All language subtitles for [SubtitleTools.com] The Hunting Party S01E05 Roy Barber 1080p HEVC x265-MeGusta_track3_[eng](1)

Previously on "The Hunting Party"...

It's called the Pit.

It's home to the most dangerous

and violent criminals in history,

all of whom the world believes are dead,

or at least it was until the blast hit.

How many inmates got out?

The exact number is unclear,

but you're here, Agent Henderson,

to help us catch 'em. - How is Sam?

Adopting her was the best thing I ever did.

- Dr. Dulles. - Hi, Dad.

Right after Odell received his mysterious phone call

warning him about the blast,

he drove to this storage facility.

What the hell are we looking at?

The one in blue are the satellite coordinates

for the Pit.

- Make it quick. - Thanks for stopping.

Come on.

You're gonna die tonight.

Mom, what's going on?

- Hey, honey. - Hey, why can't you video?

- Uh, 'cause I gotta work. - So?

I still want to see your face. Why are you being so sketch?

Did you get bangs?

- Do they look awful? - I did not get bangs.

It's just been a week, OK?

Things at the casino have just been crazy.

Can I call you back, actually? - Whatever.

Later, Bex.

- Hey, what's up? - Hey, I got an update.

I sent a friend of mine the coordinates

that we found in Odell's storage unit.

What kind of friend?

The kind that works in counterintelligence.

Let's see what we find in the satellite images

he comes back with, but until then...

I need you to play nice with Odell.

Just pretend everything is normal.

You mean pretend that he hasn't been secretly

in contact with my daughter behind my back?

They're just birthday cards.

From my daughter to the man who may

or may not have blown up the Pit.

I understand, but if you confront Odell right now,

he'll know that we're onto him,

and he'll start covering his tracks.

If it was your daughter, would you wait?

No, but you're going to have to,

'cause we just got a hit.

Hey, we got a live one.

Morales, put it up.

- Morning. - Good morning.

Facial recognition flagged an escapee in the background

of an Instagram post.

Roy Barber, outside of Eugene, Oregon.

The Couples Killer.

We might have studied him at Quantico.

Might be the first time a selfie's done

some good in the world.

Roy Barber, born to Lou and Lois Barber.

He was raised on an isolated pecan farm

near the Florida-Georgia line until, at 14,

his father killed his mother in a murder-suicide.

After bouncing around various juvenile detention centers,

Barber moved to Orlando in 1988,

where he started making a living as a caricature artist

outside of amusement parks. - Ew.

Starting in '93, Barber terrorized

the roads of Florida and Georgia for nearly a decade,

hiding out at rest stops waiting for his ideal prey,

romantic partners.

He murdered 16 people,

one couple every 10 to 14 months,

leaving no trace of his victims except

for their blood-drenched vehicles.

Finally, in 2001, a hunting dog caught a scent

in the marshlands near Orlando.

Local authorities were able to recover the skeletal remains

of Harry Caldwell.

He and his wife Bridget had disappeared six months earlier.

It was this discovery that cracked the case

and ultimately led to Roy's arrest.

But it wound up being a massive PR disaster

for the local cops. - Why?

Because Barber had graduated from being a caricature artist

to a police sketch artist.

He was working with all the cops who just happened

to be investigating his case.

He was working with the cops? That is cocky as hell.

It's also a great education on how to escape detection.

- Get yourselves to Oregon. - Yes, sir.

Growing up, it was, uh, just me and my mom

and my dad on our farm.

My mom and I, we would work the farm,

you know, do the chores. Long hours.

You know, it wasn't too bad.

My dad, he was a drinker, you know?

Not a pleasant man, a violent man.

And one year, well, he lost his way.

Human beings are solitary creatures, you know?

We're meant to live alone, die alone,

not suffer the company of others.

You'd be surprised

the things people say when they know the end is near.

It can be enlightening to test a relationship to its limits.

Mom.

How about you just give us the bullet points, huh?

Yeah, why not?

Uh, the profiler who wrote the case study

on Barber diagnosed him as a textbook schizoid

with full-blown sociopathy.

And for those of us without psychology degrees?

Schizoid personality disorder refers to someone

with little to no interest or ability

to form relationships with others.

So it is of no surprise here that our friend Barber

lived alone, had no close friends or family,

and his sole interest was his art.

And killing. Can't forget the killing.

So the guy doesn't like to socialize.

Trust me, I get it.

But wouldn't it be easier to just be a hermit?

Why bother murdering couples?

Because after being raised by some, you know,

less-than-stellar parents, he became absolutely

fascinated with love.

He wasn't on my cell block, but the other guards

had a nickname for him.

They called him the Happy Camper.

I mean, according to his file,

he was the ideal prisoner.

He was well-behaved, cooperative.

So if isolation is his thing,

the Pit is basically the Ritz-Carlton.

The question is, now that he's out,

where does he go?

You.

But you're-- you're dead.

Aren't you going to invite me in?

Hon, who is it?

Crystal, go back inside.

Buddy, you got a problem?

I do now.

John, run!

- What do they know so far? - Not much.

We intercepted the neighbor's 911

that describes Barber. Cops are grasping at straws.

Got us 15 minutes, then we have to hand it

back over to the locals.

What are we this time, Homeland Security? DEA?

Secret Service. Governor lives a mile away.

John and Crystal Resnick, married May 10th, 2015,

Eugene, Oregon. No kids, both retired.

No warrants or outstanding litigation.

Roy could have killed them twice with a beating like that.

Well, he hasn't lost his flair for overdoing it.

Where's the wife?

This couple is older than Roy's usual victims.

That's new. - Sure, and he's older too.

Maybe he thought a younger couple would put up

too much of a fight.

Somebody's awful quiet.

Roy always chose his victims at random.

The method was planned, but the targets weren't.

This feels like the opposite.

He chose these victims...

but then he improvised the kill.

Improvised murder weapons implies impulsivity.

- Huh. - I've been reading up.

So why did he choose this couple?

Do you think he knew them?

I mean, the guy had zero friends.

Criminal associates?

As far as we know, Roy was a lone wolf.

Odell, it's Bex.

What do you got?

So this wasn't random. Roy Barber chose these vics.

Can we get a deep dive on John and Crystal Resnick?

- Odell. - Hold on, hold on.

We just got something.

Neighbor's camera caught the car Roy was driving.

A blue Ford Escape, Idaho plates,

registered to a Wendy Hosmer out of Twin Falls.

Not reported stolen yet.

Sir, the car popped on a plate scanner 30 minutes ago.

- Where? - Stand by.

Tracking it now.

The car's at the Portland train station.

So he has a car, but he's taking the train?

He just committed a double homicide.

He's ditching the car. - Get there.

We're on our way.

And keep looking for connections between John

and Crystal and Roy.

We need to know where he's going.

Attention Portland passengers traveling

to Sacramento, your train will be arriving

on track one in six minutes...

How you doing?

One-way to San Francisco, please.

Sorry, no Amex.

Seriously?

Fine. Whatever.

Driver's license or state ID?

You want my birth certificate too?

Government ID is required for all interstate rail travel.

Next.

- I can't talk right now. - I don't care.

Hassani is pulling keyhole satellite images

of six silos. One of them is Silo 12.

How does he know about 12? - I have no idea.

He knows something about the blast.

Find out what.

I gotta go.

Sir, you got to see this.

How is this possible?

Hey, we just landed. What's up?

You were right.

There's something else going on.

We pulled info on Crystal Resnick,

and there is no Crystal Resnick.

According to our records, she doesn't exist

prior to 2001.

What is she, some kind of con artist?

This has government prints all over it.

It looks like witness protection.

Maybe she was a witness for the prosecution in Roy's case,

and this is payback for testifying against him.

Why would she need WITSEC?

Roy confessed to the killings the day he was caught.

Who was she before '01?

- Still digging. - Dig faster.

We're on our way.

There it is.

He's still in there.

Roy Barber, this is the FBI.

Step out of the car with your hands open and raised.

This is your only warning.

Get out of the car, or we'll open fire.

Go.

Shane, cover me.

Moving.

Got you.

It's not him. It's not him!

We need a medic over here.

Call an ambulance.

We need EMS immediately.

Portland train station. - Bex.

Roy's not here.

He ditched the car and left a body.

This one's still breathing. Oliver, are you listening?

Yeah, I heard you.

But there's something else. - What happened?

We tracked down Crystal Resnick's real name.

It's Bridget Caldwell.

Wait, isn't that--

She's one of Roy's original victims.

The file says he killed her two decades ago.

Roy Barber killed Bridget Caldwell 24 years ago.

How is this possible?

We're trying to figure that out.

Her husband's body was the only one they found.

Hers was never recovered.

What's the working theory? She escaped?

But why not go to the authorities?

She knew that he was arrested and convicted.

Not to mention executed.

No time for theories.

We need to find Barber before he hurts anyone else.

I'm on it.

Pull up cctv of the ticket booths

for the last two hours.

There he is. Play it.

- And there's Roy behind him. - But why attack the guy?

Dead men don't have valid ID.

He nearly killed this guy for a train ticket?

Wrong place, wrong time.

Question is, where was the suit going?

Hey, what you got?

Roy Barber is on the 1:00 to San Francisco.

- Cameras on those trains? - Negative.

We need to stop that train.

The moment we do, Barber will know something is up,

and he'll bolt.

What about USTrak security?

I'm not getting some rent-a-cop killed.

If you leave now, you can catch up to the train

at the Redding station.

OK, ready?

One, two, and--

That's a letter, bud.

Sorry.

Come on, buddy.

Let's go find Mom before she thinks we're lost, huh?

Tickets, folks.

I don't see how anyone walks away from something like that.

Bridget Caldwell survives this nightmare,

becomes Crystal Resnick, and then lives

some kind of normal life?

Maybe she didn't want the attention.

A lot of victims don't come forward.

They do if they've been through something like that.

Roy Barber obsessed over his victims in the Pit.

He would draw them over and over and over again.

I mean, this kind of fantastic indulgence

is normal in hedonistic killers,

but there's something more here.

He's immortalizing them.

Ticket, sir.

It's dry skin, you know?

Cracks sometimes.

Hey, look at this.

Roy drew all of his victims hundreds of times.

Over the years, some of the subjects would age.

Others wouldn't.

Is there some kind of pattern?

None of the men age.

The women, they all do.

Well, that's creepy as hell. Why would he do that?

Because Roy knew the women weren't actually dead.

So you're saying all these women are still alive?

There's no way they all escaped.

No.

So Barber let them go in exchange

for what, their silence?

What if the women were in on all of the murders?

What do we do now?

Roy gets rid of the husbands, frames it as a double homicide.

Why not just hire a good old-fashioned hitman?

Because these women know that if their husband

randomly gets murdered,

they are the number one suspect.

But you don't need an alibi if everyone thinks you're dead.

Right, and Roy's crime scenes left no room for survivors.

I mean, no one would have suspected a thing.

Wait, hang on. Slow down.

We have no evidence that any of the other women survived.

And even if they did, even if they were in on it,

how would they go about finding

brand-new identities for themselves?

Roy.

He worked at police stations for years.

He knew the cracks in the system.

He knew the blind spots.

He knew how to cover his tracks.

Attention travelers, please be reminded,

that parking at the Mt. Shasta station

is limited to designated areas.

Hey, what's up?

Roy Barber just got off the train.

- Where? - Mt. Shasta.

I'll tell the pilots.

What the hell is in Mt. Shasta?

Not what. Who.

That doesn't make any sense.

Why would any of these women ask

a police sketch artist for help killing their husbands?

What if Barber was the one that initiated contact?

His pathology was shaped on the fact

that his abusive father murdered his mother,

so what if he saw these women as a surrogate for her?

He can't save her life, so he decides to save theirs.

There's no evidence that any of these women

were in abusive relationships.

Guys, in the year before Bridget Caldwell's death,

her husband was arrested for drunk and disorderly

three times.

She bailed him out each time.

Roy worked at that police station for a decade.

He would have crossed paths with Bridget Caldwell,

and through the prism of his childhood,

he would have seen her as someone that needed saving.

Nice work, Morales. - Here's another one.

Six months before Kyle and Trisha Franklin's death,

they were both brought into the Tampa Police Station

for petty larceny, but were released

before charges were ever filed.

OK, so that's two women in messy marriages

that would have jumped at the chance

to start over, even if that means

killing their own husbands.

There's just no way that a schizoid personality

with little to no social skills would approach these women.

Unless the original profile is wrong.

What if he's not a true schizoid?

In those interviews, he talks about himself

as if he was alone, but he was always working

on the farm with his mother.

She was the only person he actually cared about.

So what if he thought that he was freeing

these women, from their lives, from their marriages?

What do we do now?

Well, we talked about this.

They need to find blood from the both of you.

And then you'll make me disappear?

Morales, gather the last known images

of Barber's other female victims,

put them through the Bureau's predictive aging program,

and then have our analysts run the aged photos

through a facial recognition database.

Roger that.

You know, Roy always claimed the solitude of the Pit

was what made him so happy,

but I'm starting to think that he was so content

'cause he knew he had us all fooled.

We land in five.

Hi, honey.

Wow, it smells great in here.

Hi.

Can you taste this for salt?

Who the hell are you?

An old friend of Linda's.

Who the hell are you?

I'm Linda's husband.

Yeah, I'm so sorry to hear that.

Bex, I just got those satellite images

back from my friend.

These are the six coordinates,

Including the rescue efforts at the Pit.

This is where Silo 12 is located.

You see that shadow?

That photo's been doctored.

Do you know the security clearance you need

to doctor raw keyhole satellite images?

And why doctor this and not the Pit?

What's more top secret than the Pit?

I don't know, but whatever is out there

is important enough to erase from every database

on the planet.

Sir, we got a thousand possible matches,

but only one in Mt. Shasta.

Linda Agosti.

Also known as Trisha Franklin,

Roy's second victim.

That's where he's going. Nice work.

Tell the team.

Ger-bear, are you home?

There you are. How was tennis?

Linda, Linda, Linda.

You just never learn, do you?

How?

Honey, how do you know this man?

Why are you here?

To teach you a lesson.

Again.

Picture this.

22-year-old Linda.

Back then, she was Trisha.

Depressed, lost.

But she meets a handsome charmer of a guy named Kyle,

and she thinks he's a solution to all her problems.

My mom was the same way when she met my dad.

It's a tale as old as time.

But Kyle's got problems, too--

debt, unfaithfulness.

Their marriage was troubled.

One night, those two end up at the station,

and I could see how trapped she was.

What did you say to me?

I want to be free.

And I said I could help you.

What are you saying?

Linda, what did you do?

Husband's name is Gerald.

Retired exec. Worked at Avon.

Let's hope Gerry can fight better than her first hubby.

Your story, it-- it can't be real.

Well, it's as real as that scar on her arm.

What did you tell him, how you got that?

Pilates injury?

A surgical scar.

I'm sorry.

Did you ki--

Kill her first husband? No.

I did that for her.

Yeah, Kyle was a cancer eating her alive.

I saw that she needed help,

saw where that path would lead her.

She needed to start over.

She needed the second chance that nobody gave my mother.

Poor Linda didn't learn her lesson, did she?

Because then she went and fell for you.

Gerald isn't Kyle.

I'm happy now.

I don't need your help.

Yes, Trisha, you do.

Why doesn't anybody ever learn?

Look, there's 10 grand in my safe.

Take the watches and the jewelry too.

Watches and jewelry?

Are you even listening to me?

Please, don't hurt us.

No! Don't touch her!

Well, I guess we have to try this again.

Kitchen's clear!

- There's nothing upstairs. - We're too late.

What'd you find?

- Hey, Morales. - Talk to me.

Barber is on the move, and he's taking them with him.

I need a location on Linda's silver Mercedes.

On it.

- All right, come on. - Where's Gerald?

Let's go.

Come on.

Where's Gerald?

Stand by.

Long straight, then left.

You're almost there.

You know, I'm not a bad person.

I believe in second chances and forgiveness.

Oh, my God.

Gerald!

But forgiveness must be earned.

Now, last time, I did it for you.

But this time...

you get to do it yourself.

The trunk is empty.

Where the hell are they?

Set yourself free.

Do it! - Don't do this, baby.

I'm sorry.

Oh, no.

No.

You're breaking my heart here.

Please! Please! No!

No!

Please.

Don't do this.

Please, no!

Put the gun down, Roy!

Trisha, get down!

Cover me.

- Barber, it's over! - Stay down.

No one else needs to die!

I'm not afraid to die!

I've done it before!

Toss the gun, Roy! Come on.

You love prison. - Go to hell!

Come on, Roy. You're not a bad guy.

I know you were just trying to help people.

Roy, you're just misunderstood.

No!

I'm not a bad guy!

I'm a protector!

Roy.

Thank God.

He was going to kill me.

Funny, I thought he killed you years ago.

Where are we going?

To talk about the six other women

who had you kill their husbands.

How's the arm?

Oh, Roy.

Yeah, as flattering as that is,

that's not the list I asked for, is it?

No, I wanted all six names.

These women are guilty of first-degree murder.

Hmm.

Second chances are so rare, I think.

Why would I spoil that for them?

You know, we went through your drawings at the Pit.

- Yeah? - Yeah, all of them.

They were very intimate and delicate.

It was a hard contrast from the brutality

of your crime scenes. It was impressive.

Yeah, well, when you care about something,

you put care into it. - Right, right.

Except that you put evidence of your crimes out there

for anyone paying attention to see, so that's--

that's more pride. That's less care, you know?

But I mean, why not be proud?

You, you fooled everyone, didn't you?

You made sure that nobody would go looking for those girls,

because you did such a convincing job

of making sure they looked dead.

Yeah, you waved your sketches under the noses of the doctors

you were working with, and they would just call it

criminal reverie or victim attachment.

Yeah, never seeing it for what it actually was,

a confession.

You've gone decades without talking about it,

though, so why start now, right?

Why not just let those girls go live

the lives that you gave them?

I mean, I get it, Roy. I understand.

If I were the one that freed them from their partners, I--

I wouldn't drop a dime on them, either.

No, I mean, this is your life's work.

This is the biggest item on your savior résumé.

It's the one thing that kept you going at the Pit,

and it's the one thing that'll keep you going

when we send you back.

Right.

It's just-- it's tricky, though,

because we literally have no leverage.

I mean, what could we possibly do to you

that hasn't already been done? We could arrest you.

Check. We could kill you.

Check.

Uh, we could lock you up in total isolation

for the rest of your life. - Check.

Exactly.

Well.

It's just too bad that it's all a load of crap, isn't it?

What?

You're not a savior, are you?

You didn't free any of those women.

In fact, they used you

to kill their husbands.

And the one person that actually needed you to save her

was your mother, but you couldn't do it,

could you? - Stop it.

Because you were too weak. You were too small.

You just-- - Stop!

I did free them,

and some are still free.

You went and visited them, didn't you?

The other women.

Crystal wasn't the first one you tracked down.

Blue Ford Escape, Idaho plates,

registered to a Wendy Hosmer out of Twin Falls.

Not reported stolen yet.

The Ford, it wasn't reported stolen

because you never stole it.

No, Wendy Hosmer gave it to you

because she was one of yours, wasn't she?

Thanks, Roy.

Come on, come on, come on.

He's about to get ejected.

- This isn't live? - Mm-mm.

Why are we watching this, then?

Because it's on.

We got her, and you were right.

Wendy Hosmer, formerly known as Amanda Lewis,

assumed to have been murdered by Roy Barber in 1995.

He went to her home three days ago,

and she gave him her car. - One down.

All right. That's a good start.

It's more than a start.

I accessed her computer, and surprise, surprise,

our sketchy friend Roy searched all the names of the women

he worked with in the past.

- We got them all? - Yeah.

Cool.

Hey, maybe they'll all make friends in prison.

Great work, everybody.

Hey, uh, my techs are starving.

Can we pass some of this out?

- But the game. - But the techs.

Ugh. Take a piece.

- Nice.

This one's got a bite out of it.

That's all right. It's still good.

Hey, pal. - Hey, man.

This is an old game.

Why are you watching this? - Uh, no, I don't know anymore.

You know, I gotta say,

watching you today piecing this whole thing together,

it felt like old times.

You haven't lost a step.

What? - I don't know.

All this, the job.

I still haven't told Sam what I'm doing.

- Are you going to? - I don't know.

- How's she doing? - She's good.

She-- she graduated high school.

She's in college now.

You already knew that though.

You said it when I first saw you at the hospital.

Yeah, she, uh--

she still sends me a birthday card every year,

to my place in DC.

I don't get a lot of cards anymore.

I assumed you knew. I wasn't trying to--

It's OK.

Everyone should get a card on their birthday,

or a cupcake.

Listen, whatever you decide to tell Sam,

this is what you're good at, you know?

See you in a bit.

There's your face. I missed that.

I know. I missed yours too.

Wait. Where are you?

I am in Wyoming.

I took some time off from the casino

because the FBI needed my help.

Oh, are you sure that's such a good idea?

Yeah. No, this is where I should be.

I know. I'm living proof.

I hope you're calling to congratulate me

on another job well done.

I'm calling to ask you, what the hell

do you think you're doing? - It's been a long day.

Can we skip the guessing part?

Do you have any idea how many alarm bells

started ringing when you had your guy

pull those satellite images?

Your job is to ensure the recapture

of any and all escaped inmates from the Pit.

What is out there?

I'm going to phrase this as simply as I can,

Agent Hassani.

Some secrets are better left buried.

It's done.

In my experience, a political solution

is always better than a military one.

Less cleanup afterwards.