Original subtitles

Can I help you?

No, but you can help yourself by sticking

that file in a drawer

and avoiding the inevitable humiliation

when Web picks my case over yours.

Like that would ever happen.

Hey, I thought you were exempt

from case pitch this month?

Aren't you riding pine at the Braunstein trial?

Court's dark this week.

And I wanted to watch you get shot down.

You haven't seen my pitch yet.

Well, if it's anything like your previous pitches,

I'm guessing it's an elaborate excuse

to wear a flashy disguise and get paid for it.

Where's Paul?

Uh, he's on his way.

He had Lamaze this morning.

Again?

When is his baby due?

Three more months.

It's the longest nine months

since Martha Stewart went inside.

Did you just make a joke, sir?

No.

All right.

Since Rebecca's never made a case pitch before,

Danny, why don't you begin?

Oh... uh...

Okay. Got something that might interest you.

Been working on it for quite some time...

Just the headlines,

Danny.

Long Beach... Hell's Angels... Deep cover.

I need about two weeks prep.

You're not growing

a mustache.

Goatee?

PAUL: Sorry.

I have something.

Madeline Shore...

33 years old, Federal prosecutor.

Jogger found her body in Griffith Park

three weeks ago; beaten,

raped, hair hacked short,

probably with a knife.

Cause of death?

Strangulation.

Suspects? None.

Well, no primaries.

She was a prosecutor.

Making enemies was part of her job.

Pass.

Why?

Because it's an ordinary case and you know it.

Web, she was a prosecutor.

She was a Fed.

She devoted her life to the cause of justice.

She deserves a little back.

And somebody will solve her case.

It just won't be us.

Why not us?

Because no matter how thick you frost it with sentiment--

and I appreciate that,

it's why I hired you--

it doesn't change

the facts that this is an ordinary case

and it doesn't require our level of expertise.

Pass.

Locke, you're up.

Impress me.

I'm afraid I have nothing, sir.

Well, since we've covered the kinds of cases we don't take,

we'll reconvene tomorrow and try again.

He's wrong.

This isn't ordinary.

The desecration of the body...

it might suggest a signature.

If we can find a couple more cases...

You know what? Forget it.

I could've wheeled a crock pot in here from Jeffrey Dahmer

and it wouldn't have made a difference.

Maybe I still don't get how things work here.

I mean, we haven't had anything

on the boards for almost a week.

Doesn't the Director ask questions?

I understand that Web

has earned the control over the cases we take...

You think it's the cases

he's controlling?

Right.

Control...

some will tell you it's fantasy;

that we exist on the precipice of chaos,

and any notion that we might have control--

over ourselves, events, others-- is sheer delusion.

I disagree.

I believe control is real and possible and sacred.

So I'd never ask you to give up your control...

( muffled screams )

I'd ask you to beg for it.

( muffled screams )

Paul.

What's going on?

Sharon Kleiman.

Music executive. Raped,

strangled, dumped in Laurel Canyon.

Body was found last night.

Denise Gosen, fashion designer. Also raped, also strangled.

Body turned up six weeks ago

in San Pedro. Case went cold.

Same haircut.

Which means they either went to the same hairdresser...

Or it's our UNSUB's signature.

It's the same as the Madeline Shore case.

So now you're interested?

You brought me a murder.

Rebecca brought me a series.

That's what we do.

She'll be primary,

you'll assist.

Look, I know what it may have seemed like in there.

What seemed like you knew how important this case was to me

and you made sure he gave it to us.

Thank you.

How well did you know her?

Not well.

Madeline prosecuted one of the first cases that I had;

this kiddy porn thing.

She was as green as I was, but you couldn't tell.

She had total confidence. Complete control.

I admired that.

You admired her.

Yeah.

CARTER: This is your Laurel Canyon dump.

Sharon Kleiman, 27.

Trace evidence is telling two different stories.

Cotton fibers we pulled from her face

came from cheap linen,

but the cologne we swabbed off her back is expensive.

PAUL: Cologne? Was that found on the other victims?

City examiners weren't looking for it,

but they are now.

We'll know soon enough.

Rape kit?

Same as your other vics;

vaginal and anal.

No DNA or semen.

What about these bruises?

Bruises are interesting.

You've got the fresh ones here on the wrists and ankles,

indicating that she was bound,

but you've also got these old bruises,

and these old scars and burns,

all of which pre-date the time of death by weeks,

in some cases, months.

Old wounds.

MEL: You were right.

Autopsy show all three victims had bruises and scars

that pre-dated their murders.

So you think she was getting slapped around?

Every second Saturday, like clockwork.

"The Well." Private club.

They have satellite branches in six states.

Our three vics were all card-carrying members.

So it is an S&M club?

No, Danny.

It's a support group for very clumsy people.

Yeah, S&M fetish club.

Our girls frequented the Hollywood chapter.

Well, I guess it's not an especially busy night for perversion.

That's a strong word. You disapprove.

Of what? Nondescript doorways?

Haven't seen anything yet.

This is a private club.

Need to see your membership cards.

FBI. We'd like to speak to your manager.

This is terrible.

No wonder I haven't seen them recently.

I should have realized something was wrong

when Madeline let her membership lapse.

She was one of our more popular submissives.

Submissives?

Oh, yes. She found this

a comfortable place to arrange her discomfort.

To arrange it?

So the actual...

contact,

that doesn't take place here?

We're not a brothel. We're a social club

that caters to individuals

who happen to share common interests.

What they do once they leave here is of their own concern.

So you don't know anyone

that might have had a common interested in them?

Like I said, I didn't follow them out the door.

Hi. Us again.

Would you excuse us?

Do you recognize any of these women?

They're deey, aren't they?

Why would you say that?

Well, your badges.

You're FBI.

I suppose they may have been kidnapped

if it's a federal case, but...

it feels like death to me.

A little light reading?

Yeah. Light.

It's... it's all about the light.

You do know

where you work, don't you?

What better place for light than the dark?

The management

lets you preach to the clientele?

Oh, I don't preach here.

I work here.

But when the sad souls

tire of trying to fill the void

with one another, they know where to find me.

We meet on Wednesday nights.

You should join us.

PAUL: Uh, yeah, thanks.

Look, do you remember seeing any of these women leave

with anyone in particular?

Yes, but you won't find him here.

We don't let him in anymore.

Well, you got a name?

MEL: Cole Brandt.

Middle son of Philip Marshall Brandt

and Katherine Pemberton Brandt.

Only income IRS knows about is stock dividends and interest,

so I'm guessing the family's got money,

and it's probably ancient.

You sure this is the right guy?

He's not on the club membership rolls.

The doorman said Brandt

was banned from the club three months ago.

Guess he didn't play nice.

Banned from an S&M club for bad manners?

Impressive.

Any priors?

Uh...

Nothing. Got an address, though.

Oh, and, uh, one other thing.

What's that?

He's hot.

Well, L.A.

You gotta have a lot of money to afford

a crappy neighborhood like this.

What's the plan?

Ask him about dead girlfriends.

Good plan.

( woman screaming )

You know what that sounds like?

Probable cause?

( screams )

FBI. Freeze!

Put your hands up! Don't move!

Don't move!

You okay?

Cole?

The sex police.

How charming.

I thought John Ashcroft resigned.

Or are you still working for J. Edgar?

We were responding to screams.

Screams of pleasure.

You do know the difference, don't you?

I'll bet Agent Locke does.

Special Agent.

Very special.

How long have you known Mr. Brandt, Ms. Fuller?

What's going on? We break a law?

Any chance you met him at a club?

That's where these women met him.

Yeah, I knew them. I won't deny it.

And, yes, I was intimate with them.

I'm sorry they're dead.

Particularly Maddie.

She was fun.

Okay, that was brisk.

Is this personal? Did you know her?

You did.

Well, thought you did, anyway.

But Maddie didn't go in for boy scouts.

She wasn't buying your cookies, was she?

You know she put guys like you away.

I feel judged.

Do you feel judged?

I can't believe that's the best way

to solve a case.

It's not just me you're judging, Paul.

You're judging these women, too.

If you don't stop judging and start empathizing,

how can you expect to catch their killer?

So are you saying he's some sort of Ted Bundy or something?

I'm not saying anything, Ms. Fuller.

I'm just saying that that's how

three of his last dates ended up.

Are you all right, Ms. Fuller?

Yeah.

Um, is it warm in here?

Am I under arrest? Not yet.

If your playmate verifies that was consensual,

you're free to go.

She verified it back at my loft.

Well, that was with you standing there.

Paige Fuller is one of the most powerful literary agents

on the west coast.

You really think I have that kind of control over her?

Well, could've been the chains.

I don't know... call me crazy.

What about you, Very Special Agent Locke?

Who do you think had the real power in that room?

It's generally understood

that the submissive is the one in control.

That's right.

They can end the game at any time.

All they have to do is say the word.

So did these women forget the word?

Is that why they're dead?

Wow.

That's the best you can do?

You really are such a bottom, aren't you, Paul?

Though I'm not convinced

you're the dominant one around here.

So who is top dog, huh?

Maybe whoever's behind that glass.

Kick him loose.

He hasn't asked for a lawyer.

The more we talk to him...

The more he learns.

He's playing you.

Both of you.

If he's our killer, he already knows too much.

Kick him loose.

So what, Romeo gets to skate, huh?

We don't have enough to hold him.

Yeah, lot of that going around.

Three years ago, Inland Empire.

Serial rape case.

Guess who was the prime suspect?

Cole Brandt. Mm-hmm.

Never charged.

None of the vics could ID him.

Guess why?

He wore a mask.

( clears throat ): So, uh...

when did you first suspect

Cole Brandt was your rapist, Detective Strong?

It's just "Bill" now that I'm retired.

Bill.

We liked Brandt right off.

We linked him to all the victims.

He dated them, slept with most of 'em.

But he wouldn't take "yes" for an answer.

WOMAN: Excuse me.

Thanks.

Fishing trip.

You said on the phone you still have your case notes?

Yeah, yeah. Brandt's was one of a couple of cases

that I brought home with me when I quit the force.

Thought maybe I'd find the time

to pursue them on my own.

Close them out.

It's all just been collecting dust.

I, uh, pulled everything for you.

You're welcome to it.

Come on back.

The first victim, Margie Stands,

she identified Brandt as her rapist...

then she recanted.

Why do you think that was?

He got to her.

What, he threatened her?

No, no. This guy doesn't operate

like that. No, he got to her.

She was cooperating, we were building a case,

and then one day she comes in crying,

saying she loved the guy,

it was all a big mistake.

After that it was just a game to him.

Was he your only suspect?

We chased a couple some other leads,

but ruled 'em out.

So you think he's killing 'em now?

You sound surprised.

Well, I mean, don't get me wrong, this guy's plenty bad.

He just... he didn't seem the type

to do 'em permanent, you know?

I mean, dead girls don't cry.

Maybe it didn't start out like that.

If the rape or the rape fantasy got out of control...?

This guy doesn't get out of control.

Danny. Danny, I got movement.

I got a silhouette moving past the window.

How do you spell "silhouette"?

I'm just going to put "shadow."

Hey.

Any movement?

Just his silhouette moving past the window.

See ya.

More of a shadow, really.

See ya.

LOCKE: Cologne again.

What's that?

Strong's serial rapist.

He left cologne on his victims, too.

And trophies.

He took trophies.

Hair chopper?

No.

He took their underwear.

Strong asked for a warrant to search Brandt's place,

judge wouldn't grant it.

Well, maybe we'll have better luck with our judge.

Why wait?

He's arrogant enough,

bet we wouldn't need a warrant.

Probably just knock on his door.

And then do what?

Look around.

If he is our killer,

you know he's keeping those clumps of hair as trophies.

Yeah. Well, let's just keep that as plan B.

I didn't mean us, I meant me.

You want to go in there alone?

I could see what kind of cologne he has in his bathroom.

That's insane.

You don't think I could handle him?

Well, I wasn't aware

that you wanted to handle him.

Maybe you want him to handle you.

I'm sorry.

I'm not Madeline Shore.

I know.

He was right about her, wasn't he?

She rejected you.

You know, it's not so much

that she, uh, she liked to be tied up or whatever.

It's that she wanted him to do it.

People are complicated.

Really?

Well, I'm not.

Okay, if I care about somebody,

I don't actually want to hear them scream.

You're judging her. Yeah.

You're right, I am judging her.

Because she chose to be with somebody

who actually got off on hurting her

instead of being with a guy like me, who respected her.

I admit it.

You don't know what her life was.

What happened to make her the way she was.

I do know that we can't only be defined by our wounds.

Maybe that was her way of dealing with it.

( scoffs ): Please.

If you escape one monster

only to be controlled by another,

how is that dealing with it?

You know.

You know, don't you?

You know who I was.

Yeah.

I shouldn't have been checking up on you.

I just didn't expect I'd find Becky George.

You didn't.

Becky George was a ten-year-old girl taken from her bed

in the middle of the night by a stranger.

Becky George was lost for 18 months.

Becky George

got away on her own.

Nobody "found"

Becky George. Becky...

Rebecca.

I'm Rebecca.

And I'm a Special Agent

with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

I'm not some lost little girl.

Don't you ever presume to treat me like one.

Anything?

No. No. His lights are still on, though.

Um...

listen, um... Rebecca. I just...

( pager beeps )

Oh, God.

What? Not another body.

No, no. It just says, "Cedars. Complications."

Your wife. The baby.

Yeah.

Go.

I'll call Danny.

I'll do it.

Just take care of your family.

Well, hi.

You still selling FBI cookies?

You sure you just want water?

Water's fine. Thanks.

You're welcome.

So how did you do?

Sorry?

You've been snooping.

Did you find any evidence lying around?

Necklaces made of ears,

drawers full of teeth, that sort of thing?

If you need more time, I could get you some ice.

I said you wouldn't hide.

I have nothing to hide.

Go on. Have a look around. Feel free.

You have my blessing.

The Chinese antiques are real.

But Japanese antiques are very expensive,

so some of them are repros, but don't tell.

And the Early American touches

are gifts from my mother.

I try to tell myself it's eclectic.

So, uh... you want to see the rest of the place?

It's yours, but I have to warn you--

you know my hobby.

What's this for?

Don't make me tell you.

It's okay.

I worked it out.

You don't blush a lot, do you?

Never thought about it.

Most women blush.

Sometimes that means they hate what they're seeing.

Sometimes it means they don't.

Why do you think they like it...

the women who come to you?

I've been waiting for that question.

I bet you've been asking each other,

but does anyone think of coming to an expert?

Why?

Well, everyone says it's because they want to feel powerless--

because they crave weakness-- but that's wrong.

They do it to survive it.

They go through something painful

and come out whole on the other side.

And they feel stronger because of it.

Not weaker.

( grunting )

Believe me,

you'll feel stronger.

Let me go!

( screaming )

Rebecca, what are you doing?

What happened?

I don't know.

I don't know.

Geez, you're hurt.

Wait here.

You okay?

Yeah.

He's gone, isn't he?

Yeah.

It's my fault.

Yeah.

How's Karen and the baby?

Oh, they're fine. They're just fine.

That text message was bogus.

An hour and a half to Cedars and back.

It was time enough for him to do this.

Web was right. This guy...

This guy's been playing us both.

( cell phone rings )

Yeah. Ryan.

We're on our way.

What?

That was Danny.

They find him?

Um... they don't know where he is,

but they think they know where he's been.

Come on.

MEL: Paige Fuller, no longer one of the most powerful

literary agents on the West Coast.

I wonder how warm she is feeling now.

All right, we'll get out of there now.

Thanks.

Hey.

I won't see all the dirty staff.

So... his photos are out___ airport and some broad control,

we might have lucky.

What's she doing here?

I thought you should stay home.

She could show us what happened

and how she escaped.

You'll ganna help.

I'm not sure I can remember everything.

Just start the thing at the beginning.

There are no ropes ____ from any open sky lights.

I assume you to use it to toll.

Did you knock or did you ring?

I ring the bell.

Fine.

Rebecca

Out of the hall.

Paul

The door.

Let her in.

Haven't seen him play this game in a while.

Little Virgil Webster and his poseable action figures.

What happened next?

Small talk.

He gave me a glass of water,

and told me I could look around.

You went to the sex room?

Yes.

Fine. Let's go.

He got you in these, huh?

Yes.

Web, I don't think a step-by-step...

I do.

What next?

I was here, and he came

up to me...

REBECCA: He was closer.

I could feel his breath on my face.

And we talked about why women enjoy...

what he does to them.

What was his breath like?

Alcohol?

No. Mouthwash.

Not bad.

Was he wearing cologne?

Yes.

Musky.

Like on the vics.

His eyes-- clear?

Signs of drug use?

REBECCA: Clear.

Somewhat dilated,

but it may just have been... the situation.

WEB: What next?

He kissed me.

Web...

All violins and cartoon hearts?

No. It was too hard.

His hands were on me, and it hurt.

All I was thinking about was getting out.

But first, you had to let him cuff you.

I'm not sure how that happened.

Cuff her.

She's injured.

She'll let you know

if it hurts.

WEB: Come on.

And then he pulled

the chain.

So, he locked the cuffs,

he pulled the chain...

and you panicked.

She fought.

I panicked.

The next thing I know,

I was on the street, and Paul was there.

WEB: Agent Locke.

Yes?

How did you get out of these?

I don't remember.

WEB: These are real cuffs.

There's no tricks.

He has you helpless, incapacitated, hurting yourself.

n't Little Virgil Webster and his poseable action figures.

He must have unlocked them.

Why? You were his prisoner.

( distant scream )

He panicked, too.

He let me go.

Bill Strong--

he said that there were some other suspects earlier on.

Is this guy among them?

I don't know.

Well, let's find out.

We may need a warrant this time.

Mel and Danny,

check out where Skoll is now.

You got a home address, Carter?

Not sure, Red, but I got an address

on that church of his.

You do? Yes, sir.

1142 Moorpark.

Van Nuys.

At least that's what the flyer says.

DANNY: Doesn't look like any church I've ever been to.

MEL: You've been to church?

Wait, wait, wait.

Listen.

( organ playing )

Sounds like church all right.

I'm already incapacitated with guilt.

Come on.

LAUREN: Afraid you'll have to find

what you're looking for

on your own.

I don't know where Bill keeps these things.

He'll be back Monday.

We really appreciate it Mrs. Strong.

Yeah, thanks again.

Well, let me know if you need anything.

PAUL: A lot of files.

( grunts ) Sure you don't want

to wait till Monday?

Just scan.

Hey, hey, hey.

Don't move.

You, you don't

need guns here.

This is a safe place.

Is there no one else here? No.

No, you're my first parishioners.

Ever?

Well, sometimes my-my mom's here.

She made the pecan sandies.

REBECCA: What else is in

these drawers?

Nothing. I mean, we checked them all.

What about the desk?

It's locked.

Pull harder.

Cologne.

You were right.

The killer

kept the hair.

in a drawer of Brandt's cologne.

The trophies are Strong's. He's our guy.

What's his motive?

I-I think it's love.

I don't know. Obsession, maybe.

Looks like it started right after

the initial rape complaint.

Margie Stands accused Brandt of raping her at knifepoint

and she stuck with her story for five months,

but then recanted, admitting that she was

upset about being dumped.

So Strong

works the case for five months

before this Stands woman pulls the rug out from under him.

Hm-mm. He had Brandt under surveillance most of that time.

Watch's Brandt's conquest from afar,

feeling like one of those conquests himself.

Surveillance turns into stalking.

Yeah, and then rape.

And finally murder.

But, he's still in the, in the fantasy stage.

I mean, none of these women have

been the real object of his obsession.

He-he targets them because they've been with Brandt.

Then he lays them on their stomach, he chops their hair,

sprays them with Brandt's cologne and then he rapes

and murders Brandt by proxy.

Practicing for the main event.

Cops found Brandt's Porsche abandoned on the 5 freeway.

There's blood in it.

Probably Brandt's.

Get the LAPD to put out an APB on former detective

William Strong.

He's our UNSUB.

( muffled ): Strong. Strong.

Strong, listen to me. Listen to me.

I don't know what the feds told you, but--

I did not murder those women.

I know.

Then what?

What, the rapes?

Margie was lying when she came to you.

She was... she was punishing me. She told you that.

I know what she said.

And others?

No one accuse me!

They knew me, they knew the ___ of me, think about it.

Threw it behind.

I think about it all the time.

I am not a rapist.

That's O.K.

I am

Strong's wife said she takes his trips all the time,

she's no idea where he goes.

But we think it's...

it's some bar.

It's some place important to him.

Put it to Brandt.

What we got, Cater?

We've been looking through the surveillance's photos

taken from Stong's office.

Try to find something that pops and I think we found something.

Zoom it.

You got it.

Does he own any other porperty?

He has some in the ___, but it has already been sweeped.

What about his family?

____ building, but they got ____ houses and pools.

Nothing__________________this.

What's that sign saying?

Pemberton

Is that ring a bell?

Katherine Pemberton Brandt

Brandt's mother.

Why did you bring me here?

And same reyou always come here.

It's where the first

crime was committed...

the one that started your filthy existence.

You don't know what you're talking about.

Oh, I know all about you, Cole.

I know your daddy comes from money, but not your mommy.

She used to work here, back when it was a hotel,

and one night your daddy got stranded on the road.

That's how the courtship started.

Well, if you want to call it that.

She was a smart girl, though.

She threatened to go to the cops.

So he did the honorable thing and... he married her.

Where did you heard that garbage?

From your mother, when she begged me not to arrest you.

Even she took you for a rapist, Cole.

She said it wasn't your fault, though,

that you'd inherited it from your dad.

She's a lying bitch.

That any way to talk about your mother?

Huh?

Why are you doing this?

I've never done anything to you.

( chuckles )

You've done everything to me.

You're in my head.

You close my eyes at night.

I see your stupid, smug face staring back at me

every time I make love to my wife.

You know what that... you know what that's like?

You know how that makes me feel?

Okay. Okay, look, I'm sorry.

Okay? I'm sorry.

Okay, please.

Good. That's right. Good.

Please.

No. No.

That's right.

Please.

I want to hear you to beg,

and I want you to plead,

but mostly I want you to scream.

That's the last thing I ever want to hear from you.

No, wait.

Please. Please! Wait!

No! ( screaming )

Tony!

You can open your eyes now.

Wouldn't want you to miss the grand finale.

Do whatever.

I don't care.

You're weak.

I know.

( gunshot )

REBECCA: Hey, Tony...

let me.

You'll feel stronger.

Believe me.

Man, it's horrible any way you slice it.

For a guy like Brandt to lose control like that...

What makes you think he's the one that lost control?

Strong was never in control.

That's what this was all about.

You should let it go, Paul.

I don't tend to hold onto things,

not like some people.

I just wish it made sense.

What's that?

This.

The whole thing.

The son of a rapist

who grows up and tortures women.

The sex crimes detective who ends up committing sex crimes.

What part of that doesn't make sense?

We're made of our past, Paul.

So what's your past?

What are you made of?

Good night, Paul.

It wasn't Brandt.

The text message.

The one that took me away from Rebecca,

that allowed her to knock on Brandt's door.

You're certain?

Yeah.

I had Carter check the phone records.

Brandt didn't send it.

Didn't come from him.

Did you find out who did send it?

Still working on it.

Well, when you find out,

you tell me.

I'd be curious to know who would do that.

Well, someone who wanted Rebecca

tempted and vulnerable, I'd imagine.

You're probably right.

Unless she sent it herself.