Riverdale (2016–…): Season 4, Episode 16 - Chapter Seventy-Three: The Locked Room - full transcript

The weirdest thing about
pretending to be dead is that after a while,

you actually start feeling
like you're dead.

As in, "dead
as a doornail" dead.

For starters, I was
underground, as if in a tomb.

Granted, I was hiding out
in Dilton's doomsday bunker

and not in a coffin, but still.

Two weeks, no sunlight,

with no sense of time
or its passing?

It's gotta be what
limbo feels like, right?

Other similarities
to being dead.

Not one, but two obituaries
about me ran.



A rather perfunctory one
in The Riverdale Register.

A second, more irreverent one
in the Blue and Gold.

I liked that one.

I had a funeral. Well, a wake.

I watched it on my laptop.

Live-streamed from a camera Betty
had set up in the living room.

Betty and I suspected that
the Stonies would show up,

and, sure enough, they did.

We wanted to study them

to see if anything they did
was suspicious.

Not that there was any doubt
in our mind about their guilt.

The Preppies had stone-cold
murdered me

and were trying
to pin it on Betty.

We just couldn't prove it.



Not yet.

Meanwhile...

The hardest part of playing dead
was letting everyone believe

I was in
the semi-sweet hereafter.

Our family, our friends.

The lies we had to tell.

The things we had to do
to sell that illusion.

Like pretending that my bereft
girlfriend had found comfort

in the strong, steely arms
of my best bud.

Which turned out to be the
greatest misdirect of them all.

Of course, we needed to let
some people know the truth.

Except in one case.

My kid sister Jellybean?

Didn't have to be told.

Oh, you found the fake blood.
Thanks, Jellybean.

Do you need it for Jughead?

What? What do you...
What do you mean?

Do you need it
to help my brother?

Jellybean, do you know
where Jughead is?

I heard you whispering on the
phone to Charles last night.

The walls are super thin.

You don't have to tell me
where he is,

just that he's okay.

Is he? Okay?

Can you keep a secret?

We brought my dad
into it pretty quick too.

Betty.

I, uh...

I gave that bloody rock
to Charles,

he said the FBI is gonna
have it tested.

And when they do,
they will tell you that it's covered

in fake blood that you can buy
at a drugstore.

The hell are you
talking about?

I don't want you
to worry anymore.

Mr. Jones, I'm really sorry
that you've been worrying.

Jughead's fine.

He's... Okay, he's not fine,
but he's okay.

Hold on, you know
where Jughead is?

Yes.

I will tell you
everything, okay?

But we really, really
need your help, please.

I'm afraid to ask,
but what kind of help?

For starters,

a search party.

Archie went rogue
and told his mom too.

Mom, I have to confess
something to you.

And then there was
Veronica's sister, Hermosa,

who was sniffing around,
looking for bones.

All right.
What do you wanna know?

Let me ask you straight up,
hermanita.

Did you help Betty
kill her boyfriend?

What? No, why would I do that?

Because that's the kind of thing
that secret girlfriends do.

They kill each other's boyfriends
so they can be together.

Okay, I don't know
what kind of crypto-lesbian

pulp fiction you're conjuring, Hermosa,
but Betty and I are just friends.

Well, then, what did happen
to that dead Torombolo?

Either you can tell me
or I'll just keep digging.

- Don't forget, I'm a licensed...
- Private investigator, right.

Not sure why I didn't think
of this before...

but maybe you could help us
with something.

Me, Betty, and Archie.

How much do you charge,
Hermosa?

And is there a discount
for family members?

In the months that
followed, people will ask us,

"Did we need to do it?"

Go to such extreme lengths?

Maybe, maybe not.

But this I did know...

If I was going to recover without
the Preppies trying to kill me again

and figure out how to solve
my own murder,

I needed the illusion to be
perfect to buy myself time.

So while above me,
a world without Jughead

continued spinning forward,

I pored over every scrap
of evidence we'd gathered,

went over every detail
of my time at Stonewall Prep,

looking for hidden patterns,
hints and clues.

But this was a different kind of mystery
than the ones we'd tackled before.

This wasn't a "whodunnit."

This was a "whydunnit."

More psychological.

I needed to get under my suspects'
skin, inside their heads.

I had to let my intuition
take over

to draw these
disparate strands together.

The missing Stonewall Four. The
"accidental deaths" of DuPont's classmates.

My attempted murder.
How were they all connected?

A key piece of information
came from Hermosa.

Which was that Donna...

Jug?

Jug?

Are you okay?

Yeah, sorry, I was just going
over everything one more time.

- What's up, did they find him?
- Yeah, yes. We did.

- Well, I mean, Charles and FP did.
- And did he agree?

Completely.

He's showering
as we speak.

- So are we doing this or what?
- Oh, yeah.

We are gonna blow Stonewall
Prep out of the water.

Crime and Punishment.

A novel of murder
and its psychological toll.

The floor is open.

Any thoughts regarding
Dostoevsky's take on morality?

Hey, guys.

Well, what, did you
even miss me?

You gotta be kidding me.

Mr. Jones.

I... I don't understand.
We all thought...

That I was dead? Well...

Yeah, actually for a minute
there, I did too.

Yeah.

Hey, what's that oft-used
Mark Twain quote?

"Rumors of my death have been
greatly exaggerated."

What is happening right now?

It is called "getting
your comeuppance," Joan.

You guys are reading
Crime and Punishment, huh?

How apropos.

You know, the one kind of crime story that
we never really touched upon in this seminar

was the time-tested genre
of a locked room mystery.

Where all the suspects
are sequestered in a room.

One or more of them
could be the killer,

but the door is not unlocked
until the identity is revealed.

Betty, could you do the honor?

The next bell doesn't ring
for half an hour.

So for the next 30 minutes,
your asses belong to us.

I knew you weren't really dead.

Good job, Donna.

And yet since you failed
to prove it or find Jughead,

we had time to figure out all the
twists and turns of this murder-mystery

that we've all been living
for the past few months.

I have no idea
what you're talking about.

Don't worry 'cause I'm gonna
take you through it, step by step.

No, this is ridiculous.
Mr. DuPont, I'm calling security.

Shut the hell up, Bret.
Like I said, for the next 30 minutes,

we're in charge.
So, give me your cellphones.

- Why the hell...
- Joan, just do what she says.

We have nothing to hide.

I'd get comfortable
if I were you guys

'cause I'm going to take you
through it from the very beginning.

Starting with that very curious fact
that both Moose Mason and myself

were invited to Stonewall Prep
during our senior year.

Jughead?

Moose!

What the hell?

It's good to see you.

Was it like that when you met my
grandfather, Forsythe the First?

He was asked to study
at Stonewall too.

You were roommates with him,
weren't you, Mr. DuPont?

Yes.

And you're very much
like him, Mr. Jones.

Your grandfather was
an arrogant fool too.

Why do you say that, huh?

Because he had the gall to consider
himself worthy of your little inner circle?

The first iteration of
Stonewall's Literary Society.

What exactly is this proving,
Mr. Jones?

That this is not a story
about a murder.

This is a story about grandparents
and their grandchildren.

Of the sins from one generation
being passed on to the next.

Cycles of violence.

Which brings me neatly
to my next point.

Halloween.

When I was drugged
by you psychos.

I think I...

I think I need some air.

No.

You need to lie down.

Say hello to
the Stonewall Four for us.

Only to wake up in a
coffin and be let out a day later.

To return to my dorm.

Moose, you are not
going to believe what Bret...

And find that Moose
had vanished.

So naturally, I assumed he went out
the same way as the Stonewall Four,

that group of students
that mysteriously vanished

while attending Stonewall Prep
over a few decades.

Oh, here we go again.

Now, Moose's fate was more banal.
He joined the Army.

But there's a twist! Mr. Chipping was
the one who encouraged Moose to enlist.

But it was more like
forced him to.

He was encouraging me to leave.

Until Halloween night,
when it became more than a suggestion.

I mean, he practically
shoved me out the door.

So, what was the connection between Moose and
Chipping that would make him take his advice?

He recruited me.
To play football.

Wait. Mr. Chipping's the reason
why you went to Stonewall Prep?

Chipping had recruited Moose
the same way he had Jughead

and then ran him out
of Stonewall Prep.

Meaning what, exactly?

Meaning Chipping knew Moose
was going to get murdered

and was trying to save
his life.

And I would remember that next point.
It's gonna be on the qu...

- Oh, Mr. J...
- Shut up!

Mr. DuPont, as they say
in Lord of the Flies,

I have the conch.

Now, after Halloween is when
things got really interesting.

See, that's when you announced
the writing competition.

Chipping has written the last
four Baxter Brothers books.

It's time he pass on
the torch.

And someone in this very room is going
to be anointed the next ghostwriter.

You had already taken a shine
to me, Mr. DuPont.

You were asking about
my father and my grandfather.

Your grandfather
was an excellent writer.

Tell me, how's he doing?

Does he still write?

So imagine my surprise...

when I found out that my
good-for-nothing drop-out grandfather

had actually written the
original Baxter Brothers novel.

Which a young Francis DuPont
would then steal from him.

It was a 100% legal
transaction. A sale.

It's highway robbery.

A measly five grand for an idea
that generated millions of dollars.

You exploited Forsythe,
Mr. DuPont.

You took advantage of a kid from
the wrong side of the tracks.

And if that secret
ever came out,

can you imagine
the damage that would do

to the very valuable
Baxter Brothers brand?

Hell.

Someone might kill
to keep that secret.

Which is exactly what we thought
happened with Mr. Chipping.

I told Chipping
about my gramps.

And then he talked
to you, Mr. DuPont.

And the next day, well...

I think we all remember
his dive out the window.

I thought you had
urged him to do it.

I thought you had
some leverage over Chipping.

I mean, you guys were all part of the
same secret society, Quill and Skull.

But it was actually you guys.

It was your blank expressions

as you watched him jump.

Call an ambulance!

I just couldn't shake it.

That's when I knew
there was a deeper game afoot.

No, Chipping suicided 'cause he
was messing around with Donna,

she ended it,
and he short-circuited.

Except...

they never really had
a physical relationship.

Isn't that right, Donna?

We had an affair
and it got out of hand.

Mmm-hmm.

Yes, an affair
that went down exactly

like the affair that you had
with Mr. Kotter.

- Uh...
- Except, I looked into it and...

turns out there is
no Mr. Kotter.

- Rupert, Rupert had demons.
- Oh, he did.

Mrs. Chipping filled us in
on all of those.

Yeah, she said that
he had been drinking more.

And having trouble sleeping.

...complaining about
the Baxter Brothers books.

Wishing he'd never
gotten the contract.

So then, we started
to ask ourselves,

what would turn
the opportunity of a lifetime,

winning the Baxter Brothers
contract, into a burden?

An albatross? Any ideas?

Your ghostwriter challenge was
to devise the perfect murder.

What if the real challenge,

the real price that someone had to
pay was to commit the perfect murder?

In order to prove that you could write
it, first you had to do it.

I mean, it kind of makes a
twisted, pathological sense, no?

And that's what was tormenting
Mr. Chipping.

The guilt of what he had done,

the blood that he had shed,
in order to win the contract.

Mr. Chipping invited Moose to
Stonewall Prep to be the next victim.

To be killed by the next
ghostwriter. One of you.

And Moose was
the perfect candidate.

I mean, he was a messed-up kid,
he had no family,

he couldn't handle
the stresses of life.

After my dad was arrested for
impersonating the Gargoyle King,

it, uh, kinda blew up my life,
my family, everything.

I even ended up in a facility
for a couple of months.

Chipping ran Moose out of town.

You said it yourself.

Good, you remember.

Okay, we think Chipping
couldn't go through with it.

And-or, maybe he just wanted
to atone for what he had done.

I mean, whatever the reason.

He ran Moose the hell away
from Stonewall Prep

and then killed himself,
it was his only escape.

Pure demented conjecture.

Well, yes and no. Chipping's behavior
is hypothesis, but if proven,

it shows a pattern of how the previous
ghostwriters won their contract.

Same year, same month as Chipping
was awarded his contract,

a Stonewall student
disappeared.

One of the so-called
Stonewall Four.

We believe this student
was murdered by Mr. Chipping.

Ryan Allan,
the previous ghostwriter,

who took up the mantle
the same month

another one of
the Stonewall Four disappeared.

The sequence holds true for every
ghostwriter who preceded them.

It's... It's actually
incredibly simple.

Which brings us to a couple months
ago, when I was awarded the contract.

But why?

To put a target on my back.

Probably because I was already
circling the truth,

so he gave you guys
a new challenge.

To commit the perfect murder,
against me,

and be awarded the contract.

So, the million
dollar question is...

who was going to kill Jughead?
And how?

So, which one of you
heartless bastards killed me?

It was actually Mr. DuPont
that gave me a clue.

When I asked who had re-written
my Baxter Brothers novel,

you told me they all
had a crack at it.

Well, actually,
all of your classmates collaborated on it.

And that suggested to me that each
one of you had a hand in my murder.

- Oh, this should be good.
- Donna, you kept Betty busy.

Oh, good, you made it.

Bret, you led me
deeper into the woods,

where I took off the bunny mask I
was wearing and put on my beanie.

And was it that beanie that kept my
head from being completely cracked open

when Joan crept up behind me...

and hit me with
a baseball-sized rock?

What? How do you know it was me?
Why couldn't it have been Jonathan?

Well, I don't recall Jonathan
wearing your perfume.

Yeah, where...
Where is Jonathan again?

Or did you kill him because he
started to develop a conscience?

He had food poisoning,
he still has food poisoning.

Okay, Jonathan aside,

you had a fool-proof plan,
air-tight alibis.

It all should have worked
so perfectly, but it didn't.

- Why?
- Because in all your plotting,

all of your lurid conspiring
and your brilliance,

you didn't kill me.

I mean, whose job was it
to check my pulse?

Jonathan!

Oh, you Einsteins.

All you had to do was hit me in the back
of the head hard enough with a rock.

You failed spectacularly.

Yeah, meanwhile, Donna was
blowing Devil's Breath in my face

to set me up
as the ultimate fall-girl.

Devil's Breath? Really?

Yeah, the technical term
being scopolamine,

which leaves a person highly
suggestive and in a drunken state.

Which is why I don't remember when
Donna led me into the clearing

where Jughead's body was and
placed the bloody rock in my hand,

leaving me literally red-handed
with the murder weapon.

After which, the four of you
returned to the party

and ran into Archie
and Veronica.

Hey, have you guys seen
Betty and Jughead?

I think they went that way,

into the clearing
behind those trees.

Thanks.

And pointed them to where
you knew they would find me.

Standing over Jughead's corpse.

Oh, my God, Betty,
what happened?

Jug! Is he breathing?

He's dead.

At which point, one of two
scenarios could've played out.

One, Archie and Veronica
could turn me in.

Two, they could help me cover up the
"murder" that I had just committed.

Either way, I'm damned if I do
and damned if I don't.

But honestly, you guys could've
gotten away with it too.

Yeah, except, again...

You guys didn't kill me.

- Archie...
- Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

Betty, what happened?

All right, start pounding
on his chest. Right now, okay?

Vee, use the beanie to stop
the bleeding.

Go, one, two, three,
four, five.

- Come on, Jug.
- ...four, five...

Come on, come on, Jug!
Come on!

- Betty, he's...
- Come back to me, Jug.

Jug, hey, hey, hey.

Hey, we're gonna get you
to a hospital, okay?

No... No hospital.

Hey, stay awake, stay with me, please, Jug.
Hey. Stay awake, okay?

Though I didn't regain
consciousness for another 36 hours.

The worst 36 hours of my life.

Why would you say that, Jones?

"No hospital." Why would a man
on death's door say that?

I honestly don't know.

Maybe I had some small feeling that
you were going to try and frame Betty.

And I wanted her
to have a fighting chance.

I'm... I'm calling Charles,
I'm calling Charles.

- What? Why?
- We can trust him. He'll help us, okay?

Hey, Jug.

Charles, I'm in the woods
with Archie and Veronica.

Jughead, he's hurt
really badly, we need help.

We need your help, please!

We carried Jug through the
woods to the old postal road,

where my brother Charles was
waiting for us with an FBI med-van.

- What happened to him, Betty?
- A head wound.

We slowed the bleeding, we did
chest compressions and CPR.

You think he's gonna make it?

We're gonna do
everything that we can.

What about us?
What do we do?

Go back to where you found him.
Clean the scene.

Make absolutely certain that you don't
leave anything behind, all right?

Also, your clothes
are covered with blood.

You need to get rid of those
and get washed up, okay?

Okay.

And then we did
what Charles asked.

We went back to the clearing.

Threw the bloody rock
in the swimming hole.

Took off our clothes
and started a bonfire.

What happens if
he doesn't make it?

He'll make it.

But what if he doesn't?

He will.

But if he doesn't, then...

Archie... Archie?

- Archie! You listening to me?
- Yeah, yeah. Yeah.

We have to burn all of our clothes
including Jughead's beanie.

We'll rinse off the blood
in the swimming hole.

After tonight,
we never speak of this. Ever.

Not to each other,
not to our parents. No one.

We'll finish our senior year,
graduate,

and we'll go
our separate ways.

That is the only way
that we won't get caught.

Do it.

That is how it'll have to be
if Jug doesn't make it.

But it won't come to that.
He will pull through.

He has to.

And then, we went home.

And what happened next
was a waking nightmare.

Not knowing if or when
Jughead was going to wake up,

and wondering if I had
actually been responsible.

Wait, but we saw Jughead's
corpse at the coroner's office.

Was he in on it?

Who? Dr. Curdle Jr.?

Yeah, mmm-hmm, yeah.
We go way back.

You see, Bret,
in a town like Riverdale,

everybody's got a price.

And that includes our friendly
neighborhood doctor of death.

And while Betty was keeping you guys
busy with a game of cat-and-mouse,

I was in the underground bunker
untangling this Gordian knot of a year.

And it is crazy how much
untangling you can get done

when everyone thinks
you're dead.

Which brings us,
basically, to today.

So, Mr. DuPont,

the floor is open.
What do you think?

Oh, Mr. Jones...

"A" for effort.

If nothing else,

this fiction is significantly
more entertaining

than anything you ever produced
for my class.

Oh, did I forget to mention

that Betty and I went and saw
the Baxter Brothers ghostwriters?

And when we told them our theory,
they all asked for their lawyers.

What if you did
track them down?

And even if you found one who corroborated
your wild theories in some vague way,

then you will know that
I never explicitly directed

my students or mentees
to do anything criminal.

Oh.

What a canny serial killer
you are, Mr. DuPont.

But we haven't even
gotten to the best part.

Specifically, the three members of
your original literary society...

who you murdered.

Jane Dallas Brown, Charles W.
Chickens, Theodore Weisel...

- There it is.
- Let's loop back to the original sin, shall we?

When Mr. DuPont stole,
and I do mean stole,

my grandfather's original
Baxter Brothers novel.

A fact known to you,
Mr. DuPont,

and of course,
Jughead's grandfather

but also to your inner circle,
your classmates.

The corrupt secret
at the heart of an empire.

Although it wasn't
an empire just yet.

It was a house of cards that
you built over many decades.

And the bigger it got,

the more worried you became that
one little slip of the tongue

would send the whole thing
tumbling down.

Your life's work would
be revealed as a lie,

and you as a fraud.

And a thief.

A man of dishonor.

So, you started going after
people who knew the truth

and started staging
their accidental deaths.

You cut brakes.
You tampered with fuselages.

You compromised oxygen tanks.

Until there was only
one living member

of your literary society left.

Betty, I think it's time
we let in our guests.

With pleasure.

- Forsythe.
- Live and in the flesh.

Hello, Francis.

Why don't you tell him
what you told us, Grandpa?

Weisel came to see me
before he died.

He hadn't slept for days.

He told me that you
killed Charles and Jane

'cause they were gonna
spill the truth

about the damn Baxter Brothers.

He said we knew too much
and you were gonna off us, too.

You and I both know
Theodore was a paranoid drunk.

But two days later,

the expert diver
drowned in shallow water.

So he was right,
and I was next.

So, I went out for a pack
of cigarettes...

and never came back.

What were you doing off-grid
since 2002, exactly?

Collecting evidence
that linked Francis here

with the murders of Charles
and Jane and Theodore.

I started by calling hotels and
motels near the accident sites.

You know what the one thing
I couldn't figure out

at first was, Mr. DuPont?

That if Moose was invited to
Stonewall Prep to be the next victim,

then why was I also invited?

I was bait

to lure my grandfather
out of hiding

so you could finish the job
that you started.

Took off like a coward
after Jughead found me.

But, to my old man's credit, when
Charles and I found him the second time,

and he heard
what happened to his grandson,

he figured it was finally time
to take your ass down.

While you were in
here playing Agatha Christie,

my team was combing through
DuPont's house for the last hour.

Now, given the trophies of your victims
that we found in your hollowed out OED,

and your ghostwriters
lawyering up,

not to mention
Forsythe's detective work...

Well, why don't you tell him?

It's over, Francis.

You... call me
a thief and a coward.

I'm not.

I'm a builder.

I built
the Baxter Brothers franchise

and with that money,
I helped build this school.

Without me,
neither would exist.

Francis DuPont,
you have the right to remain silent.

Anything you say can and will be
used against you in a court of law.

Never. A writer's power
is in his words.

Only the meek and the timid
choose silence.

Oh, I am a man of honor.

To the end.

After that, it was a matter
of dotting I's and crossing T's.

We obtained these text
exchanges between you and Donna.

Donna was manipulating
you, Joan.

She tricked you
into doing her dirty work

so her hands
would remain clean.

Don't protect her.

I'll see to it that you get
a reduced sentence.

Agent Smith,
you have nothing to offer me.

Reminder, my father
is an ambassador

and I have diplomatic immunity.

If you leave the country now,

you won't ever
be able to return.

And your friends,
they'll take all the heat.

They're not my friends.

Hey, why did you lie
to Jughead?

You told him Bret had diplomatic
immunity, but it was Joan.

I... I lied to Jughead

because I was trying to keep
him from antagonizing Bret.

You know it was Bret's idea
to kill Jughead.

Uh-huh. How did you get
Mr. Chipping's tie pin?

And don't tell me
that you were having an affair.

No one's buying
that story anymore.

Mr. DuPont gave it to me.

Said I had to lie
to the headmaster,

so that Mr. Chipping's death
would be ruled a suicide

and people would stop
asking questions.

But I'm just glad that the real
monster behind all of this,

Mr. DuPont,
has paid for his crimes.

You have a known history
of antagonizing Jughead.

Witnesses saw you walking with him into
the woods the night he was attacked.

Have I actually been charged
with a crime?

You're facing hard time
for both attempted murder

and the creation and possession
of illegally recorded sex tapes

featuring fellow students.

Including Jughead and Betty.

Now, I'm willing to reduce your
charge to only attempted murder

if you turn over
your collection of videotapes.

Here's my counter-offer,

reduce my charge
to conspiracy after the fact,

which my lawyer will plead down
to community service,

or Betty and Jughead's
puerile sex tape

will be released
to the world wide web.

Hmm. Let me think it over.

That was quick.

What the hell is this?

The counter to your counter.

I understand you've decided to
co-operate with our investigation

and reveal the location
of your illicit videotapes.

Is that correct?

Hidden in a secret
compartment behind Stonewall's crest

was a treasure trove
of dark secrets.

Illegally recorded videotapes,

more fuel to add to the firestorm
of controversy that is consuming

one of the country's oldest and
more prestigious prep schools.

For now, Stonewall Prep's
doors remain open,

but its secret society Quill
and Skull has been disbanded.

For RIVW news,
this is Alice Smith.

It's good to be back,
Riverdale.

Thank you. Thank you very much.

Your report came out
really good, Mom.

Oh, thanks, honey.
I had a lot of help from an inside source.

- Mmm-hmm.
- Mmm-hmm?

- I'm gonna head out.
- Yeah.

Wait. Where are you going?
We're about to have cake.

Um, I will be back soon, okay?

I just have
one last T to cross.

Hello, Donna.

Going somewhere?

If you must know,
I'm transferring to a new school.

Well, I'm glad
I caught you then.

I wanted to congratulate
you personally.

Jughead and I heard that you're
taking over the Baxter Brothers.

The brand is relaunching.

As Tracy True.

Jealous?

Your plan worked, Donna.

You managed to get everyone else
to do the actual dirty work.

Hell, even DuPont's dead.

You covered your tracks
extremely well.

Betty...

Are you really so delusional

you would believe I would
mastermind some elaborate conspiracy

that caused the deaths
of multiple people

just to win a YA book contract?

No.

But you would do it
for revenge.

Oh, really?

- Revenge for what?
- The murder of your grandmother.

Jane Dallas Brown.

One of the classmates
DuPont killed

to cover up the ugly truth that he
didn't create the Baxter Brothers.

She was your grandmother.

How could you
possibly know that?

A friend of a friend told me.

You dedicated yourself
to getting into Stonewall Prep

and getting
into Chipping's class

and each step brought you ever
closer to your grandmother's killer.

You wanted revenge.

So what was
the original plan, Donna?

Win the contract no matter
how many people had to die?

And then stage an accident
that would take care of DuPont

so you could tear down
the house that he built?

Fascinating theory, Betty.

You've left out
one minor detail.

DuPont didn't merely kill
my grandmother.

He stole from her.

The same way he did
from Forsythe.

Tracy True.

The female teen detective who was
introduced in the Baxter Brothers' books.

She was
your grandmother's invention.

Now I've taken Tracy back and
DuPont is rotting in a grave.

Huh.

How did you really find out
about my grandmother?

A private investigator.

At my behest, Hermosa put her
private eye skills to good use

and did some digging
on those Stonewall WASPs.

And your gal pal Donna
is not so sweet.

...who supplied us
with the medical files

that confirmed that you are the
granddaughter of Jane Dallas Brown.

Which gives the police a motive

and links this entire web
of death back to you.

It's circumstantial at best.

But I'll play one last round.

What do you want, Betty?

I want you to walk away
from the Tracy True contract.

Why in God's name
would I do that?

Fictional though she may be,

Tracy deserves better,

as does the memory
of your grandmother.

And you certainly don't
deserve to profit

off the near-death
of my boyfriend.

Or...

don't walk away. That's fine.

But I will make sure every
newspaper of every major city

gets a copy
of that medical file.

You play nice
from now on, Donna.

I'll be keeping an eye on you.

Months at Stonewall Prep away
from you guys, what a waste.

Jug, okay. We put a stop to
DuPont, we solved eight murders,

and we gave closure to every
family of every missing child.

I would not call that
a waste of time.

I know. It's just...

- I feel...
- Cheated?

I know.

I know.

You'll find a meaning
to all of this at some point.

Okay?

So, Jughead Jones
back from the dead.

Color me completely
not surprised.

You're not?

No one ever really dies
in Riverdale, do they?

But what about you
and Archie canoodling then?

Yeah, that was just pretend.

I don't know, cousin.
That looked pretty real to me.

Yeah, that was the point.

Right.

All I'm saying is,
your secret's safe with me.

Toodles.

What did Cheryl want?

Nothing.
What did Mr. Honey say?

Well, I don't think
he's too happy about it,

but he legally has to
let me back to Riverdale High.

- That's great!
- Yeah, I just really hope my credits transfer.

On the bright side, no one's gonna
try to kill me while I'm here.

Don't jinx yourself.

Hey, boy. Betty.

Hey.

Um, I'll be right down.

Grandpa, I thought you left.

Oh, not yet.

Joining us for dinner?

Ah, Betty and I are actually going to
meet Archie and Veronica at Pop's. So...

- Unless you want me to stay.
- No, go have fun.

Yeah.

Should I say goodbye?

Oh, no.

I expect your father and I will
still be talking when you get back.

Hey, hold on.

I don't know what's gonna
happen with him and me.

But, uh, we're talking,
so that's something.

So, thank you.
You made all this happen.

- Have fun.
- Yeah.

Betty?

Maybe something good did come
out of this whole Stonewall mess.

My dad and my grandfather talking
again for the first time in 30 years!

Who would've thought of that?

You think your dad
will forgive him?

Oh, I don't know. I mean, they have a lot
of bad history between each other, but...

I hope so.

All right, guys.

Let's make a vow.

I know.

I know.

The last time we made a vow
to have a normal senior year,

everything went to hell
pretty quick.

But we only have two,
three months left.

Let's end it on a high note.

Are we just gonna
ignore the fact

that Archie and I will probably
not be graduating with you guys?

Jug, okay.

Do you really think Vee and I
are going to sit idly by

and not help
our boyfriends graduate?

Archie Andrews and Jughead
Jones, you will graduate.

Even if it takes
a thousand tutors,

you will set aside everything.

No more mysteries.

And make graduating
your sole purpose in life.

Why does that sound
like a threat?

Because it is.

To going out on top together.

- Cheers.
- Cheers to that.

Guys, guys, just a reminder.

I'm posting the sign-up sheet
for the variety show tomorrow,

you all have to perform.

Even you, Jughead.

- Count us in, Kev.
- Oh, no.

Yeah.

Check out this list
of local names.