Episode #1.4

Good morning. I'm coming to you live from Dahlonega,

where there has been a significant development

in the Rachel Hopkins murder case.

As 7,500 friends and neighbors wake up this morning,

they face the grim prospect that one of them could be a serial killer.

Now, as this is a rapidly evolving situation,

know that information is still scarce,

especially on the very first day of Gold Rush Day's festival,

which typically is a time for celebration.

But what I can confirm is the second victim is Helen Wang,

the headmistress of St. Hilary's private girls' school.

While I have nothing more to share, as soon as I know something, you will too.

I'm Anna Andrews, here in Dahlonega for WSK.

We humans are capable of inflicting such misery.

Such cruelty.

Such pain.

And yet, the most dangerous thing we do is lie...

to others.

And to ourselves.

Guess we should've interviewed her yesterday.

Did Anna tell you what the hell she was doing here?

Apparently, Miss Wang left her a message at her B&B,

asked her to meet her here.

On a Saturday?

She said she arrived,

she saw the body, she called her cameraman, then called us.

All right, look.

Call Dahlonega Manor, where Anna's staying.

Just make sure that story checks out.

- I'mma go talk to her. - Yeah, I have her phone.

She give you access?

No. I asked, but--

- She laughed at you. - Yeah.

Yeah.

- Stan, why don't you give us a minute? - Yes, sir. Let's clear out, boys.

- You okay? - Mm-hmm.

- Wanna tell me what you're doing here? - I told your sidekick.

- Can I have my phone back, please? - Here's your phone.

Walk me through it, huh? Step by step.

Helen asked me to meet her here at seven.

Found her dead at 7:05.

7:06, I called my cameraman.

7:08, I called my boss.

7:45, I dialed 911.

Great. You called your cameraman first? You called cameraman, then you called 911?

She was already dead, and it's my job to report,

so yep, that's what I did.

Deputy Scott here said the doors were locked. How'd you get in?

I don't know. Ask Helen.

- Okay, well-- - Pardon me. Excuse me.

You know, I gotta ask you.

- Where were you the night Rachel died? - Why would you?

- You know why I gotta ask you. - In Atlanta.

- Can you prove that, Anna? - Do I need to, Jack?

Are we done here?

Yeah. You stay in the fucking building. You got that?

Calls and emails are pouring in. Atlanta loves you.

- If only... Ah, forget it. - No, no, no! If only what?

If only you could do something to spike it, really drive the numbers up

so it doesn't seem like I'm playing favorites.

- I'll see what I can do. - Go get 'em, tiger.

Well, I appreciate it. Yes, thank you.

- Who's that? - The night-shift clerk.

The call came in after midnight,

but the message wasn't delivered to Miss Andrews until early this morning.

Definitely a woman who left it.

Two women, best friends since high school, murdered.

A knife used in both their killings.

A friendship bracelet placed in both their mouths.

Both connected to Clyde Duffie.

No fingerprints anywhere.

Not even the victim's.

Whole place wiped clean? Maybe we're looking at a professional.

Maybe old Clyde hired somebody. Let's check his phone records.

Get a list of everybody he called over the last month.

Bank accounts, see if he's made major cash withdrawals.

Remember you asked me to do that check on Richard Jones?

- Yeah. - Came back.

Assault and battery three years ago, broke a woman's jaw.

Be right back.

You seen Anna?

I'd give your wife some space if I were you.

Trust me, she's not in the mood.

Pay attention to your fucked-up own marriage.

You don't know anything about me or my fuckin' marriage, okay?

- Know you're a lowdown cheat. - You know that?

- Yeah, I do. - Really?

- That bother you? - Get the fuck--

Too bad I ain't a female. You might just break my jaw, huh?

She went that way.

She was so upset, she didn't come today.

She just said she wasn't even coming...

Mr. Mayor, trust me when I tell you I think it's about to get a lot worse,

but I can help you if you'll let me.

A televised town hall, more publicity. Why would I put gasoline on a fire?

Fight fire with fire.

No, you do not. You suck the oxygen out of it. You smother it.

- We need to stop, drop, and roll here. - Sir, those days disappeared with dial-up.

These days, if you don't tell your own story, somebody else will.

What exactly is our story?

That this town, her people, and her mayor are strong, safe, and unafraid.

You let America know that Dahlonega is very much open for business.

And... and you get what out of this?

I'm from here.

I care about this town. You know my mother still lives here.

I didn't know any of that.

I thought most celebrities were more than happy

to prostitute their private lives for public consumption.

You know, I think maybe

you and I had a different experience growing up in this town.

You ever think that the, uh, successes you've had, who you are,

are due in no small part to Dahlonega?

- I have. - Pro tip.

Instead of, uh, resenting where you're from,

maybe consider how privileged you were.

You know, change your attitude.

To what?

"Thanks, Dahlonega."

I see.

Pro tip, if I may?

Please.

Well, Dahlonega runs on tourism.

The 45-to-65, wine-sipping, leaf-peeping, law-and-order, disposable income crowd.

- Correct? - It is, yes.

Okay. Well, you know who's a big fan of true crime?

The camper-towing, underemployed, lunch-packing, online-detective crowd.

So pros would get ahead of this right away.

Or else, you're gonna let the Internet deal with it.

Then you know what I think is gonna happen?

The invisible hand of public opinion

is gonna grab a handful of that gorgeous hair of yours

and stuff an economy-killing, serial-killer reputation

straight up your ass, Mr. Mayor.

And then, good luck with reelection.

So... what do you say?

It only takes a few seconds

when both the carotid and the jugular veins are cut.

But with a slash,

it's hard to say whether or not the same type of knife was used.

Not sure that matters. Whether it's the same knife or not,

it's certainly the same person that used it.

We know because of the bracelet.

That detail was never released to the press, so

murders must be linked.

Wait a second.

If the clippings were taken as a souvenir on the last case--

She still has both eyes, if that's what you're getting at.

In both cases, there was a message left.

First case, the fingernails, right? There was a word.

Here it's the forehead. Same person.

The staples could be seen as another message.

"See no evil," maybe, or "Turn a blind eye."

Lots of ocular trauma though.

Mm.

It took some muscle to get staples to stick in soft tissue like this.

Hey, Doc, do you have a time of death?

Well, not an exact one.

Well, rigor's pretty well peaked though.

Usually happens 12 hours after in a reasonably air-conditioned room.

That bracelet,

that's pretty much the exact same, isn't it?

Yeah.

Pretty much identical to the last one.

Doesn't look worn.

Threads seem new.

I can check in town to see where they might be sold.

Seems like we're back at square one with the semen.

No matches in the database, and Mr. Duffie's impotent.

Pfft. So he says, anyway.

We'll know for sure when the swab results come in.

That said, given the amount of large-waisted strap-ons

I found in his garbage, he could be telling the truth.

I just puked in my mouth.

If Duffie was the killer, what's his motive?

He said he had those rules with Rachel about hooking up.

He said specifically no one in Dahlonega.

The jizz ain't his.

- His wife broke the rules. - That's right.

But it doesn't explain why he'd kill Miss Wang.

Yeah. Well, what we gotta figure out is where that call to Dahlonega Manor,

where it originated from.

Why?

They said it came in after midnight, right?

Helen was dead.

- Right. - Yeah.

- Let me know what you find. - Yes, sir.

- What the fuck, Jack? - I'm sorry, Zoe. I just--

- You just dig through my shit? - Hey, look--

Just, look, I need to know what this is, okay?

- What? - Where'd you get it?

- Are you serious? - Dead serious.

You broke into my room for this?

- I didn't break in. - Dirty-ass friendship bracelet?

It's not the fucking necklace from Titanic .

- Where did you get it? - Jesus Christ.

Anna made them for all of us.

Does Anna have one?

Just 'cause you're a cop doesn't mean I have to answer stupid questions.

I need your help, okay?

Rachel and Helen, what were they to each other?