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Dataset card Data Studio Files
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I made a decision, because I have to consider the integrity of the scene. I can't worry whether you think you're getting enough time on the playing field.
Yeah, well, all I want is... Just, just don't be jerking me off. That's all I ask. Don't jerk me off.
Is that clear?
Okay... sure... It's just that, with my old partner, you know...
I just don't think we should have that sort of relationship. We'd start quarreling over insignificant things.
Same color and texture.
Have you found any plastic scrapings near the stove or sink? Near the food?
This doesn't make any sense.
You always have to find one singular thing to focus on. There's always one thing, and it may be as small as a speck of dust, but you find it and focus... till it's an exhausted possibility.
It could be nothing.
But, why would there be so many pieces in his stomach if it were nothing? It must have been intentional.
He ate his fill, and was forced to continue eating... till his body rejected the food. the killer held a bucket under him, and then kept serving. He took his time. The coroner says this might have gone on for more than twelve hours. The victim's throat was swollen from the effort, and there was probably a point where he passed out. That's when killer kicked him in the stomach. Popped him.
This was one sadistic motherfucker.
This is his stuff. I've been out in the cold all day.
This is a premeditated puzzle, and it's only the beginning.
I'm declining this case. I want us reassigned.
Whoa, whoa... what?!
It's too soon for him.
Can we talk about this in private?
It's a package deal. You get the phone with the office.
Detective Mills here. Honey... I asked you not to call me here. I'll call you back... What? Why?
It's my wife.
What?
Well?
I'm invited to have a late supper at your house. And, I accept.
How's that?
Tonight.
I'd like you to meet Somerset.
Hello.
All television does is teach children that it's really cool to be stupid and eat candy bars all day.
What about sports?
What about them?
You go to movies at least?
I read. Remember reading?
I just have to say, I can't respect any man who's never seen "Green Acres."
You've never seen "The Odd Couple?" This is sick. "The Honeymooners?!"
I vaguely recall a large, angry man, and someone called Norton.
Our guy got into office, probably before the building closed and security tightened up. Gould must have been working late.
I'm certain. He was the biggest defense lawyer around. Infamous, actually.
Well, his body was found Monday night, okay? But, get this... the office was closed all day Monday. Which means, as long as the gluttony killing was done before the weekend, our killer could've gotten in here on Friday. He could've spent all day Saturday with Gould, and all day Sunday.
The leather chair was soaked through with sweat.
All day Saturday, and all day Sunday. The murderer would want Gould to take his time. To have to sit there and decide. Where do you make the first cut? There's a gun in your face... but, what part of your body is expendable?
He cut along the side of his stomach. The love handle.
He must have left another puzzle piece.
Look, I appreciate being able to talk this out, but, uh...
This is just to satisfy my curiosity. I'm still leaving town Saturday.
Gould's wife. She was away on business. If this means she saw anything, I don't know what. We've questioned her at least five times.
And, if it's a threat.
We put her in a safe house.
He's preaching.
Punishing.
The sins were used in medieval sermons. There were seven cardinal virtues, and then seven deadly sins, created as a learning tool, because they distract from true worship.
Like in the Parson's Tale, and Dante.
Did you read them?
Yeah. Parts of them. Anyway, in Purgatory, Dante and his buddy are climbing up that big mountain... seeing all these other guys who sinned...
Seven Terraces of Purgation.
Right. But there, pride comes first, not gluttony. The sins are in a different order.
For now, let's just consider the books as the murderer's inspiration. The books and sermons are about atonement for sin. And, these murders have been like forced attrition.
Forced what?
Attrition. When you regret your sins, but not because you love God.
Like, because someone's holding a gun on you.
No fingerprints?
Nothing.
Totally unrelated victims.
No witnesses of any kind?
None. Which I don't understand. He had to get back out.
This is the one thing.
I know.
What if it's not that she's seen something? What if she's supposed to see something, but she just hasn't been given a chance to see it yet?
Okay. But, what?
You're sure your men didn't move this?
Even if they did, those photos were taken before forensics.
Nothing.
It's got to be.
What the fuck is that?
A switchblade.
There must be something.
We're screwed. He's fucking with us.
What?
Bear with me.
Oh, yeah, sure. You got to be kidding?!
Just wait!
Just, honestly... have you ever seen anything like this... been involved in anything like this?
No.
He just may be nuts enough.
It doesn't fit. He doesn't want us to help him stop.
Who the hell knows? There's plenty of freaks out there doing dirty deeds they don't want to do. You know... little voices tell them bad things.
You meant what you said to Mrs. Gould, didn't you? About catching this guy. You really want to believe that, don't you?
And you don't?
I wish I still thought like you.
Then, you tell me what you think we're doing.
All we do is pick up the pieces. We take all the evidence, and all the pictures and samples. We write everything down and note what time things happened...
Oh, that's all.
We put it in a nice neat pile and file it away, on the slim chance it's ever needed in a courtroom. It's like collecting diamonds on a desert island. You keep them just in case you ever get rescued, but it's a pretty big ocean out there.
Bullshit.
I'm, sorry, but even the most promising clues usually lead only to other clues. I've seen so many corpses rolled away... unrevenged.
I've seen the same. I'm not the country hick you seem to think I am.
In this city, if all the skeletons came out of all the closets... if ever hidden body were to suddenly rise again, there'd be no more room for the living.
Does this make it with you?
Doesn't seem like our man, does it?