse, get inside.

Why couldn't you

just listen to me?

You just couldn't let it go,

could you?!

What did you do, Jim?

What did I do?

I cleaned this

f*cking mess up.

Ten years ago. Don't you

remember any of this?

What Diane did?

Diane?

She told me what you knew.

Diane Lynch?

Get away from me!

From your favorite bar.

She was one of

Wieder's patients.

Enough, Laura.

I told you

I would take care of this.

Oh.

You know each other?

I see.

So, you're in this together?

- f*ck me.

- No, I get it.

I get it, Jimmy.

Your wife got really sick.

You got deep in debt.

She comes along,

pays to you k*ll Wieder

so she can publish her book,

and you,

you railroad Isaac Samuel,

cover it all up.

No, no, no, no, no. I did not

pay him to k*ll Wieder.

We didn't meet until

after your accident.

My life was destroyed.

I was facing losing

years of clinical research.

The name "Laura Baines"

would always be associated

with what happened.

Then your partner showed up,

asking all kinds of questions.

I didn't know what he wanted,

but he wouldn't let up

and I was so scared.

Oh, f*ck you, Laura!

So, I... left.

I moved, changed my name,

started over,

completed the research

and published my book,

hoping I would

never see him again.

But then, a few years ago,

Richard Finn

started poking around.

She's an author.

Elizabeth Westlake.

But she changed it.

It used to be Laura Baines.

She must have taken

Wieder's work after he d*ed.

You ask me,

she's the one who k*lled him.

Then somehow,

your partner found me

and he turned up

with his hand out,

and this time, it's for money.

All this, all this is just

f*cking bullshit, Roy.

I'm not lying.

He blackmailed me.

He said he'd go public with

proof my book wasn't my work

unless I paid him.

So, you k*lled

Richard Finn too

in case he got the same idea?

I didn't k*ll anyone.

She k*lled Finn the same way

she k*lled Wieder.

Finn's writing a book

about the m*rder

and he thinks

you k*lled Wieder.

You need to talk to him.

With other people's hands.

Okay.

I'm telling you, Laura,

you can f*ck around

all you want, but I'm not...

Devereaux was

already a trained k*ller.

With Finn out of the way,

she got him to come after you.

He's home.

Wait until he leaves

and then take care of it.

She's a manipulator, Roy.

She's manipulating you

right now.

She gets people to come in

and do her dirty work

and then she just skates away.

She has to be

held accountable.

Hm, it's such a funny thing,

the mind,

the things it can live with

and the things

it just can't bear.

To get to die

ignorant of both,

now that...

Oh, that is

a special kind of bliss.

What I did...

I did for you.

Breaking news

in a decades-old m*rder

out at Waterford College

as fresh evidence

in the brutal k*lling

of psychology professor

Joseph Wieder

exonerates a man

incarcerated on death row.

29-year-old Isaac Samuel was

convicted of revenge k*lling

and was scheduled to die

by lethal injection

in just one month's time.

But information uncovered in

the wake of a double homicide

this past Tuesday

at Wieder's abandoned home

tells a different

kind of story.

Name three objects

in this room.

Chair, lamp... clock.

And three objects

not in this room.

Wine glass, newspaper, g*n.

Today's date?

October 21st.

Your place of birth?

Larksville, Pennsylvania.

Your mother's name?

Florence.

Your father's name?

George.

Your middle school?

South Side.

Very good.

It seems the treatment's

been very effective.

It must be gratifying to be

able to remember again.

Yeah.

The former detective

who investigated the case

ten years ago,

Roy Freeman,

was instrumental in bringing

the responsible parties

to justice.

He uncovered a twisted

m*rder-for-hire plot

with roots in

the Washington County Police

and the Waterford

academic community.

Mr. Freeman,

a highly decorated detective,

left the police force

some years ago

following a car accident...

Professor Wieder

is a doctor. He took an oath.

Keep them from harm

and injustice.

Uh-huh.

Well, she took an oath too.

We both did.

To have and to hold,

in sickness and in health.

She came to see him

six months ago

about some, uh,

unresolved trauma.

You know,

I just don't believe you.

Her alcoholic father,

she was...

She was concerned

she was repeating patterns

in your marriage.

She was vulnerable

and he just took advantage.

I'm sorry to have to be

the one to tell you this.

Well, why are you? Huh?

Just for the f*ck of it?

You want me to believe you're

some kind of good Samaritan

who just thought I should know

my wife is f*cking her shrink?

Is that it?

In case you want proof.

And what's on that?

Your wife.

Just let me go.

Get the f*ck away from me!

Open the door, Diane.

Open the door!

Leave me alone!

Just let me go.

Oh! Back so soon?

I'm... I'm sorry.

No.

Jesus f*cking Christ!

Roy!

Let's get it done.