Ringer, S1 Ep10 – That’s What You Get For Trying To Kill Me

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Back in Wyoming, the two men are walking through the warehouse. Machado starts talking about how it’s been two years that they’ve been after Bodaway Macawi. He didn’t like Jimmy when he first met him.

Machado confronts Jimmy

"Hmm, 'Bull.' And the other guy is 'Matador.' Could there be a connection?"

Jimmy says it was mutual. Jimmy is walking behind Machado, by the way, which will be important in a minute. Machado says he did some research, though, and found out that Jimmy had taken down scum like Macawi before. “Yeah, my old friend Silas Turnbull,” Jimmy says. Note that last name. “Big guy, right?” Vic adds. Turnbull apparently made his living trafficking in underage sex slaves to Wyoming. Ugh. The lowest of the low. Machado continues the story: that Jimmy came to Turnbull with a warrant, but Turnbull charged at him. “You just dropped him with a single shot,” Machado says. “[Turnbull] had a nickname some of his buddies used to call him.”

“Bull,” Jimmy supplies. Machado points out the connection between “bull” and “Turnbull”, in case we’re too dumb to get it ourselves, and says, “You know what they call guys who put down bulls?” He turns around, and Jimmy is pointing the gun at his face. “Matadors,” Vic smiles. Jimmy says, “I knew you’d figure it out eventually.” He continues that he didn’t want it to come to this, to which Vic says confidently, “Oh, no, it won’t. See, I’ve had two agents tailing you ever since we spoke this morning.” Way to not be stupid, Machado! Jimmy thinks he’s bluffing, but in fact two agents with very large guns step out of the shadows, aiming directly at Jimmy. Jimmy puts down his gun. The triumphant Vic says, “You’ve got a lot of questions to answer — starting with what really happened the night that Bridget Kelly ran.” I would like to know that, too, since it seems implausible to me that Jimmy would be on Macawi’s payroll as well as Siobhan/Charlie’s. If he knows where Bridget is, wouldn’t he tell Macawi?

Juliet cries

There is no way this can end well.

Back in NYC. Juliet is lying down on her bed in her way-too-clean room (a spoiled teenage girl whose room is spotless? I think not) when she gets a call on her laptop. It’s Andrea. Juliet wipes her eyes and greets her friend, who says, “I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.” “I’m fine,” Juliet says unconvincingly. Andrea doesn’t buy it. “What happened earlier, after I left you with Mr. C?” she wants to know. Juliet tries to say she doesn’t want to talk about it, but when Andrea suggests that it might make her feel better and swears to God she won’t tell anyone, Juliet finally spills the beans: “We had sex.” She doesn’t sound or look happy about it. “I didn’t want to.” This confuses Andrea, who points out how she was throwing herself at him. “No, you don’t understand,” Juliet says, crying. “He forced himself on me!” Oh dear. I don’t like this plotline at all. If she’s telling the truth, I will have to start hating Mr. Logan and comparing him to his slimeball of a murdering rapist father on Veronica Mars. If she’s lying, then she’s crying rape, which presents its own set of problems.

John drives up to what does look like a storage facility. He unlocks the door to his unit, and then opens his trunk. But Gemma’s not in it! She’s kicked in the back seat like a pro. John looks up, just in time to be smacked in the face with a crowbar. A dirty, bloodstained Gemma says, “That’s what you get for trying to kill me!” Go Gemma! Unfortunately, John is still conscious, though dazed. As she looks through his pockets, he asks, “How are you even alive?” “You’ve got bad aim,” she answers. I’m glad she’s alive and all, but he was aiming at her from two feet away while she was lying tied up in his trunk. Bad aim, indeed.

Poor Gemma

Bye, Gemma. I'll miss you.

Gemma pulls out his phone to call 911, but of course there is no service in this spot. Almost crying with frustration (and exhaustion, no doubt), Gemma asks where his keys are. John does not help her out. Finally, she crawls up toward the driver’s seat. The keys are in the ignition. As she’s about to reach them, there’s the sound of a gun being cocked behind her. “Why are you doing this to me?” Gemma wails. “Don’t blame me — blame Siobhan,” John says. Gemma, not looking at him, says, “You mean Bridget.” “No, I mean Siobhan,” John corrects her. “That bitch is still alive.” Unlike Gemma, who gets shot a second after this revelation. Sadness.

John is about to drag Gemma’s body into his storage unit when he’s stopped by a gun at his own head. It’s … Siobhan! Real Siobhan, I mean, as evidenced by her black eye. John is quite surprised to see her. Siobhan makes him hand over his gun. “I told you not to kill Gemma,” she growls. John doesn’t think she’s going to follow through and kill him, since if she were a killer she would have killed Bridget instead of getting her to “take the fall for [her]”. Siobhan’s hand shakes and she lowers her weapon. “Besides, you need me,” John says smugly. “I don’t,” Siobhan returns. “You’re a glorified babysitter who got way too expensive.” Ah yes, it would be money that brought you back stateside, wouldn’t it? Then John makes a grab for the gun, and Siobhan shoots him in the head. Bye, psycho. Siobhan bends down and puts the gun into John’s hand. She looks at Gemma sadly before walking away.

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