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Dataset card Data Studio Files
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You tell me. I'm new in town.
He doesn't have the desire somehow. Our killer seems to have more purpose. More purpose than Victor could ever conceive of.
The fingerprints.
Yes. They were there... so, it must be.
We'll tag along.
Why would we?
Satisfy our curiosity?
Never in my twentyfour years, knock on wood. I've only ever taken my gun out five times with the actual intention of using it. Never fired it though. Not once. You?
Never took a bullet. I pulled my gun once. fired it once.
And?
It was my first one of these. We were a secondary unit, and I was pretty shaky going in. I was still considered a rookie.
How did the fire fight end?
I got him. I got the sonofabitch. See, I was doing really good up till then. Lots of street busts. I've always had this weird luck... everything always went my way, but this was wild. I got him with one shot... right between the eyes. Next thing I know, the mayor's pinning a medal on me. Picture in the paper, whole nine yards.
How was it?
I expected it to be bad, you know. I took a human life... but I slept like a baby that night. I never gave it a second thought.
I think Hemingway wrote somewhere... I can't remember where, but he wrote that in order to live in a place like this, you have to have the ability to kill. I think he meant you truly must be able to do it, not just faking it, too survive.
Sounds like he knew what he was talking about.
It is Victor.
Call an ambulance.
The way this has gone till now, I wouldn't have thought it was possible, but we may have underestimated this guy.
I want him bad. I don't just want to catch him anymore. I want to hurt him.
Listen to me. He's all about playing games.
No kidding! No fucking kidding!
We have to divorce ourselves from emotions here. No matter how hard it is, we have to stay focused on the details.
I don't know about you, but I feed off my emotions.
He'll string us along all the way if we're not careful.
How do those cockroaches get here so quick?
They pay cops for the inside scoop, and they pay well.
Sorry about that... I just...
Oh, it's alright.
Victor's landlord says an envelope of cash was in the office mailbox each month. He says, quote, "I never heard a single complaint from the tenant in apartment threeoone, and nobody ever complained about him. He's the best tenant I've ever had.
A landlord's dream tenant: a paralyzed man with no tongue.
Who pays the rent on time.
I'm sick of sitting around, waiting for him to kill again.
This is the job. It's not an Easter egg hunt.
There must be something in this pile of garbage we can follow. I mean, Christ... do we have to let this lunatic make all the moves.
It's too dismissive to call him a lunatic. We can't make that mistake.
Oh, blah, blah, blah. The guy's insane.
It's a fine line between insane and inspired.
Hey, Freud, what brand of bullshit are you shoveling, huh? Right now he's probably dancing around his room in a pair of his mommy's panties, singing show tunes and rubbing himself with peanut butter...
No.
Sooner or later his luck's goning to run out.
No. He's not depending on luck. You've seen that. We walked into that apartment exactly one year after he first tied Victor to the bed, to the day. To the day! Because he wanted us to.
We don't know for sure...
Yes we do. Here...
This quote... his first words to us. I looked it up. It's from Milton's Paradise Lost. "Long is the way, and hard, that out of hell leads up to light... "
And so what?
Well, he's been right so far, hasn't he?
Just because the bastard has a library card, it doesn't make him Einstein.
Just, realize... this is not some common lunatic. The type of intestinal fortitude it must take... to keep a man bound for a full year. To connect tubes to his genitals. To sever his hand and use it to plant fingerprints. He's methodical and exacting, and worst of all, he's patient.
What does all that matter anyway? It's not our job to figure him out, is it? All we have to do is catching him.
How much money do you have?
I don't know... like fifty.
Well, that was money well spent.
Let's go.
By telling you this, I'm trusting you more than I trust most people.
It's be best if you got to the point, cause I'm about ready to punch you in the face.
It's probably nothing, but even if it is, it's no skin off our teeth. The man at Hot Dog World is a friend, in the Bureau.
Him?
For a long time, the F.B.I.'s been hooked into the library system, keeping accurate records.
What? Assessing fines?
They monitor reading habits. Not every book, but certain ones are flagged. Books about... let's say, how to build a nuclear bomb, or maybe Mein Kampf. Whoever takes out a flagged book has their library records fed to the F.B.I. from then on.
You got to be kidding.
Flagged books cover every topic the Bureau deems questionable... communism to violent crime.
How is this legal?
Legal... illegal. These terms don't apply. I don't applaud it.
So they ran our list.
If you want to know who's been reading Paradise Lost, Purgatory, and say... The Life and Time of Charlie Manson, the Bureau's computer will tell you. It might give us a name.
Yeah. Some college student who's taking English 101 and just happens to be writing a paper on Twentieth Century Crime.
Yeah, well... at least we're out of the office. We've got pizza.
How do you know all about this?
I don't. Neither do you.
This is a waste of time.
We're focusing.
I know, I know... focusing on one little thing.
The Divine Comedy. A History of Catholicism. A book called Murderers and Madmen.
Modern Homicide Investigation. In Cold Blood. Of Human Bondage. Human Bondage?
It's not what you think it is.
The Marquis de Sade and Origins of Sadism.
That is.
The Writings of Saint Thomas Aqu... Aquin...
Saint Thomas Aquinas. He wrote about the seven deadly sins.
You're sure you're reading that right? John Doe?
That's what it says. Jonathan Doe.
This is stupid. It'd be just too easy.
We'll take a look at him. Talk to him.
Sure. Uh, excuse me... are you by any chance a serial killer? Oh, you are? Well, come with us then, if it's okay.
What are you going to say?
You do the talking. Put that old silver tongue of yours to work.
Who told you about my silver tongue? You been talking to my wife?
Are you alright?
I'm fine.
What happened?
Wait... just wait.
It was him.
You can't go in there.
The hell I can't! We get in there and we can stop him.
We need a warrant.
We have probable cause now.
Think about it...