Damnation (2017) s01e01 Episode Script
Sam Riley's Body
1 [IDLE GUITAR MELODY.]
[GUNSHOT.]
Looks like the Lord's blessing us with another lovely day.
Morning, Preacher Seth.
Bit of a nip, though.
I had to cover up the rhubarb last night, keep the frost away.
- [GUNSHO - [CHICKENS CLUCKING.]
You seem to be shooting at your chickens.
No, I'm shooting at that egg-stealing son of a bitch that's cowering in there with them.
Can't afford to lose more eggs.
Times are hard enough as it is.
[WOOD CRACKS, CHICKENS CLUCK.]
Aren't you losing both eggs and chickens each time you take a shot? A man has got to abide by his principles.
Suppose he does.
I was only gonna take one egg.
Stay down.
- Did I get him? - No.
And it's not a him.
It's a young girl.
Well old enough to steal, old enough to deal with the consequences.
Blessed are the merciful, Frank, for they'll receive mercy themselves.
Are you saying that I could get into heaven if I don't kill that dirty, egg-sucking thief? Yes.
What else is in it for me? - Besides eternal salvation? - Yeah.
I can probably also get you a dozen eggs and maybe a gallon or two of fresh buttermilk.
It's a deal.
How'd you get me off the hook? I spoke in parables.
- You what? - I lied.
What denomination are you? Pick one.
Sam, Junior.
How are our blockades holding up? - They're holding for now.
- We can't let one shipment get through to town.
If a truck gets through, it'll be carrying my dead body on it.
[THUMPS TRUCK.]
Who's that? Sam Riley.
He's leading our farmer strike.
Yeah, I've been hearing about that.
What are you striking against? The American economic system.
[LAUGHS.]
How you gonna do that? By breaking the system's back one asshole banker at a time.
One of these asshole bankers, named Calvin Rumple, has been paying off the local grocers to keep their food prices low.
They call it price-fixing.
And it means none of the local farmers can make back enough money to pay off their loans, no matter the crop.
Which is why we're doing this strike.
And once people start going hungry, not even Calvin Rumple'll be able to keep food prices down.
And then the farmers can sell their goods and we might be able to save their farms.
How's this banker get away with doing all this? He must be making someone rich.
You do that, and you can get away with just about anything in this country.
Okay, this is where I live.
I don't see any houses out here.
Didn't say you would.
You can come to our church.
Whole congregations eats after our morning service.
I think I'd rather live in the woods and go hungry than listen to a preacher tell me how to live my life.
We're not that kind of church.
Did you steal those from that old-timer's coop? We're all a part of God's body.
All I did was shift these eggs from God's left hand to his right.
Here.
- I don't take charity.
- They're not an offering.
This is a payment for listening to what I'm gonna say next.
[SIGHING.]
Okay.
Let's hear the sermon.
Next time don't settle for just eggs.
Take the entire hen.
Simple economics.
Okay.
And splatter some blood and feathers when you leave.
It'll look like foxes hit the coop.
[LAUGHS.]
Amen to that, Preacher.
[DISCORDANT GUITAR MUSIC.]
Any deliveries today? No.
Not today.
Not this week.
Good.
Just keep prices where they are.
If the farmers keep blocking shipments and refusing to sell, they're gonna starve us all out.
I've got a feeling they won't.
In fact, when a dairy farmer does deliver a load of fresh milk today, pay him and only him double the going rate.
What makes you so sure a load will get through, today of all days? Call it banker's intuition.
[EERIE MUSIC.]
Pete.
Something wrong? I'm heading into town.
Calvin Rumple told me I could get double for our milk if I brought it in today.
But the blockades.
I can buy some groceries while I'm at it.
The doctor said you need to start eating if you're gonna get well.
[SOFT MUSIC.]
Well, how lovely of you to join us.
I had to do a little proselytizing.
- How's the goulash coming along? - I can't tell if it's bringing more people in or driving them away.
Sounds like my sermons.
How do I look? Almost like a preacher.
Welcome, friends.
I'd like to speak to you today about Jesus.
Somehow in this modern era of ours, we have convinced each other that Jesus Christ was some kind of respectable man a figure of solemn authority.
But the cops and judges didn't crucify Jesus for being respectable.
No, they crucified him because he was an outlaw a revolutionary.
They crucified Jesus because they were afraid he was gonna take power away from them and give it to the poor.
My friends, we're living in biblical times again.
There is a holy war in this country.
The rich versus the poor it's the same war Jesus himself was in.
- Whoa! - Stop the truck! Stop the damn truck.
[METAL RATTLING.]
Damn it, Pete.
We're on strike.
You ain't taking your milk to town.
Look, Pam is real sick.
I'm broke.
Yeah, we're all broke, you idiot.
Colby, give me the gun.
All right.
Off with the tarp.
- Sam, please.
- We're all in this together, whether you like it or not.
Now, you're gonna get up there and dump that milk yourself.
[GUNSHOT.]
[BIRDS CAWING.]
Sam.
All right, boys.
You're gonna let Pete go.
See, Pete has milk to sell in town.
- [GUNSHOT.]
- Get back.
Now, I shot this man out of self-defense.
Or am I incorrect to say that he aimed his pistol right at my person? Unless you wish to join this man up yonder, I suggest you remove your gaze from that weapon.
See, this farmer strike? It's over.
So go home.
'Cause tomorrow, you're gonna sell your goods in town.
And Jesus tells us,"Think not" "that I am come to send peace on Earth.
" "I come not to send peace, but a sword.
" Not peace but a sword.
[CONGREGATION GASPS.]
Jesus Christ Himself says that because Jesus knew he was at war.
But the question is do you? [MUSIC INTENSIFIES.]
Who's gonna dig these graves? Who's gonna dig these graves? - Somebody help me dig these graves - I can't do it on my own Who's gonna dig these graves? Who's gonna dig these graves? Pete, buy yourself a drink.
Wash the stains from your conscience, huh? [SPITS.]
Steady busy, getting paid He can't do it on his own I said, who's gonna dig these graves? Who's gonna dig these graves? Somebody help me dig these graves I can't do it on my own Let's all have a drink, huh? Round of whiskeys for all my friends on me.
You bet.
Well, now, if y'all think you're too good to drink my hard-earned whiskey well, we can we can settle matters right now in Wyoming fashion.
[TENSE STRING MUSIC.]
I hope you enjoyed the service.
Never seen the pulpit used for politics like that.
[CHUCKLES.]
Well, the point's not to just understand the world but to change it.
- Is that in the Bible? - It's on every page.
Preacher Seth! [CAR DOOR CLICKS OPEN.]
[PANTING.]
Ma'am.
We was we was blocking Pete's shipment like we planned.
But there was a strikebreaker.
He shot Sam Riley.
- He claimed self-defense.
- Sam's dead? He killed Sam right in front of his own boy.
[UNSETTLING MUSIC.]
A toast to the life of Sam Riley.
He was too good, truly, for this godforsaken world.
Now, who else can speak to the character of Sam Riley? Must be a brother among you.
There's nothing to do but farm, fart, and fornicate in these parts, so Sam Riley must at least have a cousin.
Hmm? What's your name, friend? Preston.
Preston what? Riley.
[EERIE MUSIC.]
Another round, on me.
Well, cousin Preston.
Let's have ourselves a little talk.
Leave the bottle.
- Bottoms up, comrade.
- Comrade? Well, isn't it true what they say, huh? That all the lowa Rileys bleed communist red? I mean, isn't that what Sam here was doing, hmm? Out there organizing and agitating a commie revolt! [SHAKILY.]
Uh Sam was my, um second cousin.
We weren't that close.
[STAMMERS QUIETLY.]
Preston, I can see that you're a reasonable fellow.
So what I would like to know now are the names of anyone who might react to these unfortunate events in an unreasonable manner.
[CHUCKLES.]
[HEAVY, PERCUSSIVE MUSIC.]
Who would seek revenge for the death of Sam Riley? His son Sam Jr.
He chews a toothpick, doesn't he? [JARRING MUSICAL STING.]
[BREATHING SHAKILY.]
What about Sam? Sam Riley is your family.
Not mine.
But I'm sure you're gonna do right by him.
[MEN SHOUTING INDISTINCTLY.]
Nice work, boys.
Is it true what they're saying? You deputized a bunch of Yankee strikebreakers to shut us up? Times are hard on everyone, Gil.
We gotta get those mines open again.
"Times are hard on everyone"? Hell, you sound like a company man.
Yeah, well, go back to work.
What, Prohibition's been repealed? Get the governor on the phone.
Tell him I'm gonna need more than these strikebreakers to get those mines running again.
We're gonna need the damn National Guard.
It is not politically viable for Governor Sampson to send in the Kentucky National Guard at this moment so he sent me instead.
And who are you supposed to be? My name is Connie Nunn.
I am employed by the William J.
Burns International Detective Agency.
Burns Detective Agency.
Like the Pinkertons, right? Yes except we are competent, dependable, and discreet.
It appears you have been suffering some local unrest.
Yeah.
And the, uh the governor sent you? As I mentioned, it is not politically viable to call in the National Guard.
But if the striking miners instigated a bloodbath it could become politically viable.
Ooh look.
Everyone's real angry right now, but there hasn't been any kind of bloodbath.
No, not yet.
But before I commence my work, I would like to ask you a personal favor.
Have you ever seen this man? - Who's he? - His known aliases include Seth Bergson, Seth Fredricks, and Seth Dalton.
And it's rumored he now masquerades as a roving preacher, composing seditious pamphlets and inciting riots.
He was last seen in Marion County, Arkansas.
Doing what? Murdering my husband.
[BIRDS SINGING.]
Maybe Sam Jr.
should think about heading out of town for a spell.
Until things settle down.
Sam Jr.
is needed here at home.
[INHALES HEAVILY.]
Well, what if this cowboy fellow that shot Sam wants to come for Sam Jr.
too? Why would you think that, Preston? [KNOCK AT DOOR.]
He was a cowboy.
He fired a Colt.
I don't know where he was from.
He mentioned Wyoming.
How do you know that? The cowboy brought Sam's body to the speakeasy after shooting him.
He bought everyone a round of drinks.
[WHISPERING.]
Oh, that son of a bitch.
I know you and Sam shared similar ideals, but unless you can call down a miracle, we're gonna lose this farm.
I say we call down a miracle.
How? I believe a miracle is nothing more than a moment of God's attention.
[SOFT PIANO MELODY.]
A man named Martin Luther argued against the corrupt authorities of his day.
He he wrote out his argument on a piece of paper and then nailed it to the door of a church.
And he called down a miracle.
What do you have in mind? A revolution.
[DOOR CLICKS SHUT.]
Is there some kind of church event you and the preacher would like us to cover? Oh, not presently.
We've been here for six months, and I'm still trying to get a sense of this town's landscape.
I can help you with that.
The town's landscape's predominantly flat.
Mm, yes, I noticed.
Pretty damn flat.
[TYPING STOPS.]
Yes, it is Ms.
Preacher's Wife.
Call me Amelia.
- May I? - Please.
And it's not the town's physical landscape I'm concerned with; it's the metaphysical one.
They say a man's language is a map of his soul.
Of course, I wouldn't know.
Is it true? - Perhaps.
- And the "Holden Tribune" is word of public record here? - For better or worse.
- Ah, so, for better or worse, it's the map of this town's soul.
And yet for weeks, your paper has refused to report on the collective revolt of the local farmers.
"Collective revolt.
" Those are dangerous words around here.
Are "dangerous words" the reason that the farmers' leader was just shot dead in cold blood? Someone shot Sam Riley? Is your paper going to ignore that too? I'm sure the appropriate words will be found.
[CHUCKLING SARCASTICALLY.]
Well.
How lovely "the appropriate words"! From today's paper: "Here stands" "the proud proprietor Archibald Weems.
" As we can see, 'the only emperor is the emperor of ice cream.
' DL Sullivan.
You're presently in the brief interval of your only life.
Is that how you want to spend it, writing about ice cream vendors and school recitals instead of the life-and-death struggles - of your fellow man? - Yes, if I want to keep my job.
And what about your soul? Is something wrong, miss? "Let be be finale of seem.
" "The only emperor is the emperor of ice cream.
" What the hell was that? A line from a Wallace Stevens poem.
- Never heard of him.
- No one really has.
She said someone just murdered Sam Riley.
[OMINOUS MUSIC.]
[ROTARY DIAL CLICKING.]
The preacher's wife was just in here.
She said Sam Riley's been killed.
Sam Riley's dead.
- An American tragedy.
- Calvin, she was reciting poetry to my new reporter.
Well, let's make sure the sheriff is appraised on both accounts.
[GRUNTS, MOANS.]
How long you been in this country, Eddie? Three hellish years.
Then you should be familiar with our moonshining laws.
Shouldn't you? [SHOUTS, GROANS.]
Uncle Sheriff Don? Yes, Raymond? Trouble in town.
Some cowboy shot Sam Riley.
You don't say.
[SHOUTS, PANTS.]
You brought me a clean shirt.
- Mm-hmm.
- [CHUCKLES.]
Ma even ironed it.
Hmm aw, bless that good woman's heart.
So this is when you kill me, is it? Kill you? Now, Eddie, that would just be a waste of your fine moonshining talents.
No, now that you better understand our local customs I'm going into business with you.
I want you to double your usual batch, - half going to my speakeasy - Your speakeasy? And one half goes to the brothel.
You're not the only entrepreneur in Holden County.
[SINISTER FOLK GUITAR MUSIC.]
Find the cowboy.
- This is good here.
- Whoa, ho! All right.
Thank you for the ride, and here, take this.
Maybe now you can afford to put some fuel in this thing, huh? Yes, sir.
Is this really necessary? If the great humanitarian Herbert Hoover himself walked through that door, I'd be checking his cock and balls as well.
Drop 'em.
[GOSPEL BLUEGRASS MUSIC PLAYING.]
Okay, let's take a look.
Slow down your excitement there a little bit, Valentino.
I know I'm a pretty little flower, but you gotta save something for the girls.
[SIGHS.]
[MAN SINGING INDISTINCTLY.]
What the hell was that? Did it burn? - No.
- Good.
That means you don't have any sores.
It's Lysol.
Della, we've got some real money out here.
You're ready to go, Your Honor.
[DOOR CLICKS OPEN.]
Well, hello there, handsome.
Welcome to our happy home.
Have a seat.
If you wish.
How much to stay here a week? [INHALES SHARPLY.]
Well, that depends on how many girls and what, exactly, - you have in mind.
- One girl, and I pay not to discuss it.
Will she be able to walk at the end of it? It depends if she stays on my good side.
$300 for a week.
$200.
Room and board included.
[SIGHS.]
Behold: the pure products of lowa.
What they lack in glamour, they make up for in pliability and grit.
[MAN SINGING INDISTINCTLY.]
This $100 bill could be yours.
- For what? - Well, first off, for not being stupid enough to ask me questions.
Take a look at this and tell me what you think.
And reach the glory land Why do you bob your hair, girls? It's not the thing to do Yours.
I want $200.
[LAUGHS.]
And why would I give a prostitute $200? 'Cause it appears you're looking for a reader, and I'm the only one you're gonna find in this place.
Supply and demand, cocksucker.
Her.
There was an old man who lived on a hill If he ain't moved away, he's living there still Singing fie-diddly-eye, diddly-eye-dye Diddly-eye, diddly-eye-day Well, the devil, he came to the field one day Said, "It's your woman I'm gonna take away" Singing fie-diddly-eye, diddly-eye-dye Diddly-eye, diddly-eye day So the devil, he put her all up in a sack And off to hell she went, clickety-clack Singing fie-diddly-eye, diddly-eye-dye Diddly-eye, diddly-eye-day Well, he got her on down about half the road He said, "Old lady, you're a devil of a load" Singing fie-diddly-eye, diddly-eye-dye Diddly-eye, diddly-eye day [DISCORDANT MUSIC.]
[MEN TALKING INDISTINCTLY.]
Yankee strikebreakers weren't enough? You had to bring in scabs while you're at it? They've got wives and children too.
Sure they do up north or down south.
Not here in Harlan.
Fie-diddly-eye, diddly-eye-dye Diddly-eye, diddly-eye day [GUNSHOT.]
[WOMAN SCREAMS.]
- Who fired? - Those bastards! - Shit fire! - Get down! - No, stand down.
Stand down - Lower 'em! Don't shoot! [GUNSHOT.]
[ALL SHOUTING.]
Stand down, men! There's children here! Stand down! - [GUNSHOT.]
- Gil! [GUNSHOTS.]
Fie-diddly-eye, diddly-eye-dye Diddly-eye, diddly-eye-day You put him with Bessie? Don't get sentimental, Donald.
[ACOUSTIC BLUES GUITAR MUSIC PLAYING.]
Love This is all you want? Why don't you read it yourself? I mean, you can read, right? You know why I like to hire whores to be my secretaries? Because if you disappoint me, you can be so easily discarded.
You have caused me to weep I'll read the letter.
You have caused me to moan You have caused me to leave [VOLUME INCREASES.]
Privacy.
My happy home "Our client has a vested interest" "in a peaceful heartland.
" "These farmers must be put in their proper place.
" "This is no time for exotic political ideals.
" "Our nation's very survival depends upon law and order.
" [KNOCK AT DOOR.]
Private room.
I'd like to chat with a cowboy from Wyoming.
Would you be him? - Who's asking? - Sheriff Don Berryman.
- Well, hello, Sheriff.
- Hello, Bess.
I'd just like to talk to your cowboy friend.
Well, my cowboy friend's presently balls deep in darkling muff.
Give us just a moment to finish up.
Okay.
One minute.
You can go out the window.
I think I'll stay.
[MOANING.]
[QUIETLY.]
Some of us have a reputation to uphold.
[MOANING.]
[BESS MOANING, BED RATTLING.]
[BESS MOANING, BED RATTLING.]
Leave.
- Ask.
- What? You told the young lady to leave.
You should've asked.
Mm.
My dear Bessie, could you please give us a few minutes of privacy? Of course, Sheriff.
So gentle of you to ask.
There was a shooting today.
- Here, in my county.
- Mm-hmm.
Now, this is a quiet corner of the Earth.
We resolve our differences with words and laws here, - not guns.
- "Words and laws.
" Of course, you do know that neither means shit unless there's a gun behind them.
Besides, that farmer aimed his pistol right at me, Sheriff.
You can ask anyone.
I shot that hayseed [FOREBODING MUSIC.]
My, my.
Aren't we suspicious? Shouldn't we be? Glad we're having this talk, Sheriff, because I do fear that some local citizen's gonna seek revenge for my act of self-defense.
Well, they might.
You should leave town now.
Yeah, in due time.
First, take out my wallet.
It's under my hat.
"Pinkerton National Detective Agency.
" Name's Creeley Turner.
We've been monitoring your farmer strike for some time.
We can't have it getting any bigger or louder.
Now, I thought you fellows stuck to smacking around factory workers.
Why are the Pinkertons so concerned about some angry farmers out in the middle of lowa? Well, because some of us would rather not have a homegrown Bolshevik uprising, Sheriff.
I can take care of those farmers myself.
Eh, if that were true, they wouldn't have sent me.
But we don't have to make this unpleasant, so I'm gonna continue to conduct my business quietly, and you, you can continue to do all your business.
Now, unless you're sticking around to give me a free one [LAUGHS.]
I think it's probably time you leave.
[CHILLING MUSIC.]
Now, where did you get this one, Preacher? Seminary tussle? Disturbed Calvinists? Pet bobcat.
Pet bobcat? Really? [CHUCKLES.]
Her name was Peaches.
- Mm-hmm.
- She was ferocious.
Fearless.
Sort of my type.
[GIGGLES SOFTLY.]
What? I heard something.
Yeah me.
[FAINT CLATTER.]
Seth, what is it? There's someone outside.
[LOW, OMINOUS MUSIC.]
[QUIETLY.]
Lock the door.
Keep the lights off.
If anyone tries to get in, shoot to kill.
Right here.
Hide all you want, preacher man.
We know you're in here.
All your preaching and agitating it ends tonight.
[GRUNTS.]
[STIFLED SHOUTING.]
That was the main artery in your leg.
If you answer my questions, I might be able to save you.
How many of you are there? - Three.
- You from here? No.
Chicago.
- Who sent you? - Preacher, please.
- Answer.
- [GROANS.]
Some kind of doctor paid us [FAINTLY.]
100 bucks [EERIE RESONANT MUSIC.]
[OBJECT CLINKS.]
- [GUNSHOT.]
- [GASPS.]
[FLOORBOARD CREAKS DISTANTLY.]
[FAINT, SLOW FOOTSTEPS.]
[FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING.]
[APPREHENSIVE MUSIC SLOWLY BUILDING.]
[DOORKNOB SQUEAKING.]
[GUNSHOT.]
[DULL THUD.]
What do we say if someone comes by here? Goldenrod, for our winter garden.
Unexpected beauty pleases the Lord.
You're actually starting to sound like a man of God.
Good because I sure as hell don't feel like one.
Seth, they were going to kill us.
They had it coming.
Maybe they did.
Why are you shutting me out? I didn't know I was.
For two years we've been going from town to town, trying to start a revolution, trying to get the working people to stand up for themselves.
And you still won't tell me anything about who you are [SIGHS.]
Or where you're from.
We agreed we wouldn't talk about our pasts.
We're burying the bodies of three men we just killed.
If that doesn't top what you've done in the past It doesn't come close.
I've done wicked things in this world, and every day, I'm trying to make up for that.
When these three don't show up back in Chicago, whatever doctor hired them will be sending more.
[SHOVEL CLATTERS.]
Good.
That's how revolutions begin.
[WEAKLY.]
Pete.
Scrambled eggs and blood sausage.
Maybe later, dear.
[SOFTLY.]
Okay.
[SNIFFS.]
[COW MOOS DISTANTLY.]
[COW MOOING DISTANTLY.]
[GUNSHOT.]
[UP-TEMPO BLUESY MUSIC.]
[INDISTINCT CONVERSATION.]
Everyone, listen up.
Gather round.
My father, Sam Riley, the leader of our farmer strike, was murdered in cold blood the other day.
- What the hell's going on? - I don't know.
Then find out.
Preacher Seth is gonna talk about it up at the chapel talk about change [PHONE RINGS.]
Holden County Sheriff's Department.
- Sheriff Berryman.
- Nah, he's not in.
This is Deputy Berryman.
I passed Sam Riley's son on a farm road this morning.
He had a rifle with him and it looked like he was headed to Pete Collingsworth's place.
Who's this calling? I think I heard a gunshot.
I just thought you should know.
Give me that whiskey.
Anything else? Where's my letter? I took it and I hid it.
- Why? - It was in plain sight.
Sheriff's sharper than he looks.
And I thought it'd come in handy.
Blackmail, extortion that kind of thing.
So what are you, hmm? Some kind of grifter whore? That's exactly who I am.
Yeah.
Well, you're gonna grift plenty out of me.
[CHUCKLES.]
[EXHALES SHORTLY.]
But only if we stay alive.
Go on, take it.
[SOFT MUSIC.]
Come on.
Two more.
Come on, right there.
Make 'em deep, damn it.
[EXHALES.]
[PANTS.]
Another.
[EXHALES.]
[GROANS.]
[LOW, SOMBER MUSIC.]
So who's this Dr.
Hopkins? He's a hell of a writer.
Touch of genius, maybe? He'll be delighted to hear it.
Welcome.
My name is Seth Davenport.
My wife, Amelia, and I do our portion of the Lord's work here through this church.
Whatever I want men to do unto me, I should do unto them.
As children, we were taught that the golden rule means to be kind.
But we're not children anymore.
And the golden rule is not an invitation to compliance.
It's a call to arms.
Because if I were to conspire as our banks, businesses, and government have all conspired to rip off the very people who grow our food and keep our nation strong, what would I want my fellow man to do unto me? I'd want him to break my fucking back.
[CONGREGATION MURMURS UNCOMFORTABLY.]
And if I were to threaten the brave farmers who've banded together to strengthen one another, what would I want my fellow man to do unto me? I would want him to break my fucking back.
And if I were to attack those brave farmers, what would I want my fellow man to do unto me? MEN: I'd want him to break my fucking back.
[SHOUTING.]
And if I were to murder in cold blood the very man who led these brave farmers, what would I want my fellow man to do unto me? MEN: I'd want him to break my fucking back! And if I were Sam Riley himself, what would I want my fellow brothers and sisters to do? I would want them to listen.
Listen to Sam.
Listen to his silence.
A roaring, furious, deafening silence.
And what does this man's silence mean? Can you hear it? [DOOR BANGS OPEN.]
This is a peaceful assembly, Sheriff.
Pete Collingsworth's been murdered.
[CONGREGATION GASPING, MURMURING.]
Sam Jr.
[CONGREGATION MURMURING IN SHOCK.]
[GRIPPING BLUEGRASS AND STRING MUSIC.]
You need to come with us.
No, this isn't right! No, listen, I didn't kill Pete.
Sheriff, I didn't kill Pete.
Preacher! Preacher! I didn't kill Pete! I didn't kill anyone! Preacher! What are you doing to do? I'm gonna find the devil who's behind this.
[BOTH PANTING.]
[GASPS.]
[DOOR SLAMS OPEN.]
I thought you'd never find me.
[CHUCKLES.]
You look different than the last time I saw you.
You killed two men in this town.
Guess the Lord works in mysterious ways.
[WHISPERING HOARSELY.]
Wanna try and add a third? No, see, I'm familiar with my limits.
Your work in this town is done.
So leave while you can.
Or else what, Preacher? You're gonna save my poor immortal soul? [QUIETLY.]
No, I'll kill you and drag you to hell with me.
Who was that? [SWALLOWS.]
My little brother.
[BLUESY MUSIC.]
Now, you be good.
You be good, boy.
I didn't kill anybody! I didn't kill Pete! You settle, boy.
You want some roughhouse? [GRUNTS.]
When I look down the river What do you think I see? I see a band of angels and they're And they're coming after me Look down yonder, Gabriel Put your feet on the land and sea But, Gabriel, don't you blow your trumpet Until you hear from me There ain't no grave Gonna hold my body down There ain't no grave Gonna hold my body down [HAMMER CLATTERS.]
It is begun.
Meet me, Jesus, meet me Meet me in the middle of the air And if my wings a-fail me Won't you meet me with another pair? Meet me, Mother and Father Meet me down the river road You know, Mama, that I'll be there, well And I will check in my load There ain't no grave Gonna hold my body down There ain't no grave Gonna hold my body down When I hear that trumpet sound I'm gonna rise right out of the ground There ain't no grave Gonna hold my body down
[GUNSHOT.]
Looks like the Lord's blessing us with another lovely day.
Morning, Preacher Seth.
Bit of a nip, though.
I had to cover up the rhubarb last night, keep the frost away.
- [GUNSHO - [CHICKENS CLUCKING.]
You seem to be shooting at your chickens.
No, I'm shooting at that egg-stealing son of a bitch that's cowering in there with them.
Can't afford to lose more eggs.
Times are hard enough as it is.
[WOOD CRACKS, CHICKENS CLUCK.]
Aren't you losing both eggs and chickens each time you take a shot? A man has got to abide by his principles.
Suppose he does.
I was only gonna take one egg.
Stay down.
- Did I get him? - No.
And it's not a him.
It's a young girl.
Well old enough to steal, old enough to deal with the consequences.
Blessed are the merciful, Frank, for they'll receive mercy themselves.
Are you saying that I could get into heaven if I don't kill that dirty, egg-sucking thief? Yes.
What else is in it for me? - Besides eternal salvation? - Yeah.
I can probably also get you a dozen eggs and maybe a gallon or two of fresh buttermilk.
It's a deal.
How'd you get me off the hook? I spoke in parables.
- You what? - I lied.
What denomination are you? Pick one.
Sam, Junior.
How are our blockades holding up? - They're holding for now.
- We can't let one shipment get through to town.
If a truck gets through, it'll be carrying my dead body on it.
[THUMPS TRUCK.]
Who's that? Sam Riley.
He's leading our farmer strike.
Yeah, I've been hearing about that.
What are you striking against? The American economic system.
[LAUGHS.]
How you gonna do that? By breaking the system's back one asshole banker at a time.
One of these asshole bankers, named Calvin Rumple, has been paying off the local grocers to keep their food prices low.
They call it price-fixing.
And it means none of the local farmers can make back enough money to pay off their loans, no matter the crop.
Which is why we're doing this strike.
And once people start going hungry, not even Calvin Rumple'll be able to keep food prices down.
And then the farmers can sell their goods and we might be able to save their farms.
How's this banker get away with doing all this? He must be making someone rich.
You do that, and you can get away with just about anything in this country.
Okay, this is where I live.
I don't see any houses out here.
Didn't say you would.
You can come to our church.
Whole congregations eats after our morning service.
I think I'd rather live in the woods and go hungry than listen to a preacher tell me how to live my life.
We're not that kind of church.
Did you steal those from that old-timer's coop? We're all a part of God's body.
All I did was shift these eggs from God's left hand to his right.
Here.
- I don't take charity.
- They're not an offering.
This is a payment for listening to what I'm gonna say next.
[SIGHING.]
Okay.
Let's hear the sermon.
Next time don't settle for just eggs.
Take the entire hen.
Simple economics.
Okay.
And splatter some blood and feathers when you leave.
It'll look like foxes hit the coop.
[LAUGHS.]
Amen to that, Preacher.
[DISCORDANT GUITAR MUSIC.]
Any deliveries today? No.
Not today.
Not this week.
Good.
Just keep prices where they are.
If the farmers keep blocking shipments and refusing to sell, they're gonna starve us all out.
I've got a feeling they won't.
In fact, when a dairy farmer does deliver a load of fresh milk today, pay him and only him double the going rate.
What makes you so sure a load will get through, today of all days? Call it banker's intuition.
[EERIE MUSIC.]
Pete.
Something wrong? I'm heading into town.
Calvin Rumple told me I could get double for our milk if I brought it in today.
But the blockades.
I can buy some groceries while I'm at it.
The doctor said you need to start eating if you're gonna get well.
[SOFT MUSIC.]
Well, how lovely of you to join us.
I had to do a little proselytizing.
- How's the goulash coming along? - I can't tell if it's bringing more people in or driving them away.
Sounds like my sermons.
How do I look? Almost like a preacher.
Welcome, friends.
I'd like to speak to you today about Jesus.
Somehow in this modern era of ours, we have convinced each other that Jesus Christ was some kind of respectable man a figure of solemn authority.
But the cops and judges didn't crucify Jesus for being respectable.
No, they crucified him because he was an outlaw a revolutionary.
They crucified Jesus because they were afraid he was gonna take power away from them and give it to the poor.
My friends, we're living in biblical times again.
There is a holy war in this country.
The rich versus the poor it's the same war Jesus himself was in.
- Whoa! - Stop the truck! Stop the damn truck.
[METAL RATTLING.]
Damn it, Pete.
We're on strike.
You ain't taking your milk to town.
Look, Pam is real sick.
I'm broke.
Yeah, we're all broke, you idiot.
Colby, give me the gun.
All right.
Off with the tarp.
- Sam, please.
- We're all in this together, whether you like it or not.
Now, you're gonna get up there and dump that milk yourself.
[GUNSHOT.]
[BIRDS CAWING.]
Sam.
All right, boys.
You're gonna let Pete go.
See, Pete has milk to sell in town.
- [GUNSHOT.]
- Get back.
Now, I shot this man out of self-defense.
Or am I incorrect to say that he aimed his pistol right at my person? Unless you wish to join this man up yonder, I suggest you remove your gaze from that weapon.
See, this farmer strike? It's over.
So go home.
'Cause tomorrow, you're gonna sell your goods in town.
And Jesus tells us,"Think not" "that I am come to send peace on Earth.
" "I come not to send peace, but a sword.
" Not peace but a sword.
[CONGREGATION GASPS.]
Jesus Christ Himself says that because Jesus knew he was at war.
But the question is do you? [MUSIC INTENSIFIES.]
Who's gonna dig these graves? Who's gonna dig these graves? - Somebody help me dig these graves - I can't do it on my own Who's gonna dig these graves? Who's gonna dig these graves? Pete, buy yourself a drink.
Wash the stains from your conscience, huh? [SPITS.]
Steady busy, getting paid He can't do it on his own I said, who's gonna dig these graves? Who's gonna dig these graves? Somebody help me dig these graves I can't do it on my own Let's all have a drink, huh? Round of whiskeys for all my friends on me.
You bet.
Well, now, if y'all think you're too good to drink my hard-earned whiskey well, we can we can settle matters right now in Wyoming fashion.
[TENSE STRING MUSIC.]
I hope you enjoyed the service.
Never seen the pulpit used for politics like that.
[CHUCKLES.]
Well, the point's not to just understand the world but to change it.
- Is that in the Bible? - It's on every page.
Preacher Seth! [CAR DOOR CLICKS OPEN.]
[PANTING.]
Ma'am.
We was we was blocking Pete's shipment like we planned.
But there was a strikebreaker.
He shot Sam Riley.
- He claimed self-defense.
- Sam's dead? He killed Sam right in front of his own boy.
[UNSETTLING MUSIC.]
A toast to the life of Sam Riley.
He was too good, truly, for this godforsaken world.
Now, who else can speak to the character of Sam Riley? Must be a brother among you.
There's nothing to do but farm, fart, and fornicate in these parts, so Sam Riley must at least have a cousin.
Hmm? What's your name, friend? Preston.
Preston what? Riley.
[EERIE MUSIC.]
Another round, on me.
Well, cousin Preston.
Let's have ourselves a little talk.
Leave the bottle.
- Bottoms up, comrade.
- Comrade? Well, isn't it true what they say, huh? That all the lowa Rileys bleed communist red? I mean, isn't that what Sam here was doing, hmm? Out there organizing and agitating a commie revolt! [SHAKILY.]
Uh Sam was my, um second cousin.
We weren't that close.
[STAMMERS QUIETLY.]
Preston, I can see that you're a reasonable fellow.
So what I would like to know now are the names of anyone who might react to these unfortunate events in an unreasonable manner.
[CHUCKLES.]
[HEAVY, PERCUSSIVE MUSIC.]
Who would seek revenge for the death of Sam Riley? His son Sam Jr.
He chews a toothpick, doesn't he? [JARRING MUSICAL STING.]
[BREATHING SHAKILY.]
What about Sam? Sam Riley is your family.
Not mine.
But I'm sure you're gonna do right by him.
[MEN SHOUTING INDISTINCTLY.]
Nice work, boys.
Is it true what they're saying? You deputized a bunch of Yankee strikebreakers to shut us up? Times are hard on everyone, Gil.
We gotta get those mines open again.
"Times are hard on everyone"? Hell, you sound like a company man.
Yeah, well, go back to work.
What, Prohibition's been repealed? Get the governor on the phone.
Tell him I'm gonna need more than these strikebreakers to get those mines running again.
We're gonna need the damn National Guard.
It is not politically viable for Governor Sampson to send in the Kentucky National Guard at this moment so he sent me instead.
And who are you supposed to be? My name is Connie Nunn.
I am employed by the William J.
Burns International Detective Agency.
Burns Detective Agency.
Like the Pinkertons, right? Yes except we are competent, dependable, and discreet.
It appears you have been suffering some local unrest.
Yeah.
And the, uh the governor sent you? As I mentioned, it is not politically viable to call in the National Guard.
But if the striking miners instigated a bloodbath it could become politically viable.
Ooh look.
Everyone's real angry right now, but there hasn't been any kind of bloodbath.
No, not yet.
But before I commence my work, I would like to ask you a personal favor.
Have you ever seen this man? - Who's he? - His known aliases include Seth Bergson, Seth Fredricks, and Seth Dalton.
And it's rumored he now masquerades as a roving preacher, composing seditious pamphlets and inciting riots.
He was last seen in Marion County, Arkansas.
Doing what? Murdering my husband.
[BIRDS SINGING.]
Maybe Sam Jr.
should think about heading out of town for a spell.
Until things settle down.
Sam Jr.
is needed here at home.
[INHALES HEAVILY.]
Well, what if this cowboy fellow that shot Sam wants to come for Sam Jr.
too? Why would you think that, Preston? [KNOCK AT DOOR.]
He was a cowboy.
He fired a Colt.
I don't know where he was from.
He mentioned Wyoming.
How do you know that? The cowboy brought Sam's body to the speakeasy after shooting him.
He bought everyone a round of drinks.
[WHISPERING.]
Oh, that son of a bitch.
I know you and Sam shared similar ideals, but unless you can call down a miracle, we're gonna lose this farm.
I say we call down a miracle.
How? I believe a miracle is nothing more than a moment of God's attention.
[SOFT PIANO MELODY.]
A man named Martin Luther argued against the corrupt authorities of his day.
He he wrote out his argument on a piece of paper and then nailed it to the door of a church.
And he called down a miracle.
What do you have in mind? A revolution.
[DOOR CLICKS SHUT.]
Is there some kind of church event you and the preacher would like us to cover? Oh, not presently.
We've been here for six months, and I'm still trying to get a sense of this town's landscape.
I can help you with that.
The town's landscape's predominantly flat.
Mm, yes, I noticed.
Pretty damn flat.
[TYPING STOPS.]
Yes, it is Ms.
Preacher's Wife.
Call me Amelia.
- May I? - Please.
And it's not the town's physical landscape I'm concerned with; it's the metaphysical one.
They say a man's language is a map of his soul.
Of course, I wouldn't know.
Is it true? - Perhaps.
- And the "Holden Tribune" is word of public record here? - For better or worse.
- Ah, so, for better or worse, it's the map of this town's soul.
And yet for weeks, your paper has refused to report on the collective revolt of the local farmers.
"Collective revolt.
" Those are dangerous words around here.
Are "dangerous words" the reason that the farmers' leader was just shot dead in cold blood? Someone shot Sam Riley? Is your paper going to ignore that too? I'm sure the appropriate words will be found.
[CHUCKLING SARCASTICALLY.]
Well.
How lovely "the appropriate words"! From today's paper: "Here stands" "the proud proprietor Archibald Weems.
" As we can see, 'the only emperor is the emperor of ice cream.
' DL Sullivan.
You're presently in the brief interval of your only life.
Is that how you want to spend it, writing about ice cream vendors and school recitals instead of the life-and-death struggles - of your fellow man? - Yes, if I want to keep my job.
And what about your soul? Is something wrong, miss? "Let be be finale of seem.
" "The only emperor is the emperor of ice cream.
" What the hell was that? A line from a Wallace Stevens poem.
- Never heard of him.
- No one really has.
She said someone just murdered Sam Riley.
[OMINOUS MUSIC.]
[ROTARY DIAL CLICKING.]
The preacher's wife was just in here.
She said Sam Riley's been killed.
Sam Riley's dead.
- An American tragedy.
- Calvin, she was reciting poetry to my new reporter.
Well, let's make sure the sheriff is appraised on both accounts.
[GRUNTS, MOANS.]
How long you been in this country, Eddie? Three hellish years.
Then you should be familiar with our moonshining laws.
Shouldn't you? [SHOUTS, GROANS.]
Uncle Sheriff Don? Yes, Raymond? Trouble in town.
Some cowboy shot Sam Riley.
You don't say.
[SHOUTS, PANTS.]
You brought me a clean shirt.
- Mm-hmm.
- [CHUCKLES.]
Ma even ironed it.
Hmm aw, bless that good woman's heart.
So this is when you kill me, is it? Kill you? Now, Eddie, that would just be a waste of your fine moonshining talents.
No, now that you better understand our local customs I'm going into business with you.
I want you to double your usual batch, - half going to my speakeasy - Your speakeasy? And one half goes to the brothel.
You're not the only entrepreneur in Holden County.
[SINISTER FOLK GUITAR MUSIC.]
Find the cowboy.
- This is good here.
- Whoa, ho! All right.
Thank you for the ride, and here, take this.
Maybe now you can afford to put some fuel in this thing, huh? Yes, sir.
Is this really necessary? If the great humanitarian Herbert Hoover himself walked through that door, I'd be checking his cock and balls as well.
Drop 'em.
[GOSPEL BLUEGRASS MUSIC PLAYING.]
Okay, let's take a look.
Slow down your excitement there a little bit, Valentino.
I know I'm a pretty little flower, but you gotta save something for the girls.
[SIGHS.]
[MAN SINGING INDISTINCTLY.]
What the hell was that? Did it burn? - No.
- Good.
That means you don't have any sores.
It's Lysol.
Della, we've got some real money out here.
You're ready to go, Your Honor.
[DOOR CLICKS OPEN.]
Well, hello there, handsome.
Welcome to our happy home.
Have a seat.
If you wish.
How much to stay here a week? [INHALES SHARPLY.]
Well, that depends on how many girls and what, exactly, - you have in mind.
- One girl, and I pay not to discuss it.
Will she be able to walk at the end of it? It depends if she stays on my good side.
$300 for a week.
$200.
Room and board included.
[SIGHS.]
Behold: the pure products of lowa.
What they lack in glamour, they make up for in pliability and grit.
[MAN SINGING INDISTINCTLY.]
This $100 bill could be yours.
- For what? - Well, first off, for not being stupid enough to ask me questions.
Take a look at this and tell me what you think.
And reach the glory land Why do you bob your hair, girls? It's not the thing to do Yours.
I want $200.
[LAUGHS.]
And why would I give a prostitute $200? 'Cause it appears you're looking for a reader, and I'm the only one you're gonna find in this place.
Supply and demand, cocksucker.
Her.
There was an old man who lived on a hill If he ain't moved away, he's living there still Singing fie-diddly-eye, diddly-eye-dye Diddly-eye, diddly-eye-day Well, the devil, he came to the field one day Said, "It's your woman I'm gonna take away" Singing fie-diddly-eye, diddly-eye-dye Diddly-eye, diddly-eye day So the devil, he put her all up in a sack And off to hell she went, clickety-clack Singing fie-diddly-eye, diddly-eye-dye Diddly-eye, diddly-eye-day Well, he got her on down about half the road He said, "Old lady, you're a devil of a load" Singing fie-diddly-eye, diddly-eye-dye Diddly-eye, diddly-eye day [DISCORDANT MUSIC.]
[MEN TALKING INDISTINCTLY.]
Yankee strikebreakers weren't enough? You had to bring in scabs while you're at it? They've got wives and children too.
Sure they do up north or down south.
Not here in Harlan.
Fie-diddly-eye, diddly-eye-dye Diddly-eye, diddly-eye day [GUNSHOT.]
[WOMAN SCREAMS.]
- Who fired? - Those bastards! - Shit fire! - Get down! - No, stand down.
Stand down - Lower 'em! Don't shoot! [GUNSHOT.]
[ALL SHOUTING.]
Stand down, men! There's children here! Stand down! - [GUNSHOT.]
- Gil! [GUNSHOTS.]
Fie-diddly-eye, diddly-eye-dye Diddly-eye, diddly-eye-day You put him with Bessie? Don't get sentimental, Donald.
[ACOUSTIC BLUES GUITAR MUSIC PLAYING.]
Love This is all you want? Why don't you read it yourself? I mean, you can read, right? You know why I like to hire whores to be my secretaries? Because if you disappoint me, you can be so easily discarded.
You have caused me to weep I'll read the letter.
You have caused me to moan You have caused me to leave [VOLUME INCREASES.]
Privacy.
My happy home "Our client has a vested interest" "in a peaceful heartland.
" "These farmers must be put in their proper place.
" "This is no time for exotic political ideals.
" "Our nation's very survival depends upon law and order.
" [KNOCK AT DOOR.]
Private room.
I'd like to chat with a cowboy from Wyoming.
Would you be him? - Who's asking? - Sheriff Don Berryman.
- Well, hello, Sheriff.
- Hello, Bess.
I'd just like to talk to your cowboy friend.
Well, my cowboy friend's presently balls deep in darkling muff.
Give us just a moment to finish up.
Okay.
One minute.
You can go out the window.
I think I'll stay.
[MOANING.]
[QUIETLY.]
Some of us have a reputation to uphold.
[MOANING.]
[BESS MOANING, BED RATTLING.]
[BESS MOANING, BED RATTLING.]
Leave.
- Ask.
- What? You told the young lady to leave.
You should've asked.
Mm.
My dear Bessie, could you please give us a few minutes of privacy? Of course, Sheriff.
So gentle of you to ask.
There was a shooting today.
- Here, in my county.
- Mm-hmm.
Now, this is a quiet corner of the Earth.
We resolve our differences with words and laws here, - not guns.
- "Words and laws.
" Of course, you do know that neither means shit unless there's a gun behind them.
Besides, that farmer aimed his pistol right at me, Sheriff.
You can ask anyone.
I shot that hayseed [FOREBODING MUSIC.]
My, my.
Aren't we suspicious? Shouldn't we be? Glad we're having this talk, Sheriff, because I do fear that some local citizen's gonna seek revenge for my act of self-defense.
Well, they might.
You should leave town now.
Yeah, in due time.
First, take out my wallet.
It's under my hat.
"Pinkerton National Detective Agency.
" Name's Creeley Turner.
We've been monitoring your farmer strike for some time.
We can't have it getting any bigger or louder.
Now, I thought you fellows stuck to smacking around factory workers.
Why are the Pinkertons so concerned about some angry farmers out in the middle of lowa? Well, because some of us would rather not have a homegrown Bolshevik uprising, Sheriff.
I can take care of those farmers myself.
Eh, if that were true, they wouldn't have sent me.
But we don't have to make this unpleasant, so I'm gonna continue to conduct my business quietly, and you, you can continue to do all your business.
Now, unless you're sticking around to give me a free one [LAUGHS.]
I think it's probably time you leave.
[CHILLING MUSIC.]
Now, where did you get this one, Preacher? Seminary tussle? Disturbed Calvinists? Pet bobcat.
Pet bobcat? Really? [CHUCKLES.]
Her name was Peaches.
- Mm-hmm.
- She was ferocious.
Fearless.
Sort of my type.
[GIGGLES SOFTLY.]
What? I heard something.
Yeah me.
[FAINT CLATTER.]
Seth, what is it? There's someone outside.
[LOW, OMINOUS MUSIC.]
[QUIETLY.]
Lock the door.
Keep the lights off.
If anyone tries to get in, shoot to kill.
Right here.
Hide all you want, preacher man.
We know you're in here.
All your preaching and agitating it ends tonight.
[GRUNTS.]
[STIFLED SHOUTING.]
That was the main artery in your leg.
If you answer my questions, I might be able to save you.
How many of you are there? - Three.
- You from here? No.
Chicago.
- Who sent you? - Preacher, please.
- Answer.
- [GROANS.]
Some kind of doctor paid us [FAINTLY.]
100 bucks [EERIE RESONANT MUSIC.]
[OBJECT CLINKS.]
- [GUNSHOT.]
- [GASPS.]
[FLOORBOARD CREAKS DISTANTLY.]
[FAINT, SLOW FOOTSTEPS.]
[FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING.]
[APPREHENSIVE MUSIC SLOWLY BUILDING.]
[DOORKNOB SQUEAKING.]
[GUNSHOT.]
[DULL THUD.]
What do we say if someone comes by here? Goldenrod, for our winter garden.
Unexpected beauty pleases the Lord.
You're actually starting to sound like a man of God.
Good because I sure as hell don't feel like one.
Seth, they were going to kill us.
They had it coming.
Maybe they did.
Why are you shutting me out? I didn't know I was.
For two years we've been going from town to town, trying to start a revolution, trying to get the working people to stand up for themselves.
And you still won't tell me anything about who you are [SIGHS.]
Or where you're from.
We agreed we wouldn't talk about our pasts.
We're burying the bodies of three men we just killed.
If that doesn't top what you've done in the past It doesn't come close.
I've done wicked things in this world, and every day, I'm trying to make up for that.
When these three don't show up back in Chicago, whatever doctor hired them will be sending more.
[SHOVEL CLATTERS.]
Good.
That's how revolutions begin.
[WEAKLY.]
Pete.
Scrambled eggs and blood sausage.
Maybe later, dear.
[SOFTLY.]
Okay.
[SNIFFS.]
[COW MOOS DISTANTLY.]
[COW MOOING DISTANTLY.]
[GUNSHOT.]
[UP-TEMPO BLUESY MUSIC.]
[INDISTINCT CONVERSATION.]
Everyone, listen up.
Gather round.
My father, Sam Riley, the leader of our farmer strike, was murdered in cold blood the other day.
- What the hell's going on? - I don't know.
Then find out.
Preacher Seth is gonna talk about it up at the chapel talk about change [PHONE RINGS.]
Holden County Sheriff's Department.
- Sheriff Berryman.
- Nah, he's not in.
This is Deputy Berryman.
I passed Sam Riley's son on a farm road this morning.
He had a rifle with him and it looked like he was headed to Pete Collingsworth's place.
Who's this calling? I think I heard a gunshot.
I just thought you should know.
Give me that whiskey.
Anything else? Where's my letter? I took it and I hid it.
- Why? - It was in plain sight.
Sheriff's sharper than he looks.
And I thought it'd come in handy.
Blackmail, extortion that kind of thing.
So what are you, hmm? Some kind of grifter whore? That's exactly who I am.
Yeah.
Well, you're gonna grift plenty out of me.
[CHUCKLES.]
[EXHALES SHORTLY.]
But only if we stay alive.
Go on, take it.
[SOFT MUSIC.]
Come on.
Two more.
Come on, right there.
Make 'em deep, damn it.
[EXHALES.]
[PANTS.]
Another.
[EXHALES.]
[GROANS.]
[LOW, SOMBER MUSIC.]
So who's this Dr.
Hopkins? He's a hell of a writer.
Touch of genius, maybe? He'll be delighted to hear it.
Welcome.
My name is Seth Davenport.
My wife, Amelia, and I do our portion of the Lord's work here through this church.
Whatever I want men to do unto me, I should do unto them.
As children, we were taught that the golden rule means to be kind.
But we're not children anymore.
And the golden rule is not an invitation to compliance.
It's a call to arms.
Because if I were to conspire as our banks, businesses, and government have all conspired to rip off the very people who grow our food and keep our nation strong, what would I want my fellow man to do unto me? I'd want him to break my fucking back.
[CONGREGATION MURMURS UNCOMFORTABLY.]
And if I were to threaten the brave farmers who've banded together to strengthen one another, what would I want my fellow man to do unto me? I would want him to break my fucking back.
And if I were to attack those brave farmers, what would I want my fellow man to do unto me? MEN: I'd want him to break my fucking back.
[SHOUTING.]
And if I were to murder in cold blood the very man who led these brave farmers, what would I want my fellow man to do unto me? MEN: I'd want him to break my fucking back! And if I were Sam Riley himself, what would I want my fellow brothers and sisters to do? I would want them to listen.
Listen to Sam.
Listen to his silence.
A roaring, furious, deafening silence.
And what does this man's silence mean? Can you hear it? [DOOR BANGS OPEN.]
This is a peaceful assembly, Sheriff.
Pete Collingsworth's been murdered.
[CONGREGATION GASPING, MURMURING.]
Sam Jr.
[CONGREGATION MURMURING IN SHOCK.]
[GRIPPING BLUEGRASS AND STRING MUSIC.]
You need to come with us.
No, this isn't right! No, listen, I didn't kill Pete.
Sheriff, I didn't kill Pete.
Preacher! Preacher! I didn't kill Pete! I didn't kill anyone! Preacher! What are you doing to do? I'm gonna find the devil who's behind this.
[BOTH PANTING.]
[GASPS.]
[DOOR SLAMS OPEN.]
I thought you'd never find me.
[CHUCKLES.]
You look different than the last time I saw you.
You killed two men in this town.
Guess the Lord works in mysterious ways.
[WHISPERING HOARSELY.]
Wanna try and add a third? No, see, I'm familiar with my limits.
Your work in this town is done.
So leave while you can.
Or else what, Preacher? You're gonna save my poor immortal soul? [QUIETLY.]
No, I'll kill you and drag you to hell with me.
Who was that? [SWALLOWS.]
My little brother.
[BLUESY MUSIC.]
Now, you be good.
You be good, boy.
I didn't kill anybody! I didn't kill Pete! You settle, boy.
You want some roughhouse? [GRUNTS.]
When I look down the river What do you think I see? I see a band of angels and they're And they're coming after me Look down yonder, Gabriel Put your feet on the land and sea But, Gabriel, don't you blow your trumpet Until you hear from me There ain't no grave Gonna hold my body down There ain't no grave Gonna hold my body down [HAMMER CLATTERS.]
It is begun.
Meet me, Jesus, meet me Meet me in the middle of the air And if my wings a-fail me Won't you meet me with another pair? Meet me, Mother and Father Meet me down the river road You know, Mama, that I'll be there, well And I will check in my load There ain't no grave Gonna hold my body down There ain't no grave Gonna hold my body down When I hear that trumpet sound I'm gonna rise right out of the ground There ain't no grave Gonna hold my body down