Chorus

Hello, Jean-Pierre.

Herv Laroche, Qubec Police.

Your lawyer called.

You have something to say?

What can I do for you?

You can talk to me.

This is a tough one.

What?

It's a big weight to unload.

If you want, we can forget it.

- No.

Don't go.

It's been on my mind a while.

It happened in a park in Cte-des-Neiges.

At a baseball field.

I was alone.

I had a bag full of baseballs.

I was hitting them into the net.

One by one.

It was a metal net.

The sound when I hit the balls

must've attracted him.

He was sitting alone in the bleachers

watching me.

When I'd hit all the balls,

I started picking them up.

One by one.

That's when I sensed him there.

He helped me pick them up.

I asked him to play,

he said he didn't know how.

I said I'd teach him.

He nodded yes.

We started playing,

but he wasn't very good at baseball.

I took my time, showed him how to pitch.

Did you play long?

Eventually the kid got bored.

He stopped trying to even catch the balls.

He watched them go by.

I went over to him.

He was crying.

I asked why he was crying.

He said he'd lost his key.

The key to his bicycle lock.

I checked his bike.

I tried to force the lock,

but nothing doing.

The kid was real upset.

I felt it.

How did you know?

I'm sorry! dunno.

I feel it.

I couldn't help him.

I didn't say a word.

I went back to picking up my balls.

I knew he was watching me.

I pretended not to see him

and went to my car.

When I was inside,

I lowered the window.

I looked at him.

He was looking at me too.

I threw him a ball.

It landed at his feet.

We eyed each other.

He wasn't sure what to do. Me neither.

But I asked him if he wanted a lift home.

The kid got into my car.

If he hadn't got in,

I'd have let him leave.

When was this?

Ten years ago.

I've never talked about it.

To anybody.

How old did you say he was?

Eight.

His name was Hugo.

Come get me.

She's cute.

She's beautiful.

- Thanks, lrne.

I'm 40.

Time does not heal.

I was asked if I had dependent children.

For taxes.

I had to say no.

I should've said yes.

I never talk about him unless Im asked.

I don't talk about him.

That's the way it is.

But he's inside me.

When I talk about him,

people are uneasy. Even now.

Time does not heal.

The more the years go by,

the more it's there inside me.

It's not something I wanted.

You don't realize.

I want it to go away.

But each day

the dark hole in me deepens.

Life does that.

A sound,

a voice,

a smell,

award...

It comes back.

I have no control.

I'd like to talk about him all the time.

But I can't.

Grief frightens people.

They avoid you like the plague.

Or play dumb.

Like nothing happened.

And that... is also unbearable.

I eat two meals a day.

I'm an adult, I can get by.

But not the kids.

Breakfast and dinner aren't enough.

It's not enough.

Mom

Irne, it's your mother.

- Hi.

Did I wake you?

Can I come see you tomorrow?

What's up?

Christophe, are you OK?

Yeah.

Yeah, it's nothing.

Like something to drink'?

I have a bit of juice left.

No, thanks. I'm not thirsty.

How's the choir?

Fine. We're about to record.

Later today.

What?

Medieval polyphony.

Motels.

Lovely.

Singing's good for you.

I rarely mention it, maybe I should...

But the fact you never

gave up your career is...

I don't know how to say it.

Reassuring?

Yes, right.

I'm not a little girl, Mom.

You'll always be my little girl.

I gave you your first

music theory lessons.

It would've been hard

if you'd left like him.

I thank God every day you didn't.

I sometimes think of Christophe,

in Mexico.

You got over him.

Mom, stop.

- It's true.

You at least moved on.

Naturally.

You were so young.

- I'll never move on.

Did you after Dad died?

You're early this month.

This is why you came, right?

I have to go.

Thank you for the check.

You think.

You think you're alone.

You think of a name.

You're surprised.

It's the first that comes to mind.

You think it's a dream.

A dream.

Just a dream.

But somethings different.

What do you think, Irne?

It's in 4/3 time.

Irne?

You have to leave.

- What?

Come with me.

- Why?

It's serious. It's your son.

You think.

You think you're alone.

You think of a name.

You're surprised.

It's the first that comes to mind.

You think it's a dream.

A dream, just a dream.

But somethings different.

Yes?

Christophe?

It's Irne.

They found Hugo.

They found Hugo buried in an empty lot.

Christophe?

They're wrong.

They tested the DNA.

Who did it?

A man in prison.

He confessed.

Confessed what?

- I can't tell you like this.

A pedophile.

He's sewing a 15-year-sentence.

You have to come back to Montral.

I want you here.

I can't face this alone.

What'll you do?

I'll come. As quickly as I can.

Call me at this number

when you arrive.

We spoke m Antonin Perron,

your son's friend.

He played with Hugo in the park.

Then Antonin went home.

He knows he has to come home.

- Why?

He gets tutoring in math after school.

Does your son have any other friends?

He's the only one we really know.

Has he ever run away?

No, never.

We found these things

under the park bleachers.

Does Hugo play baseball?

He's not very athletic.

He doesn't eat much.

- He never has.

Did you notice anything

different in his behavior'?

Stress?

Anxiety?

Insomnia?

Was there a fight'?

Do you have a photo of him?

- At home. I can send it to you.

I'll take a description.

What's his height?

Four feet.

Weight?

60, 70 lbs.

Hair?

Brown, almost black.

Eyes?

Brown.

It's Dad.

Are you OK?

- Yes.

Are you mad at me?

Are you in pain?

Will I speak to you again?

- Yes.

The morning Hugo left for school...

It was a normal day.

He sat in his t-shirt,

tying his laces.

After, I just slumped on my chair.

Hugo had the strength to die.

I was so much weaker.

Christophe arrives tomorrow.

Well, today, given the time now.

He asked the name of the man

who killed Hugo.

I didn't tell him.

I'm scared he's coming only

to resume his manhunt.

Not because of Hugo.

But maybe he's changed in 10 years.

We were in our early 30s.

We sensed that Hugo was dead.

Now we know he was murdered.

You don't pack much.

Enough.

A shod visit?

Seven days.

Sit down, you must be tired.

S it.

Sit down.

How do you spend your days there?

Odd jobs.

I don't know how to say this.

- Dad...

You don't have to talk.

All these years.

A long time.

You've changed.

Are you angry with me?

How can you ask that?

I was angry that you left,

but I've had time to think.

I understand you.

Do you blame me for Hugo?

- No.

Never.

Gabrielle, it's Marc.

Hello, Marc.

I wanted to call yesterday,but...

Can I talk to her?

Irne's still asleep.

She needs to rest.

I understand.

They talked about Hugo on the news.

They don't waste any time.

Reporters keep calling.

We tell them it's none of their business.

Will she be able to get over this?

Yes, she'll get through it.

She's built solid.

I'll tell her you called.

Thanks.

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