"What'd you think, you paired up with him?" "What'd I think?" "Well, you don't pick your parents, and you don't pick your partner." "You know, they used to call him The Tax Man for a while?" "He'd come out of Texas, so nobody knew him." "Seemed a bit... raw-boned to me, edgy." "Took 3 months till we got him over to the house for dinner." "Around our big 419." "That's what y'all want to hear about, right," "Dora Lange, kids in the woods?" "Yeah, sure, but, uh, talk about Cohle." "We heard some stories." "Kind of a strange guy, huh?" "Strange." "Uh... heh heh heh." "Yeah." "Rust would pick a fight with the sky if he didn't like its shade of blue, but when we finally got him over to the house... this is when that case was hot... poor bastard looked like he was on his way" "to the firing squad." "Dora Lange." "Yeah." "Occult ritual murder." "You can thank the "Advertiser" for that." "Could you, uh, hold off on that?" "All right." "Yeah." "You can't do that here no more." "Huh?" "Uh-uh." "Don't be assholes." "You want to hear this or not?" "Vermillion sheriff requested assistance with a 419, cane fields outside of Erath." "I'd been on the job about 3 months till then." "Two previous cases were open and shut." "It was January 3, 1995, my daughter's birthday." "I remember." "Hart and Cohle, State CID." "Who found her?" "Farmer and his son." "This spread wasn't scheduled for a burn." "Let's keep them here, and let's tape off this road, and give me your log." "You take the log." "Yes, sir." "Make sure you get everything down." "Go ahead." "You ever see something like this?" "No, sir, in 8 years of CID." "Them symbols, they's Satanic." "They had a "20/20" on it a few years back." "I.D.?" "No, sir." "We're gonna need more men for a grid search, set up a perimeter wide as possible on those 3 roads, post up, take license plates of anything that passes." "I-23." "Go ahead, I-23." "We're gonna need investigator assist on that 419, all you can spare for a canvass." "Roger that, detective." "CID is taking over." "Get anybody who's free up here." "OK." "Tell me what you see." "Ligature marks on her wrists, ankles, and knees." "Multiple shallow stab wounds to the abdomen." "Hemorrhaging around throat, lividity at the shoulders, thighs, and torso." "She'd been on her back a while before he moved her." "That's why they called him The Tax Man." "The rest of us had these little note pads or something." "He had this big ledger." "Looked funny walking door to door with it like the tax man, which ain't bad as far as nicknames go." "Yeah." "Of course I've always taken a lot of notes." "I mean, you never know what the thing's gonna be, do you?" "A little detail somewhere way down the line makes you say, "Ohh!" breaks the case." "You know, I've seen all the different types." "We all fit a certain category... the bully, the charmer, the, uh, surrogate dad, the man possessed by ungovernable rage, the brain... and any of those types could be a good detective," "and any of those types could be an incompetent shitheel." "Which type were you?" "Oh, I was just a regular type dude with a big-ass dick." "A lot of it had to do with how they manage authority." "There can be a burden in authority, in vigilance, like a father's burden." "It was too much for some men." "A smart guy who's steady is hard to find." "I was all right, better than some, but I knew how to talk to people, and I was steady." "Rust... now his Texas files were classified or redacted, and he wasn't big on talking except when you wanted him to shut up, but he was smart." "Yeah." "Second week we were together," "I saw where he was living." "Kind of made me feel for the guy." "I'd offer you a seat, but, uh..." "Don't mention it." "I, uh..." "I can't stay." "Yeah, I'll tell you guys... and believe me, past a certain age, a man without a family can be a bad thing." "We'd encountered a meta-psychotic, which I had to explain to Marty, what meta-psychotic was." "This is gonna happen again, or it's happened before, both." "Go on." "It's fantasy enactment, ritual, fetishization, iconography." "This is his vision." "Her body is a paraphilic love map." "How's that?" "An attachment of physical lust to fantasies and practices forbidden by society." "You get that from one of your books?" "I did." "Her knees are abraded, rug burns on her back." "Cold sores, gum line recession, bad teeth." "There's decent odds she was a prost." "He might not have known her, but... this idea goes way back with him." "You... you got a chapter in one of those books on jumping to conclusions?" "You attach an assumption to a piece of evidence, you start to bend the narrative to support it, prejudice yourself." "Wait and see on the I.D." "All right." "This kind of thing does not happen in a vacuum." "I guarantee this wasn't his first." "It's too specific." "Uh... listen, uh... ahem, this is a... stupid time to mention this, but... you've got to come to dinner." "Can't put Maggie off anymore, so you just got to." "All right." "Gordon, thanks for coming." "Marty." "Yeah." "So..." "Anyway, that evening, wasn't even sundown, he decided it was a good time to invite me over for dinner, which I got a problem with, all right, because I'm thinking about Marty's wife" "and this two kids and how it's my daughter's birthday, and I know... there's nothing I can do about it, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but..." "I'm gonna have a drink." "Let me get up!" "Heh heh!" "Daddy!" "You're gonna meet him." "I got to get the door." "Hey." "Santa Claus is coming!" "Aah!" "Jump!" "Ha ha ha!" "People out here, it's like they don't even know the outside world exists." "Might as well be living n the fucking moon." "There's all kinds of ghettos in the world." "It's all one ghetto, man, giant gutter in outer space." "Today, that scene, that is the most fucked up thing I ever caught." "Ask you something?" "You're a Christian, yeah?" "No." "Well, then what do you got the cross for in your apartment?" "That's a form of meditation." "How's that?" "I contemplate the moment in the garden, the idea of allowing your own crucifixion." "But you're not a Christian." "So what do you believe?" "I believe that people shouldn't talk about this type of shit at work." "Hold on, hold on." "Uh...3 months we been together," "I get nothing from you." "Today, what we're into now, do me a courtesy, OK?" "I'm not trying to convert you." "Look." "I consider myself a realist, all right, but in philosophical terms, I'm what's called a pessimist." "Um, OK." "What's that mean?" "Means I'm bad at parties." "Heh." "Let me tell you." "You ain't great outside of parties either." "I think human consciousness was a tragic misstep in evolution." "We became too self-aware." "Nature created an aspect of nature separate from itself." "We are creatures that should not exist by natural law." "Huh." "That sounds god-fucking-awful, Rust." "We are things that labor under the illusion of having a self, this accretion of sensory experience and feeling, programmed with total assurance that we are each somebody when, in fact, everybody's nobody." "I wouldn't go around spouting that shit, I was you." "People around here don't think that way." "I don't think that way." "I think the honorable thing for species to do is deny our programming, stop reproducing, walk hand in hand into extinction, one last midnight, brothers and sisters opting out of a raw deal." "So what's the point of getting out bed in the morning?" "I tell myself I bear witness, but the real answer is that it's obviously my programming, and I lack the constitution for suicide." "My luck, I picked today to get to know you." "3 months, I don't hear a word from you, and..." "You asked." "Yeah." "And now I'm begging you to shut the fuck up." "I get a bad taste in my mouth out here." "Aluminum, ash, like you can smell the psychosphere." "I got an idea." "Let's make the car a place of silent reflection from now on, OK?" "What should I bring for dinner?" "A bottle of wine would be nice, I guess." "I don't drink." "Well, no, of course not, Rust." "Listen." "When you're at my house," "I want you to chill the fuck out." "Don't even mention any of that bullshit you just said to me." "Of course not, Marty." "I'm not some kind of maniac, all right?" "I mean, for fuck's sake." "What'd you hear?" "Ask Cohle." "You mean The Tax Man?" "You know, he's IA." "This is State CID Homicide..." "Detective Geraci." "Yes, ma'am." "I'm calling to ask about that night..." "I mean, you never heard any shit like this before." "She had... antlers." "Um..." "Fuck." "This is... this is the real thing, some "Halloween" shit." "Well, we're gonna have to do a press conference." "What about him?" "What do you think?" "Smart... aloof." "Doesn't care about making friends, but he's already running with it." "He's got a real... real mind for it." "Yeah." "So you'd keep him on then?" "Both of us, yeah." "I would." "All right." "You're still lead." "The incident room is yours, and, uh, you do the briefing tomorrow." "Yes, sir." "Thank you." "Hello, sir." "Fuck that prick." "All I'm saying is it doesn't make any sense for her to be dumped in a cane field." "Hello?" "Apparently she had all kinds of weird markings..." "Yeah." "No." "I couldn't hear you there." "Antlers and shit." "That's my point." "They wanted you to see her." "Yeah." "You don't mark up a body like that..." "She had antlers?" "What does that mean?" "It was a crown." "We'll do the briefing tomorrow, guys, early." "My guy does the AP Wire asked about Satanism." "It got Speece here." "You're gonna have his nose up your ass." "Major was saying something about a press conference." "Well, guess I can count my blessings, fellas." "Thanks for that." "Hey." "You mind if I skate?" "Ahem." "I got some names from Vice, prost farms." "Check around on our DB." "You want me to go with you?" "Nah." "Just something to do." "Yeah." "You go ahead." "I'll take care of the paperwork." "Like I said, I'm feeling a lot of stuff hit me at this time... my daughter's birthday, this dead woman, and, um... figured I'd work the case, you know, till DiCillo called or we got an I.D." "State Vice gave me some addresses to follow up on." "So far, nobody'd... nobody'd talked to me." "Evening, ladies." "I was hoping to ask y'all a few questions." "Oh, come on, man." "I'll get the next round." "Heh." "You making trouble for us then?" "No." "I'm just looking to get some information on a woman." "Might be you know her." "Who's that?" "Hold on." "Mmm." "We'll take two large Long Island ice teas, please." "Ma'am." "I'm Rust, by the way." "I'm Anette, she's Lucy." "Either one of you know a woman about your age, works the same place, about 5'5", blond like you?" "What kind of tits she have?" "Medium, a little larger than yours, proportion to the body natural." "Hmm." "Gee." "I don't know." "We see a lot of girls like that around." "Any girls like that you haven't seen around lately, missing like?" "People come and go." "What do you want them for?" "I wouldn't bust somebody for hooking or drugs." "I'm murder police." "Somebody got killed." "There's a girl named Liza, another called Destiny, but I seen Destiny yesterday at McDonald's." "What about Liza?" "She's here." "Anette, go get a couple more drinks from the bar, will you, please?" "All right." "You get pills pretty easy?" "Relax." "I want some." "Speed?" "No." "Quaaludes, anything-barbital." "Uppers are easier to get, and they last longer, too." "Yeah, but it's not like that." "What's it like?" "I don't sleep." "Hey." "Oh." "Hey, Lone Ranger." "Hey." "Ugh." "Dreaming." "Why you out here, huh?" "Why didn't you come to bed?" "Um..." "Caught a... bad one yesterday." "Just couldn't sleep." "You got that woman from Erath?" "Yeah." "Yeah?" "Saw it on the news." "Girls will be up soon." "Missed you the last couple days." "Oh, shit." "I got to shower." "Got a debriefing today and maybe a press conference later." "And if Speece calls, tell him I'm debriefing the squad all morning." "Well, Marty said he was doing that." "He is." "Hey, beautiful." "Ha ha ha!" "Morning, baby." "Marty, how you want your coffee, doll?" "Strong and black just like you." "Prints came back." "Dora Kelly Lange." "Priors for shoplifting, possession, and... solicitation." "Address outside of St. Martinville." "Landlord says she hasn't lived there in almost a year." "She's got an ex Charlie Lange, who's doing 8 in Avoyelles for bad checks, mom's outside of Breaux Bridge," "DMV license expired, and DiCillo called." "She was washed clean, not a print on her." "We got ligature marks on the wrists and ankles, was bound by a half-inch rope, maybe 10, 20 hours." "Evidence of vaginal intercourse." "Bound upright, hadn't eaten in a day, maybe more." "Toxicology hit for lysergic acid and methamphetamine." "Crystal and LSD." "How much LSD?" "Hard to say." "Got to wait for a mass spec." "So she was drugged, bound, tortured with a knife, strangled, posed out there." "Yeah." "What about this stuff?" "Well, the crown, for lack of a better word, rose thorns, early cane, switchgrass wrapped around a bent branch, and the horns are deer antlers." "Again, no prints on anything." "Symbols are painted with acrylic basic blue using a thick glove finger." "Ideas what any of this means?" "I don't know." "And it's all primitive." "It's like cave paintings." "Maybe you ought to talk to an anthropologist." "Lot of trouble this guy went to." "Seems real personal." "I don't think so." "Was iconic, planned... and in some ways, it was impersonal." "Think of the blindfold." "This place is like somebody's memory of the town, and the memory's fading." "It's like there was never anything here but jungle." "Stop saying shit like that." "It's unprofessional." "Oh, is that what I'm going for here?" "I just want you to stop saying odd shit, like you smell a psycho's fear or you're in someone's faded memory of a town." "Just stop." "Well, given how long it's taken for me to reconcile my nature, I can't figure" "I'd forgo it on your account, Marty." "Ahem." "You get any sleep last night?" "I don't sleep." "I just dream." "Occult." "Now, I don't know if this shit is anything but crazy, but Speece and the Superintendent, they're paying attention, the newspapers are making hay, church groups." "Detective?" "Ahem." "All right, here's what we got so far." "Deceased's name is Dora Kelly Lange, 28..." "You stay busy now, the business?" "Well, yeah, I got the security firm," "P.I. stuff." "Routine." "Lotta guys leave the job, cemetery within 10." "No family, idle hands." "You make it out, you stay busy." "Hit the corners." "Ask about anybody she was seeing:" "regular customers, meth dealers, and rough johns, anything." "Any questions?" "You believe in ghosts?" "What'd we say about silent reflection?" "You happen to hear anything out of the ordinary between 10 and 1 A.M., out back?" "No, no, but, uh, sometimes they, uh, dove-hunt out there." "They found a woman?" "Is it the Fontenot girl?" "Who?" "And why would you ask that?" "Don't know." "Went missing around here years back." "Last time something happened." "Just thought maybe it's her." "How old was she, this girl?" "I don't know." "Little." "You know where the family lives?" "Had a place couple streets down." "They moved out, though." "Do you know the Fontenot girl, one went missing?" "Her?" "Her family come to our service once or twice, 5 or 6 years back." "Is that the girl?" "Oh, Lord." "No, sir, it's not." "Excuse me." "I want to ask y'all something." "Y'all think maybe this have something to do with those cats?" "What cats?" "Two of 'em... one, and a couple of weeks later, another." "Somebody cut 'em up, turned their insides out, then nailed them to the front door, twice." "Now, I called and told the police, but we're predominantly African American congregation." "I asked for it to be investigated." "We're not those type of police, sir." "Well, who is, then?" "Can I ask you something?" "Any of these look familiar to you?" "Seen them anywheres?" "No." "No, they look like something that might be carved into a tree or something." "Mm-hmm." "How about these?" "Now, that look like something my old auntie taught us how to make when I was a tyke." "What are they?" "Some folks call them bird traps." "Old Auntie told us that they were devil nets." "You put them around the bed, catch the devil before he get too close." "That's interesting." "Hmm." "She was a wonderful woman." "Loved her some Jesus, but had a bit of that Santeria in her, you know?" "I always just thought it was something for children to do, keep 'em busy, tell them stories why they're tying sticks together." "Then that's all we got on the Fontenot girl." "There was nothing in there." "Says, "Possible report made in error."" "Now, that was 5 years ago." "Ted Childress was sheriff back then." "He's set up in Gulf Shores now, I think." "Ten-year-old girl goes missing and that doesn't go state-wide?" "Now, hold on now." "My understanding, the little girl went off with her birth daddy." "Now, did you check her mom's record?" "Possession, solicitation." "I believe Ted knew the family, and the feeling was the little girl was better off with her daddy." "Mom seemed to agree; she filed a complaint, then never bothered with it again, took off with her boyfriend." "RI said you had a complaint these parts around December..." "little girl getting chased through the woods." "Oh, yeah, I pulled that one for you, too." "What the hell is this?" "Little girl said a green-eared spaghetti monster chased her through some woods." "Now, we had her work with a sketch artist, and she told us that looked exactly right." "Now, you want to call an APB on that, you go right ahead." "Listen, boys." "I'm gonna have to call a timeout, make a beer run." "Well, why don't you hold off on that for a while?" "All right, well, why don't you get it, then?" "We really don't want to do that." "Well, is this supposed to be admissible?" "Huh?" "If you want to pick my brain, work a room, you buy me a cheeseburger and a Coke, don't you?" "I'll take a sixer of Old Milwaukee or Lone Star, nothing snooty." "Why is this so important to you all of a sudden?" "'Cause it's Thursday and it's past noon." "Thursday is one of my days off." "On my off days, I start drinking at noon." "You don't get to interrupt that." "Ahem." "I'd appreciate a little hustle up on that." "Yesterday, at approximately 6 A.M., civilians came across the body of a female in a sugar cane field outside of Erath." "Now, this person, we believe, was murdered, and we are not yet in a position to release the identity of the victim or to offer details of the crime." "Our investigators have several leads, and hopefully we'll... we'll have a suspect for you in custody soon." "Now, this perpetrator will be apprehended, and he will know swift Louisiana justice." "Charlie?" "Mm-hmm?" "Let's talk about your ex, Dora Lange." "You want to talk Dori?" "What's she said I've done now?" "Nothing." "We're just curious if you knew what she's been up to and maybe where she's living." "Nope." "Got her divorce papers pushed through after I been here about a year." "I don't blame the bitch." "She got a habit?" "Yeah, a few." "Weed, meth, juice." "Name it." "Charlie, how'd y'all meet?" "Growed up together, dropped out the same time." "Hitched up way too quick." "You know how it is... you want a wife, but only half the time." "Hmm." "Why are you saying you hadn't heard from her?" "She called up here for you not too long ago." "She couldn't help me anyway, man." "She sounded all fucked up." "You see, that's exactly the kind of thing that we do want to know about, though, Charlie." "Oh." "All right." "Uh..." "I needed some scratch for my store, and Dori owes me money, she ain't got no fuckin' phone, so got a number to her friend Carla, got her to call me back, and she ain't made no fuckin' sense." "Ahem." "Carla's full name and phone number." "What you mean, she didn't make sense?" "Like she could duck-hunt with a rake." "High, yeah." "Talkin' 'bout she's gonna become a nun." "Why a nun?" "I don't know, man." "She was high." "Fucked up, uh, talkin' 'bout... she met a king." "Shit." "Anyway..." "I don't need no snitch jacket up in here." "Give me a break." "This is Avoyelles." "It's a goddamn day camp." "Spend some time in Angola." "Surprised you even got Aryan Nation here." "What'd Dori do?" "Dori's dead." "Thank you, boys." "We almost had a moment there." "Mmm." "So you want to talk the whole case through or just the end?" "No, whole story from your end, you don't mind." "You know, like he said, files got ruined." "Hurricane Rita." "What he didn't say is that this is about something else." "Something new." "That one in Lake Charles, maybe?" "Now, why you say that?" "Get the details out of the paper." "Yeah, we did." "You know anything about that, about Lake Charles?" "Well, let me see what you got, jog my memory." "Well, let's hear your story first, see how it fit with what we got." "Well, your dime, boss." "Talking Cohle, what about that dinner you mentioned, he turn up drunk?" "Oh." "Yeah." "Well, ahem." "That dinner, that was a bit later." "It was kind of funny." "The flowers, you know?" "Like, he read somewhere that if you get invited to dinner, you're supposed to bring flowers?" "The hell?" "You can barely stand up." "What is it?" "You don't drink with me or the boys, and you got to get a load on before you visit my family?" "No, Marty, it's not like that." "And I didn't mean to, all right?" "And I don't drink 'cause I've had trouble with it before;" "I didn't mean to." "I was checking on a CI." "I ended up hanging around a bar." "I was sitting there." "I couldn't think of a good reason not to." "Usually I can." "Don't worry about it." "Have some more coffee and just try to make 10 minutes of conversation." "You got it." "I'll call Chris or somebody, get you out of here." "Marty." "I'm sorry, man." "Forget it." "We'll try this some other time." "Well, uh, Rust, it is so nice to finally meet you." "Sorry it took so long." "Well, I tried to tell her you aren't big on socializing." "I said that your life's in this man's hands, right?" "Of course you should meet the family." "Well, not quite as dramatic as that, hon." "I've never fired my gun." "Have you fired your gun?" "Audrey." "Yes." "You shot people?" "Macie." "Ahem." "Dad's never shot anybody." "Well, that's good." "You don't want to shoot people." "But you have." "Marty says you're from Texas." "Yes, South Texas." "I grew up in Alaska." "Just been working here the last 10, 12 years." "What kind of work?" "Narcotics, mostly." "Um... was on the Robbery Squad in Houston until '89." "Ahem." "Oh." "Be right back." "Y'all keep eating." "Do you like your job?" "Not exactly, but it's worthwhile." "I'm good at it." "You're not married?" "Once." "Uh, not anymore." "Mm-hmm." "Did you do this while you were married?" "Hey, Chris." "Hey, thanks for the page." "Yeah, well, he'll appreciate it." "Well... all right, then I appreciate it." "Children?" "One." "She passed." "Marriage didn't last long after that." "Sorry." "Ahem." "Chris Demma's on the phone for you." "Something about a CI or..." "Back there to the left." "Excuse me." "Of course." "Ahem." "What was that?" "What were y'all talking about?" "Your job." "What do you know about him, Marty?" "Um, not a lot." "He could be a good detective." "He's running on this thing, but, uh... uppity." "What?" "Jeez." "Have you ever asked him about himself?" "Baby, trust me." "You do not want to pick this man's brain." "What was that?" "Oh, some details on the CI." "Ahem." "Thank you for dinner, Maggie." "This looks great." "My pleasure." "I don't like that broccoli." "Mind your manners." "So you, uh, need to go or what?" "No, it's nothing can't wait till tomorrow." "Rust, uh, what you were saying before?" "Oh, we can find something nicer to talk about." "Marty, I saw your table in there." "You fly-fish?" "Little bit." "So you and Cohle went bad in '02, huh?" "Heard about that." "Yeah, well... what happened between me and him don't have nothing to do with Dora Lange." "I worked with Rust Cohle for 7 years." "People change." "Relationships change." "You stay in touch?" "No." "No, I haven't talked to Rust in... 10 years." "Yeah." "Look, however we... he was a good detective, and it don't matter how he ended it." "I mean..." "I can say that because it's the truth, and I don't hold grudges." "I believe that's the shit that leads to cancer." "But why am I talking about dinner?" "Y'all want to walk through the Lange case, fine." "This other stuff... well, what's going on?" "Sorry." "We just heard some stories." "Well, personally, I heard he was an ace case man, right?" "I'd like to understand his process." ""His process."" "Sure." "The other landlord says she trashed the place, so she lost her deposit." "And the neighbors check out." "Those that remember her said that she, uh, used to come in early in the morning, if she came home at all." "You guys canvass the bars pretty good today?" "You know, up your ass, Cohle." "Why don't you do your own fuckin' leg work, you rat fuck?" "Say it again, rummy." "Hey." "You know what, man?" "Fuck you," "Tax Man." "What the fuck?" "Ahem." "Back to point." "Got 3 hits on working girls." "No one close to her, naturally." "A few names recognized her as occasional." "Like she tricked now and then, show up at a couple of truck stops when she needed cash." "You got some names." "Which ones?" "I heard from my AP guy, Ray Fontenot." "Said her uncle's Danny Fontenot... the pitcher, LSU." "Yeah, I watched him play." "Great player." "Well, he lives close by." "Ahem." "Well, thanks, guys." "What about you two?" "Did you get anything today?" "Not much, sir." "Well..." "You might know the Reverend Tuttle." "He runs our state-wide charity drive." "This is Detective Hart, Detective Cohle." "Pleasure to meet you, officers." "Nice to meet you." "Cohle." "Your case has a lot of people taking care, doors locking where they used to not." "Eddie's been speaking to me about it." "Concerned, very concerned." "We've been discussing the viability of a task force to investigate crimes with an anti-Christian connotation." "You what?" "Really?" "Yes." "I don't mean to tell men of your positions, but there is a war happening behind things." "Thank you for doing your part." "Thank you, sir." "Yeah." "Well..." "Eddie's going to be very, very pleased to have such good men working on this." "Are you kidding me?" "Un-fuckin'-believable." ""Anti-Christian."" "Fucks." "And who the fuck's Eddie?" "Huh?" "Is he serious?" "Well, he doesn't have a television." "Who's Eddie?" "And he's from Texas." "He's the fuckin' governor..." "Edwin Tuttle." "Ah." "They're first cousins." "Well, that makes sense." "Yeah, that's the sound of The Big Machine," "Cohle, that's gearing up to pound your ass." "Heh!" "The sound of a gaggle of hens." "Yeah, you better watch your mouth or they're gonna peck your eyes out." "Hi." "Hi." "I am looking for Detective Hart." "I have a stack of depositions for him." "Judge Sutpen told me to make sure and give them to Detective Hart and no one else, so..." "Oh." "Is that the, um..." "The, uh, depositions." "I thought I should walk you through them." "Oh." "Great, great." "Let's just find a place to talk." "Thanks, Cathleen." " Thank you." " You're welcome." "Right through here." "Your victim was Dora Lange, but you all checked on Marie Fontenot." "Why?" "Missing girl, 5 years gone, report made in error?" "She had an uncle who lived nearby... and call it intuition." "Sometimes he's more responsive." "I'd like to help." "Mr. Fontenot." "Uh, ahem." "We met, oh, maybe 7 years ago." "I was visiting Skip Hays." "I'd played for USL." "Thing of beauty, sir, watching you throw." "Hmm." "Danny, this man's a detective with the police." "Uh..." "I'm actually..." "Ahem." "Sorry, uh, we wanted to ask you about your niece, Marie." "Hmm." ""How much could You put on one family?" I ask the Lord." "We try to get by." "Did you know Marie's birth father?" "Len?" "Len Stroghes was her daddy." "Hmm." "It's OK." "We're asking because, uh, we had heard that Marie ran off with him and that... she wasn't really missing." "That's what Debbie said." "Oh." "Well, uh... anybody heard from Len?" "Anybody maybe knows where he's at?" "Uh, sorry." "The last thing." "Do you know where Debbie is now?" "She married another man." "Not the one she's with when Marie..." "She was in Vegas, last we heard." "Marie must have loved it here." "Yeah." "All this for her?" "Danny loved her so much." "We weren't her legal guardians, but she played here all the time, more than her Mama's." "I can see why." "What is it Dan has, if you don't mind my asking?" "All they ever told us was "a cerebral event."" "Series of strokes, like." "Marty?" "Excuse me for one sec." "Inside on the floor on the right." "I don't know what that is." "I haven't looked in there since the police first came." "Bet you want to hear the hero shot, huh?" "That place we carried the kids out?" "Eventually, sure." "So what did she look like... that one in Lake Charles?" "Can you, uh, tell us anything about that, Mr. Cohle?" "That looks a lot like the one from '95, but... well, you knew that already." "Yeah, there are specifics consistent to the '95 case, details that weren't public knowledge." "You were off the grid for 8 years, right?" "Show back up here 2010." "My question is..." "How could it be him... if we already caught him in '95?" "How indeed, Detectives?" "I figured you'd be the one to know." "Then start asking the right fuckin' questions."