PREVIOUSLY ON OBITUARY...
Wait, is my car mixed up in Ruby's murder?
Oisín's attacker didn't kill Ruby.
They leave bodies behind, not people.
- Watch your tone, bud. - Vivienne,
we've printed more retractions than papers.
- If you... - I'm just giving you a taste
of what it will look like when I'm editor.
- Now, hold on a minute. - Are you denying it?!
Let's make it interesting.
Get that buffoon in...
- I'll make you editor. - Okay.
I'm in. Deal.
Still no sign of Oisín Markum.
Before Mallory skedaddled,
she stole a bunch of money from this drug dealer, Albert.
He's gonna chop off all my fingers.
You know what he's gonna do when he's finished them?
- Cut off your penis. - What?!
Done... for!
Kilraven's mystery man.
Yeah, I heard he had a couple of tattoos,
a chicken and a dog.
To my eyes, it's far more likely a pig.
I'm getting out of jail, sooner than you think.
I'm going to make the real killer crack.
See, I've worked out their MO
and I know they can't help themselves.
They say you need a left wing and a right wing to fly.
I don't believe that.
Or in "they".
Or in the left. Or the right.
Or in any side.
No.
To fly, you only need one thing...
Hope.
I'm Patsy Ruane,
your neighbour, friend
and fierce campaigner.
And in case you haven't guessed,
I hope to represent this piece of heaven
we call home.
Now, some people say Kilraven's a strange town.
Me? I say,
- How's Patsy?! - it's a great town for strangers.
- Our man, Patsy! - A great town
that needs a great politician.
Two weeks remain in this election.
So, let's be bold and brave
and not miss this shot.
Now, my opponents are hitting me hard.
Claiming my stance on law and order is weak.
But ask yourself,
are they pointing the finger in the right direction?
_
And would they have the guts to say something like this?
_
I'm Patsy Ruane, your neighbour,
- friend and fierce campaigner. - _
Cut!
When am I gonna get to use my own words?
The stuff I've always wanted to say, not your flowery muck.
I let you write the last billboard, didn't I?
Which ended up on my T-shirt, cos we're broke!
What now?
The Chronicle have just published your complete criminal record.
Right, this puts us back to square one on law and order.
Emerson, the only crime I'm guilty of committing,
- is loving Kilraven too much. - No, no!
The only crimes you're guilty of are supplying alcohol to minors,
shoplifting, driving under the influence.
- The minors were the ones driving. - Driving without a licence,
burning without a permit, welfare fraud,
illegal fireworks and the timeless classic...
public exposure.
Which, if we're getting all "legal",
was changed to public urination.
- Of course. - You'll make this go away.
I'm not a magician!
Sue whoever write it then. Getting info like that is illegal.
It's not as simple as you think.
Why?
Who did write it?
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You better have a good reason for dragging me here in broad daylight
this early in the morning.
- What's all this? - The reason why I dragged you here.
- You left the house? - Do I look that stupid?
Looks and stupidity aren't mutually exclusive.
I got this in the post from my buddy, Denis.
He said, you two know each other, actually,
but I don't know, he wouldn't say how.
Albert's dealing all over town.
Class A. Denis followed him,
took pictures, knows his drops, who he's meeting.
And boy, is he meeting some beauts.
And you want me to do what with all this?
Write the story.
Once it's published, Albert's gonna have to leave town.
He's in with the cops, Elvira!
There is no other way!
And then there's...
this one.
She's working as a mule for Albert.
Skin and bone. Barely 20.
To do a bag drop twice a week.
Only, this week didn't go so good.
She must have come up short.
Headbutt, broke her nose.
That's clever.
Telling me about that young woman.
Trying to tug at my heart strings.
- Is it working? - No.
Cause my heart has no heart strings.
I've got too much going on to dig into this.
But you promised you'd help.
Come up with something less stupid and we'll talk.
It still makes no sense.
I'm not in the sense-making business.
Rose gave Elvira Patsy's records and you let her print them.
So anyone would think you we're trying to sabotage the election.
Do you mean me or Elvira?
And what makes you so certain Rose was Elvira's source?
Because she just can't let anything go.
As soon as she saw those billboards, she had to hit back.
Well, if you ask me, it sounds like both women are doing their jobs.
Look,
we go way back.
- We met a few weeks ago. - So, take my advice.
The gap between confidence and ignorance is nothing.
Quit bitching and fight.
Now, say goodbye, Emerson.
Goodbye, Emerson.
- Thanks. - Look, I know you're mad at me.
Mad? Me? Never.
So, let's see what's really going on here.
A hit piece like that could cost me the whole election.
Honestly, I thought you'd get a kick out of it.
Do I look like I'm laughing?
Well, here's an idea.
When the election is over,
when Ruby's killer is found,
why don't we leave town?
Is she testing him?
Aren't you sick of working for obnoxious human migraine?
Nice touch!
- Done the big city thing. - And?
I'd rather be somebody here,
than a nobody out there.
Boy, he wants this job bad!
All okay in the land of milk and honey?
Fine. How was your golf?
There was so much sand, I was like Lawrence of Arabia.
Anyhoodle, Hughie?
Yeah, it's been nearly a week.
In case I need to prep for an interview,
any idea when you'll know if he's getting out?
Mother's still mulling. She hates Hughie.
Not because he's a murderer but because he stole from her.
- So, there's a chance he stays put? - Knowing her, every chance.
Of course, she's doing this to spite me.
Any time I ask for something, she throws a spanner in the works.
- Well, she is quite ill. - Not ill enough.
Sometimes I want to scream, when will you fucking FUCKING DIE?!
- Shit, your whole daddy thing. - That's okay.
Good, because I hate saying sorry
and it looked like you were gonna make me.
Well, if that's all, I have a Ruby Conroy press briefing.
Anything new?
Just routine.
I'm not sure... Hey, Agnes Dunford?
Former obituarist. Deceased.
Yeah, I'm afraid Agnes has filed her last story
and gone on to the great printing press in the sky.
Okay, thank you.
Hey, before you go.
I know a cool way you can apologise for the Patsy thing
without actually apologising.
A bit late for a retraction.
Your James Doe story. I've got a lead.
- Anything useful? - Nah, just a couple of tattoos.
And you want my blessing?
All you had to do was ask.
- Are you sure? - Just don't ask twice!
Press conference will begin shortly, folks.
Once Detective Mulcahy has concluded her statement,
we will open the floor to questions.
This doesn't feel routine.
Talk is, they've footage of the killer from the night Ruby was murdered.
Somewhere near her house.
This is an ambush. They'll all see me.
Walk, don't run.
Where are you off to?
I wouldn't want you to miss this.
And stick around after.
We need to talk, yeah?
As you know, we have been working tirelessly
on the Ruby Conroy case.
Today, I have an important update.
Calm down. Act normal.
Reviewing the facts.
We know the killer stole a vehicle on the evening Ruby was killed.
We also know the killer surveyed Ruby's house...
well before she was murdered.
They likely practiced driving there and back.
Scoping out the most secluded routes,
leaving no CCTV footage of the car theft,
or its discovery near the crime scene.
- At least I got that right. - However,
because the stolen vehicle broke down,
we believe the killer was forced to flee on foot.
Meaning everything that happened after that
was not preplanned.
Meaning mistakes.
She's the one making mistakes.
Our killer planned this to a T,
including fleeing on foot.
Now, before I continue,
does anyone here know what calving cameras are?
Cause you really need to get out more, lads.
They're surveillance cameras,
used to monitor pregnant cows.
This is the feed from the night Ruby Conroy was killed.
Wait a minute, this isn't about me.
Post murder,
the killer cut through a field.
Due to car trouble, they decided they needed
a different form of transport.
And since it hasn't been recovered yet,
we believe it may still be in their possession.
It's a light grey, emerald back mountain bike
and it has yellow front forks.
One more thing,
contrary to certain publications,
this doesn't fit the profile of a serial killer.
Experts have reviewed it and it's likely a one-time occurrence.
So,
if we don't catch them soon,
there's every chance we never catch them.
You okay? You seem a little twitchy.
- I'm fine. - Really?
- Should I not be? - You tell me.
Anyone could be on that tape.
Exactly.
What, you still don't believe my story?
Is that why I'm here?
Say something!
- What? - I was wrong.
- About me? - Yeah!
Yeah, you're more than a little twitchy.
You can have your car back now.
It's out in the car park.
Needs a bit of a clean.
We kept it at Mick's father's farm.
D'you know, Mick was a mechanic before the guards.
He fixed it for you.
You know, I could arrest you right now.
For what?
Car tax. It's out of date.
See to it...
or I'll see ya in cuffs.
Denis.
You're Denis, right?
Somebody you know is in danger.
Don't know where Oisín is. Okay?
I'm not talking about Oisín.
I'm talking about your mother.
You okay?
Sounded a little manic on the phone.
Albert threatened Denis' ma.
He's gonna hurt her if Denis doesn't give me up.
We're long past "Oh!", Elvira!
I'm gonna kill him.
I'm sorry,
but I can't let that happen.
Try and stop me, Elvira
and I'll blab to everyone about your car.
Fine.
I'll write the story.
And then one of two things will happen.
- He'll leave town... - Or...?
Or he'll come after me.
I'll lure him here and then we'll...
- You know! - Kill him!
You... kill someone?
Please!
- Two's better than one, Oisín. - Okay!
But I do the killing.
Hold on. It's not that simple.
You mentioned self-defence.
I think I've a way I can make that work.
Well, he'll have to go clothes shopping.
- Who? - Denis.
Online. Everything black. Balaclava, the works.
Are you sure you're up for this?
That's not the right question.
Well, what is the right question?
Are you sure that when I'm doing this,
you're gonna be able to stomach it?
If I can stomach this wine,
I can stomach anything.
The idea of a paper taking someone off the streets like this,
it's... more than clicks and likes.
It's what newspapers were invented for.
It's also something that could sink a newspaper.
As I was recently reminded, I have a knack for publishing
unverified and poorly sourced material.
Then how about a second opinion?
It's a great piece of work,
but...
But?!
Printing this puts Elvira in danger.
It's malpractice at best, manslaughter at worst.
Okay, let's not get all discoursey here.
Sorry... but getting this story out there is more important to me
- than anything. - More important than your safety?
Since when did investigative journalism start
letting nerves dictate the news?
This has nothing to do with nerves.
Then maybe it has something to do with me publishing that article on Patsy
- and you wanting to get even. - Even?!
I'm talking about your safety, you're talking about column inches!
Okay! Knock it off, you two!
Talk about putting my dick in a vice.
Okay, decision time.
Here goes...
Elvira's life means nothing to me. I'm happy to publish!
- But... - What is it with the buts?!
to quote my mother,
I am also responsible for ensuring the paper doesn't get sued.
If harm came to you, that's what would happen.
No. We don't publish.
- But... - Zip it!
Look...
- we go way back. - No, we don't.
So, take my advice.
You don't like an answer I give,
don't stand there and blame me.
- Then who should I blame? - Yourself.
Because you never should have asked me the question in the first place.
If there's one thing I learnt from my mother, it's this.
If you want something dirty done,
find someone dirty to do it.
Biggest paper in the province.
I've lined up an interview for ya.
- Does Emerson know? - No.
Don't tell me you only do what he tells you to do?
The Chronicle is muzzling one of its most promising journalists, Elvira Clancy,
who is sitting on a story that if left unpublished...
- unpublished... - Jeopardises!
Jeopardises the safety of our town. Especially its children.
We're talking murder and drugs here.
- Listen, Elvira... - Connaught Herald guy
arrives in two minutes.
Again! From the top!
The Chronicle is muzzling one of its most promising journalists, Elvira Clancy,
who is sitting on a story that if left unpublished
jeopardises the safety...
This isn't just for me.
I did it for you and Patsy.
Help bolster his law and order image.
That's a lie.
At this point,
I thought we'd be beyond lies.
- Easier said than done. - So...
the next time you decide to put your life in danger...
- It isn't in danger! - I would love a heads up.
I deserve it.
Wow,
you used to do anything to break a story.
Things change.
So, I'm selfish.
Show me a killer who isn't.
_
The Herald went and rumbled our best source.
Albert left in such a hurry, that the mug of tea
next to the paper is still warm.
Dispatch have just reported a stolen black Subaru.
Keep digging there. I'll look into his car.
- Probably the same stolen car? - Yeah. No shit, Mick.
We're looking for a stolen car!
See you later.
Yeah. Just here to greet the movers.
Just wanna check there's no trace of you know what...
If it's a nice local family...
I might knock off a few quid, considering what happened here.
As for out of towners?
Not a penny below asking price!
Now, that's non-negotiable.
Have a think about it. Get back to me in the morning.
This is Albert's car.
Someone spotted him. Tried to make a citizen's arrest.
He got spooked.
Two hours ago, this car,
along with a picture of you inside it, Elvira,
was found abandoned at Holyhead.
He's booked on the Eurostar.
You know, us leaving town, fresh start...
Maybe it is a good idea.
Let's talk about it after the elections.
We'll have a better perspective on things then.
Are... are you coming?
No. I'm waiting for this phone call
from my tattoo expert for James Doe.
How long will you be?
How long is a piece of string?
Here...!
My notes from when I interviewed him.
Might help pass the time.
_
Oh, no...
Confess.
Who should confess? Me?
Done for?
I'm done for? Is that what he's saying?
Yeah.
Hello? Yes.
Thank you for returning my call.
Yeah, I'm in a total bind with this tattoo thing,
so any help you have would be great.
We have something to settle.
If you want to kill me,
kill me.
Maybe I will.
But first, your computer password.
I'm going for a slash.
When I get back,
you'll either tell me what I want...
or I'll make you tell me.
I hate to ask!
Could you lift the toilet seat?
Also if you could wash your hands,
that would be just great.
Clean as a whistle.
Ether...
and now this cattle prod thing.
What kind of craic are you up to in your spare time?
Well, thank you. Thank you for the history lesson.
Who knew 19th century maritime traditions
were yet another one of my blind spots.
But look, just, just so I'm very clear here,
tattoos of a chicken and a pig one each foot mean what?
My guy was in the navy?
Great, great. Well, thank you.
Tha... No, no. I've taken up enough of your precious time.
Alright.
I wouldn't fancy being on the wrong end of this yoke!
9,000 volts!
I won't make it to your belly button.
Password, now!
Monkeyballs123!
What?
I'm just surprised Monkeyballs12 was taken.
You really think I'd headbutt that girl,
that chick working for me?
I wouldn't harm a hair on her head.
Yet, you lied about me.
Goddamn it, Oisín!
So, we're gonna send an email.
Hit up every one of your contacts.
Take back that line.
"Advances"? What's that?
Nothing.
Shit!
The fuck? Some of these people are still alive.
In my spare time,
I write them for people who might die soon.
There's one there for me.
_
Oisín's here.
He wouldn't go home until he heard you'd been arrested.
Where is he?
You know what?
Oisín can wait.
Is he dead?
He isn't moving.
I'm not taking any chances.
Tool kit.
Get it! Then untie me.
Okay, where were we?
Well, we have a, a body to dress before Emerson gets back.
Well, that could be him.
- Ignore it! - I'm sorry, I can't.
- What?! - It's a voicemail.
I... If I don't listen to it, I won't be able to concentrate.
- Are you fucking serious?! - Two seconds.
You have one new voice message,
received today at 8:23pm...
I'm gonna kill you, bitch.
I'm coming for you, bitch!
- I'm gonna fucking kill you! - I thought you said he was dead?
I must have missed that day in medical school.
He'll tire himself out. That door is rock solid.
When he does, we'll rush him...
- Yeah. Then I'll kill him. - Yeah!
Okay, no problem.
You're fuckin' dead!
- Elvira... - Yeah?
You don't think he could...
No.
I dunno how long that's gonna hold.
Hi. Sorry,
I'm hoping you can help me.
You don't know me, but you know my girlfriend, Elvira.
Yeah.
Quiet girl, keeps to herself.
- You said you could do this. - I meant what I said.
- You can't kill me. - Yes, I can!
- Don't listen to him. - No, no. Not a chance!
Right, Oisín, let's go.
I've seen killers before, lad.
- You're not it. - Is that so?
- But her, she's it. - Shut up.
- She can do it! - Oisín...
Check her computer.
- Did I not say "shut up"? - What's he talking about?
- Those files. - Don't mind him, Oisín.
"Advances". You need to see 'em
- to see what she does! - Elvira, what...?
- Look at me, Oisín. You can do this! - Your friend there.
- She's not who she says she is. - You gotta kill him now.
- Why "advances"? - You've gotta kill him, Oisín!
- She's a liar, kiddo! - Oisín, kill him!
- She's a professional liar! - What?
- For fucks sake! - No... No, please!
You lied about him headbutting that girl.
No... It was Denis' idea.
He said you'd need a little push.
You'll see that Denis keeps his mouth shut?
That you both will, right?
- Right? - Yeah.
Now, those clothes,
where are they?
He was a doddery old man.
He could barely talk and when he did,
James Doe made no sense.
Is there anything else you remember?
- Anything he said? Anything at all? - Nope. Sorry.
Wait, wait, wait, wait, please...
Okay...
He did tell me one thing.
That I was done for.
Not done for.
- Dunford. - What?!
He wasn't telling you you're done for.
He was telling you his name.
- Do you need me to do anything? - Head back to your trailer!
And hurry.
You were never here.
I'll sort this place out.
Okay, okay...
_
"For over three decades,
Agnes was the heart behind this paper's obituaries.
A role she approached with both reverence and wit.
Agnes is survived by her brother, Michael Dunford,
a former member of the Royal Australian Navy,
residing in Brisbane.
Despite the physical distance for over 40 years,
thanks to email,
their bond remained unbreakable,
a testament to the enduring strength of family."
_
Michael Dunford.
_
Is he alive?
Not remotely.
Can I get you anything?
Sleep.
Honestly, I've not closed my eyes properly since the funeral.
You know, something tells me this wasn't your first.
First what?
Kill.
What makes you say that?
Out with it. The truth.
I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about.
- What's so funny? - Nothing.
Gotcha a present.
- Did ya? - Yeah!
It's called proof.
He's the one who has killed before.
He broke into my house,
he hid in my loft.
You heard the voicemail he left me. He was going to kill me, Rose!
It was self-defence.
Now, no-one knows this,
so you can consider it an exclusive.
But guess what Ruby Conroy was killed with?
- I dunno. - I'll give you a clue.
Same thing Albert was killed with.
No way?!
A screwdriver.
So, what am I to think?
Two people dead, both with a screwdriver.
And you...
balls deep in both deaths.
Come on, Elvira!
Tell me what really happened.
I killed Ruby's killer.
And...
And?
You can read all about it in this week's paper.
It'll be my last column before I'm appointed editor.
Okay.
So, he's dressed like Ruby's killer.
And he brought a screwdriver with him.
But why would he want to kill you both?
This whole media thing?
- Not buying it. - Jesus, Rose, isn't it obvious?
- Your article in the paper. - And the fact
I called him a bed wetter on TV!
I know what's wrong!
You said he wouldn't strike again and he has.
But just think about it, Rose.
Think about Ruby's parents.
When you tell them the man that killed their daughter is dead.
Honestly?
I couldn't give a flying fuck about Ruby's parents.
No.
No...
This whole thing stinks.
I dunno what it is, but something is off here.
D'you know it was Mick who gave me Patsy Ruane's criminal record?
I think he has a crush on ya.
Didn't like those billboards.
Wanted to save ya the embarrassment.
But... I wonder!
- You are some bitch! - Will he come to your rescue
when they find out that Albert was your snitch?
Albert, of course, who we now know was a killer.
Right now, only me and you know this.
But it might end up in next week's paper.
Then again, it might not.
Your call, I guess.
Mick'll sort you out with a jumper.
Have you got somewhere to go?
I'll figure it out.
So, Albert killed Ruby, and then tried to kill, Elvira?
Dark clothes,
screwdriver.
The calving footage, voicemail.
Plus journalists. I mean...
It fits.
And yet, something's bugging you?
She can have her lap of honour.
But we still keep an eye on her, okay?
Hey!
Guess what?
Mrs Birch came good.
Well, look at that. You've a bit of blood in your ear.
I hope it's not your own.
My God!
Are you okay?
Only time will tell.
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