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(sound muted)

(soft ambient pulse)

(Sound returns.)

(siren in the distance)

(sound muted)

(soft ambient pulse)

(Sound returns.)

(insects chirping)

(house alarm)

I shoot Mr. Marlow twice,

severing jugulars and carotids
with near-surgical precision.

He will die watching me take
what is his away from him.

This is my design.

(house alarm)
(woman whimpering frantically)

I shoot Mrs. Marlow expertly
through the neck.

This is not a fatal wound.
The bullet misses every artery.

She is paralyzed
before it leaves her body.

Which doesn't mean
she can't feel pain.

It just means

she can't do anything about it.

This is my design.

(house alarm)

(Alarm stops.)

(phone ringing on other end)
(keypad beeps)

This is DDX Security.
Who am I speaking with?

I need the incident report
for the home security company.

This was recorded
as a false alarm.

There was a false alarm
last... week.

He tapped their phone.

Yeah. It's been tapped.

He recorded Mrs. Marlow's conversation
with the security company.

- This is DDX Security.
Who am I speaking with?

- Theresa Marlow.

Can you please confirm your
password for security purposes?

Tea kettle.

Thank you, Mrs. Marlow.
We detected a front-door alarm.

Yeah, sorry about that.

Is there anyone in the house with
you at this time, Mrs. Marlow?

- I'm just here with my husband.
- Do you require

- any further assistance?
- No. Thank you so much for calling.

And this is when it gets
truly horrifying

for Mrs. Marlow.

Everyone has thought
about killing someone,

one way or another,

be it your own hand
or the hand of God.

Now think about killing
Mrs. Marlow.

Why did she deserve this?

Tell me your design.

Tell me who you are.

Sync and correction by GeirDM
www.addic7ed.com

Mr. Graham.

Special Agent

Jack Crawford. I head
the Behavioral Science Unit.

- We've met.
- Yes.

We had a disagreement
when we opened up the museum.

I disagreed with what
you named it.

The, uh, Evil Minds
Research Museum.

It's a little hammy, Jack.

I see you've hitched

your horse to a teaching post,

and I also understand it's
difficult for you to be social.

Well, I'm just talking at them.

- I'm not listening to them.
It's not social.

- I see.

May I?

Where do you fall

on the spectrum?

My horse is hitched to a post

that is closer to
Asperger's and autistics

than narcissists
and sociopaths.

But you can empathize
with narcissists

- and sociopaths.
- I can empathize with anybody.

It's less to do
with a personality disorder

- than an active imagination.
- Um...

can I...

borrow your imagination?

Eight girls

abducted from eight different
Minnesota campuses,

- all in the last eight months.
- I thought there were seven.

- There were.
- When did you tag the eighth?

About three minutes before
I walked into your lecture hall.

You're calling them abductions
because you don't have any bodies?

No bodies, no parts
of bodies, nothing

that comes out of bodies.
Nothing.

Then those girls weren't taken from
where you think they were taken.

Then where were
they taken from?

I don't know. Someplace else.

All of them abducted
on a Friday

so they wouldn't have to be
reported missing until Monday.

Now, however he's covering his
tracks, he needs a weekend to do it.

Number eight?

Elise Nichols. St. Cloud State
on the Mississippi.

Disappeared on Friday.
Was supposed to house sit

for her parents
over the weekend, feed the cat.

She never made it home.

Yeah, one through seven are
dead, don't you think?

He's not keeping them around.
He got himself

- a new one.
- So we focus on Elise Nichols.

They're all very, um...
Mall of America.

That's a lot
of wind-chafed skin.

Same hair colour,
same eye colour.

Roughly the same age.
Same height, same weight.

So what is it
about all of these girls?

It's not about all of these girls.
It's just about one of them.

He's like Willy Wonka. Every
girl he takes is a candy bar,

and hidden in amongst
all of those candy

bars is the one true
intended victim,

which, if we follow through
on our metaphor,

is your golden ticket.
- So, is he

warming up
for his golden ticket,

or just reliving whatever it is
he did to her?

The golden ticket
wouldn't be the first

taken, and she
wouldn't be the last.

He would, um, hide
how special she was.

I mean, I would. Wouldn't you?

I want you to get closer
to this.

No. You have Heimlich at
Harvard and Bloom at Georgetown.

- They do the same thing I do.
- That's not exactly true, is it?

You have a very specific way
of thinking about things.

Has there been a lot of discussion
about the, uh, specific way

- I think?
- You make jumps you can't explain, Will.

No, no. The evidence explains.

Then help me find
some evidence.

That may require me
to be sociable.

(echoing voice): She could've
gone off by herself.

She... she was a very interior
young woman.

She didn't like living
in her dorm.

I could see how the pressure
of school might have

gotten to her.

She likes trains.

Maybe she just got
on a train and...

She looks like the other girls.

Yes, she fits the profile.

Could Elise still be alive?

We simply have no way
of knowing.

- How's the cat?
- (Mrs. Nichols): What?

How's your cat?

Elise was supposed to feed it.

Was the cat weird
when you came home?

It must've been hungry.
It didn't eat all weekend.

I... I didn't notice.

Could you give us a moment,
please?

(whispering): He took her
from here.

She got on a train,
she came home,

she fed the cat.

He took her.

The Nichols' house is
a crime scene.

I need ERT immediately.

I want Zeller, Katz,
and Jimmy Price.

Yes, and a photographer.

Why is it now a crime scene?

Can I see your daughter's room?

I'll get that.

Mr. Nichols, please put
your hands in your pockets

and avoid touching anything.

But we've been
in and out of here

all day.

You can hold the cat,
if it's easier.

- Elise.
- I need you to leave

the room.

When you're ready to talk,
you talk.

If you don't feel like it,
you don't talk.

We'll be downstairs.

You let me know when you're
ready for us to come in.

(siren)

(soft ambient pulse)

- You're Will Graham.
- You're not supposed to be in here.

You wrote the standard monograph on
time of death by insect activity.

I found antler velvet
in two of the wounds.

You, uh, not real FBI?

I'm a special investigator.

Never been an FBI agent?

Um... strict

- screening procedures.
- Detects instability...

You unstable?

Now, you know you're not
supposed to be in here.

I found antler velvet in two of
the wounds, like she was gored.

I was looking for velvet
in the other wounds

- but I was interrupted.
- Hold on, excuse me. Look,

deer and elk pin their prey, OK?
They put

all their weight
into their antlers,

try and suffocate a victim.
That's how

they would kill, like,
a fox or a coyote.

All right, Elise Nichols was
strangled, suffocated,

- her ribs are broken.
- Antler velvet is rich

in nutrients. It actually
promotes healing.

He may have put it
in there on purpose.

You think he was trying
to heal her?

He wanted to undo
as much as he could...

given that he'd
already killed her.

He put her back
where he found her.

Whatever he did to the others,
he couldn't do it to her.

(Jack): Is this
his golden ticket?

No.

This is an apology.

Does anyone have any aspirin?

Hello.

Hey.

Hey. Hey. Hey.
Come on. Come on.

Hey.

Hey, come here.

Hey.

Winston, this is everybody.

Everybody, this is Winston.

(barking)
Tss! Tss!

That's right.

(heartbeat)

What are you doing in here?

I enjoy the smell
of urinal cake.

Me too. We need to talk.

USE THE LADIES' ROOM!

You respect my judgment, Will?

Mm-hmm. Yes.

Good, because we
will stand a better

chance of catching
this guy with you

- in the saddle.
- Yeah, I'm in the saddle.

I'm just, um, confused
which direction I'm pointing.

I don't know

this kind of psychopath.
I've never read about him.

I don't even know if
he's a psychopath.

He's not insensitive.
He's not shallow.

You know something about
him; otherwise, you

wouldn't have said,
"This is an apology".

What is he apologizing for?
- He couldn't honour her. He feels bad.

Well, feeling bad defeats
the purpose of being

- a psychopath, doesn't it?
- Yes! It does.

Then what kind of crazy is he?!

He couldn't show her he loved
her, so he put her corpse back

where he killed it.
Whatever crazy that is.

You think he loves these girls?

He loves one of them.
A-And, yes, I think

by association he has some form
of love for the others.

There was no semen, there was no saliva.
Elise Nichols died a virgin.

- She stayed that way.
- That's not how

he's loving them. He wouldn't
disrespect them that way!

He doesn't want these girls
to suffer.

He kills them quickly and...

to his thinking, with mercy.

Sensitive psychopath.

Risked getting caught

so he could tuck Elise Nichols
back into bed.

He has to take the next girl
soon...

'cause he knows he's gonna
get caught.

One way or the other.

I got you.

(Jack): Graham likes you.

Doesn't think you'll run
any mind games on him.

I don't. I'm as honest with
him as I'd be with a patient.

You've been observing him
while you've been

guest-lecturing here
at the academy, yes?

I've never been in a room
alone with Will.

- Why not?

- Because I want to be
his friend, and I am.

Ah, it seems a shame not to take
advantage... academically speaking.

You already asked me
to do a study on him,

Jack. I said no. And anything

scholarly on Will Graham would
have to be published posthumously.

So, you've never been alone with him
because you have a professional

curiosity. (Jack chuckles.)

Normally I wouldn't
even broach this,

but what do you think one
of Will's strongest drives is?

Fear.

- Mm-hmm.
- Will Graham deals

with huge amounts of fear.
It comes with his imagination.

It's the price of imagination.

Alana, I wouldn't
put him out there

if I didn't think I
could cover him.

All right, if I didn't think
I could cover him 80%.

I wouldn't put him out there.

He's out there.
I need him out there.

Should he get too
close, I need you to

make sure he's not
out there alone.

Promise me something, Jack.

Don't let him get too close.

He won't... get too close.

(sighing): OK.

Tried her skin for prints...
of course nothing.

We did get a hand spread off her neck.
- Report say anything

about nails?

- Fingernails were smudged
when we took the scrapings.

The scrapings were
from her own palms

when she scratched them.
She never scratched him.

- Piece of metal is all we got.
- We should be looking

at plumbers, steamfitters,
tool workers...

Other injuries were probably but
not conclusively post-mortem.

So... not gored.

- She has lots of piercings
that look like they were caused

by deer antlers. I
didn't say the deer

was responsible for
putting them there.

She was mounted on them.

Like hooks.

She may have been bled.
- Her liver was removed.

See that? He took it out,
and then...

- yep, he put it back in.
- Huh.

Why would he cut it out
if he's just gonna sew it

back in again?

There was something wrong
with the meat.

She has liver cancer.

He's, um... he's eating them.

(crying) Please.

(crying) Thank you.

I hate being this neurotic.
- If you weren't neurotic,

Franklyn, you would be something
much worse.

Our brain is designed to experience
anxiety in short bursts,

not the prolonged duress
yours has seemed to enjoy.

That's why you feel
as though a lion

were on the verge
of devouring you.

(crying)

- Franklyn.
- Yes.

You have to convince yourself
the lion is not in the room.

When it is,

I assure you,

you will know.

Dr. Lecter.
I'm, uh, Special Ag...

I hate to be
discourteous, but this

is a private exit
for my patients.

- Oh, Dr. Lecter. Sorry. Um,

I'm, uh, Special Agent

Jack Crawford, FBI.
May I come in?

You may wait
in the waiting room.

Franklyn, I'll see you
next week.

- Yes.
- Unless, of course,

this is about him.

No, this is all about you.

Please, come in.

So,

may I ask how this is
all about me?

You can ask,
but I may have to ask you

a few questions first.

You expecting another patient?

We're all alone.

Oh, good.

- No secretary?
- Was predispositioned

to romantic whims. Followed her
heart to the United Kingdom.

(Jack chuckles.)
Sad to see her go.

Wow.

- Are these yours, Doctor?
- Among the first.

My boarding school in Paris
when I was a boy.

The amount of detail is
incredible.

I learned very early

a scalpel cuts better points
than a pencil sharpener.

Well, now I understand
why your drawings earned you

an internship at Johns Hopkins.

I'm beginning to suspect
you're investigating me,

- Agent Crawford.
- (Chuckling): No, no.

No, you were referred to me
by Alana Bloom

in the psychology department...
Georgetown.

Most psychology departments
are filled with personality

deficients. Dr. Bloom would be
the exception.

Yes, she would. Yes, she would.

Well, she told me
that you mentored her

during her residency
at Johns Hopkins.

I learned as much from her
as she did from me.

Yes, but she also showed me,
uh, your paper,

"Evolutionary..." uh,

"Evolutionary Origins
of Social Exclusion"?

Yes.

Very interesting.
Very interesting.

Even for a layman.

- A layman?
- Yeah.

So many learned
fellows going about

in the halls of
Behavioral Science

- at the FBI, and you
consider yourself a layman.

- I do when I'm in your company,

doctor. Um,

I need you to help me
with a psychological profile.

(Lecter): Tell me, then,
how many confessions?

Twelve dozen, the last time
I checked. None of them had

any details...
until this morning.

And then they all had details.

Some genius in Duluth PD took a
photograph of Elise Nichols' body

with his cell phone,
shared it with his friends,

and then Freddy Lounds

posted it on Tattlecrime.com.

Tasteless.

(Lecter): Do you have
trouble with taste?

My thoughts are often
not tasty.

Nor mine.

- No effective barriers.
- I build forts.

- Associations come quickly.
- So do forts.

Not fond of eye contact,
are you?

Eyes are distracting...

you see too much,
you don't see enough.

And-And it's hard to focus
when you're thinking, um,

"Oh, those whites are
really white",

or, "He must have hepatitis",
or, "Oh, is that a burst

"vein?" So, yeah,

I try to avoid eyes
whenever possible.

- Jack?
- Yes?

I imagine what you see
and learn touches

everything else in your mind.

Your values and decency are
present

yet shocked
at your associations,

appalled at your dreams.

No forts in the bone arena of
your skull for things you love.

Whose profile
are you working on?

Whose profile is he working on?

I'm sorry, Will.
Observing is what we do.

I can't shut mine off any more
than you can shut yours off.

Please, don't psychoanalyze me.

You won't like me
when I'm psychoanalyzed.

- Will.
- Now, if you'll excuse me,

I have to go give a lecture
on psychoanalyzing.

Maybe we shouldn't poke him
like that,

Doctor. Perhaps a less,
uh, direct approach.

What he has is

pure empathy.

He can assume
your point of view,

or mine, and maybe some other
points of view that scare him.

It's an uncomfortable gift,
Jack.

Perception's a tool
that's pointed on both ends.

This cannibal you have him
getting to know...

I think I can help
good Will see his face.

(Jack): Stag head
was reported stolen

last night, about
a mile from here.

Just the head?

Minneapolis Homicide's
already made a statement.

They're calling him
the Minnesota Shrike.

Like the bird?

Shrike's a perching bird.
Impales mice

and lizards on thorny branches
and barbed wire.

Rips their organs
right out of their bodies,

puts them in a little birdie
pantry, and eats them later.

I can't tell
whether it's sloppy

- or shrewd.
- He wanted her found

this way.

It's...

it's petulant.

I almost feel
like he's mocking her.

Or... he's mocking us.

Where did all his love go?

Whoever tucked Elise Nichols into
bed didn't paint this picture.

He took her lungs.

I'm pretty sure she was alive
when he cut 'em out.

Our cannibal loves women.

He doesn't want to destroy them;
He wants to consume them,

to keep some part
of them inside.

This girl's killer thought
that she was a pig.

- You think this was a copycat?
- The cannibal

who killed Elise Nichols had
a place to do it

and no interest in...
in field kabuki. So,

he has a house, or two,
or a-a cabin...

something with an antler room.

He has a daughter.

The same age as the other girls.
Same-same hair colour,

same eye colour, same height,
same weight.

She's an only child.
She's leaving home.

He can't stand the thought
of losing her.

She's his golden ticket.

What about the copycat?

You know,
an intelligent psychopath,

particularly a sadist,
is very hard to catch.

There's no traceable motive,
there'll be no patterns.

He may never kill
this way again.

Have Dr. Lecter draw up
a psychological profile.

You seemed very impressed
with his opinion.

(knocking on door)

(blankets shuffling)

(footsteps)

Good morning, Will.
May I come in?

- Where's Crawford?
- Deposed in court.

The adventure will be yours
and mine today.

May I come in?

I'm very careful
about what I put into my body,

which means I end up
preparing most meals myself.

A little protein scramble
to start the day.

Some eggs, some sausage.

Mm, it's delicious.

- Thank you.
- My pleasure.

I would apologize
for my analytical ambush,

but I know I will soon be
apologizing again

and you'll tire of that
eventually,

- so I have to consider
using apologies sparingly.

- Just keep it professional.

Or we could socialize,
like adults.

God forbid we become friendly.

I don't find you
that interesting.

You will.

Agent Crawford tells me you have
a knack for the monsters.

I don't think the Shrike
killed that girl

in the field.

The devil is in the details.

What didn't your
copycat do to the

girl in the field?
What gave it away?

Everything.

It's like he had to
show me a negative

so that I could see the positive.
It...

That crime scene was
practically gift-wrapped.

The mathematics
of human behaviour...

all those ugly variables.

Some bad math
with this Shrike fellow, huh?

Are you reconstructing
his fantasies?

- Heh.
- What kind of problems

- does he have?
- Uh, he has a few.

You ever have any problems,
Will?

No.

Of course you don't.

You and I are just alike...

problem-free. Nothing about us

to feel horrible about.

You know, Will...

I think Uncle Jack sees you
as a fragile little teacup.

The finest china,
used for only special guests.

(Will laughing)

How do you see me?

The mongoose I want under the
house when the snakes slither by.

Finish your breakfast.

(Will): What are you
smiling at?

Peeking behind the curtain.

I'm just curious how
the FBI goes about its

business when it's not
kicking in doors.

You're lucky we're not doing
house-to-house interviews.

We found a little piece of metal
in Elise Nichols' clothes...

a shred from a pipe threader.

There must be hundreds of construction
sites all over Minnesota.

A certain kind of metal,

certain kind of pipe,
certain kind of pipe coating,

so we're checking all
the construction

sites that use
that kind of pipe.

What are we looking for?

At this stage,
anything really. But mostly,

anything peculiar.

Two fellas from the FBI.

They goin' through
the drawers now.

Mm-hmm. Puttin' papers
in file boxes.

Yes, they are takin' things.

No. Well, they didn't say...

Yes, they can.

What did you say
your names were?

Garrett Jacob Hobbs?

He's one of our pipe threaders.
Those

are all the resignation letters.

Plumbers' Union requires 'em
whenever members finish a job.

(whispering): I'll
call you back.

- Uh, does Mr. Hobbs have a daughter?
- Might have.

Eighteen or 19, wind-chafed,
uh, plain but pretty.

- She'd have auburn hair, about this tall.
- Maybe.

I don't know. I don't keep
company with these people.

What is it
about Garrett Jacob Hobbs

you find so peculiar?

He left a phone number,
no address.

And therefore he has
something to hide?

The others all left addresses.

Do you have an address
for Mr. Hobbs?

I got it.

Caller ID said it was...

Hello?

[Mr. Garrett Jacob Hobbs?]

Yeah.

You don't know me
and I suspect we'll never meet.

This is a courtesy call.
Listen very carefully.

Are you listening?

Yes.

They know.

(birds singing)

(rattling)

Ah... ah!

Garrett Jacob Hobbs! FBI!

(girl whimpering)

(gunshot)

No, no, no.

See?

See?

(girl coughing and gasping)

No, no, no.

(Alana): biting in lesser assaults
and bar fights, child abuse...

Emergency room personnel may be
very helpful that way.

If they have any memories
of bad bites, no matter who was

bitten or h...

♪

Where's Graham?

You said he wouldn't
get too close.

Sync and correction by GeirDM
www.addic7ed.com

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