- 9-1-1, what's your emergency? - I, I...
- Hello? - I, I don't know. I think...
Ma'am, what's your emergency?
- Uh, he's dead, he's dead. - Mom?
Daddy!
Former Stanford professor and cult author...
- No! Come on, please. - ... killed in his own home
while his wife and daughters slept...
Chuck Buhrman was murdered in his home,
stabbed multiple times.
Sixteen-year-old Warren Cave was taken into custody this morning.
Witnesses saw Cave and the victim in a heated argument
- during the Halloween party. - Judge ruled today
that the 16-year-old boy will be tried as an adult.
- May I proceed, Your Honor? - You may proceed.
This was testimony given by the witness
at the June 2000 trial of Warren Cave.
You said a noise woke you up. Is that correct?
Yes.
After you woke up, what did you do?
I looked out my window and saw someone jumping the fence.
Could you please identify that person?
My neighbor, Warren Cave.
Are you sure?
100 percent.
Once more.
Are you sure?
100 percent.
Now, this is her statement to the police six months earlier.
Lanie, on Halloween night, the night of the murder,
did you see the person before they jumped the fence?
I think so.
You think so?
I'm pretty sure.
Now, one more time, Lanie.
Did you recognize the individual who jumped the back fence?
Go ahead.
Say it.
Yes. It was Warren.
Warren Cave?
Yes.
Is this the bulk of your new evidence, Ms. Cedillo?
Yes. And if I may, Your Honor, it's obvious from the new video
- she was coached into a statement... - Obvious to you.
Hold on. Let me tell you what can be argued.
The trial footage shows a young woman
who's had six months to process her father's death
and the events of that night.
In the found footage, I see a distraught teenage girl
being questioned a mere 48 hours after the brutal murder of her father.
These are trying circumstances for the best of us.
But there is not enough evidence to constitute a new trial.
Motion denied.
My son is innocent.
I'm sorry, Ms. Cave. I hope you find some peace.
Why doesn't anyone see that my son is innocent?
She won a Pulitzer Prize for her investigative journalism work
during her 20 years at The New York Times
before leaving to start what has become
one of the most popular true crime podcasts on iTunes.
Here to discuss the changing landscape of American journalism,
it is my pleasure to welcome Poppy Parnell.
Ben Bradlee, a titan of journalism, had a quote:
"As long as a journalist tells the truth, in conscience and fairness...
it's not his job to worry about consequences."
The truth is never as dangerous as a lie in the long run.
Say it.
It was Warren.
My son is innocent.
The truth is the only guide.
- Poppy? - In the kitchen!
What's... What's going on?
Thought I'd cook.
The queen of takeout?
You haven't fired up that stove since we moved in.
So it's about time then.
What is going on?
Just have to start the roux.
Let me ask you a question.
Hit me.
If...
... a man got convicted of murder based off eyewitness testimony,
you know, somebody saw him leaving the scene,
and then you find out that eyewitness was coached,
shouldn't that be enough to get him a new trial?
Who are we talking about?
Warren Cave.
What? The kid that you wrote the story about 20 years ago?
Nineteen.
There was a hearing today.
The defense got their hands on a videotape
of Lanie Buhrman's statement.
She was lying. I know it.
I got...
all these awards hanging in my office from those articles about Warren.
That entire series launched my career,
and now I can't stop wondering if I was wrong.
You didn't investigate the crime, Poppy. You wrote the stories.
But my stories got the whole world to think that he was evil incarnate.
I'm the reason he got tried as an adult.
Remember the one juror that got dismissed
because they found him reading my articles during the lunch break?
Oh, my God, Ingram, if he's innocent...
Hey, come on. You have to let this go.
Yeah. I mean, there's nothing I can do about it anyway, right?
No, listen, hey, you saw it in action. Okay?
The chances of overturning a verdict
or even getting a retrial are a million to one.
Now...
can I call somewhere to make a reservation?
Please. 'Cause this is not going to end well.
- You know? - I'm gonna make it just to spite you.
- Hey. - Hey, yourself.
- I want to do a different story. - No shit.
Warren Cave. Thanks.
♪ Happy birthday to you ♪
♪ Happy birthday, dear Josie and Lanie ♪
- ♪ Happy birthday to you ♪ - We all know those families.
The ones at the center of their neighborhood.
The ones with the happiest marriage,
- the perfect kids. - And there you go.
The greenest lawn, the most loyal dog, the brightest Christmas lights.
The ones that are effectively... perfect?
- Merry Christmas. - Look right over here.
In Menlo Park, the Buhrmans were that family.
Chuck, a celebrated author
and respected professor at Stanford University.
Erin, a talented artist who put her career on hold to raise a family.
And Lanie and Josie, their high-achieving twin daughters.
A perfect life shattered on October 31, 1999.
Here's what Menlo Park Police say happened.
Chuck Buhrman was up late,
catching up on work after the family's annual Halloween party.
He sent 11 e-mails after midnight,
the last one at 2:44 a.m.
All work-related and all routine.
The assailant entered through a back door.
With his wife and daughters upstairs, Chuck went to investigate.
He made it to the doorway of his office
where the bulk of the attack took place.
The assailant escaped through the back door,
hopped over the back fence and disappeared into the darkness.
Chuck's body was found the next morning by his wife, Erin.
Erin, along with twin daughters, Josie and Lanie,
had slept through the slaughter.
The case against Warren was largely circumstantial.
Police did not have a witness to the actual attack.
They didn't find Warren's DNA anywhere on Chuck's body,
and they never recovered the murder weapon.
But there were two pieces
of hard evidence linking him to the crime scene.
Fingerprints found near the body
and the testimony of Chuck's 15-year-old daughter, Lanie Buhrman.
But what if Warren Cave didn't kill Chuck Buhrman?
And if Warren didn't, who did and why?
- You see what's missing? - Yeah.
We need Warren. No Warren, no story.
- If I could be so bold. - Yeah. Shoot.
Why would he ever talk to you?
Because I could help him.
You really think he's innocent?
I don't know. But I need to find out.
- He won't see me, Des. - You can't be surprised by that.
So why are you letting it stop you?
You need him, right?
Without Warren, it's just me telling a story indulging in my own guilt.
- But... - No. Don't "but."
Don't bullshit.
You can lie to everybody but me.
Being told "no" has never stopped you.
Now you're talking shit.
You will bulldog the shit out of something if someone else
is doing wrong or if it's about work.
But when it's about you, the real, you're out.
That's not true.
Remember your ex, Markus?
He cheated. What was I supposed to do?
I don't know. Cuss him out. But you just jetted.
You took a job you weren't even thinking about.
- It was The New York Times! - It was a broken heart.
For reals though.
You're scared.
'Cause you don't wanna look Warren in the face.
I don't.
But you're gonna have to.
You will not be able to live with yourself
if you were wrong, and he has suffered because of it.
I helped to put him where he is.
And you could be the reason he gets out.
Woman up. Handle that.
Do whatever you have to do to get in there and see him.
Mrs. Cave.
Get off my property.
I just need a minute.
Go to hell.
Damn it! Damn it.
Just hear me out.
Doing a new podcast series...
entirely about Warren.
What?
In order for it to work, I need to talk to your son.
Which is why I was hoping you could help me get in to see him.
- Are you kidding me? - This could help him.
Create public pressure to maybe get him another trial.
What, suddenly you give a shit?
I would be skeptical too.
But if he is innocent, maybe I can do something to make a difference.
What did my son want to become when he was growing up?
What was his favorite subject in school?
Did he sleep with a night-light?
You don't know.
Because you never wanted to know
because that would've made my son a human being.
Instead of this twisted creature
that you were so desperately trying to sell.
You exploited my son once.
Mm-mmm.
Never gonna let that happen again.
Okay, I know.
I know you hate me. And you probably deserve to.
Yeah.
But if you're running out of time, what have you got to lose?
What?
Does Warren know?
Know what? What are you talking about?
My mother.
Breast cancer.
She had the same diet during chemo.
How long did they give you?
Six months.
When?
Four months ago.
Then let me help you.
You're a horrible woman.
Stop using us to make yourself feel better.
Mela...
Well, maybe we don't need him.
There's so many other ways to dig into this story.
Noa, I appreciate the positive spin,
but this story is about freeing a potentially innocent man.
If I don't talk to that man, I don't have a story.
But if you can't get to Warren...
I'll find another way.
What about you? You get anything?
Nothing on Erin or Josie,
but Lanie Buhrman, you won't believe what she's doing now.
What about her?
She's working as a death doula.
What's that?
Same as a birth doula except death.
The daughter of a murder victim helps people to die.
I will never fucking understand California.
Ahh.
- Can I help you? - Are you Lanie Buhrman?
- Who's asking? - My name is Poppy Parnell.
I'm here to talk about Warren Cave.
- Not interested. - Ms. Buhrman, please.
Dunn. Lanie Dunn. I don't use Buhrman anymore.
It attracts creeps.
- I'd like to talk to you about... - I know
what you wanna talk to me about.
I am not interested.
I saw the video of your statement.
Mom!
Everything all right?
Yeah. We're all done here. Right?
Thank you for your time.
- Mom! - Hey. Come here!
- Hi. How are you? - Good. Who's that?
Nobody.
Hi. Hi, hi, hi.
"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, 'He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God in whom I trust.'
Surely, He will save you from the fowler's snare
and from the deadly pestilence.
He will cover you with His feathers,
and under His wings you will find refuge.
His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day...
You in trouble.
... the pestilence that stalks in the darkness...
- You gonna get a whippin'. - ... or the plague
that destroys at midday."
- Amen. - Amen.
Hi, Sister Claire.
Sister Claire. Have a good one.
- You ready for your party, Daddy? - I ain't ready to get older.
Well, it's either a party thrown by your family
or one given by the undertaker.
- The first one sounds good to me. - Mmm.
Ooh.
I'm sorry, Daddy. Excuse me.
Hello?
Listen, I don't trust a word that you say, Ms. Parnell,
but I've gotten you in to see him.
- What? - Warren. In San Quentin.
Thank you, Melanie. You won't regret this.
And this is nonnegotiable.
You say nothing about my condition.
Understood.
You ready? Lillian got food at the house.
Uh, I got a little business thing that I need to handle.
Church on Sunday, food with the family.
That's how we do it.
I know, Daddy. I'll see you at the party next week.
- Love you, Daddy. - Love you too.
Let's go.
Where she going? Not like she got a job.
When most kids his age were graduating from high school,
joining the army, starting new jobs,
getting ready for college, planning for the future,
going to parties with friends, falling in love,
Warren Cave went to prison.
He was 17 years old.
Ladies and gentlemen, as we begin processing, please understand
- that you're required to be compliant. - Seventeen. Think about that.
I'm going to lift your bra.
Please allow your breasts to hang.
I understand what it's like to be an innocent child,
discarded and thrown into a place where there's only darkness.
That's why this stands as my deepest regret.
Warren Cave.
Warren Cave?
Member of the press here to see a Level 2.
Thanks for seeing me.
Did your mother tell you why I'm here?
You're the journalist, from before.
Okay if I write?
Why are you here?
I think I can help you this time.
Look, not the bullshit.
The truth.
- Warren, listen... - Warren?
First name?
I live in a house...
full of men who...
breathe to lie...
and I could smell yours before you even started talking.
You're full of shit.
Well, I'm here now.
I can make up for it.
Can you?
And now you are here...
... for my blood.
Vampire.
You fucking predator.
Eeny, meeny, miny, Moe.
Catch a tiger by her toe.
If she hollers, don't let her go.
Eeny, meeny, miny, Moe.
- Where you going? - Guard.
Why you running, Poppy?
Damn it! God damn it. Damn it.
You didn't tell me your son was a damn Nazi.
- Does it really matter? - Of course it does.
A woman so noble that she overlooked
the faults of an enemy
to prove his innocence.
I can see the headlines now. Hell, I can see the movie.
- You good, love? - I'll have another Popsicle.
- Sure thing. - Thank you.
Whatever you saw in there,
that's not who my son really is.
Don't be that mother.
Your son is bone-deep in that raggedy tribe.
My son was sent to prison as a child.
Your articles helped put him there.
He would never have become that thing if he wasn't locked up.
You don't know that.
I know that there is a monster inside every one of us,
and his was unleashed in prison.
Mine when I smoked my first cigarette.
What about you?
What's in there?
Was it your monster that made you disregard an innocent boy
for all these years
and then come and sit here today
and judge the man that he was forced to become?
Help me get my son out of prison
so I can see him again, on the outside,
and maybe God will forget that you're a sinner.
Maybe He'll let your monster sleep.
Hey, guys. Jimmy. Jack. Good to see y'all.
- Yeah, it looks right. - Hey.
- Hey.
Why were you texting me all panicked?
I need some help with something. A little advice.
Okay. That looks good.
You good? Looks good, Herbie.
This is easy.
Uh, don't use the juice you got from that podcast
to help some AB motherfucker.
That's it. That's all. It's simple.
Wait, what? Miss Social Justice Warrior?
Swastikas will change some shit.
I built my career on that boy's back, D.
And a country was built on ours. Now what?
You know what I hate about this family?
Typical responses to complicated shit.
How the hell you cracking on the family
and shedding tears over a racist asshole?
I'm shedding... I'm not shedding tears.
Okay? I just...
There is some guilt if I had anything to do with this.
That's what the Lord is for.
Look, you want a cause?
Use your juice to get Butchie out of Pelican Bay.
He had a drunk public defender. No eyewitnesses.
Bullshit charges.
His mother died while he was in there.
Or our cousin, who you never visit.
What are y'all fussing about?
Hey, Big Time.
I thought you was too good to come hang out at the bar.
I don't have time for your shit, Lillian.
My shit?
I just came out here 'cause we getting ready to start the boil.
The crawfish just got here.
Hey, come look at the bike I got your daddy for his birthday.
Bam.
You like it?
Daddy will like it.
Come on, girl.
We got family. We got good music.
We got crawfish.
And we got a step-mama younger than you.
You need to quit.
I think this is gonna work for him.
Watch out, baby. Watch out.
- Hey. - Thank you.
Is this free?
On the house.
Oh, there's Daddy.
- Hey. - Thank you. God bless you.
Brother Shreve. What's up, baby?
Bless you, brother.
Oh, man.
Why you laughin' so hard?
Cheers.
- Good stuff. - It is.
I see you still on that Hangar 1.
- How you doing, Markus? - Not as good as you.
Talk to me. What's happening? You tryin' to avoiding me or somethin'?
I've been in here almost an hour. You ain't come talk to me once.
Ain't nobody worried about you. Is your wife here?
You know I'm divorced.
I don't keep tabs on you.
- Oh, yeah? - Mm.
Well, lookee here,
Miss Don't Keep Tabs,
your sister tells me you was looking into some old crime.
Now, you know I'm not with OPD anymore,
but I still do a little investigating on the side for them.
- A small fee. - Mm.
- My sister talks too much. - Oh, since the cradle.
You know that ain't got nothing to do with nothing.
Hey, listen,
and this is serious, if you need anything, anything...
all you gotta do is holler.
- I'm good. - Oh, you good now?
- I'm good. - You good?
- Are you sure? - She's good.
Ingram Rhoades. Poppy's husband.
All right, brother. Markus Killebrew.
Poppy's roadkill.
- Always worried about my sister. - Oh, there she is.
You should holler at me sometime.
If I did that, then I'd have to worry about you.
- Well, is that bad? - She don't stop.
Y'all enjoy your evening.
- Hey there. - Hey.
- Trifling. You are so trifling. - Mmhmm.
"Hey, y'all enjoy your evening."
You guys sound so great. Thanks for coming.
Happy birthday, man.
- Hey! - Hey.
When you gonna have me and Lillian up to that fancy house?
Oh, you welcome anytime, Daddy.
Hey! Watch what the hell you doing!
- Sorry, man. - It's okay, Daddy.
I'm all right. Just calm down.
"Calm down"? Who are you to tell me what to do?
Daddy?
Everything okay?
This silly woman sitting here trying to tell me what to do.
Okay, Boo, I got this. It's cool.
You go on and enjoy the rest of the party.
Wait, where you going?
To get something to eat.
Poppy?
Yeah, Daddy.
I always knew you'd find a way to mess things all up.
Got more of your mama's blood in you than mine, and all of them crazy.
Okay, now wait a minute, old man.
This party here is for you.
Everybody that's here, baby, is for you.
- Okay? - Yeah, sweetheart. Okay.
Hey, Popsicle!
Come here. Give me some sugar.
Mm. Go on and enjoy yourself.
- Sit with me, sweetheart. - Absolutely.
Something's wrong with Daddy.
For a moment, he didn't even recognize me.
He said the most hateful things.
Your father's always been edgy.
No. It wasn't that.
It was different.
Lillian wasn't surprised.
Let's wait for everybody to sober up.
Find out what they all know.
Hey, Aunt Susan.
Jesus, Lanie.
Sorry. I used my key.
No, you don't need to be sorry.
Just text me so I know that you're gonna be here.
What's going on?
Um...
You know how every few years a...
vulture comes out of the woodwork
and starts asking about my dad?
- What now? - This woman.
She came to my house,
and she accosted me in front of Alex and Ella.
- Who? - Poppy Parnell.
You remember? She's that reporter.
She wrote a bunch of stories about Warren for the Chronicle?
She's doing a podcast.
- What'd you say? - Nothing.
Because none of us should be saying anything to her.
But I do need to talk to Josie.
I-I bought some ice cream.
I remember when that would fix everything.
- It's mint chip. Want some? - Aunt Susan.
I really need to warn Josie.
Your sister wants to be left alone.
I know that. That's why I need to talk to her.
Because what if this woman goes after her?
If it's an emergency, I can get a message to her.
Everything's gonna be okay. I promise.
Don't let this woman upend all the hard work that you've done.
You've come too far.
Okay?
- Promise? - Promise.
Was it your monster that made you disregard an innocent boy
for all these years?
- What? - Leave it off, babe.
- What's going on? - Nothing. Just...
No. Talk to me.
I didn't do enough.
With your father?
No.
For Warren Cave.
Baby, you... Baby, you can't beat yourself up about that. Okay?
You wrote those stories based on what you knew at the time,
and you didn't know about the tape.
But I did.
When I first looked into Warren's case, I...
I heard rumors about Lanie being coached.
That there was a tape. I could've looked into it.
When did you hear?
When I was writing the second article.
You never told me that.
Well, the series was already getting attention.
It felt meaningful. Impactful.
It was opening doors for me.
But it was all based on the idea that Warren was guilty.
The tape didn't matter at that point if it was true.
Did you bury evidence? No. Of course not.
- No. - Okay. All right.
Then help me understand here.
Because there are a million rumors about any given case.
Did you trust the source?
I never looked into it, Ingram.
I told myself it didn't matter.
But it was my job to look at everything.
I chose not to.
I can't ignore it a second time.
Yes, you can.
Ingram. I can't.
You think I believe that pathetic shit on your arms?
You think I believe that squirrelly little boy from Menlo Park,
the one without a single friend, arrived believing all that?
You joined up so you wouldn't have to become someone's bitch.
I bet they were trading you like playing cards.
Popping your ass like bubble gum.
If you're tired of that, of this,
we can get to work.
Your mother's dying.
Oh, yeah?
What's wrong with her?
- Tell me about the Buhrmans. - Fuck you!
Get mad if you want.
Get mad if you want to.
But she won't tell you, and she might not come back.
And then she'll die without you ever seeing her again.
Why were your prints found all over that house?
I used to go "hunting" at the Buhrman house.
"Hunting"?
Just stupid kid shit.
The mom, Erin Buhrman,
used to play like she was better than everyone else.
But I knew.
Everyone knew that she was a pillhead.
I went there searching for drugs.
In and out.
That's it.
I went straight to the medicine cabinet.
My prints were found because I went hunting.
Josie, is that you?
Go back to bed, Lanie.
I got what I was looking for, and I got out of there.
So, you were there looking for drugs? Nothing else?
I told you I was hunting.
Did you go "hunting" the night of the murder?
No.
Remember when you told me that men in here breathe to lie?
I was a reporter for over 20 years.
So I know a lie when I hear one too.
You're not telling me the truth.
Your mother has lung cancer.
She was given six months to live four months ago.
Is there anything else you want to tell me?
So will you help me get out of here?
If you promise to tell me the truth.
Deal.
I just want to get something straight
before we start down this road.
If you ever even breathe anything racist
in my direction,
I will make sure you die in here without ever seeing your mother again.
Understand?
I need to hear you say it.
I understand.
Okay.
My name is Warren Cave.
I live at San Quentin prison where I was sent in the summer of 2000
for the murder of my neighbor, Chuck Buhrman.
Every week I come to you, and I bring you a story.
I do interviews.
None of them ever about me.
This time it'll be different.
- 9-1-1, what's your emergency? - I, I...
- Hello? - I, I don't know. I think...
Ma'am, what's your emergency?
Uh, he's dead, he's dead.
Dad, no! Please. No.
Nineteen years ago,
prominent Bay Area author, Chuck Buhrman, was murdered.
The focus quickly turned to the Buhrmans' 16-year-old neighbor,
Warren Cave.
The night of the murder,
did you see the person before they jumped the fence?
I think so.
I don't know why Lanie lied.
And that's where I come in.
Poppy Parnell portrayed me
as a privileged, entitled psychopath.
I helped seal Warren's fate with a series of articles called,
"Profile of a Monster."
We, the jury, being duly impaneled...
Warren was sentenced to life in prison without parole.
Is there an innocent man in prison?
And did I... lead that charge?
My name is Poppy Parnell.
And I'd like you...
to reconsider.
Synced & corrected by QueenMaddie www.addic7ed.com