Will Trent

Previously on Will Trent...

-I'm so sorry. - Oh.

Mom? Mom, please.

Can we talk about your scan?

Unfortunately, this dark area is a tumor.

Oh, my God. I am so sorry, Michael.

Don't do that. Don't call me Michael. You think I'm gonna die.

- What happened? -I shot him.

You killed my brother, you asshole!

To Didi.

Good afternoon, folks.

Welcome to the Jack Bose Invitational Rodeo,

celebrating the history of Black cowboys and cowgirls who built this great country.

We've got enough bull riding, calf roping and barrel racing

to keep your skin tingling till it's time for Christmas.

And leading off our grand entry is rodeo legend Bernadette Fleury.

Y'all are truly in the presence of greatness.

Damn it to hell.

Hey, something wrong with my boot. It ain't working.

The boot right. Your foot wrong.

What... Gimme that flask. It's a family show.

You know I can ride anything, backwards and blindfolded.

Especially old Pancake.

Hey, hey, Rooster!

Hey, you take it easy with her, Rooster.

Mind your business. Pancake ain't even your horse,

-old washed-up ass. -Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

See, it ain't her fault you're so damn ugly.

Get rough with that horse again.

I swear for God, I'll put you in the ground.

What the hell's going on? Why ain't she out there?

Get on the horse, Bernie. Come on.

Grab the flag, do a lap around the ring,

smile like you're having a good day, and come on back.

Every day is a good day

-when you're Bernadette Fleury. -Lord.

Heads up, cowboys and cowgirls...

Get that drunk away from my horse. Find another rider. She's done.

Hey, what's wrong, girl?

Hey, hey! You leave her alone!

- -No, no, I said leave her alone.

Get away from her.

Be still. Focus on your breath.

- -Jesus!

Obviously, this breathing crap is not working for you.

Just lie back down and tell me where the pain is coming from.

I still can't...

get over the fact that I've shot and killed a kid.

Where is the pain, like, in you?

I mean, emotions settle, they find physical purchase and take hold.

So where in you do you feel the pain?

Well...

in my stomach, mostly.

What does it feel like?

Like a bag of snakes.

Boiling hot snakes that are just slithering

and twisting up all my anger

and sadness and fear.

Just twisting up so tightly I could barely get a single breath in.

-And I-- -Here?

I did not consent to being touched.

-Yes, you did. Read the paperwork. -How about you read--

Shh!

I'm putting my hands on your head. It's boiling. Feel it.

What does it make you wanna do?

I wanna run...

...away.

Anywhere, so I...

I'm not stuck in my... my feelings and my memories.

-How's that tummy? -Wait.

Can you not say tummy?

You know that's infantilizing, isn't it?

It's... It's better.

It's actually much better.

It'll come back.

It just wants your attention.

That pain, it wants you to see it, to feel it, to see it as part of you.

Maybe reach out and give it a hug and say, "I see you."

Then, eventually, it'll show up less often.

So you want me to hug my feelings?

You think that's gonna fix me?

You're not broken. You're in pain.

I think the real question is,

"Do you wanna be here?"

Like, in therapy? No.

Like, on Earth.

Do you wanna be alive, Will?

To be truly alive means we hold some excitement for the future.

We take pleasure every day,

go outside, appreciate the world.

I think that's what you have to decide, Will.

In the meantime...

take three of these twice daily.

For optimism.

Can't wait.

Security footage outside showed Bernadette Fleury

riding off on a stolen horse.

Can't track footsteps with all this hay.

- -Jesus. Dear God.

Not a fan of horses?

I prefer my animals Betty-sized.

All right, so there was a gunshot, but I don't think it hit pitchfork mouth.

There. Single shot.

Do you think it was a warning?

Clearly, the warning didn't work.

There had to be a struggle.

All right. So, uh, she lost her gun and picked up a pitchfork.

-Why? -Does that really matter?

-That crazy woman killed him. -And you are?

Drummond Moncrief. Stock contractor, owner of the stolen horse.

Rooster McClatchy is my employee... Was.

I'm gonna have to ask you to remove yourself from the active crime scene.

Oh, now I get eye contact.

Something on your mind, ace?

Well, I've been knowing Bernie like 20 years now.

Best barrel racer you ever seen.

But lately, that drinking been getting out of control.

Now she can be a prickly one,

but I ain't never knew her to be no murdering type.

Yeah, we'll be the judge of that.

Those are some fancy boots.

It's not adding up.

Wait, is that blood?

Hey, grab a sample of this for the lab.

How did the blood get that far?

There's no trail.

Maybe it's Ms. Bernadette's.

She could be injured.

All we know for sure is that she took that horse.

And I'm gonna tell you one thing for sure.

- Yeah! -She murdered my man!

Yeah, she did. Bernadette Fleury is a no-good gutless killer.

And I want my horse back in one piece.

That's why I'm offering $10,000 to anybody...

That's right, $10,000 to anybody who can bring Pancake home.

-They really are the worst. -Who?

People.

-You look terrible. -Thanks.

-How's your tumor? -So good.

Did Dr. Seth tell you that? 'Cause that's a HIPAA violation.

No, it was Mitchell, because you told her.

Why didn't you tell me?

Well, because I thought you'd make a big deal out of it.

It is a big deal.

What's in the box?

My mother.

Your mom's still alive?

Pretty sure she didn't survive the cremation.

Was she recently alive?

Doesn't matter. Who cares?

She's dead. You're not.

What's up with your brain?

I need surgery.

You schedule it?

-No. -Ormewood, why...

why didn't you schedule it?

Well, because there's a bunch of stuff to do.

There's forms, there's wills, there's trusts, there's paperwork.

-It's like-- -Okay. So you can do that.

-Because I'm scared, Angie! -We can work it out.

Okay?

I'm scared.

It's... It's in my brain. I could die.

That's not gonna happen.

- -That's not what the specialist said.

Oh. What kind of specialist?

-Doesn't matter. -Fine.

-What's in the box? -Nothing.

All business. Okay. Suit yourself.

-God. His face! -That's not his face.

-It's an innie. -Oh, my God. It is his face.

-Oh, God, Pete! -Pete! Not...

-How about a warning next time? -It's so not cool.

-It's burned in my eyes forever. -God.

No small talk, no warning.

This is James Webster.

He sustained fatal injuries after falling from the roof of his building.

These items were found in his pockets.

Autopsy seems normal, but you're the detectives.

It's either a push, a fall or a jump.

We need to find this woman before this mob does.

She's a fugitive on a horse. It shouldn't be this hard.

We don't know the full story.

We have footage of her riding away on a stolen horse,

and her prints are all over the pitchfork.

Yeah, but why steal a horse that is too old to compete or breed?

And why put up a $10,000 reward?

Well, maybe she took the horse to get away.

What do we know about the victim?

Rooster. He has a record. Minor drug stuff.

And for a ranch hand, he was wearing very expensive gator boots.

I'll call the fashion police.

I'm already here.