Fargo

I was sheriff of this county when I was 25.

Hard to believe.

Grandfather was a sheriff. Father, too.

Ranchers all.

Working the land through times flush and fallow.

There's a natural order to things.

We know it in our bones.

Jesus was a man, not some bearded lady.

And just as water flows downhill,

a husband is head of his household.

Under him, the woman abides.

She holds her virtue close

until that matrimonial threshold is crossed,

and then she opens to him,

as the flower opens to the sun.

And in exchange,

the man shelters and protects his female,

as the sword has its sheath.

Okay, but what I'm saying is, you...

No. He only raises his hand to her

when she forgets her place and acts the man.

And-and then only for instruction,

never taking any pleasure or satisfaction from the task.

Whereas you, son,

seem to have played a Tommy Lee drum solo

all over your missus's facade.

- This... I fell is all. - Hey, quiet now.

Sheriff's talking.

Come here. Take comfort, dear.

Daughter, these hard times are over.

All right?

I'll see to your husband's instruction myself.

What 'struction?

Now, be honest.

Do you ever question your man's supremacy

when he speaks?

Just when he drinks or with the crank, you know?

I try to stay out of the way, but...

Don't hurt him.

- We got three boys who need a daddy. - Okay.

Okay. Okay.

Yeah.

Thank you. You got any of that huckleberry pie?

- Sure. - That's great.

Lookit, dick cheese, I know you...

Quiet.

Go home. Fix a meal.

Pray on it before you take the first bite.

Forgiveness. Tend to his burns.

Try to be deferential.

Cater to his needs as a man with your mouth

in order to sow harmony.

I'll come by in the morning, see if the lesson stuck.

Go on.

Go.

They missed her.

What happened?

You send a man to do a job without all the information,

how can the job be done?

Yeah, what are you?

The Riddler?

You say the woman is a woman, a...

How do you...?

Housewife.

Never do you mention she is, for real, a tiger.

You're saying you couldn't handle some girl?

100 pounds soaking wet?

Huh?

It was on the wire this morning.

This half-wit shot up a filling station outside Beulah.

Murdered the clerk.

Killed a state trooper.

Put a hole in the leg of another.

And this retard's partner with a cracked skull

and his face half burned off in the morgue.

You say housewife, so I bring one guy.

You say tiger...

that's a different guy.

Cost you three times.

Did they take her? The police?

Fled on foot.

Possibly home.

Possibly to the wind.

Could you find her?

She could be found.

Where people go, the thoughts they have,

these are known to me.

Instincts.

Who flees, who fights.

It's a question of price.

The job it was, not the job you said.

Pain and suffering.

A man, missing an appendage,

self-sewing his own skin.

Scarred for life, he's told.

And then this new ask.

Hunting a tiger.

And it forces the man to ask:

why you want the tiger?

She's my wife.

Don't tell him shit.

I already said I can handle this.

We know where she lives now. Her alias.

She made vows to me.

A pledge.

In sickness and in health.

Consider it a debt unpaid, leaving me in limbo.

Husband yes or husband no.

See, she hid from me nine, ten years.

Interest accrued.

Until the debt could no longer be paid with money.

Then, one day, there she is, fingerprints in the system.

Now the limbo can end,

the debt can be collected.

Tell me something, friend.

If a man is pure,

his actions are only ever good.

You believe that?

I'm a nihilist.

What the fuck does that mean?

I believe in nothing.

You believe in money.

Yeah?

Well, thanks for your help.

Go on with Gator. He'll get you paid.

Dad.

Original plus pain and suffering.

Yeah, of course.

Take it out of the rainy day fund.

Fixing place.

Fixing place. Right.

Come on, numbnuts.

A man is grateful.

I'm not saying sorry, but you understand.

I had to rough you up a little back there.

You coming up snake eyes and all.

With her being such a tiny bird, which...

You know...

they used to be dinosaurs.

Hundreds okay?

Surprise, shitbird.

- What's going on, Roy? - Go on, get back to the house now.

Like we said, this is all just a misunderstanding.

Had a bad day is all.

A bad day?

Yeah.

Left the house a mess.

Last I checked, weren't a crime.

No, ma'am.

I'm a recidivist on that count myself.

Laundry especially.

Oh, laundry.

But what I'm concerned about is the blood.

Told you, I cut my feet up on some glass.

You did.

And I see the wounds.

But what I'm dealing with is the fact

that the blood on your entry floor

is different than the blood type we have on record for you.

Records?

Those...

You know, I heard a man went into the hospital in St. Paul

fer a kidney transplant,

he ended up with someone else's brain.

- No way. - Yeah.

Well, I'm not sure...

That don't sound accurate.

What I'm saying is, hospitals make mistakes.

Then there's the hair DNA from the balaclava in your boudoir.

Told you, I bought that secondhand.

You know, it's my fault.

You know, I came home, front door was wide open, uh,

all the... blood.

Uh, I-I'm not ashamed to say I panicked.

But, you know, Dot's home,

and, uh, that's all that matters.

So, uh, whatever the...

You know, she's my wife. And I believe her.

So, if there's a form or something I can sign to...

you know, drop the charges...

That's not how this works.

- I got to... - Hmm?

It's almost time for pickup.

I told Scotty we could go to DQ after school, so...

Well, okay, then.

Thanks for your time.

Mm-hmm.

We're reviewing traffic cameras in the neighborhood,

so if I have any more questions...

No.

She's...

Wayne, she's not listening to me.

Uh, Danish Graves is our attorney,

so if you need to contact us again,

which you shouldn't, uh...

Okay, then.

So, it's a puzzler.

Spoke to Wayne.

Dot's back.

She's what now?