Riverdale (2016–…): Season 4, Episode 5 - Chapter Sixty-Two: Witness for the Prosecution - full transcript

Previously onRiverdale...

Jughead?

Moose!

What the hell?

Wait, are you my roommate?

Hermione Lodge, you're under arrest
for conspiracy to commit murder.

Your own husband's.

Mija, I'm not paying
for your crimes.

I told the world what you are.

Deal with it.

I think you'd make
an excellent candidate



for the Junior
FBI Training Program.

So are you warming up
to our half-brother now?

Yeah. Kind of.

I'm just glad that
Charles was there for you.

Didn't we say we were gonna
turn this place into a community center?

Feels like it's time.

No one is safe here.

Is that really the town
that you want to invest in?

You're not actually considering
fighting crime in those tights, are you?

Of course not.

I'm going to need a mask.

They say every town
gets the hero it deserves.

Riverdale's was Archie Andrews.

High school athlete by day,



would-be crime fighter by night.

Patrolling the shadows
of Sketch Alley,

down by the Southside Docks,

where Archie's
community center is.

You wouldn't want to be caught
there too long after dark.

That's when the rats came out.

- Here.
- Stay away from me.

All in all,

not an auspicious second outing

for Riverdale's
dark-suited vigilante.

And speaking
of crime-fighting...

Kev, what are your
after-school plans?

Cruising the bathrooms
at Sheds and Royal.

Perfect.

Then you can join me
for my first Junior FBI class.

The one that your hot
half-brother is teaching?

Yes.

I asked Charles
if you could enroll,

and he said everyone's welcome.

Remind me, is your brother
gay or straight?

I actually have no idea,

but seniors from a bunch
of different high schools

have signed up, so who knows?

Maybe you'll meet a cute,
gay FBI agent-in-training.

I'm in.

When and where?

Seems that the District Attorney

is pinning her entire case

on linking you
to Hiram's would-be murderer,

- Tall Boy Petite.
- Which is absurd.

I mean, I've never even had
any interaction with the man.

Well, there is still the issue
of the large sum of money

the police found in
your monogrammed Tucci bag

in Tall Boy's apartment.

Obviously, Hiram planted it
there to frame me.

FP will testify that he
searched Tall Boy's apartment

right after he died.

He'll swear that there was no bag
of money in evidence at that time.

This week is insane.

I've got two papers due,

your trial's starting,

Daddy's trial
is around the corner.

From what I've heard,
the federal prosecutor's

going after your father
pretty hard.

Oh, believe me, I know,

I've been meeting
with her on the DL.

Goals for this week?

Get Mom out of jail,

and make sure Daddy
stays rotting in his.

What you working on?

Same thing as when
you drugged me, Donna.

Except this time
I actually found something.

I know the Stonewall Four is
supposed to be an urban legend,

but when I checked
the town paper,

four people had
actually gone missing

over the last 30 years.

That's exactly
what happened to Moose.

Marmaduke is fine.

He's just busy
in basic training.

Look...

We've been texting.

You guys are in for a treat.

Advanced copies
of my latest novel.

It doesn't hit stores
till Christmas,

so no spoilers.

Wait. Mr. Chipping,

you wrote a
Baxter Brothers Mystery?

Were you Franklin P. Paxton?

I am. Well...

It's my nom de plume.

ButThe Secret of the Old
Windmillcame out like, what,

decades ago?
How's that possible?

I'm merely the latest in a long line
of ghostwriters over the decades.

My mind is blown.

Mr. Chipping, I used to love
these books when I was a kid.

They were my gateway drug
into serious crime fiction.

Well, then you're in luck.

To celebrate the publication
ofTen Little Boy Scouts,

Stonewall Prep is throwing me
a little wine and cheese,

to which you all are invited,

as are previous ghostwriters.

What's wrong, Pop?

It's a subpoena.

From your father's defense team.

Oh, no.

They're probably gonna ask if you
doctored La Bonne Nuit's books

to make my father look guilty.

Which I did.

And I have no regrets
about that, Veronica,

you needed the help.

But I cannot place my hand
on a Bible and say otherwise.

Let me get into it
with the federal prosecutor.

But don't worry, Pop.

I'm not going to let you
get caught up in this.

Just when I thought you
couldn't possibly go any lower,

you proved me wrong, Daddy.

Pop Tate is a good man.

There is no need to drag him
into the mess of your trial.

I'm fighting for my freedom.

And to be clear,

I didn't drag Pop into this,
you did.

Because you were extorting me.

You can spare Pop
and end this right now, mija.

Come clean to the Feds,
admit you framed me.

Hard pass.

Well, then I'll be seeing
Pop Tates in court.

And tell your mom
good luck on her case.

I'll be rooting for her.

We have a problem.

If Pop takes the stand,
he'll tell the truth.

And before you ask, no,

Ms. Federal Prosecutor,
I won't tell Pop to lie.

Your father's broken
many laws, Veronica,

but those books
you provided the FBI,

proving Hiram's guilt,

are at the heart of our case.

Call me as a witness.

I'll testify that I was the one

who tasked Pop
with doctoring the books

as a last resort

because my father
was extorting me.

Which is the truth.

Once I do that,

I doubt they'll want
to spend much time

talking about any books.

Okay.

Meanwhile, good luck
with your mother's case.

For our first session,
I thought we'd start

right in the deep end
of the swimming pool.

With serial killers.

Your half-brother is so hot.

Now, I've put together a little
exercise to kick us off.

This is a crime scene

where six victims were found
buried along a riverbank

in the Pacific Northwest.

Now, before I start
filling in all the details,

any guesses on which one of
these men is the murderer?

It's the third man.

That's correct, Betty.
How did you know that?

I don't know.

Just intuition.

Okay, then.

Let's try another one.

Which one's the serial killer?

The term
"serial killer" is relatively new.

It wasn't until the 1970s

that the phrase "serial
murderer" or "serial homicide..."

It's the one in the middle.

Correct again.

Your intuition
is like a sixth sense.

Let's go again.

When defining a serial killer,

it usually refers to someone
who committed three or...

None of them did it.

Excellent work, Betty.

Not many people have
that kind of raw instinct.

You're likeBeautiful Mind,
but... for serial killers.

Now, can any of you guess what
the murderers all have in common?

Nothing.

Isn't that kind of the point?

Actually, they all have
one thing in common.

A specific set of genes.

They discovered
that you have the MAOA...

and CDH13 genes.

Also known as...

The serial killer genes.

Hey, Dad.

Have you seen
my Baxter Brothers books?

I swear I took them out of
the trailer before it burned.

I don't know. I might've have
thrown them away.

You threw away my books?

All right, calm down, boy.

Before you accuse me
of book burning,

why don't you check the
storage room in the basement?

I used to worship these guys.

When all the kids wanted
to be superheroes,

I wanted to be a Baxter brother.

Oh, my God.

They used to do, uh,
crossovers with Tracy True.

Those were my favorites,
remember?

Yeah. My Dad used to get me one of
these each year for my birthday.

Hey Dad, why'd you stop?

You outgrew 'em, boy.

I got to run.

I'm never gonna
outgrow these books.

This was my favorite.

Jones, lights out.

Some of us are trying to sleep.

Late night, Red?

Algebra Three
is kicking my ass this year.

One of you named Archie?

Yeah, that's me.

This kid say's
you'll vouch for him.

Yeah, that's Toby. He hangs out here.
Is there a problem?

Yeah, he was shoplifting
in my convenience store.

I was reading comic books.

You were loitering
and then you started to put

this comic book in your jacket.

Look, why don't
I go ahead and pay

for whatever that
comic book costs?

$4.99.

And I don't want
any of you delinquents

stepping foot in my shop.

It's bad enough we have to
walk by this halfway house.

Keep the change.

Grab a brush.

Here is the hero of the hour.

Class, this is
Francis J. DuPont,

the originator of
the Baxter Brothers franchise,

and the very first
Franklin P. Paxton.

Francis, this is Bret, Joan,
Jonathan, Donna, and Jughead.

"Jughead."

Is that a nickname?

Uh, yes, sir. It is.

And it's an honor to meet you.

I didn't have the greatest
home life growing up,

but your books
really helped me through it.

Jughead is the newest addition

to the most promising group of
students that I've ever taught.

Really?

Well, is the successor
amongst us, then?

Successor for what?

Chipping has written the last
four Baxter Brothers books.

It's time he pass on the torch.

Therefore, we're on the hunt
for the next ghostwriter

to continue the franchise.

And you're going
to pick one of us?

Keep it in your pants, Jones.

Every Baxter Brothers author,

beginning with
Mr. DuPont himself,

has gone to Stonewall Prep.

We're always looking
for young and clever minds

to keep our adventures fresh
and relevant.

Now, if you're interested
in the job,

you'll have to write
the first three chapters

of the next
Baxter Brothers novel.

And an outline
for the rest of it.

Well, obviously,
I'm winning this.

Is there any particular style
or subject area?

We have not yet
decided on a theme,

but we'll let you know.

I pulled your files, Ms. Cooper.

I can confirm that you do have
the MAOA and CDH13 genes.

All good,
nothing to worry about.

I don't have the genes.

See, I told you.

What a relief.

You got to be kidding me.

Hey!

Get the hell away from that car!

Who are you?

You run with Dodger?

Get the hell out of here.

Go!

Tell him it's over.
Tell him, he's done for.

All right, listen up.

Sheriff Jones gave us a call.

Apparently some of Dodger's crew

was stealing hubcaps last night.

He suspects it was someone
from this center,

and I gave him my word
that it wasn't any of you guys.

And I hope that's true.

Anyone running
with Dodger's crew

is going to end up in juvie

or in an early grave.

And trust us,
you don't wanna go to juvie.

Look, if even one of you guys
gets arrested,

this whole place gets shut down.

So, new rule.

If you run with Dodger's crew,
then you're not welcome here.

That's it. No exceptions.

Any questions?

Yeah, I got a question.

Aren't you guys seniors?

What happens when you
graduate and go to college?

That's months away, Toby.

Yeah, but what happens?

You said it yourself,
they're trying to shut you down.

Why? Because of us.

Because no one wants us.

At least Dodger cares.

Dodger only cares about
the money you can bring in.

We want you here,
but you can't have it both ways.

You have to choose.

One thing we see
in a lot of serial killers

are instances of animal cruelty
in their youth.

Jeffrey Dahmer,
the cannibal of Milwaukee,

started killing dogs
when he was in grade school.

Ian Brady,
the infamous Moors murderer,

killed his first cat
when he was ten.

I'm all the dark deeds
you did in our youths,

like what we did
to our old cat, Caramel.

Caramel ran away.

I didn't do anything to her.

Oh, Betty, we both know
that we drowned Caramel.

Robert Thompson
used to tie rabbits

to railway tracks...

Betty? Are you okay?

I need a...

I need some air. Sorry.

I arrived at the cabin alone.

The suspect, Tall Boy,

he got violent.

Resisted arrest,

and unfortunately,
I had to discharge my weapon.

He expired on his way
to the hospital.

And later, when you searched
Tall Boy's motel room,

did you find Hermione Lodge's
Tucci bag full of cash?

No.

And yet, the prosecution claims
they found the bag there.

If it was, it was planted later.

Thank you, Sheriff.

Your witness, Counselor.

The cabin where you claim
to have shot Tall Boy,

do you know who owns
that cabin, Sheriff?

I assumed it was Hiram's.

This is a copy of the lease.

Kindly read the owner's name.

"Hermione Lodge."

Order!

Order!

Excuse me, Mr. DuPont.

Did you happen to know
my grandfather?

Forsythe Jones the First?

That is why you look familiar.

Your grandfather
was an excellent writer.

Tell me, how's he doing?

Does he still write?

I... I actually I don't know,

I've never met him.

Up until this exact moment,
I didn't even know he was a writer.

Bit of a brawler, too.

Forsythe got into
all kinds of rabble-rousing

before he left Stonewall.

Is that why he left?

He was kicked out for fighting?

Oh, it was so long ago,

I don't remember
the exact circumstances.

But I will never
forget his talent.

We would read his works in class

and I couldn't believe
that a teenager wrote them.

Does your father write?

No, he's a sheriff.

Would you invite your father
to the reception tomorrow?

I would love to meet
Forsythe's son.

Yeah, I'll see if he can come.

Thank you.

Mrs. Andrews is back-channeling
with the DA's office.

They're talking plea deals.

Mom...

why didn't you tell us

that the cabin
was under your name?

Because it wasn't.

Veronica, your father
must have forged the lease or...

contract or something.

So then why didn't you say

that you'd never even
been to this cabin?

Because I have.

Mom...

it's now or never.

I need you to tell me the truth

about everything,

so I can help you.

If everything
you've told me is true,

then I have no moves left.

The more the prosecutor digs,

the guiltier
you'll be, Hermione.

And that's for crimes

that aren't even
on their radar yet.

There's no magic wand that
can make this just go away.

What if there were one?

And my mother changed
her plea to guilty?

Veronica...

Look, Mom, we've got
to be realistic here.

Why not admit to what
everyone already knows

before something else,
something worse comes out?

Veronica, your mother
would go to prison,

probably for
the rest of her life.

Not if we get someone

with a magic wand to pardon her.

But that can only happen
at the state level.

So unless you're friends
with Governor Dooley...

I wouldn't say friends exactly,

but we do have a history.

All of us.

Hey, are you okay?

What are you doing?

No!

Caramel.

Hey.

You free for lunch?

Do you want to go to Pop's
and get a burger?

I got a lot on my mind,
Jug. What's up?

I wanted to ask you
about Grandpa.

Did you know he was a writer?

Yeah.

Where did you hear that?

One of his old classmates
is visiting Stonewall Prep.

Actually I have
a reception later,

if you want to come hang out.

And waste a day
with a bunch of blue bloods

who think they're better
than me? No.

You're the one that pushed me
to go to Stonewall Prep.

Hell, you'd probably make me

put on a tie and a blazer.

And just so you know,
my old man wasn't a writer,

he was a dropout, all right?

He couldn't hold down a job.

He was a mean, mean drunk

who took all of his anger
out on me and on your grandma.

It was the best day of my life
when he skipped out on us.

So do I want to hear about

what a great writer he was
back in high school? No.

No, I'm...

I'm good with my memories.
But you have fun.

Governor Dooley! You made it.

Oh, no, not again.

Yes, again.

I have a small favor to ask you.

I was told this meeting
was requested by the FBI.

No, I'd rather keep the FBI out of
this, if at all possible.

So, in this folder,

you'll find evidence

that paints a rather corrupt
portrait of you, Governor.

Ordering a bogus quarantine,

accepting drug money as a bribe,

receiving kickbacks
from my father's jail.

Young lady...

how many times do you think
you can blackmail me?

Help me now
and this will be the last.

And I'll put that in writing.

As you know,
my mother's on trial.

If she pleads guilty,

I need you
to grant her a pardon,

immediately.

In exchange,

I won't release this file
of incriminating evidence.

What do you say, Donald?

Once more for old time's sake?

May I have your attention?

In literary society tradition,

it wouldn't be a proper reunion

without a little game of Murder.

For neophytes,
the rules are as follows.

Everyone draws a card.

Whoever picks "Murderer"

must walk amongst us,

winking at their prey.

If you are winked at,

you die five seconds later.

The object
of the game, of course,

is to identify the murderer
before being killed.

Happy hunting, everybody.

Enjoying yourself, Jones?

So this is what one-percenters
do for fun.

They play murder, huh?

Oh, by the way...

Wicked, Jones.

Yeah, go on then.

Yeah, let me die in peace.

Down to the wire, boys.

It's Jughead! He's the murderer.

Yeah. Because I just killed you.

No, I knew it was him
beforehand, I win.

I'm sorry, Bret, I can't hear you.
Because you're dead.

No, I'm not. I saw...

Boy, boys.
Let's be men about this.

It's clear that Jughead Jones
won the game fair and square.

And what a formidable
murderer he was.

I'm disappointed I didn't
get to meet your father.

Oh, yeah, he's been
busy with work.

Oh, I understand.

Well, I hope
you'll enter the contest

to be our new ghostwriter.

I mean, the grandson
of Forsythe Jones

would be a worthy inheritor
of the mantle.

Serial killers are compulsive.

They leave clues,

take trophies, keep records.

Journals,

diaries,

letters.

They see themselves as the
hero in their own stories.

Sometimes, it's difficult for them to
distinguish between reality and fantasy,

fact and fabrication.

By studying childhood diaries
of serial killers,

we can gain invaluable insight
into how their minds work.

Your Honor,

in lieu of a closing statement,

my client would like
to say something.

Proceed.

Your Honor,

after careful consideration,

I've decided to change my plea.

I, Hermione Apollonia Lodge...

plead guilty
to the charges against me.

I lied to you, Kevin.

At the hospital,
Dr. Patel told me

that I do have the genes.

And there's more.

Something that I think
I may have repressed.

Do you remember my cat, Caramel?

A car hit her.

And I found her
on our front lawn.

She was in pain.

Dying.

And it sounded like...

someone screaming.

So,
I went to get my dad for help.

And he took me back outside.

Caramel is your cat, Betty.

You need to take care of this.

And he handed me a rock.

And he made me...

Good girl, Betty.

Very good girl.

I killed Caramel.

No, Betty.

That wasn't you.
That was your...

deeply screwed-up dad.

Oh, and I'm not screwed up?

I'm repressing memories
of killing animals, Kevin.

Betty, I...

I think this FBI Training thing

might be getting
a little too intense right now.

I think we should...

maybe consider withdrawing.

That's it. Keep your hands up.

Protect your face.

Good job.

Keep those hands up.

That's it.

Red, you got a minute?

Sure. What's up, Mr. Jones?

Some of the local
business owners

have lodged a few complaints
against your center.

Littering, vandalism,
public urination.

Due respect, Mr. Jones,
that's BS.

I'm here every morning
and I lock up every night.

These kids are not doing
any of that.

Listen, when I rolled
with the Serpents,

we dealt with the same crap.

Wherever we set up,
complaints followed.

Look, no one wants
a gang around.

The problem isn't the kids,

it's the thugs that show up
after we lock up. They're gnarly.

But this place, it's supposed
to make the neighborhood better.

Well, show 'em that.

Do what the Serpents used to do.

Invite some of the yokels over

for a get-to-know-you clam bake.

People are less likely
to call the cops

if they've had
a conversation with you.

All right?

You think you really pulled
something off

at the reception, don't you?

Bret, Bret, Bret.

Are you really still mad
about that Murder game?

All right.

Look, if it means
that much to you...

Poof!

Consider yourself raised
from the dead, preppy.

"Preppy."

You turn your nose up at us,

you scorn us
for our privilege...

But the only reason you're here

is because some
school benefactors

thought it would look good
to take on a charity case.

Some dirt-poor scholarship kid.

I'm here because of my writing.

Just get over it.

No, Jughead,

you're not here
because of your talent.

The Admissions Committee?

None of them have read a single
word you've ever written.

You're a statistic,

a project.

Every year there's one of you.

Some welfare freeloader
who never amounts to anything.

Just like your grandfather.

He couldn't even
make it a semester.

That is your past, present,
and future, Jughead...

Shut your mouth!

Looks like you've inherited
his temper, too. Huh?

They all know I'm right.

And deep down, you know it, too.

Most of you know me by now,

but my name is Archie Andrews.

I run this place
with Munroe Moore.

And we invited you here today

to set the record straight
about a few things.

Starting with...

Despite a few bogus complaints
that have been made,

this community center
is not going anywhere.

In fact, starting today,

we will be expanding
our hours to 11:00 p.m.,

and we'll be open on Sundays.

So, to my neighbors, I say,

instead of working against us,

why don't you come in
and help out?

Sponsor our baseball team.

Donate your time.

These kids need people
to show them that they care.

Which is why we're starting

a Big Brothers and
Big Sisters program.

The Riverdale High Bulldogs
and Vixens

have already volunteered,
so why don't you?

And if you still want
to shut us down,

then go ahead and try.

My mom is a very good lawyer.

Or you can try the cops,

and I'll call
my best friend's dad,

the Sheriff of Riverdale.

Otherwise,

my friendly advice to you

is get out of my way.

Can I help you?

Look, I own
a hardware store on Drury,

and I admire what you're
trying to accomplish here.

And I'm not the only one.

So why didn't you
say that, then?

The thing is, many of us
business owners are getting...

pressure to speak out
against your center.

Not by Hiram Lodge?

No. Uh...

His name is Dodger.

And we've been paying him
a protection fee.

Lately, he's added a request.

Protest your center,

or risk losing his protection.

And then maybe
our stores get robbed.

Or burned to the ground.

So, Dodger's the one
who wants us out of here?

Every kid who sets foot
in your place

is one less running scams
for him on the streets.

Well...

Look what the cat dragged in.

I'm done with Stonewall Prep.

Place is toxic.

I'm going back to Riverdale
High to be with my friends.

No.

Mmm-mmm.

You're not throwing away
this opportunity.

You're giving me whiplash, Dad.

What opportunity?

So I can be
buried alive in a coffin,

or be told that I'm only there

because I grew up
in a trailer park?

Someone said that to you?

Yeah. Bret did.

Well...

Who cares how you got in?
You're in.

And those silver spoons,
they feel threatened.

This Bret kid, he knows
you're better than him.

That you're gonna
leave him in the dust.

And you'll do it without the...

Without the privilege
or the fancy name.

But if you drop out now...

you're no better
than my old man.

If you hated him so much,

then why would you
name me after him?

It's my name, too, don't forget.

And yeah, I hate him,

but he's still my old man.

So it's got to count
for something, huh?

Also, uh...

Those books weren't from me.

Your grandad sent them
from wherever the hell he was.

I didn't tell you 'cause...

'Cause I'm still angry

at how he treated us.

He was a hard man,

and there was no love
lost between us,

but I got to give
the devil his due.

Those books you love...

were from him.

And you have no idea
where he is now?

No.

Do you want me to look for him?

No, I don't.

But I'll tell you
what I do want.

I want you to go back.

I want you to do
what my father never did,

what I never did.

Graduate high school.

Show those preppies

what it means to be a Jones man.

Bring honor to our name.

I'm quitting
the program, Charles.

But, Betty, you're a natural.

Yeah, that's the problem.

It's too easy for me.

I could identify every single
killer in your slideshow...

because I'm like them.

I have the same genes as them.

All the more reason for
you to stay in the program.

To make sense
of that part of yourself.

You couldn't understand,
Charles, okay?

- You just don't get it.
- I can.

And I do, Betty.

I have the genes, too.

In fact, it's why
I joined the FBI.

To control those impulses.

You have
the serial killer genes?

Yeah.

You can use this.

Harness this...

to keep the darkness in check.

I did.

Oh, that's amazing news.

Thank you so much, Governor,
I really appreciate it.

No, that's fine,
I'll pick her up myself.

Bye, now.

Sounds like you just
got some good news.

Yes, I did.

My mother's been away
for a while

and she's finally coming home.

Same as your father.

I'm sorry, do I know you?

No.

You do not.

But I'll tell you the same thing

I told the federal prosecutor.

That I'm a licensed
private investigator.

That I was hired by Hiram Lodge

to uncover any malfeasance
against him.

And that I can
unequivocally prove

that the federal prosecutor
colluded with you

to frame and bring
false charges against Hiram.

That's not true.

Yes, it is.

I have many recordings
of you two... plotting.

Including a conversation
you two had

at that booth over there,

discussing Pop Tate's subpoena.

You had my place bugged?

Yes. I did.

So, here's what happens next.

The federal prosecutor
has already told the judge

that she's dropping
the charges against Hiram,

thanks to...

information I provided.

Look.

Whatever Hiram's paying you,

I'll double it.

Nice try.

But that won't work with me.

You see, our father needed help,

someone he could trust.

So he had me come up from Miami.

I fix things.

That's what I do.

"Our father"?

I don't understand.

I'm Hiram's other daughter.

Hermosa.

He needed me.

So I came.

"Li'l Forsythe III."

Happy Birthday.

Sorry, I'm not there
to celebrate with you.

Never let anyone tell you
that you don't belong.

Love, Grandpa.

P.S. Trust few,

"and never let them take
anything from you."

Hiram, Hiram,
Alice Smith with RIVW.

Please, tell our viewers,
what are you feeling right now?

Well, I couldn't be happier
with the outcome.

And now that you've been
vindicated of all your crimes,

will you and your...

Daughter.

Be leaving Riverdale?

On the contrary,

I'm excited to fulfill
a lifelong dream of mine

and announce my candidacy
for mayor of Riverdale.

Sir, sir! Over here, sir.

I'm confused.

So we're not bailing on
your hot brother's FBI class?

I thought, based on
what happened to Caramel...

That was before
I got privileged information

that made me realize
that we don't actually know

anything about Charles.

Forget, "Is Charles gay
or straight?"

I'm interested in,
is he a serial killer or not?

I'm serious, Kevin.

The only places
I've ever seen him are Pop's,

my house, and the FBI office.

I mean, what does he do all day?

Where does he go?
Where does he live?

And, again,
why is he still in Riverdale?

I thought he was helping
out Jughead's dad on some cases.

What cases?

He's keeping secrets from me,
Kev, I know it.

That's why we have
to stay close to him.

We need to talk.

For too long you've been preying

on the youth of Riverdale.
That ends now.

It's time for you to book a
one-way bus ticket out of town.

I've got manpower.

The support of the people.

You...

whoever the hell you are,

don't.

Consider this
a declaration of war.

Leave town,

or the next time we meet,

you won't be driving away.

You won't even be walking.

That's a promise.

I'm not going anywhere!

You're a dead man, you hear me?

You're a dead man!

Mr. Chipping and I
have conferred

and decided on the theme

for our Baxter Brothers
writing competition.

Who's interested?

Jughead?

Oh, no.

I'm in...

and I'm winning.

And please, Mr. Chipping,
from here on,

you can call me
Forsythe, the Third.

It's after my grandfather.

Wonderful.

Then you, and your classmates,
will be challenged to devise

the perfect murder.

That's your theme.

Let the bloodbath begin.

Archie Andrews, Betty Cooper,
and Veronica Lodge,

you're under arrest

for the cold-blooded murder
of my son, Jughead Jones.