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“It was Nate,” Lorelai declares, reaching for the Doritos bag that Luke batted out of her hands seconds ago. #WhoKilledWes has been trending on Twitter for a week and ever since, the Gilmore house has been all theories, all the time.
“It wasn’t Nate,” Rory says. “We’ve been over this. He doesn’t have a motive.”
“That’s why it’s him. It’s always the person you least suspect. Learned that the hard way when I pinned Michel’s diet-induced raid of the Dragonfly’s kitchen on Petal.”
“Which one is Petal?” Paris asks from the couch, barely looking up from her book. “The neighbor with the lawn ornaments out of a C.S. Lewis fever dream?”
“Petal is a pig, Paris,” Rory corrects patiently.
Paris sighs. “I miss the days when information like that fazed me.”
“The show is a whodunit, and half the cast has already done it,” Lorelai persists. “Nate hasn’t. He’s the killer. Mark my words.”
“They’ve already made Nate seem like the killer, though,” Rory says, adjusting the stack of papers in front of her. She’s drawn up pro-con lists for why it would make sense for each character to off Wes, both in terms of plot development and personal motives. “Shonda’s toying with you.”
“She is, damn it!” Lorelai shakes her fist.
“Please talk about something else,” Paris says. “I can feel my brain cells atrophying.”
“Hey, you knew what you were signing up for when you married into this family,” Lorelai says, throwing an arm over Rory’s shoulders. “In sickness and in health, in seminars on Proust and in TGIT discussion nights.”
“You’re intelligent people! How can this schlock take up so much of your time?” Paris asks exasperatedly.
“You don’t know it’s schlock,” Rory points out. “You’ve never seen it.”
“Let me guess: an improbably-high number of attractive people have sex with each other until discovering crucial plot information conveniently close to the end of each episode. Rinse, wash, repeat. Sound about right?”
Lorelai and Rory look at each other.
“Speechless Gilmores,” Paris says, eyebrows raised. “Now that’s a plot twist.”
“Alright, quippy,” Lorelai says, reaching for the remote. “Enough is enough. Rory, bring up Netflix on the TV. I always switch to Blu-ray when I try.”
“We don’t have Blu-ray.”
“Then I must be more tech-savvy than I thought.”
“What are you doing?” Paris asks cautiously. When Rory flicks on the first episode, Paris grabs at the remote. “You want to lobotomize me, too?”
“One episode,” Rory implores, holding the remote out of reach. “I watched that documentary on Eva Perón. You owe me.”
“She was a woman with ambition ahead of her time,” Paris grumbles, and sinks into the couch.
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“He was on the waitlist? I’m supposed to care about a protagonist barely rising from the dregs of educational mediocrity?”
“So you react to Wes’s academic standing, but not the dead body in the woods.”
“Oh my god, he didn’t do the reading for the first day. Reprobate!”
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For weeks afterward, Paris swears up and down that she absolutely despised watching the pilot. Rory does her best to pretend that she doesn’t notice their shared Netflix slowly cycling through season 1.
She also does her best not to spoil any plot points when discussing season 3 with her mom over the phone, but the occasional mistake slips through. One afternoon, Rory mentions Frank’s guilt over causing the death of Annalise’s son, and she hears a glass break in the next room.
“You okay?” she calls, covering the phone with a hand.
“Peachy,” comes her wife’s snarling response. That night, their Netflix zips through six consecutive episodes. Rory is impressed.
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“Hypothetically,” Paris says seconds after walking in the front door, “would you be willing to hear some constructive criticism on your #WhoKilledWes research folder?”
Rory puts down her coffee. “I don’t see how it would be possible for you to give me constructive criticism since you haven’t watched the show past the first episode.”
“Rory, do you know what ‘hypothetical’ means?”
“Fine. Hypothetically, I would be open to —”
“Great.” Paris takes a seat, pulling Rory’s folder out of her otherwise-empty briefcase.
“When did you steal The Wes Files?”
“Your logic about the law brats is pretty sound,” Paris starts while flipping to the page labeled ‘Keating Four.’ “I would argue that Connor’s facial expression during episode nine’s big reveal might be a red herring, but otherwise, airtight. It’s the henchmen you’re overlooking.”
“Uh huh,” Rory says, leaning her chin on her hands.
“You crossed out Bonnie because she already ziplocked Rebecca like a plate of leftovers, but you have to remember that we’re not looking at some Vince Gilligan brainchild where everything’s planned out perfectly. We’re looking at a page-turner, and a killer striking twice? That turns the pages, even if it’s not stellar writing.”
“So she offed Wes,” Rory confirms.
“It’s entirely possible.”
“And this isn’t just because you overheard me telling Lorelai that I think Bonnie’s actress is cute?”
“Please. If you want to fawn over lipsticked murderesses, that’s your business, sister. I’m trying to crack a case.”
“Hypothetically,” Rory reminds her. “If you’d ever watched the show.”
“Yes. Hypothetically.”
“Would you hypothetically be down to scan season 3 for clues?”
“I’ll get my laptop,” Paris says, already halfway out of the room.
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Rory wakes up in the middle of the night to the sound of light-speed typing. Paris is hunched over her computer, fingers flying over the keyboard.
Dreading the answer, Rory asks, “Paris, what are you doing?”
Paris’s typing doesn’t slow down in the least. “I’m in a Twitter fight with Matt McGorry.”
“What?”
“All I tweeted was ‘Who do you trust more, Michaela or Laurel?’ and do you know how he responded? ‘I’d rather not objectify women.’ That doesn’t even make any sense! Who does this hippy-dippy flower child think he is? Naturally, I had to give him a piece of my mind, and, well, here we are.”
“Please leave Matt McGorry alone.”
“I’ve sunk two hours into this thing, Rory. I’m not about to throw in the towel.”
“You’ve been cyberbullying a celebrity for two hours?”
“Oh, for the love of — he just retweeted a donation link to Planned Parenthood with the caption ‘back to what really matters.’ That’s it.” Paris takes out her phone.
“Do I want to know?” Rory asks wearily.
“Doyle’s got an in at ABC,” Paris says, smirking. “Bet he’d switch to Shondaland if I give him the house in Vermont.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh, yes.”
Rory pulls the covers over her head. She really should’ve known better than to ask.
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Season 4 of How To Get Away With Murder aired a week ago and ever since, #WhoKilledAsher has been trending on Twitter. The fan theories are blowing up the internet.
Strangely enough, no one suspects the vindictive fertility mogul sitting at her in-laws’ kitchen table, fiercely debating whether or not Bonnie/Frank is endgame.