I was one of many who watched Parts Three and Four on demand immediately after the release of Parts One and Two. Needless to say, considering the exhausting breadth of information imparted to us in those four hours, I was on my third rewatch in my attempts to analyze these two segments and parse out what’s important, what’s not and how things might connect. Without further adieu, let’s begin.
I find it highly appropriate that the name of the Twin Peaks theme is Falling, because that’s where we pick back up with Dale Cooper at the beginning of Part 3, Call for Help. Falling through the starry void though purple dust and into a singular construction situated in the middle of an eternal sea. Purple is definitely the colour of this episode – we get a lot of it in this place, both inside and out.
Personally, I find the inside more interesting. Cooper creeps in through the windows. A strange eyeless woman (Credited as Naido) in a magenta velvet dress greets Cooper almost frantically. It’s a sister dimension to the Red Room, I think, because it’s not backwards talk but almost like a skipping record. The effect they chose here is phenomenal. I love how we hear noises, but no words, love how actions are taken, backtracked, repeated, as if the urgency felt in these scenes is futile. Maybe Dale can understand her, and maybe he can’t. It’s impossible to know. And, really, the less we know for certain, the more fun this show gets.
She’s warning him of something, or trying to explain something to him, that much, I think is obvious. She touches his face, which is her version of ‘seeing’ him, like any other blind person might well do. And then, the banging starts. Dale is startled, and Naido puts a finger to her lips – be quiet.
Whatever is banging on the door (? is it a door? It’s hard to tell) it is not something good. Naido is very obviously afraid of it. For a minute it almost seems like Dale might get up and go answer the door, but Naido keeps him from doing so. And then he spots the circuit, which Naido also seems to warn him against, because as he stands, she tries desperately to pull him back down, arms out and searching even after he stands and walks away.
We know from TWIN PEAKS: Fire Walk With Me that the Lodge Dwellers have something to do with electricity. These following scenes solidify that for me. The number on the circuit is 15, which is crucial. As Cooper nears the circuit, a low electrical humming sound is present, and Dale lurches away a bit just in time for Naido to find him and attempt to pull him away once more. She gestures wildly, as if telling him to keep away from the circuit at first, and then, it looks to me like she draws her hand across her throat in the universal symbol of ‘stop’, ‘death’, or ‘cut it out’. Either way, she’s not happy with Dale’s proximity to the thing. Her unintelligible noises are frantic and the banging starts up again, though Dale’s attention is firmly focused on the circuit.
Naido takes him by the hand and drags him away. She’s headed towards another door and beckons him to follow her. The climb the ladder, the banging continuing on even when they reach the roof, where they are no longer surrounded by an endless sea, but rather by the starry void again. Perhaps exiting the roof means going through another dimensional portal, or perhaps not. The metal structure just hangs in space not floating, not under any type of propulsion, just there, as if situated on top of a glass ceiling.
Once they’re both standing on the roof, Naido seems to explain something to Dale, and he looks concerned in contrast to her determination. In this shot, we have an excellent view of Dale’s lapel pin, which is black with some sliver or gold. Naido then reached around
and pulls a lever of some type, which seems to power down the station, violently, as Naido is electrocuted in the process and flung from the station to fall infinitely through the starry void. Dale watches, distraught, as she falls. The banging has stopped.
Dale looks out into the void, and, when we get another close up on him, his tie pin has changed! It’s now a starburst shape inset, with more gold or silver instead of black. This alteration is very, very obvious and must serve some purpose or another. In the void, the massive, transparent image of Major Garland Briggs’ head appears, and he speaks the words ‘Blue Rose’ before fading out of existence. Notable here is the fact that he speaks backwards.
Tentative, Dale turns around slowly and makes his way back below to the room from which he came. Once back down the ladder, his tie pin is back to the darker one. Strange that this should be shown so prominently. Which, I don’t think it would be if it wasn’t important. Again, it suggests something greater than what we are seeing on the screen. The appearance of Garland Briggs, perhaps, has something to do with it. I’m not really sure. I wonder, too, about the patterns on each pin. The first pin is difficult to discern but it appears to contain two shapes that make some sort of triangular image. The second pin, the starburst, is much brighter and shinier. Briggs is associated with the White Lodge, with enlightenment. A starburst symbol would make sense in that context. In any case, I digress.
One final note on this sequence: again, though I’ve not seen Eraserhead, I did a little searching and there are a LOT of Eraserhead parallels for these scenes, but I don’t feel qualified to get into those here.
When Dale returns to the fireplace room, there’s someone sitting on the couch again, but it’s not Naido.He then glances to the circuit. Where the metal numbers, 15, used to be, it now reads 3. Now, if you’ll recall, 315 is Dale’s room number from the Great Northern, and I think that this is deliberate. His attention is drawn back to the girl sitting on the couch. She turns her head and it’s…Ronette? It is indeed Ronette’s actress, Phoebe Augustine, but she’s credited as “American Girl”. What this means is anyone’s guess. Obviously, Ronette had interaction with Lodge Spirits, BOB in particular, but what she’s doing in the fireplace room is beyond me. Maybe it’s just a spirit appearing to Dale in Ronnette’s form, or Dale’s subconscious placing Ronette’s visage on this being.
She turns her head to look at him, but looks away, back to the fireplace and then lifts her wrist, on which she is wearing a watch. The time read 2:52, and then changes to 2:53. “253. Time and time again,” said the Evolution of the Arm. So here we have our first answer. The Arm was referencing this exact moment.
The lamp on the table by the circuit goes on. The electro-static crackling is back. We zoom in on the circuit to the part that looks most like an outlet. And the scene automatically changes over to DoppelCoop, whose car clock reads 2:53. Then, we get a shot of his lighter port, which then cuts back to Dale walking closer and closer to the circuit. He gets a bit too close and receives a strange sort of shock. The American Girl, in backwards speak, tells him “When you get there, you will already be there,” He walks towards the circuit again, gets shocked more strongly this time and steps away, comically wide-eyed and disoriented. (Props to Kyle MacLachlan here, I just loved his reactions!) The banging on the door starts again. “You’d better hurry. My mother’s coming,” Says the American Girl.
Yikes. Talk about an oddly terrifying statement. Whatever her ‘mother’ is, I don’t want to meet it, and neither does Dale, because he takes a step forward again and allows himself to be sucked through the outlet in a haze of smoke, white light and electro-static noise. Of particular note – Dale’s shoes don’t make it through the outlet with him, instead falling with a thump to the group in the fireplace room.
Long story short here, that circuit is where Dale should come through back to the real world, just as DoppelCoop should be returned to the Red Room, but that’s not going to happen. Instead, we meet Dougie.
Dougie Jones is a manufactured double (in looks only, and even then, there’s some disparaging differences) of Dale Cooper, if Dale Cooper was 62 in the seventies, overweight, had an awful toupee and a shitty, pastel fashion sense. He tells the woman he’s just had sex with, Jade, that his arm has gone numb, and we see that he’s wearing the Owl Cave Ring. She leaves to shower and he undergoes the same sort of disorienting pain that DoppelCoop is currently experiencing. He, like DoppelCoop throws up a mixture of creamed corn and engine oil, and probably some blood, but he does so first, and while on the floor (only wearing socks, by the way) immediately in front of an outlet and the hazy appearance of the red room curtains. Almost like an offering, which would be consistent with the usual analysis of Garmonbozia to date.
Dougie exists, in my opinion, purely to allow DoppelCoop to stay in our world, even after our Cooper has been ejected from the other dimension. He’s, in essence, a spare Cooper. I am certain that he had no idea that he was ‘manufactured’, no idea of his true purpose, no idea whatsoever that he has always been little more than a place holder. He’s like an automaton, designed for one purpose, but lacking the self awareness to know what that purpose is, instead building (an admittedly shitty) life for himself in the meantime. He wears the ring only to tie him to the Red Room, so that the switcheroo can take place. He’s a decoy, a deception, and nothing more.
So despite the fact that it’s 2:53, Twenty-five years later, and Dale Cooper is returning to the real world, DoppelCoop get his wish and plays the system in order to stay here at the same time. The American Girl’s words ring true. Dale’s returned, but he’s already there in the form of DoppelCoop.
Back to Dougie and the outlet. He finishes throwing up, and the Red Room accepts him in DoppelCoop’s place, with a resounding bang. The curtains vanish. Dougie, in the Red Room, continues to be absolutely obtuse. Phillip Gerard tells him, more for the audience’s sake than Dougie’s, that he’s manufactured, for a purpose which he believes has already been fulfilled. I would have to agree. Dougie’s arm begins to shrink, the Owl Cave Ring falls from his finger and his head pops out of existence, in it’s place a burning black and purple flame. From that flame, a floating golden ball appears that resolves itself and Dougie’s form – clothes and all – into a white headish thing that reminds me of the extra-dimensional being from the Box. That doesn’t last however, as it solidifies into a small gold metallic ball in a puff of smoke and that same electric noise. Throughout, Phillip Gerard hides his face. In some ways, Dougie reminds me of a golem, minus the clay, instead, created out of gold, perhaps? Gold seems as though it might be a pertinent theme in the Return.
Phillip Gerard retrieves both the ring and the ball of gold and we skip back to the room from which Dougie was snatched. Dale Cooper manifests from the outlet and into the room, missing two things of note – his shoes, as seen previously, and the lapel pin.
My theory? Dale’s shoes and lapel pin don’t make it with him because Dougie isn’t wearing any shoes (or a lapel pin). Otherwise, they are dressed similarly, slack, socks, button up shirt, and suit coat. By why are the shoes so important? Why focus on losing them, but not the tie pin?
We sense immediately that something isn’t quite right. Dale doesn’t move from his place on the floor, doesn’t speak. When he does, finally, after Jade finds him and prompts him to get going, he walks strangely, looks into the distance unfocused and unhearing, or comprehending perhaps, of anything going on around him. To Jade’s credit, she takes good care of our poor, broken Agent Cooper.
Some might say that he’s like this purely as a post-Red Room trauma. I think that it’s the shoes. As far as I’m given to understand, our Dale and DoppelCoop are one in the same. The Doppelganger is wearing Cooper’s body, but Cooper’s good side or his spirit remained in the Lodge, in a metaphysical manner. So the shoes that remain behind in the Fireplace room aren’t just shoes, they’re part of Dale’s metaphysical form, his very being. If any piece is removed from the whole, the whole cannot function properly.
Another theory that I have, is that Dale cannot return to normal until he and his Doppelganger are reunited. They touched in the Red Room to switch places, and they have to touch once more for the transfer to re-complete.
Or, yet another theory, is that, because Dale exits the Red Room and the extradimensional space incorrectly, it’s messed with his transfer over. This idea harmonizes well, I think, with the shoe concept, in which case losing the shoes is like a data corruption.
Whatever the case may be, Dale Cooper is broken. He’s very tabula rasa, and imprints like a duck, learning from what he hears, repeating phrases, re-purposing them, following suggestions like laws because he doesn’t know any better.
What irks me the most of all about his situation is that, from the beginning with Jade, no one makes the connection that there is no way in the world that Dale Cooper and Dougie Jones are the same person. A ‘rug’ and a new suit can’t disguise massive weight loss, and a total personality alteration so severe that it could be constituted brain damage!
This is quite Lynchian, but I can rationalize it. Jade, for one, just doesn’t want to have to deal with it. The people later are too busy, too ignorant or just plain don’t care. Human nature is weird. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s talk about Dale in the car with Jade.
While she was looking for his car keys, she discovered his room key for the Great Northern. In the car, after seeing a street sign that reads “Sycamore”, he speaks his first words, a stunted repeat of Jade’s words prior, about the fact that she’d have given him ‘two rides’. With that utterance, Jade seems to fully comprehend that something is wrong with ‘Dougie’. Dale pulls the key out again to look at it. A sign is shown which quite clearly says “speed bump ahead” and as Dale scrutinizes the key, they pass that bump and the keys fall from his hand.
Now, let us consider what’s happening around them. Someone obviously wants Dougie Jones dead. They wire his car to blow and, when they think they see him in Jade’s wrangler, they pull out a sniper to take him out as she drives past but because he has his head down looking for the keys, he gets away, leading them to believe that Dougie remained in the house. (They continue down the road past a sign reading a sign Rancho Rosa, which is the Twin Peaks production company.)
This concept is more than luck, more than coincidence. It’s actually got a name: synchronicity. From the German, Synchronizität, synchronicity is a concept put forth by Carl Jung, “which holds that events are “meaningful coincidences” if they occur with no causal relationship yet seem to be meaningfully related.” If you want to read more about why this is, you can check out fellow columnist, Brien’s article, titled “The Magician Longs To See – A Theoretical Framework For Season 3” which goes into some depth about why this might be. Synchronicity is a veritable super power, and Dale, post Red Room, seems to have this in droves. He escapes the trap set for Dougie with ease through happenstance.
When Jade leaves Dale at the Silver Mustang Casino she gives him five dollars and tells him to ‘call for help’, a phrase which has quickly become the ‘new shoes!’ of The Return. Then, after telling him to speak to a Doctor, she says, quite precisely, “you can go out now”, which strikes a chord with Dale and viewers alike – those were Laura’s exact words to him in the Red Room.
This, to me, implies that while Dale has memories, at the least of the Red Room, they’re not necessarily in a place that’s easily accessible to him. Things have to be said to jog his memory, and the key, unfortunately, isn’t going to be enough.
Dale’s experience in the casino is agonizing and delightful at turns. After a long enough time working summers in the service industry, I know when someone is being a dick, and when someone is being genuine. If a nicely dressed gentleman ever came up to me with five dollars and said ‘Call for help’, I’d take him to the phone personally. That being said, even if someone had taken Dale to the phones, who would he have called? Thus, I endured the irritation of people ignoring Dale’s plight, for one reason or another.
Dale continues to pick up new phrases, actions and habits from his surroundings. (The carpet of the casino has a starburst pattern in gold on a purple background, which is interesting.) He’s guided to each winning slot machine by small Red Room ‘markers’ that hover over the correct game, which could pertain to synchronicity, or not. It’s hard to tell. Simply put, we know that Dale has experience with Casinos, particularly card counting, and that he’s a decent gambler. But slot machines require only luck, or what we consider luck to be. Either way, Dale starts raking in the cash.
Dale in his tabula rasa form, doesn’t seem to understand the correlation (or lack thereof) between a word, ‘Helllllo-oOOO” for instance, and an action, like the slot machine winning. I liked this addition, as it helps us to get a better grasp on Dale’s mental state. He’s innocent and childlike (and easily startled when he actually wins the mega-jackpot the first time), but still intuitive and methodical. Despite everything that happened to him, he is still somehow the Dale that first entered Twin Peaks. The fact that he keeps repeating “Call for Help” over and over again suggests to me that, to some degree, he understands what it means. He knows he needs assistance of some kind, but whether he knows why or for what, I couldn’t say.
What I would really like to know is why the Red Room seems to be assisting Dale. What’s the purpose in Dale winning all this money? Is it to pay off Dougie’s debts, so that Dale can continue his quest undisturbed? Is there some other goal, or a larger scheme at work here? Who is really helping him and what is their motivation?
Part Three carries directly into Part Four, as far as Dale’s plot goes. He’s hit 29 mega jackpots and helps the homeless woman out by telling her which one to play next. He’s earned himself a new moniker, Mr. Jackpots, and looks very happy when she wins. Some of the old Dale remains.
Then, Bill and Candy Shaker show up. They know Dougie, that much is obvious, and like Jade, seem to notice that he looks and acts different, but it’s not enough to get them to do anything. This interaction is extremely important to Dale’s progress however. He shows an interest in eating, and looks sad, full of longing, if not a bit confused, when Bill mentions the word ‘home’. Dale wants to return to whatever home is, but can’t access the memory for it. It’s certainly not a house with a red door on Lancelot Court near Merlin’s Market. Let’s take a moment to think about the Arthurian connection here. Merlin, of course, is a magician. That one is obvious, but I want to focus on Lancelot.
The character Lancelot du Lac first appears in Arthuriana in a French piece by Chrétien de Troyes called “The Knight of the Cart”. This is important, because, before that point, Lancelot didn’t exist. He was written into the Arthuriana canon of works in order that he might be a love interest for the, up til then, faithful wife and Queen to Arthur, Guinevere. He was created specifically for the purpose that, by cuckolding Arthur with Guinevere, she would stand as a literary warning for women of the time period not to cheat on their husbands, as well as a pinnacle of courtly love. Aside from the fact that Guinevere’s previous role was totally decimated by this patriarchal literary lesson, it showcases what Lancelot was – manufactured for a purpose. Maybe I’m getting a little out there, a little beyond the realm of believably with that analysis, but my background as a literature teacher won’t let me publish this article without making mention of that fact. At his base, Lancelot is little more than a plot device, which is exactly what Dougie’s purpose to the full narrative seems to be at this point.
Back to Cooper. He tries to leave, receives his money which he cares nothing about. He repeats “Call for Help” one more time, and this time, the appropriate response – Call who?” – gets Dale to finally think on it. He repeats “Who” as if just coming to realize for the first time that he doesn’t know. Again, the mention of ‘Home’ puts him into a melancholy, but he’s soon back to word association again, repeating Bill Shaker’s instructions “Lancelot Court. Cab ride,” to the casino manager.
I also think it’s significant that Dale watched the security camera so closely. Now that the FBI is onto DoppelCoop, but unaware of exactly who and what he is, they won’t know to look for our Coop. They wouldn’t know if that wasn’t the case, either, but what’s important is that the casino is unlikely to get rid of their security footage, which means that Good Dale has made a record of himself somewhere. In our technological age, showing your face is tantamount to identification, and allows the FBI some possible way of discovering him.
The limo driver takes Dale back to Lancelot Court. When the driver tries to help him out of the car, he calls Dale “Mr. Jones”, which, of course, is how Dale’s been introducing himself because it’s what he’s been told. However, he doesn’t seem to respond to it at all, not with the limo driver and not with the Shakers. Subconsciously, Dale definitely knows that he’s not Dougie Jones.
After they’ve exited, and stand waiting on the curb, an owl hoots and flies overhead. Dale is watchful, wary, trepidatious even, in this scene. What the owls signify is not lost on him. That much is obvious. The house number, 25140, doesn’t seem to have any particular significance, but I made note of it anyways.
Enter Naomi Watts as Dougie’s wife, Janey-E Jones. She seems shocked to see him, and unhappy to say the least as she greets him with a slap, which surprises poor Dale immensely. Beyond Jade’s gentle pushes and prods to get him from one place to the next, the woman at the desk curling his fingers around the coin cup at the casino and the limo driver helping him out of the car, this is the first touch that Dale’s received in twenty five years. And it’s less than pleasant.
We learn a little bit about Dougie from this moment – he hasn’t been home in three days, he missed work, and he didn’t attend his son, “Sonny Jim’s” birthday party, instead, spending it with a hooker. Yes, that Dougie Jones. What a stand up guy.
Roughly, Janey-E steers him inside, leaving Dale with a frightened expression. She immediately demands to know what he’s been doing. As his wife, I was still shocked that she doesn’t make a connection to the weight loss and the strange way her ‘husband’ is acting. She mentions the haircut, the suit, but not the weight loss (she never mentions the lack of full sentence structure) until the next morning. Maybe it’s passable because she’s mad and it’s late and she’s out of it, but if I were her, and had been married to Dougie long enough to have a young son, I think I would notice that, despite the uncanny resemblance, Dale is NOT Dougie. Not by a long shot. And so the saga of people not really caring about Dale continues.
When she realizes just what kind of bacon Dale’s brought home, she keeps badgering him with questions until she hits on a word that he knows, and we’re back to the word association game again. She says ‘jackpot’, he recognizes it, points to himself and responds ‘Mr. Jackpots’. Weight loss aside, one might think that a wife would be familiar enough with her husband to notice that he sounds like he’s had a semi-serious stroke. She might even be concerned. That is, if she were a normal wife. Something about this whole Jones family seems off, in keeping with Lynch’s “dark underbelly of suburbia” tonality.
While Dale looks dreamily up at the ceiling (is he seeing something we can’t?) Janey-E lets another bombshell drop. Dougie owes someone money, and Dale’s winnings will be enough to pay them back.
“This is the most wonderful…horrible…day of my life,” Janey-E says.
“Of my life,” Dale seems to concur succinctly. If I were him, that’s certainly a turn of phrase I would use to describe the day’s events. She kisses him on the forehead and tells him that she’s glad that he’s home.
When Dale repeats the word ‘home’, I’m not sure what he’s thinking. It could go one of two ways. He has accepted (read resigned) himself to the fact that the Jones house is ‘home’, or it could be that he recognizes that this is not actually ‘home’, and still needs to find it. His face is devoid of expression when he says it, which masks his intention utterly.
We pick back up with Dale the next morning. He’s dressed in a matching set of blue pajamas (he positively swims in them!), which is a nice callback to Dale’s blue pajamas from the original series. I guess Dougie and Dale have more things in common than basic looks. He stares at Dougie’s clothes, laid out on the bed for him, with what might be a hint of distaste.
Then, we get a shot of Phillip Gerard in the Red Room, his arm up raised, walking around as if searching for something…or someone. Back in the bedroom, Dale spies a red chair stands, and the two scenes superimpose. Phillip Gerard addresses him and leaves him with a warning. “You were tricked,” Phillip Gerard holds up the small ball of gold that used to be Dougie. “Now, one of you must die,”.
Think for a moment, of the omen of the white horse that Dale saw in Part Two – could that have been foreshadowing this moment? It seems likely, considering that the white horse is a portent of death.
Unceremoniously, the scene transitions. Dale starts doing the potty dance and Phillip Gerard and the Red Room fade away. A disgusted and annoyed Janey-E steers her ‘dreamweaver’ to the bathroom, where Dale pees for the first time in twenty five years. It is apparently a violent and religious experience. I don’t blame him. Immediately after this moment, we get perhaps the most poignant scene of the Return so far. Dale, clad in Dougie’s blue pajamas, looks at himself in the mirror. The last time we saw an iteration of Dale Cooper in the original run, he stared into the mirror while wearing blue pajamas, and BOB was staring back.
As he turns away from the toilet and catches sight of himself, he pauses, stops in his
tracks, and leans forward a bit before walking again. The sight of himself has caught Dale completely off guard. He leans over the counter towards the mirror in the exact same fashion as he’d done before, and reaches a hand out tentatively to touch the reflection. His expression is inscrutable, but it’s obvious that this action has struck a chord within him.
From there we cut to Janey-E finally realizing just how much difference in weight there is between Dale and Dougie, and dressing him, comically, in Dougie’s clothes, leaving him to put on his tie before heading back downstairs to make breakfast. We then meet Sonny Jim for the first time. He and Dale stare silently at one another, appraisingly.
I think it is important to note that Sonny Jim reacts very differently to Dale. In fact, I think he’s the first person of Dougie’s acquaintance to recognize that Dale isn’t Dougie at all. He’s a smiling child who only giggles, never speaks. He entices Dale’s second smile from him and they share Dale’s time honored hand gesture – the thumbs up.
The breakfast scene is riotous and sweet. Set to “Take Five” by the Dave Brubeck Quartet, Dale enters wearing the tie over his head. Sonny Jim helps him re-learn that he ought to sit at the table, how to use utensils, and how to eat for that matter. Twenty-five years has really done a number on Dale. It’s a sweet segment with the oblivious Janey-E making food in the background. Of note in the kitchen, a cookie jar on the counter behind Dale, in the form of an owl.
And then, the most significant moment of the breakfast scene. The minute that Janey-E says the word ‘coffee’, Dale’s eyes widen. The fork practically falls out of his hand.
“Coffee,” He breathes the word out with longing and almost desperation. Here is something he remembers. He lifts the mug with both hands and takes an unfortunate gulp before spitting it out as it actually sizzles, it’s so hot. Somehow, despite the shock, he still manages to look absolutely pleased. Janey-E, admonishes him and in the most emotive tone he’s used in four episodes Dale, smiling, looking utterly ridiculous says “Hi!”
There it is folks. That single hello says it all to me. Dale may be bouncing around haphazard like the marble in a pinball machine, pushed and guided in different directions, but I have a feeling that he’ll still manage to get to where he needs to, somehow. That he’s not quite derailed. He always does. Critics on other websites call this episode “an absurdist joy” in headlines, and I’d say that I have to concur. This is The Return greeting us in it’s own way. It’s not the same Twin Peaks. It’s not being run around network interference, around other issues with actors personal lives and whatnot. It’s not constrained to what it was before. Just as Dale is starting fresh, so is Twin Peaks. Some things are different, and others, like Dale’s unadulterated love of coffee, remain. It’s an evolution, much like the Arm. No longer what it once was, but something more, something recognizable, though different.
The questions we end on this week are, how will Dale manage to enter the larger picture? How might Dougie’s problems be related to the overarching plot, if at all? What’s up with the gold motif this season? How will Cooper regain his full sensibilities? Why is he like this in the first place? Will the owl report back to BOB or DoppelCoop about Dale’s presence in Dougie’s house? Still no mention of a Richard or Linda. No 430.
At any rate, I’m glad Cooper got to have coffee again.
Until next week!
What do you think about my theories? Did I miss something? Do you agree or disagree? Let me know what you think! Leave your thoughts a comment!
Some images courtesy of Showtime.
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