01x06 - Turboclash

[bunniefuu]

"♪Just Imagine" by
Brandon Combs plays

[echoing]: Hello?

I'm home.

♪ Just imagine everything
that we want to do ♪

♪ Just trust in me ♪

♪ Just imagine every
day is just me and you ♪

♪ Just imagine a sky that
would always be blue ♪

♪ Just imagine there's nothing
girl that we couldn't do ♪

♪ Just trust in me... ♪

[echoes of breaking glass]

[echoing, tearful Mary]:
I asked him to stay...

[echoes of breaking glass]

[♪]

-You're late.
-I'm sorry.

Well, at least you showed up.

You're here.

I'm so glad you could come.

Sit.

[doorbell ringing]

[muttering]: I'll get it.

[sighs]

[playful music]

You remembered.

[doorbell ringing]

I see.

[doorbell ringing repeatedly]

[doorbell ringing repeatedly]

[ECG machine beeping]

Finn! Finn.

Do you think he's brain damaged?

Oh, darling, are
you brain damaged?

Can you hear us, Finn?

Can you say something?

Hi.

I'm not bloody brain damaged!

Jesus.

I'll get a nurse.

-Where's Fiona?
-Fiona.

I'm here, Uncle Finn.

Johnny McIntyre has
a message for you.

Let me guess,

"stop asking questions
or you're dead?"

If he was gonna k*ll me he
would have done it already.

That's not the whole of it.

He said he was gonna wipe
out the entire Murphy family.

Then he'll come
after your mother...

...and when everyone you
love's been m*rder*d,

he'll put an end to you.

Johnny McIntyre has
made explicit threats

against my family.

I want guards posted

at my aunt's house
until he's locked up.

Are you even listening to me?

Apologies. Garda Doherty,

I barely slept since driving
you home from the hospital.

How are you feeling?

Fine... Thanks to...

I got a thick ol' skull, so...

I'm well aware of my
reputation as a beacon

of courage and virility.

But when I saw you hurt,

I wanted to cower
in a poodle crate

and beat myself with
a rusty bike chain.

-That's disturbingly specific.
-Jesus...

Ms. Murphy, rest assured

your family will have around
the clock Garda protection.

Doherty, now that you
have been reinstated,

you will stay with Ms. Murphy,

and devote your full
attention to this case.

So now you're
taking me seriously?

Please, forgive me.

I've been working
through my anger issues.

Therapy's a wonderous thing.

So, what have you deduced?

Well.

The m*rder of Minerva Quilligan,

Róisín's as*ault in
the evidence room,

and Johnny McIntyre's
prison escape are all tied

to my father's investigation,

which has now put
my family in danger.

The Garda Siochana will
do everything we can

to protect them.

-Thank you...
-Small issue with that.

Um... the person that knocked
me down and stole the hard drive

is most likely a Garda.

Clearly we have a
traitor in our midst.

We will sus them out.

So.

Who do you reckon's
behind all this?

Well, my assistant is

sorting through the financial
files on the hard drive.

But we don't know
that Callum Deasy

is the ultimate kingpin.

We'll put out an alert.

And start a manhunt
on Deasy and McIntyre.

Great.

Your next move?

Literally, moving.

Out of the cottage my
deadbeat father gambled away.

[clicking tongue awkwardly]

[soft music]

At least you didn't have
to buy any furniture.

Dad's ghost would've pawned it.

What should we do with this?

Burn it. Take it
down, pack it up.

That's like desecrating
a work of art.

Then think of it
as performance art,

and we are the performers.

Step right up and watch

as two attractive meat puppets

tap dance to the tune

of a dead charlatan's swan song.

I'm flattered you
think of me like that.

-As a meat puppet?
-An attractive meat puppet.

[sighing]

[intriguing music]

Malta is a tax haven...

If Malta is a tax haven...

Then maybe this
has something to do

with that whole Bitcoin fiasco.

Maybe your dad did have a
secret fortune stashed away.

If that were the case, why
would he sell the cottage

to pay off his debts?

Hmm.

[♪]

[inhaling sharply]

[whispering]: Why
can't I let this go?

I just hand over
this mess to you

and Sergeant Claude.

And jump on the first
plane back to Los Angeles.

Because, Fiona.

Your father,

despite being what
some would describe

as a massive, gaping arsehole...

He provokes my eternally
enraged curiosity...

So what do you want to do?

[intriguing music continues]

-Find out who this belongs to.
-I'll do it!

[♪]

Aw, Tess, when the flowers
showed up to my house

I was gob smacked.

The black irises
weren't too depressing?

Feck no.

Dramatic.

Unique.

Just like you.

Ah, so...

there are a crap-ton

of financial records
on this hard drive,

and I am gradually making
my way through all of them.

But I can confirm that
the ATM card belongs to...

...drum roll, please...

[rhythmic music]

Father Al.

Callum Deasy.

Guess he had to stash his
stolen charity money somewhere.

That tracks.

That bank was linked
to several accounts

on your dad's ledger.

Which I suspected already,
so this is nothing new.

[intriguing music]

You see that?
-What?

[♪]

Was TurboClash Maltese?

[whispering]: No.

TurboClash is a red blooded

American robot fighting machine.

But there's something
wonky about this emblem.

[repeated doorbell ringing]

I don't think that this
is the original design.

Your dad bought you a knockoff?

Arsehole power move!

[plastic crinkling]

I don't think it's a knockoff.

He covered over the emblem.

This wasn't a gift.

Whaddya mean?

I mean maybe this is some
kind of clue he left me.

[rhythmic music swells]

Oh, for the love
of plastic crap.

[scoffing]: Would
you look at that.

It's also a car.

Who'd have thought.



It's... is it the wrong number?

There was no number.

So the horseshoe led to
the death of Beannacht Ben.

The MMA glove

led to the k*lling
of Benji Donovan.

Don't forget the boarding pass.

Express lane to
Deasy's charity scam.

Right. So why alter a toy I
asked for on my 10th birthday?

Why make it all so mysterious?

Maybe it's a clue
only you can solve.

Maybe. But I can't
figure it out.

'Tis a riddle wrapped in mystery

inside a giant box
of what the f*ck.

Car 42.

What's so important
about car 42?

TurboClash?

Yes.

[singing]: Protector of
man! Defender of the world!

Watch him change his form!

Give his limbs a twirl!

When evil leads
mankind astray...

[together]: the crystal
compass guides the way!

[together]: TurboClash!
TurboClash! Hail!

[chuckling]

-Hey, dork squad, focus.
-Yeah.

Why's there a toy
on Claude's desk?

-Oh, it's a clue.
-Yup, it is.

My dad painted 42 on TurboClash.

What was the purpose?

The key, Fiona, is
finding that purpose.

[sighing]

Epiphany's sweet lightning bolt
sizzles my brain once more.

The Wicklow Road Rally.



Car 42 skidded off the road.

Then what happened?

I think... hang on.

Allow me.

Right, so.

The accident k*lled the
driver, Stephen Mulligan,

who was favored to win,
as well as Betsy Smythe,

aged six, who was watching
the race from the sidelines.

Both died instantly.

-I remember now.
-Oh...

Things took an even darker turn

for the Smythe
family after that.

Darker how?

Well, two years later,
the family went bankrupt.

This house has been
up for sale for years.

Nobody wants to live here
because of what happened.

[drone humming]

We're being watched.

[female voice]: This
is private property!

Who is operating that?

Did you know the people
that used to live here?

You're not one of those

fecking true crime
podcasters, are you?

Absolutely not.

Garda Róisín Doherty.

You should have led with that.

Turn around.

Hello, dearies.

What can you tell me
about the Wicklow Rally?

The Rally is a big deal

on this sleepy
section of the road.

The year of the accident...

...I was standing
across the road.

The girl, Betsy, was
a scrappy little imp.

Those cars would zoom by...

...and the wind
blew her hair back.

And she'd scream with laughter.

But then...

...it happened so fast.

One second she was alive...

[echoing screams]

And then she was gone.

There's no justice in it.

No sense in it at all.

And then the rumor started.

Rumor?

People saw a thug
named McIntyre...

...acting dodgy near
number 42's pit crew.

But nothing was ever proven.

It was said that
Betsy's da, Phillip...

...was a broken man.

And that over the
next two years,

he squandered the
family's life savings.

They claim Phillip
left a suicide note,

taking responsibility for the
m*rder of his wife, Gloria.

And that was the official story.

Which you don't believe.

The official story can feck off.

I don't think he squandered
the family money.

Someone was out to get him.

I saw that couple every day.

Phillip was a good man.

And Gloria...

...was three months pregnant...

...when she was shot dead.

[Fiona]: Have you
made any progress?

[sighing]: Honestly,
yes, but it's a lot.

Fiona, your dad had everything
from corporate tax returns

to dry cleaning receipts
on this hard drive,

so like, where do
you want me to start?

Check for any accounts

belonging to Phillip
or Gloria Smythe.

Okay? Any bank in particular?

[Róisín]: Try
Greengold Financial.

It's the biggest
bank in the area.

Okay. Checking.

What are you thinking?

Not sure yet.

But the official story
just feels wrong.

[Tess]: Okay.

So I found some accounts
linked to Greengold,

but none of them
are Smythe accounts.

How about any activity

around the time of the
Smythe m*rder-suicide?

You know, large transfers?

Strange deposits?

Okay.

Here's something.

So 10,000 euros were paid out
the day before the Smythes died,

and then another 10,000
euros the day after.

The payments were made by
a Smith & Jones Limited?

A shell company if
there ever was one.

Who received the payments?

Uh... someone named Seamus Kane.

-Rat b*stard.
-Are you okay?

Seamus Kane. He was a hired g*n.

The law finally caught up
with him two years ago.

He's serving life in a
maximum security prison.

Okay, so I think that someone
put a hit on the Smythes.

But who?

And why?

[mysterious music]

I'm here because you're sponsors

of the Wicklow Car Rally.

Are you looking to bet
on our car this year?

Actually, it's about
the 2017 event.

One we'd all like to forget.

I think the car was sabotaged.

You think that tragedy
with the Smythe girl

was a result of sabotage?

I do. And I also think that
her parents were m*rder*d

by a man named Seamus Kane.

-Wasn't it a m*rder-suicide?
-I don't think so.

I suspect the Smythes

were getting too
close to the truth

and Kane was hired to k*ll them.

The truth about what?

The identity of whoever
sabotaged the car.

Some people saw Johnny McIntyre
lurking in the car pits.

And someone had to
have benefited, right?

The rally does have
a big cash prize.

Plus endorsements,
plus bragging rights

and all the associated
gambling revenue.

And Car 42 was the favorite.

So do you think Johnny
McIntyre would have profited

from destroying it?

Possibly, I guess.

But...

...not half as richly
as Leo Travers did.

-Travers? How so?
-Travers' car won that year.

And he bloody well
drove it himself.

Caught your eye he did,
didn't he, Siobhan?

He was utterly
insufferable afterwards.

Insufferable, but...

...capable of m*rder?

One thing I've learned, Fiona...

...people are capable of
evil you cannot imagine.

Well,

if it was a contract k*lling,

there's one man who
knows who paid for it.

-Seamus Kane himself.
-Exactly.

Thank you.

This was helpful.

I'm glad.

But please,

be careful, my dear.

Thank you.

[suspenseful music]

[glass breaking]

f*ck!

Relax!

We'll be grand.

I know I will.

You on the other hand...

This is your mess,
father. Fix it.

[suspenseful music continues]

[♪]

This is Donovan.

Yeah.

About Fiona Murphy.

It's time you handle
things your way.

[crowd chatter]

Musa Makinde!

Do I know you?

You do now.

Leo Travers.

Sorry to hear that your gym's
on the verge of collapse.

Is... that why you took a
loan out from Bran Donovan?

Not sure what business
that is of yours.

[chuckling]

Musa, I make
everything my business.

You should make it
your business to know

who your friends, and
your enemies, are.

Mind your step.

Your lace is untied.

What the hell?

Leo Travers?

A car-sabotaging,
family-k*lling m*rder*r?

No way.

He's a Rovers fan.

Finn.

Do you really believe that
that little weasel got rich

selling second-hand caravans?

He's pure dodgy.

It's more than dodgy.

The Smythes were targeted.

No, Fiona.

Phillip Smythe k*lled his wife
and then himself, because he...

...he felt he had
nothing else to live for.

Well, he had an unborn
child to live for.

What?

Gloria Smythe was
pregnant when she died.

So many tragedies.

And her k*ller, Seamus Kane,

is serving a life sentence
at Portlaoise Jail.

I need to talk to him.

No. Fiona. That's madness.

Her hunches have
been spot on so far.

The warden at Portlaoise
and me go back a ways.

I'll pull some strings and see
if I can get you a meeting.

-Thank you, Finn.
-Finn!

There's no point in
trying to talk Fiona

out of something once
she's made up her mind.

Right, well, if you're set
on it, I'm coming with you.

Great. I could use the company.

[curious music]

[♪]

I think I misjudged my father.

How so?

Maybe he wasn't
motivated by revenge.

Maybe...

he just wanted justice
for that family.

Then why drag you
into all of this?

He knew it was dangerous.

I think he wanted me to know

that he was actually
trying to help people.

Trying to turn his life around.

[motorcycle revving]

[screams]

[skidding]

[crashing]

[sighing]

[pensive music]

Happy birthday, Fi.

[♪]

Look what I got you.

Huh?

I thought...

Hm, I thought that's
what you wanted.

I wanted a father.

[♪]

I wanted my mom to stop
crying herself to sleep

every night.

I wanted to stop moving
every six months!

[sobbing]: You're a
horrible father...

You're right, you're right.

[sobbing]: I wanted
you to come back.

[screaming]: You're
a horrible father!

I'm sorry. You're right.

And I wanted you to come back!

You're right, I'm
sorry... I'm sorry...

-You're a horrible father...
-Stop!

[shaky breathing, sobbing]

[♪]

We can't keep
going on like this.

Why are you helping
him after what he did?

Because if I only
loved perfect people,

I would never love anyone.

[sighing deeply]

[pensive music]

[whimpering]

[sniffling]

[♪]

Honestly...

...it's time we move on.

Okay.

♪ Happy birthday to you ♪

♪ Happy birthday to you ♪

♪ Happy birthday dear Fiona ♪

♪ Happy birthday to you ♪

We are so lucky to have mom.

You worked so hard.

Sure, we struggled.

But we turned out okay.

Far better than okay, Fiona.

Don't sell yourself short.

You're right.

Mom kicks a*s.

Fiona Margaret! Language.

Alright, you two, make a wish
and blow out those candles.

[huffing]

[clapping]

Dad...

...would you like
a piece of cake?

[chuckling]

Thank you.

[♪]

You need to wake up, Fiona.

But I'll miss my
birthday party...

Fiona Margaret.

Wake up!

[suspenseful music]

Una!

Afraid your little auntie
can't help you now, darling.

-What did you do to her?
-It's a shame you woke up.

Because this next bit...

...is gonna be quite unpleasant.

You don't have to do this.

Oh, I know I don't
have to do this.

Free will and all that, yeah?

Thing is, though, higher-ups
don't want you talking to Kane.

If you k*ll me

the Gardaí will be
all over your a*s.

The Gardaí?

[chuckling]

Would you ever shut up?

[screaming]

Run!

-You're both done for!
-Hurry!

[panting]

[♪]

[dramatic music continues]

[motorcycle revving]

[motorcycle revving]

[♪]

Gotcha!

Run!

[gasping]

[motorcycle skidding]

Oh, my God.

[heavy breathing]

Fiona...

Fiona, I k*lled him!

You saved my life.

You did what you had to.

No one will blame you, Una.

Come on.

[sobbing]

Come on.

♪ Blue is the Eye by
Ye Vagabonds plays

♪ Over the ocean
toward a new world ♪

♪ The city, the island,
the tear in the pearl ♪

♪ A boat on the water
casts out a clear eye ♪

♪ Lie down and sleep,
sleep well, my darling ♪

♪ Blue is the eye that
looks after thee ♪

[deep breathing]

Phillip Smythe was questioned
and later released.

Did ye get any sleep, Fiona?

I tried, but I... I couldn't.

So you were awake all night
going through that thing.

Should've left it at
the Garda station.

And have it stolen
like the hard drive?

Exactly.

It's just... my dad seemed
fixated on this Car 42...

Now you're fixated on
your dad's fixation.

There's so many
pieces. I just...

I don't know how they
all fit together.

Why don't you
explain it all to me?

Okay.

I'll try.

When Car 42 went off the road,

uh... it's rumored
that it was sabotage.

Betsy Smythe died in the crash.

Leo Travers won the race.

Johnny McIntyre's
house burned down.

No one was charged,

but Phillip Smythe
was questioned.

Johnny McIntyre tried to k*ll me

to stop me from
speaking to Seamus Kane.

I think he was hired
to k*ll the Smythes.

Did Leo send him?

If so, how did he know
where I was going?

The only people who knew
were Una and the Donovans.

Why would they tell him?

[clicking tongue]

You need to sleep
on this, Fiona.

Yeah. I know.

I will... soon.

What am I not seeing?

[Declan]: Dear Fiona,
I'll keep this short.

A bit of guidance from a man
who's often lost his way.

When you want the truth,

Consult your moral compass...

and the answers will
be crystal clear.

TurboClash is way cooler
than Optimus Prime.

For one thing, he's
made of race cars.

And two, the TurboClash
Deluxe Warrior Action Figure

has a secret compartment.

What's in the
secret compartment?

The Crystal Compass.

When evil leads mankind astray,

the Crystal Compass

guides the way.

[pensive music]

[intriguing music]

[♪]

Hmm, she was so proud that day.

When she was a child,
Una used to go on and on

about the castle she
was going to live in

when she grew up.

This is Una's castle.

What did this picture
mean to Declan?

Well, to be honest, he
never came around here.

He said Una lived
beyond her means.

What was that about? Jealousy?

You know, Professors
earn a fair bit.

Where is Una?

She couldn't sleep either.

Poor girl, I don't blame her.

She said she wanted
to clear her head,

so she's gone for a
drive to the cliffs.

[melancholic music]

[♪]

Una.

I k*lled him, Fiona.

How can I live with that?

[crashing waves]

Johnny McIntyre
was a violent man.

You did what you had to.

Did I...

...have to?

Of course you did.

Unless you wanted me to die.

Did you want me to die, Una?

I saved your life.

How did Johnny know we'd
be driving on that street

at that exact moment?

[crashing waves]

[sighs]

While he was lying there...

...on the floor
of that warehouse,

I saw a look cross your face.

A look of grief.

And affection.

You were with him, weren't you?

How could you, Una?

Have you wandered so
far down a path...

...you just...

...you can't find your way home?

I stood teaching at a
podium for 19 years.

I was invisible.

No one heard me.

No one saw me.

He saw me.

You told him which
route we were taking.

That's how he found us.

He was only supposed
to scare you...

He was gonna k*ll me.

[tense music]

My dad left this for me.

Hidden inside of a toy car.

What's the connection?

He refused to visit your house.

Why?

How did you buy that house?

Where'd you get the money?

Who are you to judge me?

You've gotten rich picking off
the carcasses of dead marriages.

[♪]

You were with Johnny the
night his house burned.

You saw Phillip
Smythe set the fire.

So you blackmailed him.

So you could have
your dream castle.

And when the Smythe
money ran dry,

someone put a hit
on the Smythes.

To silence them.

Was it you?
-No.

And it wasn't Johnny.
-Then who did?

Talk to me.

[♪]

I'm on your side.

You're in trouble with the
law, I will defend you.

Why would you do that?

Because you're family.

I think that's why my dad
wanted me to help you.

I think that's why he
left me this photo.

I tried to reason with him,
but he just wouldn't listen.

[suspenseful music]

All I have is
circumstantial evidence.

It's not enough.

Do not involve me in some
doomed crusade, Declan.

This is your battle. Not mine.

But you are the key witness.

That's crucial to
taking them down.

Look, I'm begging you.
Don't go to the Gardaí.

We're not responsible for this!

We might not have
pulled the trigger,

but we are still guilty.

We're guilty of
looking the other way,

of pretending not to know.

You profited when Johnny
blackmailed that family.

And I profited from...

from serving their murderers!

No, it has to stop.

And we have to stop them.

Declan, please.

We're not bad people...

Una.

[♪]

I just don't believe
that anymore.

Fine!

You f*cking throw
away your freedom!

Go on! But you're not
destroying my life!

If you weren't f*cking
Johnny McIntyre

that family would
still be alive!

[grunting]

Declan!

Declan!

[dramatic music swells]

You k*lled my father.

You k*lled my father.

Fiona, what I know puts
everyone I love in danger.

This has to end.

Please, there's been
too much death...

-Tell my mother I'm sorry.
-No! Don't!

Please, just let me die. Please.

Please, just let me die.

[sobbing]

[sobbing]

"♪Your Love Is An
Island" by Talos plays

♪ With your hounds and wolves ♪

♪ Carry me to the sea ♪

♪ Give your thousand
wounds to me ♪

♪ Maybe we're water
and this is all salt ♪

♪ Though it never happened
it tears us apart ♪

♪ Apart ♪

♪ Your love is an island ♪

♪ I'm scorched in
the sands of it ♪

♪ Your love is an island ♪

Una could get a lighter sentence

if she would just cooperate.

She's not talking.

What's there to say?

She k*lled Declan, she
could confess to that much.

There's more to it.

Declan was trying to get her
to testify against someone.

She's terrified and
not just for herself.

What she needs is a good lawyer.

Preferably one whose
da she didn't k*ll.

[phone rings]

Um... I'll be right back.

[clearing throat]: Hello?

Hello, Fiona. I've
been meaning to ask.

Did my good buddy Declan,

God rest his filthy rat soul,

leave anything else
in that briefcase?

What the f*ck makes you
think I'd tell you that?

So many cupcake flavors.

Chai latte, creme
brulé, lurch berry...

I can't decide. Oh, I know.

I'll ask the baker
which is her favorite.

[Mary]: And can I get
you anything else?

Mom.

She is what makes me
think you'll tell me.

Hi, Mary.

[suspenseful music]

I've got a proposal for you.

[♪]

Mom.

Hello?

Mom...

[suspenseful music continues]

[fiddle music]

[♪]