Episode #1.5

I'm gonna go.

They say that anger only hurts the person holding onto it.

But I disagree.

Anger gets me up in the morning.

Yes, you can let it destroy you,

or you can let it sustain you.

It all comes down to how you use your anger...

and who you aim it at.

- Ruining Christmas and being an asshole... - No. Yes. No.

Sir, no, we're not hiding evidence that St. Hilary's is a satanic cult.

- Your brother-in-law's the killer? Why? - Saw Ms. Hopkins at a Tastee-Freez?

- Whoa, Jack. Hold up. Leads. - Jesus Christ.

- Sir. - Ugh.

We closing in on any viable suspects whatsoever?

Mayor's got his knickers in a knot after last night.

- Clyde Duffie. - Shit.

Jack, I don't want you going near him, got it?

Ah, he's hiding something.

The whole, uh, reward's just a smoke screen.

- That's all any of this is. - You know this how?

I have a lead.

Is that true, Jack?

If she's talking about Clyde Duffie, it is.

St. Hilary's yearbook, 2004. We've got four friends.

Rachel Hopkins, Helen Wang, Zoe Harper, Anna Andrews.

The four were friends.

What the heck are those?

Handmade cotton friendship bracelets, identical to these.

Found post-mortem.

Tied to the tongues of both victims.

Proving what, Detective?

I think the friends became bitter rivals. The question is why.

So teenage rivalry.

What, some... some high-school dispute from 20 years ago.

- That's what you suspect? - Yes, I suspect rivalry.

And I know there's connectivity. That's the line of inquiry I wanna start with.

- By? - Questioning Ms. Andrews.

Anna, Jack's wife?

- Yes, sir. - Priya, hang on. Look.

Sir... sir...

Clyde Duffie is our suspect here. That's who we're looking at, all right?

- I'm the detective on this case. - I thought y'all were working together.

- That makes two of us. - Maybe I came to this on my own.

Sir, I spoke with Ms. Andrews' employer this morning at the station.

He told me she took a leave of absence 12 months ago,

during which no one could contact her or reach her.

Then three days ago, she shows up at the station, unannounced,

demanding she be put on the Hopkins murder.

Demanding, huh? Someone actually use that word?

Two women she went to high school with 20 years ago were murdered.

I know there's connectivity. I wanna understand why.

A lot of girls went to school with Rachel and Helen.

It's a goddamn school for girls, for Christ's sake.

He's right.

Even if he wasn't, why not Zoe?

Jack, no offense,

but there's just as much reason to suspect Zoe as there is Anna.

Fucking bullshit.

The chief suspect here is Clyde Duffie, all right?

What are we doing? Just pulling theories out of our asses?

- Easy. - I'm not gonna take it easy.

She walks in here with this bullshit, and people start taking that seriously.

Do you know how dangerous that is?

Anna is not a suspect, and neither is Zoe. You got that?

You got a yearbook photo. That's what you came in here with.

A fucking yearbook photo.

Why would we just assume that the murderer is in that photo?

"Liar."

Helen Wang knew her killer. The pattern.

Like Rachel, there were no defensive wounds.

- God... - No sign of struggle.

The killer knew Helen Wang would be at St. Hilary's.

The killer knew how to break in without setting off alarms,

breaking any windows.

Who would know how to do that? Who did know how to do that? A student.

There's been thousands of students over the years.

Any one of 'em would've known that.

But who breached a locked door to get to the murder scene?

Who spoke to the victim the day she was murdered?

Claimed to receive an invitation by the victim, which we now know is false.

Who wore a friendship bracelet identical to those found on the murder victim, sir?

And then ask yourself,

who has a career that has been revived after a yearlong absence

by the discovery of a small-town serial killer?

A small town that just happens to be her hometown?

Career advancement? That's the motivation? Wow, that sounds oddly familiar.

- You want my job, Priya? - You not hear all that shit?

- It's hard to hear. - Hard to hear? Get the fuck out.

- Listen. Stay. - What?

We got a ton of leads. Concentrate on that.

Gladly. Fucking horseshit.

What is this, fucking amateur hour?

You interview Ms. Andrews.

You got 48 hours, then I call in the cavalry.

Oh fuck.

Hey, Duffie.

Can I have a moment of your time, sir?

I wanna show you something.

Maybe you could shed a little light on it. What's that, Mr. Duffie?

- Where'd you get this? - Does it matter?

- I bet my lawyer will think so. - What is it, Mr. Duffie?

It's autoerotic asphyxiation. So what?

Come again?

No, usually just the once.

Okay.

Wanna keep the act up? Wanna see where that gets you?

What act are we talking about?

Your grieving husband bullshit, I didn't buy it for one second.

Your wife?

Your wife humiliated you.

She fucked everything that moves, Clyde.

She did. She did it in town. She did it out of town.

You gave her those fucking rules,

and she defied 'em, and you hated her.

You didn't love her, Clyde. You fuckin' hated her.

And then she came after your money.

She ask you for more of that allowance?

You said no, so she threatened to... to drop your jack-off tape?

Is that what it was? Whoo!

Yeah, she hurt your pride, Clyde.

She stepped on your manhood. Now she's fucking with your money.

And she has you too, boy.

She knew same as you, good God-fearing folks in North Georgia,

no way they were fuckin' lining up for a slice of pizza

made by that pathetic fucking pervert from the video, right?

Guy all tied up with... what... what was it, a ball gag in your mouth?

First of all, you've badly misjudged the American consumer.

Second of all, how do you get all that from five seconds of video?

Here's the thing, Clyde.

I'm gonna tell you this now. You ain't talking your way out of this.

You killed your wife. You killed her.

Then you took your fucking dog for a walk in the rain to cover it up.

You were almost there.

But then you realized, "Fuck, I can't find her phone."

You called it over and over again, even after I asked you not to, right?

You drained that battery down.

You washed the murder outta your clothes, outta your shoes.

You were almost there.

Except for that one pesky little loose end,

Helen Wang, right?

I got the text threads, asshole. I got phone records.

You called her the second we left. What'd you do? You threaten her?

You scare her? I imagine you, what,

you reminded her as the headmistress of St. Hilary's,

"You don't wanna be involved in a bullshit blackmail case, right?"

Some sordid sex tape.

You had her exactly where you wanted her. You had her right there in your control.

But then... she had a change of heart.

She had a moment of decency.

She called the sheriff. She made an appointment.

You beat her to it. You killed her.

God, you're an animal.

You're an animal, Mr. Duffie.

I want you to look me in the eye, and you tell me I'm wrong.

Wow.

You got me, Detective.

Yeah, I didn't like my wife.

She was a high-octane, high-maintenance, blue-ribbon bitch.

I put the reward money up 'cause it was a good PR move.

And you're right, I tried to run the phone down

so that video, among others, never got seen.

Rachel was guilty of blackmail. Helen was a part of it.

But I wasn't the person they were blackmailing.

Bullshit.

Don't do that. I got the text thread.

It says "C," C for Clyde. It even uses the word "blackmail."

Don't bullshit me.

I'm not the only C, dumb shit.

- Mr. Duffie, you're under arrest. - Nah, I don't think so.

What do you mean? I'm gonna need you to come with me.

Mr. Duffie, I'm gonna need you to exit the house and come with me now.

You know, I got an idea of who the killer might be.

I'm gonna tell you.

I think it's someone who knows they're above suspicion. Local.

Maybe the last person you'd ever suspect.

I couldn't figure out who that might be.

But then I see that video, which can only come from Rachel's phone.

Hmm.

Who do you think it is, J?

I need you to come with me. I told you you're under arrest.

Nah. I think it's time I paid a visit to the sheriff, sort this whole mess out.

You don't need to talk to the sheriff. Talk to me.

I'm the lead investigator on this case.

You fucked my wife. Now I'm fucking you.

Mr. Duffie, do not get in that car.

- Do not get in that car. - Here's some advice.

Get yourself a real honey badger of a lawyer.

You're gonna need it.

Goddamn, Mr. Duffie, what did I just say to you? Do not...

Hey!

Fuck.

I tried the manor, but she wasn't there.

Mm-hmm. She'll be down in a minute.

Careful now. It's hot.

- Thank you. - You're welcome.

You have a lovely home.

- Have you always lived in Dahlonega? - Ever since '79.

I moved in with Sam after we got married.

So, um, what's your opinion?

Of what?