All language subtitles for Se7en.1995.Hybrid.1080p.UHD.BluRay.DD+7.1.Do

Neighbors heard them screaming
at each other, like, for two hours.

Nothing new.
Then they heard the gun go off.

Both barrels.

A crime of passion.

Yeah.

Just look at all the passion on that wall.

Yeah, well, this is a done deal.
All but the paperwork.

The kid see it?

What?

The kid.

What kind of fucking question is that?

We are all gonna be glad when we get rid
of you, Somerset, you know that?

It's always these questions with you.
Did the kid see it?

Who gives a fuck? He's dead.
His wife killed him.

Anything else has nothing to do with us.

Detective Somerset?

I'm Detective Mills.

Lieutenant, I apologize
for interrupting like this.

Just get in town 20 minutes ago,
they dump me here.

Look, um...

Mills? I thought we might
find a bar someplace. Sit, talk...

Well, I'd like to get to the precinct.

You know,
not much time for this transition.

I meant to ask you something
when we spoke on the phone before.

Yeah.

Why here?

I don't follow.

Well, all this effort to get transferred.

It's the first question
that popped into my head.

I guess for the same reasons as you.

Or the same reasons you had
before you decided to quit, yeah?

You just met me.

Maybe I'm not understanding
the question.

It's very simple.

You actually fought
to get reassigned here.

I've just never seen it done
that way before.

I thought I could do some good.

It would be great if we didn't start out
kicking each other in the balls.

- But you're calling the shots, lieutenant.
- Yes.

I want you to look
and I want you to listen, okay?

I wasn't standing around
guarding the Taco Bell.

- I've worked Homicide five years.
- Not here.

I understand that.

Over the next seven days, detective,

you'll do me the favor
of remembering that.

Hey, hey. I almost died.

Shut the fuck up down there!

Hello? Yeah.

Okay.

Say it again.

I thought we moved here
to get away from tractor pulls.

Serpico's gotta go.

Yeah, well, you might wanna get rid
of this little crusty.

This eye, Serpico.

- Did you get it?
- Got it.

Good.

Coffee? No?

Nothing's been touched.
Everything's like I found it.

What time was death established?

Like I said,

I didn't touch anything.

But he's had his face in a plate
of spaghetti for 45 minutes.

No one bothers with vital signs?

Did I stutter?

This guy ain't breathing unless
he started breathing spaghetti sauce.

So that's how it's done here?

I beg your pardon, detective,

but this guy's been sitting
in a pile of his own piss and shit.

If he wasn't dead,
he would've stood up by now.

- All right, thank you, officer.
- Okay.

Thank you.

I wonder.

What was the point of the conversation
you were about to get into?

Don't know.

How many times has Barney Fife
found dead bodies that weren't dead?

Drop it.

Whew.

Oof.

Somebody phone Guinness.
I think we've got a record here.

Better Homes and Gardens.

Oof.

Who said this was murder?

No one.

Guy's heart's gotta be the size
of a canned ham.

If this isn't a coronary, well...
...I don't know.

Whoops.

How about that?

We had this case once.

Guy dead on the ground,

knife in his back.

Gotta be murder, right?

Fuck.

Anyway,
big insurance policy involved, yeah?

So the guy took the tip of the blade,
stuck it in his own shoulder blades.

And he must have screwed up a few times
because there was multiples back there.

Could you please be quiet?

- Wait a minute.
- What?

Got a bucket here.

What's in it?

Agh!

Oh, God.

Fucking vomit.

Any blood in it?

I didn't see any. Help yourself.

Are you thinking it's poison?

Oh, wonderful. Very moody.

Thinking it's poison, Somerset?

You girls have got Forensics
waiting outside.

- Don't know if we'll all fit.
- There's room. Light's the problem.

- Hi, how are you?
- Hey.

Detective Mills, would you go help
the officers question the neighbors?

- What?
- Send in Forensics on your way out.

He's dead.

Thank you, doctor.

You've seen my files, right?
You've seen the things I've done.

Nope.

I did my time on door-to-doors
and walking the beat.

I did that shit for a long time.

And?

Badge on my belt says "detective."
That's the same as yours.

Look, I made a decision.

I had to consider
the integrity of the scene.

Couldn't worry whether you thought
you were getting enough time on the field.

Hey, man...

just don't be jerking me off,
that's all I ask. Don't jerk me off.

He's been dead a long time.

I can tell you it was not from poison.

Oh, man.

How does someone
let themselves go like that?

It took four orderlies
just to get him on the table.

How'd the fat fuck fit
out his front door?

It's obvious he was a shut-in.

Look at this.

See how big this stomach is?

And the strange thing is, it stretches.

Look at the size of the cardiac orifice,
where the food...

Wait, I see what you're pointing out,
but that means nothing to me.

Okay. He's got lines of distension
across the duodenum.

And the interior wall is ripped open.

This man ate till he burst?

He didn't really burst. Not all the way.

He was hemorrhaging internally.

And there was a hematoma in the rectus
and transverse abdominis muscles.

- So he did die by eating.
- Yes and no.

What about these bruises up here?

- I haven't figured that out yet.
- Gun pressed against his head?

Pressed hard enough, sure.

Fuck, yeah.

Marks from the front side,
flush with the muzzle.

Ladies and gentlemen,
we have ourselves a homicide.

Killer put a bucket
beneath him, kept on serving.

Took his time too.

Coroner said this could have gone on
more than 12 hours.

Victim's throat was swollen,
probably from the effort.

And there was definitely a point
when he passed out.

That's when the killer kicked him
and he burst.

Oof. Sadistic fucker, huh?

When you want somebody dead,
you shoot them.

You don't risk the time it takes
to do this.

- Unless the act itself has meaning.
- Come on.

Somebody had a problem with the fat boy
and decided to torture him.

Simple as that.

In the grocery bags,
we found two receipts.

That means the killer stopped
in the middle

and made a second trip
to the supermarket.

So?

Hey, man, it's his thing.
I've been out in the rain all day.

This is beginning.

We've got one dead guy, not three.

No motive.

Don't even start that big brain of yours
cooking on this, all right?

Please, I'd like to be reassigned.

- What?
- What?

- What? Whoa.
- What in the hell are you talking about?

This can't be my last duty.

It's just gonna go on and on and on.

You're retiring.

Six more days and you're all the way gone.

Won't be the first time
you've left unfinished...

Those other cases were taken as close
to conclusion as humanly possible.

And if I may speak freely?

We're all friends here.

- This should not be his first assignment.
- Oh, come on, I knew it.

This is not my first assignment, you dick.

It's too soon for him.

Hey, I'm right here.
You can say that shit to my face.

- Captain...
- It's too soon for you.

Captain, if we can just talk in private?

This isn't working. It's a personal thing.

- Maybe...
- Just shut up, Mills.

Look, I don't have anyone else
to put on this, and you know it.

This is Metro. You don't just get to swap.

Give it to me.

- Say what?
- Yeah, he doesn't want it, fuck him.

Sorry, but see you later.
Have a nice time.

- Give it to me.
- No. I'm putting you on something else.

Go on, Mills. Just go on.

I'm sorry, old buddy,

but it looks like you're stuck
cleaning up the fat man.

All right, here we go.
Quiet down.

All right, calm down. Calm down.

Quiet down.

Calm down. Quiet down.

Now, here's how it's gonna work.

I'll answer questions for 10 minutes
and 10 minutes only.

If those questions do not come in a calm,
sane and orderly fashion,

I'm on my way out of here.

Detective? Detective?

- Can I have a moment of your time?
- No.

I will not discuss the details
of this ongoing investigation,

so don't even bother asking.

I've got shopping tools...

That's 25 Berlin.

That looks like him.

Three items for your case number.

- What you guys got for me?
- Nothing yet, boss.

Why don't you guys, uh,
go get a coffee, huh?

We have this breaking story for you.

We're going to go live downtown,

where defense attorney Eli Gould
was found murdered this morning.

District Attorney Martin Talbot
is taking questions from reporters.

There could be
a conflict of interest...

That is ridiculous
to the point of being offensive.

There is no conflict whatsoever.

And any claim that there could be
is irresponsible.

- Mr. Talbot.
- Hold on.

It's rumored
you're far from apprehending a suspect.

I've come from a meeting

of law enforcement officials,
and they've assured me

they have their very best men on this.

This will be the very definition
of swift justice.

Pardon me, George.

- Somerset.
- Come in.

- Have you heard the news?
- Nope, haven't heard.

Eli Gould was found murdered
this morning.

Someone broke into his law firm
and bled him to death.

Wrote the word "greed" on the floor.

- Greed?
- Yeah, in blood.

Mills is heading up the investigation.

Uh, excuse me. Excuse me?

- Could you not do that, please?
- Oh, okay.

Well, good for him.

What in the hell are you gonna do
with yourself out there, Somerset?

Oh, I'll work, maybe on a farm.

Fix my house.

Don't you feel it?

Don't you feel that feeling?

You're not gonna be a cop anymore.

That's the whole idea.

I don't think you're leaving.
Hell, you can't leave all this.

Guy's out walking his dog.

Gets attacked.

His watch is taken, his wallet.

While he's lying there
on the sidewalk, helpless,

his attacker stabs him in both eyes.

This happened last night
about four blocks from here.

Yeah, I read about it.

- I don't understand this place any longer.
- It's the way it's always been.

Maybe you're right.

You do this work.

You were made for it,
and I don't think you can deny that.

Maybe I'm wrong.

Oh, uh, the coroner
sent this down for you.

Found them in fat boy's stomach,
mixed in with food.

Looks like plastic,
little pieces of plastic.

Set them on the desk, please.

They were, uh... They were fed to him.

Oh, Lord.

This was found on the wall
behind the refrigerator

in the obesity murder scene.

"Long is the way and hard
that out of hell leads up to light."

It's from Milton.

Paradise Lost.

All right, I'm confused.

It means that this is beginning.

This was found
behind the same refrigerator.

Written in grease.

There are seven deadly sins, captain.

Gluttony...

greed...

sloth, wrath, pride, lust...

...and envy.

- Seven.
- Hold on.

This is not even my desk.

You can expect five more of these.

Now, wait a minute.

I can't get involved in this.

- Somerset.
- He wanted it.

- Damn.
- I'm all over it.

What's wrong with you?

Where you headed?

Far away from here.

Thanks, George. How you doing?

Just a few things to look up.

Okay. Sit where you'd like.

How's everybody?

Hi, Smiley.

Come on, George,
the cards are getting cold.

Duty calls.

Gentlemen, gentlemen.

I'll never understand.

All these books,

a world of knowledge
at your fingertips.

What do you do?

You play poker all night.

Hey, we got culture.

Yeah, we got culture
coming out our asses.

All right.

How's this for culture?

You know, Smiley...

you're really gonna miss us.

I just might.

Fucking Dante.

Goddamn poetry-writing faggot
piece of shit.

Fucker.

Yeah?

Good work, officer.

Thank you, Lord.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Be out of your way in a second.

- You want your chair?
- No. You go ahead.

Yeah?

Phone.

It's a package deal.
Comes with the office.

- Mills.
- Honey.

- Are you okay? Something wrong?
- No.

You dingleberry, I, uh, told you
not to call me here when I'm working.

Yeah. Why?

Why?

- Why?
- Come on.

Okay.

- It's my wife.
- Sorry?

She'd like to speak to you.

Uh, this is Detective Somerset.

Oh, it's nice to speak with you.

Well, it's nice to talk to you too.

I appreciate the offer, but...

- Well, in that case I'd be delighted.
- Great.

- Yes, thank you very much.
- Thank you. See you later.

Bye.

Hon, what...?

Well?

- Sorry? Oh, uh...
- What?

I've been invited to a late supper
at your apartment.

I accepted.

At my... How's that?

Tonight.

Twenty-one-fifty-seven.

Hello, men.

- Hi, loser.
- Hi, idiot.

This is Trace. Tracy.

- Somerset.
- Hello.

I'm very happy to meet you.
I've heard a lot about you.

Except, of course, your first name.

It's William.

Hmm. Well, it's a good name, William.

William, I'd like you to meet David.

- David, this is William.
- Okay, all right, I'm gonna...

I'll be right back.

- How are the kids?
- Good. They're in the room.

Come on in.

Oh, good dogs.

How are you, good dogs?
How are you, pretty?

How are you?

How are you?

You are?

- Smells good.
- What?

- Uh...
- Oh. Yeah.

I mean, thank you.

Um, please have a seat, if you like.
Would you like something to drink?

Uh, no. No, thanks.

- I'll wait.
- Okay. You can just throw that anywhere.

You'll have to excuse all this mess.
You know, we're still unpacking.

I understand you two
were high-school sweethearts.

Mm-hm.

Pretty hokey, huh?

You know something?

I knew on our first date
that this was the guy I was gonna marry.

- Really?
- Mm-hm.

He was the funniest guy I'd ever met.

Really?

Well, it's kind of rare nowadays,
you know.

I mean, that level of commitment.

Oh, don't worry.

- I won't wear it to the dinner table.
- No.

I, uh... You know,
no matter how often I see guns, I just...

I can't get used to them.

Same here.

Why aren't you married, William?

Oh, Trace, what the hell?

I was close once.

It just didn't happen.

It surprises me.

It really does.

Well...

Anyone who spends a significant amount
of time with me finds me disagreeable.

Just ask your husband.

Very true.

Very, very true.

So how long have you lived here?

Too long.

How are you liking it?

You know, takes time, settle in...

It'll be good.

Well, you get numb after a while.

There are things to any city.

Subway.

- It'll go away in a minute.
- It's nothing.

Real-estate guy.

Fucking piece of...

Sorry, honey. He's...

He shows us the place a few times.

I think he's good. He's efficient.

Trace really likes him.

Then I start wondering, why will he only
bring us here for five minutes at a time.

We found out the first night.

The soothing, relaxing,
vibrating home, huh?

I'm sorry.

Yeah, all right, laugh it up.

You... I don't know why you're laughing.

All right, already.

The guy would've had to get in

before the office was closed
and security tightened.

Now, Gould would've been working late.

I'm certain.
He was the biggest defense lawyer in town.

Infamous, really.

Listen, the body was found
on Tuesday morning.

The office was closed on Monday,

which means
the guy could've gotten in Friday,

laid low till the cleaning crew left,

then had his way with Gould
all day Saturday,

Sunday, maybe even Monday.

Hey, look at this.

Gould was bound, right arm was left free.
He was handed a butcher's knife.

Check out the scale.

A pound of flesh?

Yeah.

"One pound of flesh,
no more, no less.

No cartilage, no bone, but only flesh."

- Merchant of Venice.
- Didn't see it.

"This task done and he would go free."

I'm telling you,
that chair was soaked through with sweat.

Of course.

The killer would've wanted Gould
to take his time,

to sit and decide
which cut to make first.

Imagine it.

There's a gun in your face.

Which part of your body is expendable?

What about the love handle?

Cut along the side of his own stomach.

All right,
let's take a fresh look at these.

Even though the corpse is there,
look through it.

Edit out the initial shock.

Trick is to find one item,
one detail, and focus on it

until it's an exhausted possibility.

Just gonna get another beer. Beer?

Uh, wine, please.

He's preaching.

He's punishing.

The sins were used in medieval sermons.

There were seven cardinal virtues
and seven deadly sins

used as teaching tools.

Yeah, yeah, yeah,
like in, uh, The Parson's Tale and...

What's this? Uh, Dante.

- You read them?
- Yeah.

Well, parts.
Hey, remember in, uh, Purgatory,

Dante and his buddy,
they're climbing up the hill,

they're checking out
all the sinners, yeah?

- Yeah, the seven terraces of purgation.
- Yeah, yeah, right.

But there, pride comes first,
not gluttony.

Yeah, well, for now, let's consider that
the books were the killer's inspiration.

The sermons
were about atonement for sin.

These murders are like forced attrition.

- Forced what?
- Attrition.

It's when you regret your sins,
but not because you love God.

Oh, like because someone's sticking
a fucking gun in your face.

Mm-hm.

- No fingerprints.
- Nope.

- Totally unrelated victims.
- Yup.

And no witnesses of any kind.

Which I don't get.

Because the fucker had to get back out.

Well, in any major city,
minding your own business is a science.

The first thing they teach women
in rape prevention is never cry for help.

Always yell, "Fire."

Nobody answers to "Help."

You holler, "Fire," they come running.

That's fucked up.

He must have left another puzzle piece.

You know what?

Thank you for talking this out,
but I gotta sleep.

- Gotta walk the dogs.
- This is strictly to satisfy my curiosity.

- I'm still leaving at the end of the week.
- Oh, shit.

No, wait, wait.

Gould's wife.
She was out of town at the time.

- So this means she saw something.
- What if it's a threat?

Well, I put her in a safe house.
She wasn't too happy about it.

What if it isn't something
she has seen

but something she's supposed to see
but hasn't been given a chance?

Yeah, okay. What?

I don't know.

But that's the one thing.

Sign us in.

Gotta see Mrs. Gould.

...treat me like a prisoner.

Why do you have a phone in my room
if I can't make long-distance phone calls?

- Mrs. Gould?
- You don't treat people like this.

Mrs. Gould, I am sorry. I truly am.

I don't understand.

Okay, I need you
to look at each photo very carefully.

Look and see if there's anything strange
or out of place.

Um, anything at all.

- I don't see anything.
- You're sure?

Please, I just...
I can't do this right now.

Okay.

It's gotta be now.

There may be something
we haven't seen.

Wait.

- What?
- Here.

This painting, it's upside down.

- You sure your men didn't move this?
- No, no.

Those shots were taken before forensics.

Nothing.

There's gotta be something.

- Moved the screws to rehang it.
- Yep.

What the fuck is that?

Switchblade.

Goddamn it.

There must be something.

He didn't paint the fucking thing.

No, he's fucking with us,
that's what he's doing.

See this? This is us.

- Yeah.
- Just wait a minute.

Now Somerset's climbing
on the furniture.

Just wait a minute.

You're kidding me.

Call the Print Lab.

Oh, man.

Honestly, have you ever
seen anything like this?

No.

I can tell you guys,
just by looking at the swirl pattern,

they're not the victim's fingerprints.

I don't know, man.
I say he's whacked enough.

It doesn't fit.

- He doesn't want us to help him stop.
- Who knows?

So many freaks out there

doing their little evil deeds
they don't wanna do.

"The voices made me do it.
My dog made me do it.

Jodie Foster told me to do it."

You know, um, I've seen this baby take
as long as three days to make a match,

so maybe you guys
wanna cross your fingers somewhere else.

You meant what you said to Mrs. Gould,
didn't you?

- About catching this guy.
- Yeah.

Hmm.

Wish I still thought the way you do.

Why don't you tell me what the hell it is
you think we're doing, then.

Picking up the pieces.

We're collecting all the evidence,
taking all the pictures and samples,

writing everything down,

noting the time things happened.

- That's all?
- That's all.

Putting everything into neat little piles
and filing it away,

on the off chance
it will ever be needed in the courtroom.

Picking up diamonds
on a deserted island,

saving them in case we get rescued.

Bullshit.

Even the most promising clues
usually only lead to others.

So many corpses roll away unrevenged.

Don't try to tell me
you didn't get that rush tonight.

I saw you.

We're getting somewhere.

Wake up, Glimmer Twins.

You've got a winner.

This guy goes by the name of Victor.
His real name is Theodore Allen.

His prints were found
at the scene by Homicide.

He's got a long history
of serious mental illness.

His parents gave him
a very strict Southern Baptist upbringing.

But somewhere along the line,
they fell short.

Now, Victor dabbled in drugs,
armed robbery and assault.

Spent time in prison here a while back
for the attempted rape of a minor.

But his lawyer saw to it
that that didn't last long.

His lawyer, by the way,
is the recently deceased Eli Gould.

- Greed murder victim.
- Yes, sir.

We're gonna finish this thing up today,
ladies and germs.

Victor's been out of circulation a while,
but there's still a residence in his name.

You're not buying all this, are you?

- Doesn't seem like our guy, does it?
- You tell me.

Our killer seems to have more purpose.

You ever take a bullet?

Never in my 34 years, knock wood.

I've only taken my gun out three times
with the intention of using it.

Never pulled the trigger.

Not once.

- You?
- Yeah, but...

No, I never took a bullet,
but I pulled my gun once, shot it once.

- Really?
- It was my first one of these.

We were a secondary unit.

I was pretty shaky going in.
I was a rookie then.

Anyway, we bust open the door
looking for this junkie and, uh,

the fucker just opened fire on us.

One cop got hit in the arm.

Christ, what was his name?

Spun him like a top.

You know, I mean, more like slow motion.

I remember...

riding in that ambulance.

Well, he died right there.

Right there.

Christ, what was his fucking name?

- Eyes open.
- Let's do it. Let's do it.

Go, go, go. Move.

Okay.

Get up there.

SWAT goes before dicks.

Hey.

They love this.

Police!

Clear.

- Clear.
- Clear.

Clear!

Clear.

Morning, sweetheart.

Get up now, motherfucker.

Now!

Get up, you sack of shit.

Oh, fuck me.

Dicks! You'll wanna
come take a look at this.

Dicks!

Oof.

Jesus.

- Victor?
- What the hell?

Yeah, it's just Victor.

- Call an ambulance.
- What is this?

- Hearse, more like.
- Also Forensics.

- California, get your people out.
- Go on.

No one touches anything.

It's some frigging wax sculpture
or something.

"Sloth."

Oh, man.

Goddamn.

This picture
was dated three days ago.

This must be the first one. Look.

It's dated exactly one year ago today.

I got a hair sample, I got a stool sample,
I got piss, I got fingernails.

- He's laughing at us.
- You got what you deserved.

He's alive, he's alive!

- Cocksucker's alive! Still breathing!
- Guns down.

Guns down! Emergency on that ambulance!

Coming through.

- He's playing games.
- Ah, no shit.

Look, we have to divorce ourselves
from emotion here.

Oh.

No matter how hard it is,
we have to remain focused.

Hey, man, I feed off my emotions.
How's that?

- Are you listening to me?
- Yes, I can hear you.

- Excuse me.
- What are you doing?

- Closed crime scene. Get out.
- I got a right to be here.

- UPI photographer.
- Get out!

- Get out of here.
- I got a fucking right to be here.

- Get out. Jesus.
- Fucking jerk. Fuck you.

- I got your picture, man.
- Oh, yeah?

- I got your picture.
- Yeah?

Detective Mills, M-I-L-L-S, fuck off.

- I'm surprised you can spell.
- Fuck you.

How do they get here so fucking quick?

They pay police for the information.

And they pay well.

Hey, man, I'm sorry. I...

Those...

- You know, they piss me off.
- It's okay.

It's impressive to see a man
feeding off his emotions.

A year of immobility
seems about right,

judging by the deterioration
of the muscles and the spine.

Blood tests show a whole smorgasbord
of drugs in his system.

Even an antibiotic,

which must have been administered
to keep the bed sores from infecting.

Now, has he tried to speak
or communicate in any way?

Even if his brain were not mush,
which it is,

he chewed off his own tongue long ago.

Uh, doc.

Is there absolutely no chance
that he might survive?

Detective, he'd die of shock right now

if you were to shine a flashlight
in his eyes.

He's experienced about as much pain
and suffering as anyone I've encountered,

give or take.

And he still has hell to look forward to.

Good night.

Tonight we bring you
the Charlie Parker Quintet,

featuring Sir Charles Thompson on piano,
Herb Pomeroy's trumpet,

Jimmy Woode, bass, Kenny Clarke, drums,
and the alto saxophone of Charlie Parker.

- Yeah?
- Hello, William?

- It's Tracy.
- Tracy?

- Is everything all right?
- Yeah, yes, everything's fine.

- Where's David?
- He's just, uh...

He's in the other room.
He's in the shower.

Um, I'm sorry to call you like this.

Oh, it's all right. Um...

What can I do for you, Tracy?

I, uh...

Um, hmm...

I need someone to talk to.

Do you think
you could meet me somewhere,

maybe tomorrow morning?

I don't understand.

I feel stupid calling, but, uh...

you're the only person that I know here.

There's no one else.

If you can,
just, uh, give me a call, okay?

I have to go now.

- Well, good night.
- Good night.

I mean,
you know this city so well.

You've been here so long.

It can be a hard place.

I don't know why I asked you to come.

Why don't you talk to him about it?

Tell him how you feel.

I can't. You know, I can't be a burden.

Especially now.

I'll get used to things.

You know? I think I just...

I wanted to talk to someone
who's lived here for a long time and...

I mean, upstate, you know,
it's a completely different environment.

Did David tell you
that I teach fifth grade?

Well, I did.

Uh, he mentioned it.

I've been going around,
you know, looking at schools.

But the conditions here
are horrible.

What about private schools?

I don't know.

Why don't you tell me
what's really bothering you?

David and I are gonna have a baby.

Oh, Tracy, I...

I don't think I'm the...

I'm the one to talk to about this.

I hate this city.

I had a relationship once.

It was very much like a marriage.

We got pregnant.

This was a long time ago.

I remember getting up one morning
and going to work.

Just another day like any other,

except it was the first day
after I knew about...

the pregnancy.

And I felt this fear
for the first time ever.

I remember thinking:

"How can I bring a child
into a world like this?

How can...? How can a person grow up
with all this around them?"

I told her I didn't want to have it.

And over the next few weeks...

I wore her down.

I wanna have children.

I can tell you now that...

I'm... I know, I mean...

I'm positive
that I made the right decision.

But there's not a day that passes

that I don't wish
that I had made a different choice.

If you don't keep...

the baby, I mean,
if that's your decision...

don't ever tell him
that you were pregnant.

But if you choose to have this baby,

you spoil that kid every chance you get.

That's about all the advice
I can give you, Tracy.

I got to go.

William.

Thank you.

Victor's landlord said
there was an envelope of cash

in the office mailbox
the first of every month.

Quote:

"I never heard a single complaint
from the tenant in Apartment 306.

And nobody ever complained about him.

He's the best tenant I've ever had,"
end quote.

Yeah, a landlord's dream.

A paralyzed tenant with no tongue.

Who pays the rent on time.

- I'm sick of all this waiting.
- This is the job.

Why aren't we out there, huh?

Why do we gotta sit here rotting,
waiting till the lunatic does it again?

It's dismissive to call him a lunatic.
Don't make that mistake.

Come on, he's insane. Look.

Right now he's probably dancing around
in his grandma's panties.

Yeah, rubbing himself in peanut butter.

- Ooh. How's that?
- I don't think so.

His luck will run out.

Not depending on luck.

We walked into that apartment exactly
one year after he tied Victor to the bed.

One year to the day.

- He wanted us to.
- Don't know that for sure.

Oh, yes, we do.

This note he left.

His first words to us.

"Long is the way, and hard,
that out of hell leads up to light."

Fuck him. So what?

He's right so far.

Imagine the will it takes
to keep a man bound for a full year.

To sever his hand
and use it to plant fingerprints.

To insert tubes into his genitals.

This guy is methodical, exacting
and, worst of all, patient.

He's a nut bag.

And just because the fucker's got
a library card doesn't make him Yoda.

- How much money you got?
- I got like 50, 50 bucks.

I propose a field trip.
Come on.

We'll make a list.

At the top we'll put Purgatory,
Canterbury Tales.

Anything relating
to the seven deadly sins.

-Ask yourself:
-Hey, wait, wait.

What would he study
to do the things he's done?

What are his interests now?

- Jack the Ripper, for instance.
- Where are we going?

Library.

Coupons, coupons, free coupons.

Discount... Discount coupons.

They must have had
about 50 health violations

during the last inspection.

Could you at least sit across from me?
I don't want people thinking we're dating.

Give me your money.

I'm giving you this, but for some reason,

I think I don't know
what the fuck we're doing.

Fuck.

- Hey, Somerset, how you doing?
- Okay.

Didn't figure this was gonna be
a ménage à trois.

It's not a problem.

Sit down.

Only for you do I do this,
so it's a big risk.

So I figure we're just fair and square.

- It's a deal.
- All right.

About an hour.

Yeah, help yourself.

Well, that was money well spent.

Yeah.

All right.

By telling you this, I'm trusting you more
than I trust most people.

Well, good,
because I'm ready to punch you.

It's probably nothing, but even if it is,
it's no skin off our teeth.

The guy in the pizza parlor
is a friend from the Bureau.

Who, stinky man?

See, for years the FBI's been hooked
into the library system, keeping records.

- Mm-hm. Assessing fines?
- No, monitoring reading habits.

- Look.
- What?

Certain books are flagged.

Books on, say, nuclear weapons
and, well, Mein Kampf.

Anyone who checks out a flagged book

has his library records fed
into the FBI's computers from then on.

Wait, wait, wait, how is this legal?

Oh, legal, illegal.
These terms don't apply.

- Oh.
- You...

You can't use the information directly.
It's just a useful guide.

It might sound silly,
but you can't get a library card

without an ID
and a current phone bill, see?

- So they run a list.
- Precisely.

If you wanna know who's reading
Purgatory and Paradise Lost

and Helter Skelter,
the FBI's computers will tell us.

- It could give us a name.
- It could.

Could get a name of some college kid

writing a term paper
on 20th-century crime.

At least you're out of the office.

Get a haircut.

- How do you know all this?
- I don't.

- Neither do you.
- Exactly.

"The Divine Comedy.
History of Catholicism."

There's a book called
Murderers and Madmen.

"Modern Homicide Investigation,
In Cold Blood.

Of Human Bondage. '' Bondage?

- Not what you think.
- Okay.

"The Marquis de Sade."

- It's the Marquis de "Sade."
- Whatever.

"The Writings
of Saint Thomas Aqua"-something.

Saint Thomas Aquinas. There it is.

He wrote about the seven deadly sins.

- Is that it?
- Yeah.

- Let's try it.
- Jonathan Doe?

Whatever.

We're sure about that name?

Yeah.

You saw it, John Doe.

You wanna go back, I'll go back.

Let's take a look at him. Talk to him.

This is crazy.

- Ah, we'll just talk to him.
- Uh-huh.

"Excuse me, sir.
Are you by any chance a serial killer?"

Okay.

You do the talking.

- Put that silver tongue of yours to work.
- No.

You been talking to my wife?

This is retarded.

Charlie's Fucking Angels.

A name off a computer.

Mills.

Fuck.

- You hit?
- No.

He's going down! He's going down!

Fifth floor.

Mills.

Mommy?

Mommy?

Police. Is there a back way out?

Lock your door.

What the hell is going on?

Get out of the fucking hall.

Get down!

Get the fuck down.

Shit.

Get the fuck out of there.

Hey! Shut the fuck up!

Goddamn it.

Fuck.

Get out of the fucking way! Move!

Mills?

No.

Mills.

- Mills, you okay?
- I'm all right.

I'm all right.

- Where are you going?
- I'm going in.

No, no, no. Wait, wait, wait.

- Wait.
- What are you talking about?

- He shot at us.
- You can't go in.

- The hell we can't.
- We need a warrant.

We got probable cause. Come on.

Think about it, think.

- How did we get here?
- Huh?

- I can't tell anyone this.
- Oh, come on.

- I can't tell anyone.
- Out of the way.

We have no reason to be here.

- Will you listen to me?
- Get off.

- Listen to me. Listen.
- Get the fuck off me!

All right, all right, I'm sorry.
But would you just pay attention a minute?

If we leave a hole like this,
we won't be able to prosecute.

The fucking guy will walk.
Now, is that what you want?

By the time we clear a warrant,
someone else... No, fuck that.

- We need a reason to knock on this door.
- No, no.

Think about it.

Okay?

Okay, man. Okay.

You're right. I'm all fucked up.

When you're right, you're right.

Well... no point in arguing anymore.

Unless you can fix that.

You stupid son of a...

How much money we got left?

So, yeah,
like, I noticed this guy going out a lot

when the murders was happening,
so I, um...

- So...
- So you called Detective Somerset, right?

Yeah, right, right,
so I called the detective

'cause this guy was creepy and shit.

And one of the murders,
it happened right over there.

- Okay. I told you the rest. You got it?
- I called the cops.

- Good?
- I got your story.

- Have her sign. You gotta sign.
- Okay.

Okay? Good, good, good.

- All right.
- You did good.

- I did what you said.
- Here you go.

You get something to eat, all right? Eat.

Everybody, stay outside.

Victor.

Somerset!

- Somerset!
- Yeah?

- What?
- We had him.

What are you talking about?

The fucking photographer
in the fucking stairs.

We had him and we let him go.

You're sure this is him?

Yup, good, good. Yup.

- Yeah, good, get it out.
- All right.

We've got nothing, no pay stubs,
no appointment books, no addresses.

- This is the best we've got, this receipt.
- Keep looking.

Let me show you something.
This was under the bed.

His only source of funds.

No kidding, we got his money.
Fucking A, I like it.

- One more thing.
- Yes?

You're probably not gonna believe this.
We haven't found a fingerprint yet.

- Um, not a single one.
- You're right, I don't. Keep looking.

We could use some more men here.

Hey, man, I'm doing the best I can.
What are you getting with all this?

There are 2000 notebooks
on these shelves,

and each notebook contains
about 250 pages.

Forget it. Anything about the killings?

"What sick, ridiculous puppets we are,
and what a gross stage we dance on.

What fun we have dancing and fucking,
not a care in the world,

not knowing that we are nothing.

We are not what was intended."

No, wait, there's a lot more.

"On the subway today, a man came up
to me to start a conversation.

He made small talk, a lonely man,
talking about the weather and things.

I tried to be pleasant and accommodating,

but my head began to hurt
from his banality.

I almost didn't notice it had happened,
but I suddenly threw up all over him.

He was not pleased.
And I couldn't stop laughing."

No dates.

Placed on the shelves
in no discernible order.

Just his mind poured out on paper.

Looks like a life's work.

If we had 50 men reading
in 24-hour shifts,

it'd still take two months.

I know, I know, I know.

Where's that phone?

Phone? Phone?

Phone?

People, quiet!

- Hello?
- I admire you.

I don't know how you found me,
but imagine my surprise.

I respect you law enforcement agents
more every day.

Well, I appreciate that, John.

- I'll tell you...
- No, listen, all right?

I'll be readjusting my schedule
in light of today's little setback.

I just had to call
and express my admiration.

Sorry I had to hurt one of you,

- but I didn't really have a choice, did I?
- Hmm.

You will accept my apology, won't you?

I feel like saying more,
but I don't wanna ruin the surprise.

...adjusting my
schedule after today's little setback.

Got it.

All right, everybody, back to work.

- You were right.
- Hmm?

- He's preaching.
- Yeah.

These murders are his sermons to us.

Look, we know him,
we know him, we know him.

Who's the blond?

Looks like a pro.

Maybe.

She caught John Doe's eye.

Yeah, he came
and collected it last night.

- Last night?
- Yeah.

- This man?
- Yeah, John Doe.

It's an easy name to remember.
He had a limp.

- What was this job you did for him?
- I've got a picture of it. Hang on.

One sweet piece, actually.

I thought he was
one of them performance artists,

that's what I thought.

You know, the sort of guy that pisses
in a cup on stage and, uh, then drinks it.

- Performance art.
- Eh.

I think I undercharged him, actually.

You made this for him?

Yeah, I've made weirder shit than that.
So what?

They found the blond.

The picture.

The picture!

Fucking pigs.

- We need you to move.
- I'll come out, but you guys...

- Get the fuck out of the booth.
- I've been in this cage the whole time.

- Okay?
- I'm not fucking with you.

Come on, this way.

Can you do something
about this music?

Yeah, we're working on it.
We're looking for the guy.

Back over there.

You from Homicide? You...

- You gotta see this.
- Yeah. All right.

Hey, easy. Got him?

Get this thing off of me.

Oh, God, get this thing off of me!

Get this thing off of me!

- Get this off!
- Get him out of here now.

Get him out of here now!

Come on, I wanna hear it again.

- Tell me again.
- Just... I don't know.

You heard nothing strange,
you saw nothing strange.

- No.
- No.

He asked me if I was married.

- And I could see he had a gun in his hand.
- Where was the girl?

The what? What?

The girl, the prostitute. Where was she?

Someone comes to your establishment.

They wanna go downstairs,
they wanna get a little ooh la la.

Whatever.

- They gotta come to you, yeah?
- Yeah.

You didn't see anyone?

With a package? A knapsack?
Something under their arm?

Hey, everybody that comes in there's
got a package under their arms.

Some guys are carrying suitcases
full of stuff.

She was just...
She was just sitting on the bed.

Who tied her down? You or him?

Do you like what you do for a living?

- These things you see?
- No.

No, I don't.

But that's life, isn't it?

He... He had a gun and he made it happen.

He made me do it.

He put that thing on me.

And he made me wear it.

Then he told me to fuck her.

And I did. I fucked her.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

Oh, God, he had a gun in my mouth.

The... The fucking gun was in my throat.

Fuck!

Oh, God, God.

God, help me. Please, please, help me.

Please, please, help me.

You know,
this isn't gonna have a happy ending.

- It's not possible.
- If we catch him, I'll be happy enough.

If we catch John Doe
and he turns out to be the devil...

I mean, if he's Satan himself,
that might live up to our expectations.

But... he's not the devil.

He's just a man.

You know, see,
you bitch and you complain

and you tell me these things,
these:

If you think you're preparing me
for hard times, thank you, but...

But you gotta be a hero.

You wanna be a champion.

Let me tell you,
people don't want a champion.

They wanna eat cheeseburgers,
play the lotto, and watch TV.

How did you get like this?

- I wanna know.
- Ah.

It wasn't one thing, I can tell you that.

Go on.

I just don't think
I can continue to live in a place

that embraces and nurtures apathy

as if it was a virtue.

You're no different, no better.

I didn't say I was different or better.
I'm not.

Hell, I sympathize.
I sympathize completely.

Apathy is a solution.

I mean, it's easier to lose yourself
in drugs than it is to cope with life.

- Yeah.
- It's easier to steal what you want

- than it is to earn it.
- Yeah.

It's easier to beat a child
than it is to raise it.

Hell, love costs.
It takes effort and work.

We are talking
about people who are mentally ill.

We are talking about people...
Fucking crazies.

- No. No, we're not.
- Yes, today.

We're talking about everyday life here.

You can't afford
to be this naive.

Fuck off.

See, you should listen to yourself. Yeah.

You say that the problem with people
is that they don't care.

So I don't care about people.

It makes no sense. You know why?

- Uh, you care?
- You wanna know...?

- Damn right.
- And you're gonna make a difference?

Whatever. The point is,
is that I don't think you're quitting

because you believe these things
you say. I don't.

I think you wanna believe them
because you're quitting.

You want me to agree and say,
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you're right.

It's all fucked up. It's a fucking mess.

We should all go live
in a fucking log cabin."

But I won't.

I won't say that.

I don't agree with you. I do not.

I can't.

I'm gonna go home.

Thank you, though.

I love you, honey.

So much.

So much.

I know.

911, what's your emergency?

Could you repeat that?

I've gone and done it again.

What have we got?

Uh, sleeping pills.

Glued to one hand.

Telephone glued to the other.

You see what he did?

He sliced her up.

Then he bandaged her.

Call for help and you'll live.

But you'll be disfigured.

Or you can put yourself
out of your own misery.

Come on.

Cut off her nose.

To spite her face.

And he did it very recently.

Listen.

I've decided to stay on till this is done.
I figure one of two things will happen.

Either we'll get John Doe,

or he'll finish his series of seven
and this case will go on for years.

Hey, man,
you don't have to do me any favors.

Thank you, but I got it.

I'm requesting that you keep
me on as your partner for a few more days.

You'd be doing me a favor.

You knew I'd say yes.

- Hey, we're here.
- Wonderful.

Your wife called.
Get yourself an answering machine.

Detective?

- After this, I'm gone.
- Detective?

- No big surprise.
- Detective!

You're looking for me.

Hey!

Don't you fucking move.
On the fucking floor.

Keep away from him!

- On the fucking floor.
- I know you.

Now. Get down.

Get down on your stomach,
you piece of shit.

Now. All the way!

All the way, fucker! Down!

Faster. Faster. Faster, fucker.

Now. Nose on the ground.

Jesus Christ. What the fuck is this?

I'd like to speak to my lawyer, please.

Goddamn it.

He cuts the skin
off the tips of his fingers.

That's why we couldn't find
one single usable print in his apartment.

Looks like he's been doing it
for quite sometime.

What about the trace
on his bank accounts? The guns?

So far everything's a dead end.

No credit history. No employment records.

His bank account's only 5 years old,
and it was started with cash.

We're even trying to trace his furniture.

About only thing we know about that guy
right now

is he's independently wealthy,
well educated, and totally insane.

Because he's John Doe by choice.

- Okay, so when do we get to question him?
- You don't.

- He going to court now.
- What?

I'm telling you,
there's no way he'd turn himself in.

It doesn't make any sense.

Well, there he sits.
It's not supposed to make any sense.

- He's not finished.
- No, he's pissing in our faces.

We're just taking it like idiots.
You know what I'm talking about.

For the first time ever,
you and I are in total agreement.

- He wouldn't just stop.
- So, what the fuck, man?

He's two murders away
from completing his masterpiece.

We'll wait for his plea.

My client says there are two more bodies.
Two more victims hidden away.

He will take Detectives Mills
and Somerset to these bodies

but only Detectives Mills and Somerset,
only at 6:00 today.

Why us?

He says he admires you.

It's part of the game.

My client claims that if the detectives
do not accept this offer,

these two bodies will never be found.

Frankly, I'm inclined to let them rot.

Hey.

We've got him.

Downstairs, locked up. Done deal.

He's gonna get his free room and board,
his free cable TV.

Hell, my wife doesn't even have cable.
Why are we having this conversation?

- Mills.
- No. Hey, something stinks.

And this one here in his 3...

Yeah, you, in your $3000 suit
and that smug smile on your face,

dealing for that piece of shit,
I don't like it...

- Mills.
- I am required by law to serve my clients

- to the best of my ability.
- Aw, Jesus.

- To serve their best interests.
- We don't make deals here, Mr. Swarr.

My client wishes inform you
that if you do not accept,

he will plead insanity across the board.

Let him try it.
I'd like to see him try it.

Come on, now, we all know,
with the extreme nature of these crimes,

I could get him off with such a plea.

I'm not letting this conviction slide.
I can tell you that.

He says that if you do accept
under his specific conditions,

he'll sign a full confession,
plead guilty right now.

It's your case. Make a decision.

Full confession.

- I'm in.
- It has to be the both of you.

If he were to claim insanity,
this conversation is admissible.

The fact that he's blackmailing us
with his plea.

And my client would like to remind you
two more are dead.

The press would have a field day
if they were to find out

the police didn't seem concerned
about finding them,

- giving them a proper burial.
- If in fact there are two more dead.

Lab report came up from downtown.
They did a quickie

on Doe's clothing and nails.

They found blood from Doe
from him slicing his fingers,

blood from the woman
whose face he cut off,

and blood from a third party,
as yet unidentified.

You'd be escorting an unarmed man.

Let's finish it.

If John Doe's head splits open
and a UFO should fly out,

I want you to have expected it.

I will.

Hey, man, if I was to accidentally
shave off a nipple,

would it be covered by Workman's Comp?

Hmm.

I suppose so.

- Yeah.
- If you were man enough

to actually file a claim,
I'd buy you one out of my own pocket.

If I keep coming home late,
my wife's gonna think something's up.

You know...

Yeah.

What?

Let's go.

C-Victor-5-5 take. Clear the TC.

Pull around.

There it is.
Late-model black sedan at your 10 o'clock.

Who are you, John?

Who are you really?

What do you mean?

At this stage, what harm can it do
to tell us a bit about yourself?

It doesn't matter who I am.
Who I am means absolutely nothing.

You need to stay on your left up here.

So where are we heading?

You'll see.

We're not just going to pick up
two more dead bodies, are we, John?

That wouldn't be shocking enough.

We've got newspapers
to think about, yeah?

Wanting people to listen,

you can't just tap them
on the shoulder anymore.

You have to hit them
with a sledgehammer.

And then you'll notice
you've got their strict attention.

But the question is:

What makes you so special
that people should listen?

I'm not special.

I've never been exceptional.

This is, though, what I'm doing. My work.

Your work, John?

- Yes.
- See, I don't...

I don't see anything special
about it, John.

That's not true.

No, it is true.

And the funny thing is, all this work,

two months from now, no one's gonna care.

No one's gonna give a shit.
No one's gonna remember.

You can't see the whole complete act yet.

But when this is done,

when it's finished,

it's going to be...

People will barely be able to comprehend.

But they won't be able to deny.

Could the freak be more vague?

I mean, as far as master plans go, John...

I can't wait for you to see.
I really can't.

It's really going to be something.

Well, you know what?
I'm gonna be standing next to you.

So when this big thing happens,
you be sure and let me know.

- Because I wouldn't wanna miss it.
- Oh, don't worry.

You won't.

You won't miss a thing.

With the tour bus itself,
give two miles separation.

What's so exciting?

It's not too far now.

High-tension lines ahead.
Prepare for frequency change.

I've been trying to figure something
in my head,

and maybe you can help me out, yeah?

When a person is insane,
as you clearly are,

do you know that you're insane?

Maybe you're sitting around
reading Guns and Ammo,

masturbating in your own feces,
do you just stop and go:

"Wow, it is amazing
how fucking crazy I really am"?

Yeah? Do you guys do that?

It's more comfortable
for you to label me insane.

It's very comfortable.

It's not something
I would expect you to accept.

But I did not choose. I was chosen.

Well, whatever.

I don't doubt that you believe that, John.

But seems to me that you're overlooking
a glaring contradiction.

Meaning what?

Glad you asked.

If you were chosen,

that is, by a higher power,

and if your hand was forced,

it seems strange to me
that you'd get such enjoyment out of it.

You enjoyed torturing those people.

This doesn't seem in keeping
with martyrdom, does it?

John?

I doubt I enjoyed it any more

than Detective Mills would enjoy
time alone with me

in a room without windows.

Isn't that true?

How happy would it make you
to hurt me with impunity?

That hurts my feelings.

I would never...

You wouldn't
only because there's consequences.

It's in those eyes of yours, though.

Nothing wrong with a man
taking pleasure in his work.

I won't deny my own personal desire
to turn each sin against the sinner.

Wait a minute, I thought all you did
was kill innocent people.

Innocent? Is that supposed to be funny?

An obese man.

A disgusting man
who could barely stand up.

A man who, if you saw him on the street,

you'd point him out to your friends
so they'd join you in mocking him.

A man who, if you saw him
while you were eating,

you wouldn't be able to finish your meal.

After him, I picked the lawyer.

You must have secretly been thanking me
for that one.

This is a man who dedicated his life

to making money by lying
with every breath that he could muster

to keeping murderers and rapists
on the streets.

- Murderers?
- A woman.

- Murderers, John, like yourself?
- A woman

so ugly inside
that she couldn't bear to go on living

if she couldn't be beautiful
on the outside?

A drug dealer.
A drug-dealing pederast, actually.

And let's not forget
the disease-spreading whore.

Only in a world this shitty

could you try to say these were
innocent people and keep a straight face.

But that's the point.

We see a deadly sin
on every street corner,

in every home, and we tolerate it.

We tolerate it
because it's common, it's...

It's trivial.

We tolerate it morning, noon and night.

Well, not anymore.

I'm setting the example.

And what I've done
is gonna be puzzled over

and studied

and followed...

forever.

Yeah.

Delusions of grandeur.

You should be thanking me.

Why's that, John?

Because you're going
to be remembered after this.

Realize, detective, the only reason
that I'm here right now

is that I wanted to be.

No. No, we would've got you eventually.

Oh, really?

So, what were you doing, biding your time?
Toying with me?

Allowing five innocent people to die
until you felt like springing your trap?

Tell me,
what was the indisputable evidence

you were going to use on me

right before I walked up to you
and put my hands in the air?

John, calm down.

I seem to remember us
knocking on your door.

Oh, that's right.

And I seem to remember
breaking your face.

You're only alive
because I didn't kill you.

- Okay, sit back.
- I spared you.

Sit back.

Remember that every time
you look in the mirror

at that face of yours
for the rest of your life,

or should I say
for the rest of what life...

- Sit back.
- ...I allow you to have.

Sit back, you fucking freak.
Shut your fucking mouth.

You're no messiah.
You're a movie of the week.

You're a fucking T-shirt at best.

Don't ask me to pity those people.

I don't mourn them any more
than I do the thousands that died

at Sodom and Gomorrah.

Is that to say, John,

that what you were doing
was God's good work?

The Lord works in mysterious ways.

Do you see those high-tension towers?

- That's where we're headed.
- I see where he's talking about.

To your 9 o'clock
and follow that access road.

Your signal's breaking up, Viking.

Un-fucking-avoidable, Center.
We're in power-line city. Deal with it.

There sure as shit is no ambush out here.

- No fucking nothing out here.
- Can't land anywhere near those wires.

They're gonna be coming up
behind us in about two minutes.

I want you to go up, way up.

Thirty seconds, bank east on my mark.
Thirty seconds.

I'm getting him out.

Target is now fully into standby.

- Got you in sight.
- Get out.

Slowly.

Stop.

Stay.

What do you got?

Dead dog.

I didn't do that.

We're holding on standby, copy?

What time is it?

- Why?
- I'd like to know.

Seven-o-one.

It's close.

Let's go take a look.

It's this way.

Bird 2, close your distance.

This is Bird 2.
They're moving away from the car.

Coming in closer.

We got them. We got them. Closing in.

Negative. Negative.
Hold your go.

Mills?

Down, down, down.

Watch him.

There he goes.

It's good
we have some time to talk.

Van approaching.

Stay on the guy in red.

Do not take the crosshairs
off the guy in red.

He's going out to meet the van.
Just stay down.

There's a van coming down the road.
From the north.

Be ready for anything, now.
Wait for my signal.

Wait for me.

Get out of the van!

Out!

Jesus Christ, man. Don't shoot me.

Step away.

Turn around.
Put your hands on your head.

What the hell is going on?

- What are you doing here?
- I'm delivering a package.

I got this package for this guy, David.

Uh, Detective David Mills.

Get it. Slowly.

Stay alert.
He's opening the back of the van.

We've got him in sight.

This guy paid me 500 bucks
to bring it out here, man.

He said he wanted it here at exactly 7:00.

Put it down.

We got a box.

We got a box. Call the bomb squad.
I need a bomb squad. We got a box.

Face the van.

Hands up.

Turn around.

Okay. Go. Off you go. Go.

Want us to pick this guy up?

I'm sending the driver out on foot.

- Got the driver in sight.
- He's headed north. Have him picked up.

Oh, I don't know.

I'm gonna open it.

When I said I admired you,
I meant what I said.

It's blood.

You've made
quite a life for yourself.

Hmm.

- You should be very proud.
- Shut the fuck up, you piece of shit.

Someone lost contact, copy.

California, stay away from here.

Stay away from here, now.
Don't come in here.

Whatever you hear, stay away.

John Doe has the upper hand. Mills!

Here he comes.

- Throw your gun down!
- What?

- I wish I could've lived like you.
- Shut up.

- What the fuck you talking about?
- Go away!

Do you hear me, detective?

I'm trying to tell you how much
I admire you and your pretty wife.

- What?
- Tracy.

Mills!

What'd you fucking say?

It's disturbing how easily a member
of the press can purchase information

from the men in your precinct.

What the fuck?

Throw your gun down!

I visited your home this morning...

after you'd left.

- Mills!
- I tried to play husband.

I tried to taste the life of a simple man.

Throw it away!

Tsk, it didn't work out.

So...

I took a souvenir.

Her pretty head.

Mills.

Mills.

What's he talking about?

- Give me your gun.
- What's going on over there?

Put the... Put the gun down.

I saw you with a box. What was in the box?

- Because I envy your normal life.
- Put the gun down, David.

- It seems that envy is my sin.
- Oh, what's in the box?

- Not until you give me the gun.
- What's in the box?

- Give me the gun.
- He told you.

- You lie. You're a fucking liar. Shut up.
- David.

That's what he wants.
He wants you to shoot him.

No! No.

You tell me that's not true.
That's not true.

- Become vengeance, David.
- No, she's all right. You tell me.

Become... wrath.

Tell me she's all right!

If you murder a suspect, David...

- No!
- You throw it all away.

- He knows that.
- No!

- She begged for her life.
- Shut up.

- She begged for her life...
- Shut up.

...and for the life
of the baby inside of her.

Shut up.

Oh.

He didn't know.

Give me the gun, David.

David.

If you kill him,

he will win.

Oh, God.

Oh, God.

Oh!

Oh, fuck, he shot him.

Set it down somewhere.

Come on, set us down.

Holy Christ. Somebody call somebody.

Call somebody.

Well, we'll take care of him.

Whatever he needs.

Where are you gonna be?

Around.

I'll be around.

Ernest Hemingway once wrote:

"The world is a fine place
and worth fighting for."

I agree with the second part.