[narrator] Previously on Riverdale:
You know what I think, Carrot Top?
I think you've got a hero complex.
Who is Julian?
Julian was to be your triplet.
You had absorbed the third one.
The spirit of Julian is haunting Thistlehouse?
[Cheryl] What other explanation could there be?
[Hiram] Now that the trials are over, it's time to let bygones be bygones.
Veronica, I have invited your father back.
I can't believe you.
We were done with him.
I want to ask you about Grandpa. You know he was a writer?
My old man wasn't a writer.
He was a mean, mean drunk.
You two are trying to cover up something about Mr. Chipping's suicide.
-Or was it a murder? -You were there, Jones.
No one pushed him out that window.
What is this?
[Betty] Six hours of our house.
Why would somebody do that? Film it and then leave the evidence.
[Jughead] After a brief hiatus, Riverdale's Watcher in the 'burbs
had released his much-anticipated follow-up.
In the dead of night, a second round of voyeuristic videotapes
had been left on doorsteps across town.
Once again, VCRs were dusted off with dread.
And once again, they played hours upon hours
of footage of the viewer's home.
Only this time, the camera was much, much closer.
The implications were terrifying.
What was next for the Watcher, breaking and entering?
And as if those deliveries weren't unsettling enough,
colleges and universities had started sending out their first wave of envelopes.
Some thin, some thick.
-All life-changing. -[girl] Crazy.
Making it a particularly stressful time for Riverdale High seniors.
Which is why Principal Honey asked the school's guidance counselor,
Mrs. Burble, to offer extended office hours.
So, whatever anxiety the students were feeling,
they'd have a licensed professional to go to
for confidential comfort and/or advice.
Something, it turned out, many of us were long overdue for.
Hey, Mom, I'm gonna make some High Point. Do you want any?
What's wrong? Is everything okay?
You were so sweet when you were little, Elizabeth.
So innocent. When did you become a liar?
What are you talking about?
"Dear Ms. Elizabeth Cooper,
after careful review of your early-action application,
the Admissions Committee regrets to inform you
that we are unable to offer you a place at Yale University."
I didn't get in?
Wait, you opened my mail?
I thought to myself, "How could my Betty get rejected from college?
What has her so unfocused that it cost her her future?"
-So, I searched your bedroom. -What?
Do you know what I found hidden in the false bottom of your nightstand?
-Oh, my God, Mom. -You should be studying.
You should be focused. Instead, you are out of control.
Okay, that's it. This is the last straw.
We are not discussing this. We're not discussing anything.
You and I are not on speaking terms.
You have been invading my privacy for years, and it's over.
[knock on door]
Mrs. Burble, do you have a minute?
Mm! Yes. Ms. Cooper, come on in.
Please.
Mmm. Skit-Skat?
Oh. No, thanks.
I have-- I have a sweet tooth.
So, how can I be of help?
Mom?
Oh, we're in the middle of a session, Mrs. Cooper.
It's Ms. Smith.
So, you're stalking me now, too?
Shocking as it may seem, Betty, I didn't know that you would be here.
I came down to talk to Mrs. Burble myself.
To see if she can give me any insight on how to...
-talk to you. -This. This is what's bothering me.
Her control complex, her insane overreactions.
-This is my problem. -No. What her problem is,
she's been rejected from college because she's too busy having sex.
Is that what you associate with sexuality, Ms. Smith? Shortcomings?
Excuse me, Ms. Burble, I must have missed your doctorate on the wall
because I don't need a therapist.
Licensed psychologist, actually.
What Betty needs is an intervention
for this irresponsible disregard for her future.
That's interesting, I was gonna say that there were months,
or actually years' worth of psychotic parenting to unpack.
Clearly, there are a lot of feelings here.
Betty, would it be okay with you if your mother joined us?
Even if I said no, she would stay anyways.
Betty.
Do you hide things from your mother?
Well, yeah, of course, everyone does.
But--
-I mean, I learned from the best. -[scoffs]
-You feel she keeps secrets from you, too? -Since literally the day l was born.
Only when it's in her best interest.
Oh! Oh, so you joining a cult, that was in my best interest?
Not mentioning to me that you weren't actually brainwashed the whole time.
You were just undercover with the FBI, working with my long-lost half brother,
who I thought was dead.
That was in my best interest?
You're a child. I was protecting you.
Explain how giving away my college fund to the Farm was part of that.
That was before, when I was under the influence of Edgar.
How about when you didn't tell me that I had the serial-killer genes.
Or when you had Polly committed to the Sisters of Quiet Mercy
and didn't tell me where she was.
Or when you had me dragged off to that evil nun hellhole.
Because she did, Mrs. Burble. Where they force-fed me drugs.
But hey, but hey.
At least they were Fizzle Rocks and not birth control.
-Context is important here. -Because God forbid!
You ever realize that maybe I started taking birth control
because I don't wanna have a baby at 16 like you, or Polly?
I don't wanna be like the two of you,
pregnant and married to a murderer, or a cult leader, or both?
I'd hoped I'd raised you to be smarter than us.
And no offense, Mom, I am.
Being proactive is being smart.
You're acting so naive, like you didn't think I was having sex?
Jughead and I sleep in the same bed.
[Alice] She's too young to have sex.
-She doesn't know what's good for her. -You are so hypocritical.
I was fine taking care of myself when you abandoned me for the Farm.
Yet you keep treating me like a child.
Oh, so that's a crime now, a mother wanting to protect her child?
You've said that several times now.
"Betty's young. Betty's a child." Why do you think that is?
She is.
[stammers] Look, it's fine for me. I take her insults.
That's my cross to bear as a parent.
But the things that she's written in her diaries...
You read her diaries?
Yes, because she has no boundaries, no emotional respect, none.
How does that make you feel?
Like I'm filled with gunpowder
and I'm one "Elizabeth" away from exploding.
You need to stop invading my privacy
and accept the fact that I am becoming an adult.
You will always be my daughter, Elizabeth.
-And I am so, so worried about you. -But not for the right reasons, Mom.
Forget about college, sex and the serial-killer genes.
Think about everything that you have done to me.
That is what I'm going to be unpacking for the rest of my life.
So, you either... start treating me like I'm an adult,
or I will not be in your life.
Ms. Smith, Betty's education, her relationship, her behavior,
I think those things make you afraid.
Afraid that Betty is growing up.
That may even be why you gave away her college money.
Because if you can control her,
you can hold on to her childhood just a little bit longer.
Does that sound right?
It's just...
I've already lost two children.
First, Charles... then Polly.
And Betty...
Growing up, leaving for college.
Moving out, moving on.
-It just feels like I'm losing you, too. -Mom, that's what happens.
Kids grow up and they leave.
I can't be your only hope.
But I love you.
I love you, too. But that is not an apology.
That does not justify the horrible, unhealthy things that you have done.
How you keep suffocating me, and why me? Why are you doing this to me?
Because I love you.
But you love Polly, too.
She's in an asylum. She needs you. She needs help.
-Why can't you go do this to her? -Because I love you more.
I love you most.
[door opens, then closes]
Newton's Laws of Motion.
[echoing] Now, who can tell me...?
[Kevin] Archie.
Archie.
[louder] Archie.
I'm so sorry, Dr. Phylum.
Save it for Mrs. Burble. I'm not interested in your explanations.
I'm really sorry, Ms. Burble. I've been having...
trouble sleeping lately.
Maybe it's like insomnia.
No, it's okay, Archie. I'm not here to reprimand you.
I just want to talk.
Oh, okay.
-What about? -Well, for starters, college.
-You haven't applied to any. -Yeah, I'm not really interested.
I'm needed here in Riverdale.
To take over Andrews Construction?
No, to clean up the town.
Someone needs to step up, like my dad would have.
-He spent his whole life helping people. -Can we talk about him for a second?
How are you managing?
I try to carry on his legacy.
You've already done so much good.
You opened up a center for at-risk kids.
-That's not enough. -Why would you think that?
Ever since I started trying to help, things have gotten complicated.
I've messed things up, and I have to fix it, so no one else gets hurt.
Hurt?
Archie, I have to tell you...
If you admit to a crime, or tell me that you're putting yourself
or anyone else in danger, I am required to report it.
-I'm fine. -Are you?
Because you've missed a lot of football, where you excelled.
And those cuts and bruises on your hands are not from sports.
The truth is...
-I go out at night. -You mean cruising in Fox Forest?
What? No. I don't mean that. [chuckles]
I...
I put on a mask...
and I try to...
-help people. -I'm not sure I follow.
I'm a big comic-book fan.
Mr. Justice, the Comet, the Red Circle.
I really identify with them, you know?
Are you saying...
that you're having fantasies...
about acting like these comic book heroes?
Exactly.
Like, there's this dealer, Dodger.
He uses kids to do his dirty work. Kids.
-And the police can't do anything. -So, someone else has to stop him?
-Yes. -To protect the community?
-Yes. -A vigilante.
-No. -Who protects the vigilante?
-Who cares? -I don't read a lot of comics.
But doesn't the hero usually suffer a great tragedy
and then create their persona out of rage?
-Is that right? -Yeah, I guess so.
Doesn't that resonate with you?
Because everything that you've told me feels like it could be fueled
by grief-induced anger--
Like I said, Ms. Burble, I'm trying to help.
But to do it safely, we have to acknowledge and work on the anger.
Why?
I know I'm angry, Ms. Burble. I'm not an idiot.
Look at all the crappy things that have happened to me.
To my friends.
To my dad.
They make me angry.
You... talking to me like I'm a moron.
-That makes me angry. -Understandably.
And it hurts.
I hurt all the time.
And all I want to do is make sure no one else does.
But I screwed it up.
[Archie sobs]
My mom almost got shot in a drive-by.
She was held at gunpoint on Thanksgiving.
How is a guy supposed to...
To clean up the town and protect his loved ones
if he's putting them in the crosshairs?
So, what am I supposed to do?
Huh?
Theoretically?
The behavior you're discussing sounds like an addiction.
No, it's not.
Isn't it?
You're aware of negative consequences, but you're compelled anyway.
That's compulsive behavior.
Forget me going out at night.
Just running the center has made me a target.
Yeah. But you keep at it.
It's the appropriate and smarter way to channel your anger
and help those in need.
It feels like it's not enough.
Then why not enlist more volunteers?
Like me, or you can start an anonymous tip line to give you farther reach
so those people who are scared to talk to the police can report things.
I can't stress this enough, Archie.
Do not go out at night.
You could get hurt.
Your loved ones could get hurt.
-Mom, can we talk? -Oh, boy. What's wrong?
I don't wanna give up on my work at the community center.
Yeah, I know. I've made my peace with that.
But I can't keep putting you in danger.
And Dodger and his family are still out there.
And sooner or later, they'll come after me, so...
I'm moving out.
-Archie, no. -Mom, you don't have a choice.
I'm 18. I'm an adult.
I'm gonna move into the center, just for a while,
until Sheriff Jones catches Dodger and things cool off for a bit.
-Archie, you don't have to do that. -Yes, I do.
Their war is with me, not with you.
It's okay. I'll be okay.
You have reached the Riverdale Hotline.
If you wish to report a problem in your neighborhood, leave a message.
Anonymity is your choice. We're here to help.
And remember...
you're not alone.
[bell ringing]
[speaking indistinctly]
[Doris on PA] Cheryl Blossom, please report to Principal Honey's office.
And the War of the Red Roses rages on.
Good luck, babe.
So, wherefore are we rattling sabers today, Principal Honey?
Miss Blossom, do you know how many absences you've had this semester?
Twenty-six.
Need I remind you and the sorry lot of yams you call educators
that I have suffered numerous family deaths.
My mother disappeared, I am raising twin toddlers,
and I am the sole caregiver for my nana.
Yeah, well, it is for those reasons that I have decided
to put a certified adult in charge of the cheerleading squad.
Pause.
You're taking my Vixens away?
Mm.
I'll tell you what.
I will let Mrs. Burble interview you and make a recommendation.
But if she deems you psychologically unfit,
it's over.
So, Cheryl...
Would you like a Three Buccaneers?
I don't eat nougat, I don't take bribes,
and I don't talk to trade school flunkies about my feelings.
You know, Cheryl, the only way you get what you want,
your Vixens back, is if you talk to me.
About you.
Okay, then.
I have a rapturous girlfriend, total independence,
a 4.0, and amazing hair.
-Are we done? -Not quite.
Did you receive a videotape?
-How'd it make you feel? -[scoffs]
Please. I have felled multiple villains with my bow over the years.
I'm not afraid of some sad AV pervert with a camcorder older than your blazer.
Speaking of the last few years,
have you ever spoken to a professional about everything you've been through?
Your mother's abuse, your brother's murder,
your father's suicide,
your time in conversion therapy, and an organ harvesting cult.
-Your near-death experience in Sweet-- -That was an accident.
It'd be okay if you told me it wasn't.
Cheryl, you've endured lifetimes of trauma.
I can't imagine going through a single one, much less all.
And as a teenager? Unimaginable.
You are remarkably resilient.
It must be exhausting.
How have you been coping?
I talk to Jason.
I talk to my dead brother. That's how I cope.
Like prayer.
That's a very healthy way of dealing with grief.
No.
I...
go into the chapel...
in my house...
where my brother's body is...
and I talk to him.
And I think he answers me back.
I think...
maybe...
I've lost my mind and I don't know when it happened.
Was it when J.J. died?
Was it when I fell through the ice?
Have I always been this way?
Fractured.
In the tomb, when you're speaking with Jason,
how far away are you?
I usually sit across the room.
What does it matter?
What's the difference between that and people visiting a gravesite
to talk to their loved ones?
Or people who have urns on their mantel?
That ash...
those rotting bodies...
they don't talk back.
I'm not sure Jason does either.
I think you want him to.
But you're not crazy, Cheryl.
You miss your brother.
But missing Jason doesn't explain the other goings-on
in the phantasmagoria that is Thistlehouse.
What's happening in this Thistlehouse?
I am being haunted by a ghost.
Ghosts don't exist.
Your life may be defined by gothic tropes,
but you're being haunted by grief,
by guilt over your family's misfortune, your brother's death.
Brothers. Plural.
I'm confused. Is this a metaphorical brother?
No, you mallard.
I had a triplet, Julian,
whom I absorbed in the womb and has resurfaced as a doll
that's moving around my house, causing mischief.
I've thrown him away, buried him, encircled him in salt,
and he keeps coming back.
Because he's angry. He's vengeful.
Julian's driving you insane?
Of course. He's a Blossom!
So...
do you still maintain that I'm not mad as a hatter,
even though I'm talking to taxidermy and being tormented by a devil doll?
I don't think you're being haunted, Cheryl.
And I don't think you've lost your mind.
Then what's... wrong with me? [sobbing]
I think someone is trying to make you think
that you've lost your mind.
-I think you're being gaslit. -Like...
Ingrid Bergman?
In fact, yes.
What sounds most logical to you?
That the evil spirit of an absorbed fetus is inhabiting an anthropomorphic doll?
Or that a human being is moving that doll around your house when you're not there?
But Julian...
We can find out the truth about Julian's existence
with a swab of your saliva.
You can't have any of my bodily fluids, you succubus.
It's for a chimerism lab.
A test that shows whether a person absorbed a fetus in the womb
by analyzing if they have one set of DNA or two.
If I were to guess, you aren't going to test positive.
You mean to tell me this test has existed this whole time?
Mm-hm. I'm going to give you the number of a doctor I know...
who can perform the test.
I'll give her a heads-up that she might be expecting you.
So...
what about my precious Vixens?
Can I keep them?
As a counselor, I think you've done A-plus work.
As an administrator,
Cheryl, I'm sorry.
I'm going to recommend to Principal Honey that he bring in a coach.
To supervise the Vixens,
while you focus on you... for a little while.
[indistinct chatter]
[softly] Shh. There she is.
[muffled scream]
[sobbing]
[Hiram] Mija? Can you come here a minute?
What do you want, Daddy?
To tell me about another secret love child?
No. I need your keen eye.
-Is it centered? -Mm-hm.
Maravillosa, don't you think?
The first bottle of Lodge Rum I ever produced.
And second to you
and my diploma from Harvard University,
my proudest achievement.
I'm late for school.
Oh, speaking of Cambridge, didn't you apply to Harvard early action?
I should be hearing anon.
Now if you'll excuse me, microeconomics waits for no woman.
[Kevin] Game theory is all about strategy.
And yeah, it's big in econ, but it's also been applied to war.
[cell phone buzzing]
Oh, my God, sorry, I have to take this.
Good afternoon, Dean Kingsley.
To what do I owe the pleasure?
[Kingsley] Miss Luna, I know it's unorthodox,
but as Dean of Admissions, I wanted to give you a personal heads-up.
Congratulations on your acceptance to Harvard's class of 2024.
Thank you so much, Dean Kingsley. August can't come soon enough.
Indeed. Now, will you give my regards to your father?
And, please, thank him for the rum he sent. Veritas.
Son of a--
[Burble] Butter Flinger?
I think I know why you're here.
Are there any updates I need to make to your file?
Regarding, say... Harvard?
Oh.
Uh, yes, actually, I got in.
Congratulations, Veronica.
If I'm not mistaken, that was your dream school.
It was.
Now it's my nightmare.
Aren't you proud of this milestone achievement?
No, I didn't "achieve" Harvard.
Once again, my father meddled in my affairs,
and apparently, bought my way into their ivy-covered walls with rum,
threats, money, charm, who knows?
It's humiliating and infuriating.
Because he didn't think you can do it on your own?
No.
Because now I'll never know if I could do it on my own.
Is it possible he was actually trying to just help?
My father has a bank vault for a heart.
He did this to prove he can and always will control me.
And do you feel this control is him punishing you for something?
Was King Lear's ego gossamer thin? Yes.
This is what he does, he fake-sold me two businesses,
and then conned me into running them-- Successfully, might I add.
--then charged me protection.
He lured my boyfriend into crime, then tried to kill him in front of a crowd
at an illegal boxing match.
He had my mother arrested.
And the pièce de résistance?
He brought his secret, illegitimate daughter
back to Riverdale to try and make me jealous.
Well, blow, winds, and crack your cheeks
because Veronica Luna is no one's Cordelia.
Are you jealous of your sister?
Absolutely not.
She can have him. They deserve each other.
Yet I'm sensing animosity.
Sensing?
I despise that man. I want nothing to do with him.
But you willingly live at home?
-Well, yes, but-- -You obediently come when he calls you.
Veronica, I don't think this is hate.
It's obsession.
You and your father are obsessed with each other.
You're diagnosing me with daddy issues?
How very Intro to Psych.
I'm saying,
your connection goes far beyond that of a typical father-daughter.
It's primal, cosmic.
He sees you as an extension of himself,
which is why he'll never fully let you go.
And you see him as your ideal future self.
No, that's baseless.
I have no desire to become my father.
You're a straight-A student. You run two flourishing businesses.
You just got admitted into Harvard.
I mean, maybe that's your base resentment.
He is an abjectly bad person.
I have zero respect for him.
And yet he has instilled in you a drive
that is perhaps the reason why you are so successful.
He's taken more than he's ever given.
My old friend Dr. Freud
has two diagnoses that seem pertinent to your situation.
The Oedipus and Electra complexes.
I've always seen the drama in my life as Shakespearean,
not the stuff of Greek tragedy, but, please, enlighten me.
You're locked in a constant battle for identity with your father.
You're driven by compulsive forces like love, sexuality, obsession.
I'm not stabbing my eyes out for any man.
Acknowledging that the tether exists is the first step towards breaking it.
Electra murdered Agamemnon. What are you saying, Mrs. Burble?
Obviously, I'm not suggesting murder. But rather to cut ties with him.
For good.
He's trolling you. So, why not ghost him?
No offense, Mrs. Burble, but your "teen speak" could use an update.
As could your advice. I've tried that repeatedly.
Well, it only works if you actually want to walk away.
Do you?
Yes.
Well, obviously, I think you should say yes to Harvard.
But moving forward, I recommend that no matter what,
you do not engage with your father on his terms.
You may be his hubris, but he can't be yours.
Or else he will be your downfall.
I really, really want to go to Harvard.
You're locked in a dance of death with your father, Veronica.
So, my last question is this:
Who's leading?
Him or you?
[DuPont] You're late.
Apparently I'm not the only one. Don't we have seminar today?
I dismissed the others to continue writing.
You haven't even started.
Yeah, I know I'm supposed to turn in pages this week.
You were offered an opportunity here, Mr. Jones.
Frankly, you have squandered it.
I've been told you haven't even applied to any colleges yet.
Okay, I'm sorry. My plate's been stacked.
I can still apply for regular admission.
And I can't imagine any teachers here writing a letter of recommendation
for such an apathetic student.
You might want to beg the indulgences of your teachers at your public alma mater
vis-a-vis your future matriculations.
How long does it usually take to get a transcript?
Well, I'm sure Ms. Bell is going as fast as she can.
But while we wait, why don't we just have a little chat?
Uh, no. I have a hard Holden Caulfield stance on phony small talk. Thanks.
Do you often use fictional references to make sense of your situation?
Yes. Yes, I do.
I heard about your teacher, Mr. Chipping.
Public suicide, that's, uh, tragic.
He didn't kill himself, he was murdered. By suicide, I guess.
-Who knows what they're capable of? -Who?
Uh, DuPont and the students, they convinced him to jump.
Because I'm on the cusp of bringing down their empire.
-Which empire? -Baxter Brothers.
My grandfather created them.
As in inspired the characters?
No. As in he wrote the first book.
And then DuPont stole the franchise out from under him.
Now, he's got us competing to ghostwrite the next one, but what's the point?
It's rigged. He's a thief.
He has a grudge against anyone with the name Forsythe.
Starting with my grandfather, the first.
Or you have a persecution complex.
Are you paranoid? Chasing windmills?
So, you have a reasonable excuse to neglect your real work, writing?
Is that your advice after everything I said? "Just do your homework, kid."
Well, I'm wondering if the real reason why you're so focused
on proving that the Baxter Brothers belongs to your family
is because you're afraid.
Are you insecure about your own talent as a writer?
I won't be psychoanalyzed by someone
who doesn't know the phrase "tilting at windmills."
It's about recognition.
It's about not letting some ascot steal my family's achievements.
My grandfather could have been Gatsby rich.
You know what he was instead?
He was a mean drunk who beat my father in a trailer.
But from what you're describing,
this investigation is trying to get those very things you claim to hate.
An inheritance, status, prestige.
-I'm not trying to be like them. -No, clearly.
Better not to try at all.
Fulfill their expectation that you're a bum,
then claim that they didn't give you a chance. That is the easy path.
Now, your father, on the other hand, he took the harder one.
Good. The "Designated Dad" part of this lecture.
He's a sheriff now. Came from a poor household with an abusive father
and did the work to transform himself.
And sacrificed so you could succeed.
I bet he was very supportive of you going to Stonewall Prep.
He practically dragged me there.
And you repay him by going on this quest to prove
that the man that caused him immeasurable pain is some kind of wronged hero.
How do you think that makes him feel?
Maybe instead of lionizing your grandfather...
you should try seeing him through your father's eyes.
I won't think you're less smart if you admit that I'm right.
You're right.
My poor dad.
I'm so selfish.
No. You're just a high school senior from Riverdale.
You're busy.
Maybe I should, uh...
put down the conspiracy theories and just do my homework.
-You're underpaid, aren't you? -And overqualified.
Which means I don't expect anyone to change habits overnight.
If you're going to see this mystery of the Baxter Brothers authorship through,
don't fall back on conjecture or righteous anger.
Do the work, you know?
Investigate.
Now let's see about those transcripts, huh?
Oh, and just take the rest of it. You're my last one today.
Hey, boy. I miss seeing you around the house, typing away on--
Oh, what's all this?
I love you and I appreciate everything that you've done for me. I--
I don't think I say that enough.
Elizabeth, perfect timing. The boys are out back and the casserole's almost ready.
Set the table?
Why are you looking at me like that? Come on, chip-chop.
I love you most, too, Mom.
[machine beeps]
[beeps]
[boy] Hi, um, my name is, I don't wanna say,
but I live in the apartment building in the north end of Sketch Alley
and the man who lives down the hall, I think he hits my mom.
And I-- I think she needs help. Please, I need help.
[machine beeps]
[oldies music playing over speakers]
Tee-Tee, I got my results.
From Highsmith College? I thought you were already accepted.
No, silly lovebug, my chimerism test results.
Promise me no matter what's in this envelope, you're here for me?
Cheryl, I don't know what you're talking about,
but I love you and nothing will ever change that.
♪ And since she's been away ♪
♪ I've never had a happy day ♪
Negative. Negative! Tee-Tee, I'm 100 percent Cheryl Marjorie Blossom.
Babe, I love seeing you this happy, but what does that mean?
It means that Burble was right. Fact, I'm not crazy. I'm not haunted.
Maybe there once was a Julian in my mother's mortal womb,
but I didn't absorb him.
That's amazing.
But how do we explain the weirdness around Thistlehouse?
Mrs. B enlightened me to the realization
that most likely someone is trying to drive me mad.
But once I find out who this depraved monster is,
I will unleash a wrath upon them so wicked,
they will wish they had been consumed in their mother's womb.
[Hiram] Veronica!
What's the matter, Daddy?
Why did I get a call from Dean Kingsley informing me
that you turned down your acceptance to Harvard?
-Please tell me he's sorely mistaken. -There's been no mistake.
I won't be a Crimson come fall.
Besides, I look better in Yale blue anyway.
[groans]
Are you insane?
No one rejects Harvard. It was your dream.
One of my dreams, yes. But then you ruined it for me.
Walking through those ivory towers,
I'd be letting you dictate the rest of my life.
I'd graduate, get my MBA from Oxford,
run a Fortune 500, make the cover of Fives, obviously.
The next 20 years would be mapped out by you.
I'm finished living your version of my life.
You don't get to own my future, so consider the ties that bind cut.
Really?
And what do you think you'll do now, mija?
Walk away from me? [scoffs]
You've never been able to do that.
You're right. It would appear we're locked in a twisted Greek tragedy.
But my guidance counselor told me that there is one way to end this.
I have to kill you.
Don't worry, I wouldn't stoop to your level to murder. No.
I'm going to kill you on the battlefield you cherish above all others.
Business.
I'm going to take you on head-to-head and destroy you.
Just like Oedipus and Electra did to their daddies.
And when I'm done,
I will bury your battered and beaten carcass, and be free of you.
Once and for all.
This bottle I cracked open?
It's a lot better than the swill you've been making recently, Daddy.
But my rum will be far superior.
These are really great, Jug.
You really captured the essence of the Baxter Brothers,
but you made it your own.
I caught up on all my college applications.
I wanna show you something.
This is an article I found from 2002.
[Betty] "Novelist Theodore Weisel drowns in yachting accident."
Why does he sound familiar?
He was in the Quill and Skull literary society with my grandfather.
I tracked down all the original members.
They could tell you something about what your granddad and DuPont were like then.
But guess what? Theodore was not the only one who suffers an accident.
This one is from 1978.
Drove off a bridge.
This one's from 1994. Mechanical failure.
In fact, DuPont and my MIA grandfather
are the only ones in the society who are not dead.
Which begs the question, are these all horrible, suspicious accidents?
Or murders?
Jug, if you're right, you need to transfer.
I can't.
-We're so close to this. I can feel it. -Yeah.
That's what I'm afraid of.
Are you sure these are the three suspects you saw that night?
It's definitely them.
Those are the kids we saw kill Jughead. s you saw that night?