Chief Pratt killed himself?
You'd think so, but no.
Murdered.
A couple of good whacks at the back of the head.
That's like Nola.
Pratt was protecting somebody
who was afraid that now he'd talk.
Found fingerprints on the gas can,
but no match...
...which means it was someone with no police record.
Hello?
The arsonist who set fire to Harry's house
was arrested tonight.
We found a handgun
and a necklace with Nola's name on it
in Montburry Lake.
Any idea how they got there, Mr. Quinn?
The black Monte Carlo at the scene of the crime,
that was yours all along, wasn't it?
Look at the headline.
Nixon resigned in August, 1974.
There is no way
that that photo was taken in August, 1975.
Who are you protecting?
And that's when I found them...
the letters between Harry and Nola
that he'd stolen.
I found these after she disappeared.
They're all from Harry Quebert.
They're all the letters in his book,
"The Origin of Evil."
I've given you everything.
The truth is in your hands.
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
This is " The Origin of Evil ."
The moment I've been dreading for 33 years.
"Dear Marcus,
if you're still looking for answers,
this may interest you.
This book is the truth. Harry."
" The Seagulls of Sommerdale " by Harry L. Quebert.
You know, once they find their mate,
they stay together for life.
I think you should put seagulls in your book.
If you want,
I'll put them on every page.
So, when you get
to the end of your novel...
Mm-hm?
...you wanna make sure you give your readers
one last twist. Thank you.
One last twist?
Yes, you wanna...
you wanna keep 'em on tenterhooks
until the very end.
So, when you get to the end of your novel...
Mm-hm?
...you wanna make sure you give your readers
one last twist.
One last twist?
Yes, you wanna...
you wanna keep 'em on tenterhooks
until the very end.
Okay...
You want me to... yeah, okay.
Because it's like... you play cards?
You know, I thought you were dead.
I'm just a ghost now.
It's the first time I've been to your place.
It's impressive.
Thank you.
You live alone?
I do.
You what?
I do.
You do what?
I... live alone.
You should change that.
I'll try.
Can I get you a drink?
I would like that, thank you.
Okay.
And thank you for your hospitality.
To figuring it out.
I knew you would.
Congratulations.
I, um...
I have the, uh, videos of their interrogations,
if you'd like to see them.
May I?
Please, yeah. Please.
Mrs. Dawn,
how long have you known?
Not until the day...
not until the day Nola's body was found at Goose Cove.
The whole town was in such a frenzy.
I started...
I started to feel sick,
so I went home earlier than usual...
I can't believe this doesn't scare you!
This whole thing could explode at us!
Calm down.
I'm not gonna calm down!
-Calm down! -I'm not calming down!
Calm down! No one is going to suspect.
All roads lead to Quebert!
The body's on his property.
Yeah, and what if he's found not guilty?
Travis, he won't be!
Come on!
Wait a minute.
Wait, w-where are you going?
We're not done!
Geez...
What's going on, Travis?
I heard you talking about Nola.
Huh?
Jenny...
What?
I...
I don't know how to tell you this.
Okay.
I know how Nola Kellergan was killed.
He told me what they'd done...
Don't worry.
I'll take care of everything.
...And that he kept Nola's necklace
all these years
so he'd never forget.
I had to protect him.
He was all I had.
But then...
Except when Marcus Goldman came,
started stirring everything up,
I panicked.
I wanted him gone!
I sent him those threatening messages.
I set fire to Harry's car.
But he ignored my warnings, so...
Jenny started acting strange...
preoccupied,
after Nola's body was discovered.
I'd ask her what was wrong,
but she... she wouldn't tell me.
And then, one evening, I was up,
going to the bathroom, and, uh...
I saw her car drive by the house.
I was worried sick about my little girl.
I wanted to know where she was going.
Jenny!
What are you doing?
This is crazy! What-- Stop it!
You don't understand, Daddy!
-Stop it! -Go away!
Go away!
Stop!
After Pratt confessed to sexually assaulting Nola...
he had nothing left to lose.
I could see he was about to crack.
One day, he calls me.
He said...
we should talk.
So I-I went to see him.
You're panicking, Gareth.
They don't have anything tying you to Nola,
other than a fuckin' blow job.
It'll pass.
Just sit tight.
I'm not facing the Lord with this on my head.
I'm dying, Travis.
My life is almost over.
And what about mine?
You have to do what's right for you.
I'm turning it in.
Complete confession.
Maybe then I'll have some peace
after what we did.
And, uh...
how did Robert Quinn end up with the gun
and Nola's necklace?
Jenny.
She thought that if...
the investigation turned to us,
well, we'd be screwed.
So she...
she asked her father to get rid of them in the...
And you let him take the blame?
Just...
just long enough for us to...
to-to leave the country.
See, I-I knew he'd want to protect her.
And the photo?
It was pure luck.
Chief Dawn,
if you could walk us through what occurred
on August 30th, 1975?
Shut it off.
I, uh, I was the--
I sometimes wonder what my life would've been like
had I never gone to Sommerdale.
But that way, madness lies.
How'd you find out...
I didn't write... "The Origin of Evil"?
How'd you find out?
It was Elijah Stern,
actually.
It was thanks to him.
How many of these do you have?
Close to 30, I think.
This is how "The Origin of Evil" begins.
With this... this letter from Nola to Harry.
He kept all the letters that Luther had stolen,
and when I saw those letters,
I suddenly realized there's, uh...
there's not one mention of a seagull
in "The Origin of Evil,"
and you swore to her
that you'd put one on every page.
You know, the book you wrote that summer,
the book that, uh...
Nola typed for you...
that was "The Seagulls of Sommerdale."
"Dear Marcus,
if you're still looking for answers,
this may interest you.
This book is the truth. Harry."
"The Seagulls of Sommerdale by Harry L. Quebert."
Hmm.
It's an unpublished book of Harry's.
I don't know, he always said Nola loved seagulls.
There must be some connection.
But what does that mean, "This book is the truth"?
And you used me
back when you asked me to burn that manuscript
of "The Origin of Evil" because...
it wasn't your handwriting.
Bravo, Marcus.
Bravo.
You didn't write the book that made you famous.
You stole it
from Luther Caleb.
"The Origin of Evil"...
You know, I never understood
why such a beautiful book
had such an ominous title,
and...
I was embarrassed to ask you.
It's the origin of evil
that destroyed your life.
That's enough, Marcus.
The title had nothing to do with the book.
It was about you.
The first letter Nola sent you,
on July 5th,
when you were trying to break it off with her,
you never received it.
Luther had been spying on you.
He took the letter,
and from that day on, he began writing Nola,
pretending to be you.
At night, he would retrieve your discarded pages
in order to study the way you shaped your words.
He was an artist,
so he was skillful at copying your handwriting.
He even suggested the umbrella stand
as the place to hide her letters to you
so he would find them first.
He took all the letters she wrote you
before you even saw them,
and replied again and again,
always as you.
And the whole summer,
it was her unknowing correspondence
with Luther Caleb
that became "The Origin of Evil."
Harry?
How could you do such a thing?
I panicked.
I was struggling with "The Seagulls of Sommerdale,"
despite Nola thinking how great it was.
And then Luther showed up
with a manuscript
that he had written,
asking me for my advice.
Oh!
Luther, what's up?
Uh... I was wondering
if I could ask you a favor?
Yeah, please, come on in, I'm sorry.
It's okay.
Come on in.
What can I do for you?
It's...
I've written something,
and, uh...
I-- it's a love story,
and I don't know if it's any good, but I was...
I was wondering if you...
if you might be willing to...
to read it?
Yes, of course, it'd be my pleasure.
Thank you.
Uh...
I've, uh...
I've brought the handwritten copy by mistake.
I can go--
No, that's... that's all right,
as long as it's legible.
Why don't you just let me read the whole thing,
and then I'll...
I'll let you know what I think.
Okay?
Thank you.
Yeah.
Harry?
Harry!
Harry?
Harry!
"My sweet darling girl,
today, I came to your house at dawn,
as I often do, I must confess.
I watched you at a distance,
obscured within a forest of shadows--"
Harry?
"--around me,
the leaves stirred in their trees,
and called out, 'Go to her,'
but I remained hidden.
There are things we long to do, but must not do."
I've been calling you
for the last 10 minutes.
I'm sorry.
I didn't hear you.
Are those the new pages?
I can type them up.
No, not yet.
They're not ready yet.
It was the most beautiful book I'd ever read in my life.
The most extraordinary love story,
our love story,
with those remarkable letters
woven in between.
I had no idea that... it was written for Nola,
that the letters in it
were Nola's.
But the story itself was so powerful,
so painfully human,
I just...
just couldn't believe how beautiful it was.
And so you claimed it as your own.
Yes.
About a week later, there was an accident.
And I found out
that it was Luther who was in the car.
I hadn't had time to give it back to him, so...
I claimed it as my own.
I just could not have imagined
what a huge success
it would become.
It ruined my life.
So you let yourself be accused of murder
rather than just reveal the truth about the manuscript?
My whole life had been built on a lie,
don't you see that?
I still have no idea how she got the book.
It's simple, Harry.
He left the typewritten version
in her mailbox.
He knew you guys were going away together.
He knew that she was gonna elope with you,
and so that's how he ended the book,
with the heroine's departure.
The manuscript ended
with a final letter he'd written to Nola,
wishing her a good life.
He put a copy of that final letter
in the package along with the typed manuscript
so she'd read the letter as soon as she opened it.
In your own words...
what happened August 30th, 1975?
This is the story of parents
who refused to see the truth about their child...
It's the story of a man
who, out of entitlement and arrogance,
destroyed the dreams of another young man,
and was forever haunted by what he'd done.
And this is the story of a man
who dreamed of becoming a great writer,
but was slowly consumed by his own ambition.
This is the story of a black Chevrolet Monte Carlo,
which parked some distance away from a house
in a quiet neighborhood of a small town in Maine.
At dawn on August 30th, 1975,
Nola Kellergan received her last letter,
along with a package
she assumed was from her intended,
Harry Quebert.
Thinking it was a final goodbye,
that Harry had changed his mind and was forsaking her,
she nearly lost her mind.
Sweetheart?
What's wrong? What's the matter?
I can't- I can't tell you.
Of course you can, angel.
You can tell your daddy anything.
I'm just sad.
Just so sad, Daddy.
Aw...
Let her go, David.
She doesn't deserve your love.
Not after what she's done.
Stop it.
Nola, no, please.
Stop.
I beg you, do not start this again.
You weak, pathetic man.
It's because of you she's like this.
Nola, please...
I beg you.
For heaven's sake,
I cannot let you hurt yourself again!
Get out, David.
Now.
It's okay, Daddy.
It's my punishment.
Come here, Nola.
I said come here!
No, Mother.
No, please--
You will do as I say.
This is the punishment
for girls who kill their mothers.
All day long,
music blasts from the garage,
but Luther doesn't move,
never takes his eyes off the house,
waiting patiently for his beloved.
He'd caused her pain.
He didn't understand how,
but he knew he needed to see her.
He needed to apologize.
At 6:00,
he watches as she climbs out of her bedroom window...
She looks down the street to make sure she's not seen...
Then she begins to run.
Luther?
Don't cry.
I just came to say
that you shouldn't cry.
Can you give me a lift?
Yes, of course.
Get in.
Take me to Goose Cove.
I have to see Harry.
Now, neither Luther nor Nola
noticed the police car behind them.
Travis was on patrol.
"Why was Luther Caleb picking up Nola?"
Travis was about to call for backup,
but he decided
that he would deal with Luther himself...
He doesn't love me, Luther.
I thought he did, but he doesn't.
I wrote those letters.
Not Harry.
I didn't mean to hurt you.
I don't understand.
You wrote those letters?
Yes.
You stole my letters to Harry?
Please forgive me.
No! No!
Get off!
Wait, wait!
Get off me!
I know you and Harry are leaving.
I just wanted to say goodbye.
Then that means...
Harry's still waiting.
We're still going away as planned.
Take me to the By the Sea motel, Luther,
on Shore Road.
You're so lucky, Nola.
You and Harry, you...
you'll never be lonely.
Pull over!
Oh, it's Travis.
Pull over now!
Go faster. Go faster!
You can get to the motel from the beach.
Run. Run!
Run, Nola!
Oh, my God...
Officer Dawn,
pick up, Officer Dawn.
Shit!
Dawn here. Over.
Just got a call from Mrs. Cooper
on Side Creek Lane.
I don't have time for Mrs. Cooper.
She reported seeing a young girl
being chased by a man into the woods
across from her property. Over.
I'm on it. Over.
Shit!
You think we're okay now?
We should wait here for a while.
I...
I think we're safe.
Chief, it's Travis.
I'm sorry to disturb you on your day off.
I saw Luther Caleb in Sommerdale.
Yeah, again.
Only this time, he was with Nola Kellergan.
Seemed like they were arguing, and he wouldn't let her--
Okay.
Uh, I'm at the Cooper residence.
Okay. Bye.
Excuse me, ma'am.
Thank you for your help.
You just stay inside, okay?
Okay.
What time is it?
I'm meeting him at 8:00.
I think it's okay to go now, right?
Go.
I'll stay behind.
I can't. I'm not gonna leave you behind.
Go. Go.
Run to see Harry.
Everything will be fine.
Just go.
Go!
Goodbye, darling Nola.
What?
There.
There's the bastard.
Come on!
Where is she? Huh?
Where's Nola?
Where is she, you piece of shit? Huh?
What'd you do to her, you fuckin' pedophile?
Get off him!
Get off him! Get off!
Luther?
Luther? Luther...
We didn't mean to.
You killed him! -No, no, no--
You killed him!
We thought he hurt you--
You killed him!
Hey! No!
Nola... Nola, we didn't mean to!
Nola! Get her, for God's sake!
Fuck!
I see her!
Where?
Up here, up here!
Help! Help!
Help!
Hurry! Hurry! They're coming!
Call the police, please!
Yes!
I called before
about a girl being chased in the woods.
She's here with me now, and she's hurt.
Send somebody, quick!
An officer is on his way.
-Good. He should be there soon, ma'am.
Oh, there he is! Thank you!
I see him.
Put it down! Put it down!
Travis, what's going on?
Everything... everything's under control, ma'am.
Don't worry about it.
They're murderers! They killed Luther Caleb!
Travis! Is that... is it true?
No, it isn't.
Liar! They killed Luther!
What the fuck did you do?
She knew about Luther.
Get the girl!
Hey, hey! Hey, hey, hey, hey!
No! You murderer!
Get off me! Get off me!
Oh, my god.
What have we done?
We had no choice.
It was her or us.
Careful, careful.
Shit!
It's the dispatch.
They probably sent another car.
Dammit!
Go. Fast.
I'll deal with Mrs. Cooper's body.
I'll say it was a... a robbery gone awry.
Hey! Where am I going?
Just... get this thing out of sight,
and we'll get rid of the bodies later.
Okay.
Travis speeds out of the forest path.
He is chased by a deputy's car
who was alerted by Mrs. Cooper's call.
So, secure the area.
Don't let anybody in until the coroner gets here.
Suspicious vehicle spotted
near Side Creek Lane,
a black Chevrolet Monte Carlo.
I'm on it.
Ah, we lost him.
He's on route one, headed toward Bangor.
Are you out of your mind?
Why the hell did you stop here?
He's not here.
Jenny told me Quebert's in Boston.
He's not here.
I asked for a roadblock at every road.
-We're trapped! -I had to.
Oh, shit...
Oh, shit.
What do we do?
Okay, just let me think.
All right.
Leave the car here.
Lock the door.
Get back to Side Creek Lane as fast as you can.
Use the shortcut by the beach.
Yeah, pretend you were searching in the area
near Cooper's house.
I'll rejoin the chase. All right?
We'll take care of the bodies later tonight.
Okay.
Wait! Wait!
Take this.
You're covered in blood.
All right, so B car got this area.
Yeah, two by two, guys.
To the west of the house.
All right, let's go.
Come on, get her hands.
Got it.
Yup.
Careful, careful.
Count of three?
Yeah. Just do it.
Okay.
What about the bag she had?
Go.
So what we need to do
is get rid of the car and the driver
at the same time.
I don't understand.
Make it look like an accident.
You know the cliffs near Bradford?
I'm supposed to drive through frickin' roadblocks
in that thing?
Flash your badge.
No one is gonna stop you
unless you give them a reason to.
So don't.
I won't be far behind.
Evening, Officer.
Sommerdale Police.
Following a... a lead off-duty.
Not too hopeful, but...
you never know, right?
Black Monte Carlo?
It's, um...
my wife's.
A bit too showy for me,
but it's the wife, what are you gonna do?
Yeah.
I got one of those too.
Well, you have a good, uh...
morning.
Yeah.
Thank you, sir.
We will never talk about what happened,
is that clear?
Better to leave it unsolved.
Old lady shot by a burglar,
sign of the times.
Another young runaway--
Why not just pin the whole thing on Caleb?
And risk involving Stern?
You knew she had psychotic episodes,
didn't you?
Yes. I went over to her...
to talk to her father...
...even though I promised I wouldn't.
She's being beaten black and blue, Reverend.
You have to stop this, or I'm gonna go to the cops.
I wouldn't do that, Mr. Quebert.
The hell I will not!
You don't understand.
What kind of man are you
to just sit back and let your wife beat--
My wife's been dead for nine years!
I don't under--
Reverend!
Reverend?
Reverend!
That's when I knew
I needed to get her out of Sommerdale...
to get her the help she needed.
Harry, that's why you were running away together?
Yes.
I would have made sure she...
had the right doctor.
I would have helped her become whole again.
Why didn't you tell me about her mother?
I was so mad at you for the leaks.
I thought you had betrayed my trust,
and I was angry.
I wanted that book to fail.
And I knew if you made that mistake,
no one would take you seriously
ever again.
See, this is why I told you we could never be friends again.
You'll never look at me the same way ever again, Marcus.
Write the truth, Marcus.
Write the truth about me.
Correct your book.
Write the truth about the Harry Quebert Affair.
Goodbye, Marcus.
Rumor has it
you have a new book, writer.
Mm-hm. This is true, yeah.
You'll have to give it a read.
I think you might... might recognize yourself.
Oh, yeah?
Mm-hm.
I can't take a look now?
No, not a chance, Sergeant.
Aw...
I knew you were gonna say that.
Well, if it's bad,
I expect a full refund, all right?
No.
Goldman... Goldman doesn't offer refunds.
I like what you did with the house, man.
It came out good.
Yeah.
Interesting idea, too,
making it a retreat for writers.
Yeah.
Yeah, you know, I mean...
maybe I can help them believe in themselves.
You know, like, um...
like Harry never could do for himself.
Hey, uh...
you see today's New York Times ? No.
"The Seagulls of Sommerdale" is a must-read novel.
Luther Caleb..."
"Luther Caleb..."
Yeah?
"...wrongly accused
of murdering Nola Kellergan,
was a brilliant writer
whose talent was never discovered
during his lifetime--"
Can I see this real quick?
Luther Caleb?
You're unbelievable.
Uh... blah, blah, blah...
"This extraordinary novel
gives us a new perspective on how Harry Quebert
was inspired by his love for Nola Kellergan
to write The Origin of Evil."
Look, they both wrote masterpieces, right?
At least this way,
Luther gets the credit he deserves,
for one of them.
Hey, the police aren't the only ones
who can dispense justice, okay, Sergeant?
Right.
All right.
Do you mind if I keep this?
You are too much.
You know, if Harry
could have taken his own advice,
trusted what he wrote,
none of this would have happened.
Watch your step.
The guy owes you, again.
So, what are you gonna do now, writer?
Just waiting for inspiration to strike,
you know.
Scared shitless, actually,
but that's a writer's life.
Well...
See you around, buddy.
Yeah, man.
"Revealing a subtle knowledge
of the torment of the human soul,
"The Seagulls of Sommerdale"
tells a powerful love story
that is shattering in its fragility,
and uplifting in its innocence.
It is a masterpiece of an exceptional talent.
Mr. Caleb's death almost 30 years ago
is a tremendous loss to the literary world,
but his posthumous acclaim
makes his a name
that won't be forgotten anytime soon."