I met Charles 19 years ago in Edinburgh.

He was a petty criminal, a purse snatcher,

a low-key boss in his neighborhood,
and already in the sights of the law.

And I was young.

And oh, how reckless bad boys were attractive then.

We got married a couple of months later

while travelling to my hometown in Paris.

It wasn't so much a romantic journey,

but rather a way to leave waters
he couldn't navigate anymore.

We travelled and lived here and there

before finally settling in this ordinary city.

We lived peacefully for a while,

but how Charles put money on the table,
I never really knew,

and asking questions wasn't an option.

The more mysterious, the better, 
I used to think.

"The truth ain't funny", my father said,

"otherwise we'd spend our time saying it".

A few years after our marriage, he disappeared.

Just like that.

No word, no letter, no phone call.

The only trace left of him 
was a bunch of false papers

and a couple of bullets.

Did he end up in a random lake
wearing concrete shoes?

Did he leave for a pair of long legs
and a pretty face?

I never knew.

"Great lovers only make bad husbands"
my mother said...

Time passed on, and five years ago,

I finally received it.

The phone call.

Charles Higgins had just died
in a criminal gunfight.

The final word in an unanswered riddle.

I eventually accepted to become
the widow of a shadow and moved on.

And turned into everything he had always hated,

everything he spent his life avoiding:

a snooper, a muckraker.

Someone who asks questions.

Five unsolved murders seemed enough

to make his ghost come back.

And what a ghost.

The purse snatcher had turned into
a much sinister beast.

How deep did he dig himself into the underworld?

Was his death announcement just a mistake?

A lie? A smokescreen?

I thought I had turned over a new leaf,

but the end of the story seemed yet to unfold.

And here I am, hanging on by a thread,

waiting for a sign, a clue,

anything that would stop me looking 
over my shoulder

at every street corner.

(unintelligible whispers)

Mrs Higgins, I've brought you some supplies as you asked,

I'll put them on the desk.

There was only one bottle of whiskey left though.

Thank you Nellie.

Blanche Higgins.

Hi Blanche, Jacob here.

Anything new?

I think so. We've sent Charles Higgins' description
to every police station of the state.

And we have good reasons to believe 
he was spotted a few times,

in the company of unsavoury individuals.

He's still alive, but he's not alone.

I hope that it's not too hard to hear.

At this stage, I can't say I'm surprised, honestly.

Anything else?

Maybe. This whole situation is now
being taken up in higher circles.

Some shady politicians are starting

to fear for their little businesses.

Or their lives.

Are they?

This whole thing appears to be
even more unclear than I thought.

Some people are settling scores here.

And I guess I'm now a potential suspect

since my former husband is involved.

Don't worry too much about this.

But next time you're choosing your husband,

take a minute to consider.

Why did you even marry this guy in the first place?

Oh come on Jacob, 
have you never been young?

Or should I remind you the foolish things
you did when you were 20?

That won't be necessary, thank you very much.

But let's get back to what we have right now.

Somebody has actually witnessed the latest crime.

Judge Hodson's murder.

I'd thought you'd want to be the first 
to get a complete interview.

Well, how thoughtful of you.

Although you will clearly take advantage

of a full report of this interview if I'm right?

That would be appreciated, Blanche, 
thank you.

I guess I owe you a drink now,

don't I?

The only thing you owe me right now, Jacob,
is your trust.

Fair.

And in any case, you always know where to find me.

Il'l have the witness sent under escort right away.

Good luck. Be careful.

Goodbye.

Mrs Higgins, there's someone here for you.

Thank you Nellie, please leave us alone.

Take a seat, make yourself at ease.

Would you like a drink?

So...

I believe you're not comfortable

with what you witnessed.

Wrong place, wrong time, eh?

I'm tempted to ask why you took so long to show up,

but I guess you have your reasons.

Are you okay to answer a few questions for me?

Nothing formal, just casual talking
and a few notes,

so you can relax.

Let's start from the beginning, shall we?

What's your first name?

Last name?

Interesting.

Where does this come from?

What's your address?

Date of birth?

Come on...

Married? Children?

Where do you work?

Where is that?

How long have you been working there?

Do you usually go to and from work
with other people?

Directly to home?
No detour?

Let's sum things up, at least 
the straights facts I have.

On February 4th your left your work
at, what, 7pm?

And you entered Fairfield street 
to go back directly to home?

That's when you heard the gunshot
and saw Hodson on the floor

and another man running 
towards Crestwood lane, that's it?

Would you remember what this man
looked like?

Would a paper and a pencil help?

You can sketch whatever shape

or face feature you remember.

What about the hair?

Can you add details here?

Can you add brows?

Let me see.

Yes I know, it's never easy.

Let me help.

Was it this man?

Just add a few years.

Do you usually wear glasses?

Listen, the police are trying to gather
everything they can to understand

the criminal's scheme and avoid a new murder.

No one knows which bigwig will be the next target

and every VIP of this city is loosing their minds.

Five victims.

A notary,

two industrialists,

a town council member and...

a judge.

Some of these were total pigs
and won't be missed.

But a couple of them were actually good men.

And Judge Hodson was one of them.

Whatever you saw or heard 
could be of crucial importance,

look at me.

You didn't come here with your hands

in your pockets, did you?

Show me.

A letter?

Blackmail, eh?

So they know you were there after all.

Has Jacob already seen this?

Alright, let me see.

I suppose you have already run
your fingers all over it.

How and when did you get it?

"Keep your mouth shut
or end up like the old slug"

Well, straight to the point.

I wouldn't have exactly called Hodson

an old slug,

but we can appreciate this is striking enough.

Don't worry, Jacob and his team
will protect you.

Anything else you'd like to tell me?

You're free to go then.

I will keep this if you don't mind.

Your escort is waiting outside,

I'll walk you to the door.

Nellie, our guest is leaving.

Of course, this way please.

Oh Mrs Higgins, the evening news has arrived.

Thank you.

"Some shady politicians are starting

to fear for their little businesses.

Or their lives".

This wasn't referring to the latest victim.

It is the next one.

(unintelligible whispers)

Norman J. Slugg, here.

Suspected of having his own arms trafficking ring.

And numerous death threats have been made

by local mob against him.

Mrs Higgins, a letter for you.

A letter? At this time?

Who brought it? When?

I don't know, he refused to give his name.

But he seemed quite charming if I may say.

He left a few minutes ago.

Blanche,

I won't sign this letter because there's no need to.

I know you knew even before 
you opened the envelope.

A single sheet of paper may seem 
insignificant after years of silence.

And that still might not be enough to tell you all.

But...

I went too far, Blanche.

Got hooked in by the worst people
you could imagine.

They promised me wealth, they promised power,

they promised me everything.

I really thought it wouldn't last,

I thought I would quickly get enough.

But it was never enough.

It was a never-ending cycle 
of greediness and destruction

from which I couldn't run away.

I tried, though. I swear I tried...

5 years ago.

But... I didn't make it.

And everything became 
a lot harder after that.

I had to assume my role as a pawn 
once again.

But today, finally, I'm breaking the cycle.

As I write this, I'm preparing for my escape,

knowing that my time is running out.

I'm not sure I can call this redemption but...

In the envelope, you'll find a list of 
all the people

involved in the recent murders

and where to find them.

Schemers, right-hand men, underlings...

Along with the location of a locker
at the train station.

It's where I put all the pieces of evidence

I've been gathering these last years.

I know you and your friend Caine 
will handle this just right,

but the choice is up to you.

No need to rush though.

As you read this, the crooked senator
has already kicked the bucket.

And rest assured, your witness will be safe.

As for me, life here is over.

I'm setting sails for another.

Another country, far from here.

Try to forgive me if you can.

And find happiness in this world.

If you can.

7 days later...

...In the most surprising districts of the city.

Although one of the suspects 
is still missing and presumed dead,

the police have now locked up

every criminal involved in the 
recent macabre events,

thanks to inspector Jacob Caine's work.

While his investigations methods
are still unclear and controversial,

he certainly succeeds where others fail.

I for one believe we shouldn't put
too much scrutiny into Caine's methods.

If anything, we only owe him
only our greatest thanks.

The ends almost always 
justify the means.

And I can tell you, ladies & gentlemen,

we can now enjoy the night life
of our good old city without fear,

and sleep soundly, and safe, 
and snug in our beds,

all thanks to this gentleman,

bless you Jacob Caine.

Inspector Caine speaking.

Hey Jacob.

What about this drink?

(soft laughter)