Original subtitles

Previously on Dexter: Resurrection...

Holy shit, you are fucking alive.

Come here.

Fucking Joey Quinn.

- I'm a P.I. now. - A P.I.?

NYPD's gotten nowhere trying to find Prater.

I know he's hiding somewhere.

Let me know if you need any help.

We found this file

inside Leon Prater's

serial killer vault, naming.

Don Framt as the New York Ripper.

We all know Framt's our guy,

but you got no hard evidence, no case.

Get that hound dog of yours off my tail.

Be cool.

I'm not a threat.

What I have is an offer.

You've dealt with the Yonkers Slayer and the Midnight Mangler.

I can get you the Jaw Splitter and the Sleepy-Eyed Stranger.

Invite them to a gathering

of Prater's Boogeyman Club.

Bring the Sleepy-Eyed Stranger first.

Tell me about him. What's he like?

He sneaks into people's houses

and watches them while they sleep

before finally stabbing them with an ice pick.

Letting people think we're a couple?

- It's perfect cover. - Okay... sweetheart.

A woman is killed in a crowded parking lot.

Nobody cares.

His chosen name...

the Five Borough Killer...

suggests that he's likely to strike again.

Someone will die on Broadway tonight.

Oh, my God!

I'm out of here. No cops for me.

Broadway.

It's the Five Borough Killer.

Okay, that's two.

I'm gonna stop you before you get to number three.

To do what I do...

you need resolve...

commitment, belief in the process.

But it can be a lonely path.

- Can I help you? - Hey.

Yeah, my girl's in one of the top-floor apartments.

Her AC's acting up.

She asked that I look into it. You know how it is.

It's probably the condenser.

- I'll check it out. - Mind if I come with?

I kind of like to tinker with stuff, too.

Long as you don't mind heights. It's on the roof.

Yeah, I'll be careful.

- Never get tired of this view. - Yeah.

New York's always better when

- you're looking down on it. - These things

are always acting up.

Guy in 9B had a similar issue last week.

Should be an easy fix.

Thanks.

Appreciate you actually giving a shit.

Which unit did you say your girlfriend lives in?

Hello?

The fuck's going on, man?

The view really is breathtaking.

Please, please. Please, please, please.

Stop, stop.

I have a wife.

A nine-year-old daughter, man.

I'll let you in on a secret.

Okay. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah.

- No! - Nobody cares.

Fuck.

Not the first time pulling a fire alarm's

helped me out.

Oh, fuck.

Only one way out now.

What goes up must come down.

Hello, Two Borough Killer.

Fire escape.

He had a contingency plan for his contingency plan.

Sorry to miss you, Two Borough Killer,

but I've got a previous engagement...

with the Sleepy-Eyed Stranger.

I saw it happen. The dude jumped.

Devil must've got into him.

If the Devil wears smart glasses.

Not exactly an ideal time for a family reunion.

Sir?

Sir, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?

- Sure. - All right.

What the fuck are you doing here?

It's not what it looks like.

I had nothing to do with this.

I would tell you if I did.

I was over there having drinks with Charley.

Oh, you two are friends now?

No, strictly business.

But I'll tell you one thing... this wasn't a suicide.

You remember your warning about Broadway? This was FBK.

Wait. You're hunting him, too?

No, but I saw him on the roof.

I tried to chase after him, but he was too fast.

Okay. You have to tell Claudette and Oliva.

You can help identify him.

I don't think getting back on Claudette's radar

is a great idea, but I promise

to tell you everything I can remember.

Just not here, not now.

I'm gonna hold you to that.

Count on it.

Fuck. Fuck.

Here we go.

Step back. Folks, step back.

Phones down.

Thanks for joining us, Morgan.

- Who was that guy? - I thought he was a witness.

- And? - It's nothing useful.

When I first started, Detective Wallace told me

you never forget your first dead body.

It seems like you wouldn't forget any of 'em.

Where are you?

On the road. You still haven't told me where I'm going.

67 Beekman.

See you tomorrow.

Rockabye Murder Babies.

Today's killer is so demented,

you'll have nightmares for weeks.

This snoozy perv breaks into homes at night,

messing with his victims' personal items for days,

waiting for the right moment, the right whim

to jab an ice pick into the base of their skull.

Swift, clean, quiet.

Dead before they even know what's happening, or who did it.

What's the fun in that?

Went no-contact with his parents at age 14.

Works from home as a day trader

so he can follow his true calling at night.

From what I can tell, he hasn't socialized

in civil society in over 20 years...

and it shows.

Dexter!

I saw you on the Ring camera.

I need to talk to you.

- Fuck. - Dexter!

One second.

What's up?

You've been coming home late.

You didn't come home at all the other night.

I have to know.

Are you seeing someone?

No.

I'm just picking up extra UrCar trips.

That's what I was afraid of!

I worry all this work

is taking away from family and friends.

No. I see Harrison...

when he's not busy with his new job.

Too much solitude is unhealthy.

A man's mind can be a dangerous place.

You have no idea.

You know,

you should join me at my church's men's group sometime.

- Oh. I don't know. - Before you say anything,

it's not what you think.

Just a bunch of guys talking about our issues,

helping each other out.

And we have potlucks.

Oh, I do love me a good potluck.

Of course you do.

But mostly, the group just...

helps us to feel less alone.

Promise me you'll think about it?

Yeah, I'll... I'll think about it.

Now who are you?

We pulled prints from every surface.

But there were, like, a thousand people

racing out of that building.

Everyone was touching everything.

What about the fire alarm?

The only prints were from the guy who installed it.

There's literally nothing left to check.

I assume you have an imagination.

If I am correct, I suggest you use it.

- Any movement? - We've spoken to and cleared

the building's occupants.

There's no security cameras inside.

The victim's been identified

as the maintenance man, and based on the tools

we found on the roof, it looks like he was up there repairing

an AC unit, so, this could've been an accident

or... suicide.

Are any of the air conditioning units malfunctioning?

- No. - Suicides usually land

further away from the building. Homicides

hit closer, having expended all their energy

trying not to fall.

We're on Broadway.

This was the Five Borough Killer. He is toying with us.

He wanted us to believe it was the Theater District

- to cause tourist chaos. - Played right into his hands.

Detectives, can you confirm whether last night's death

was an act of the Five Borough Killer?

Looks like your theory's catching on.

We'll be giving no statement at this time.

Last thing we need is to be on Mixon's shit list

for talking to the press again.

If Captain Mixon had not tipped off the public,

the press would not be here in the first place.

FBK... two, NYPD... zero.

What the fuck is he doing here?

Why are you singing that song?

I don't know what you're talking about!

I'm just singing my favorite song, that's all.

It's a song that makes me very happy.

What's wrong with that?

Stop! I said stop it!

Help me!

You were in the stairwell! I knew it!

- You were there! - Police brutality! Help!

- Help! - What the hell is going on?!

- I knew it. I knew it! - Enough!

Hey!

Are you okay?

I am most certainly not anywhere in the vicinity of okay.

You better not be thinking

about recreating the Boogeyman Club.

I learned my lesson.

We're not "Like-Minded Individuals."

We're people who use the same impulses

for entirely different purposes.

I'll only talk to the Sleepy-Eyed Stranger

for as long as it takes to corner him with my needle.

To make him open his eyes and look...

Fuck!

Better now?

Or better before?

Better before.

Better now...

or better before?

Better now.

Well, that confirms it.

You definitely need reading glasses.

- Peachy. - It's nothing to worry about.

Most people do as they age.

Too thick.

Too square.

Too Dahmer.

Shit. Too FBK.

Just right.

It's go time.

"Hon"?

You're really leaning into this?

It's a cover. In case someone sees our messages.

Didn't you want me working with Charley?

Working with her, not playing house.

You're lecturing me about mixing business with pleasure? Got it.

Don't let your boundaries get confused, son.

Things can get messy.

And this is the woman who threatened Harrison's life.

So I should be more like the Sleepy-Eyed Stranger?

No attachments?

I'm just saying.

Be careful what you trust her with.

I have to get to the town house.

But I can always make a few minutes for my son.

Glasses? It's cute.

I need you to tell me everything you saw last night.

Good to see you, too.

This is serious.

Every cop in the NYPD

is after FBK, and you might've seen his face.

It's too dangerous for me to tell you anything on the record.

Claudette didn't believe Batista when he told her

I was the Bay Harbor Butcher, but...

if I admit to chasing after another killer,

she might rethink that.

Okay, let's talk off the record.

It could help me know what to look for

as the investigation continues.

Thought Harrison becoming a cop

would be more convenient for me than the other way around.

- FBK knew the building. - Okay.

He had a backup escape route.

Okay. Great.

What did he look like?

This all happened during a chase, I only caught a glimpse.

Do you want to try a police sketch?

Sometimes isolating individual features can help jog a memory.

I can make a few more minutes for my son.

You always were a great artist.

Cool.

Do you have anything bigger than this?

Yeah. Yeah.

Okay. All right, let's start big picture.

What do you remember?

Medium build, brownish hair

under a baseball cap.

Caucasian.

That... that's new.

No, in his POV video, he's gloved.

That... that helps.

Okay.

All right. What else?

He was fit.

Square jaw.

He was wearing smart glasses.

What-what kind of frames?

Well, actually,

they looked a lot like...

these.

Perfect.

Okay.

Okay.

Anything else distinctive?

Like a mole or a tattoo?

Anything we could use to pick this guy out of a lineup?

No. I'm sorry.

Wait.

He was wearing a wedding band.

A silver wedding band.

The profile we've been working from has FBK

as a single, isolated loner.

Yeah.

Think that might be all I have for today.

No, that's... that's okay, that's okay.

We can always come back to this if anything else clicks.

You want to go grab a bite?

Take those, cute glasses out for a spin?

I wish I could, but...

Is that...? That's Red's hoodie.

That's what you were doing with Charley the other night.

Yeah, I told you it was just business.

We have one of Prater's old... guests coming.

Don't worry. You're, still off the record.

We have a date with the Sleepy-Eyed Stranger.

Cool.

Well...

text me when you get home safe?

Isn't that supposed to be my line?

Okay, now it's go time.

Sometimes I miss having no attachments.

Sorry, it's not a good time.

You're never gonna believe this. I found Prater.

Unless he took up scuba diving, I highly doubt that.

You found him?

He just rented a brownstone in Manhattan.

Hey, why don't we grab a drink?

Sure. I'm free tomorrow.

How about now?

What's a few more minutes?

Nobody cares.

Nobody cares.

Nobody cares.

We notified the victim's family.

Just in time.

Another AirDropped video hit the Internet a few minutes ago.

That is not good. More panic.

Well, at least it confirms last night was FBK.

I did not need confirmation.

So far, there's no connection between the two victims.

The M.O.s were completely different.

That is not true.

The Five Borough Killer has a very specific M.O...

the calls to the police and the AirDrop.

Pre-kill taunt and post-kill revel.

This means the Five Borough Killer

falls under the category of power-control killers.

The murder itself is almost secondary.

Their primary motivation is to control their victims.

Their pleasure is derived

from the psychological torment of their victims.

And in this case, his victim is the entire city.

Psychological torment.

- Yes. - Like what Framt did to you.

Can we talk about what happened earlier between you two?

No, thank you. That is not necessary.

Thanks to you attacking him in public,

Framt is now suing the NYPD for harassment.

I did not attack. I did not even touch him.

You're off the Ripper case.

67 Beekman.

Also known as where I'm meeting the Sleepy-Eyed Stranger.

When did Joey Quinn actually become good at this?

Which means Prater could be hiding out

in one of these brownstones or town houses.

I just have to figure out which one.

How'd you find all this?

A friend of mine in the Caymans...

don't ask me how I know her...

tipped me off to some movement in an old Prater account.

The only transaction I could trace went

to a real estate group that owns all of these.

I'm hitting all of these tonight.

Gonna find the slippery fuck before he has a chance to run.

That's a lot of ground to cover.

You know, I pick up a lot of UrCar rides around here.

I could take that area off your plate if you want.

Dude, this guy is dangerous.

I don't want to put you in harm's way.

I am harm's way.

I'll just drive by.

I won't even get out of the car.

If I see something sketchy, I'll call you.

Okay. Don't be a hero.

You don't have to worry about that.

What do we have here?

"Dearest."

Any time I get that many dings,

I know it's a woman.

Oh. She's feisty.

- You better call her back. - Thanks. I'm gonna...

get on that. I'll let you know about the brownstones.

Hey.

Keep an eye out for this broad.

Who's that?

Prater's former head of security.

NYPD cleared her. I still have a few questions.

When's Prater getting here?

He's scheduled to arrive tomorrow.

The other guest should be here shortly.

I'm not here to make friends.

Hey, sorry I'm a little late.

Not so fast.

Where the hell have you been, babe?

Dealing with a minor issue.

I'll explain after I'm finished.

You're clear.

Sleepy-Eyed Stranger, meet the Dark Passenger.

Hey. Around here, everyone just calls me Red.

And what can I call you?

The Sleepy-Eyed Stranger.

Okay.

How about "Sleepy" for short?

How about you don't call me anything?

Looks like I won't have to worry

about connecting with this guy.

I need to prepare for Mr. Prater's arrival.

I'm sure you two have lots

to talk about.

Call me when it's done, hon.

I never liked her.

Same.

Man, we got to check this place out.

I'm fine.

Did you see it has an elevator?

Why were you late?

Some things came up with friends and family.

Yeah.

I cut all that shit out years ago.

Other people just get in the way.

Shit. I'll drink to that.

Yes, I prefer to observe life,

see its...

intimacies from the outside.

Right before... I end it.

I'm starting to see why he didn't get invited back.

Last time, Prater kept all the good stuff in the cellar.

You want to see if he's got a secret stash?

Sure.

Should I needle him now or walk him into the kill room?

Work smarter, not harder.

Yeah, I saw that family photo on the dining room table.

Is that your share?

No. No.

I brought George.

George?

The man in the photo.

I'm gonna kill him in front of Prater.

I must admit, I've always wanted to see someone like you at work.

He'll love that.

So, a live victim.

Is he here? In this house?

No.

I have him tucked away.

But you'll meet him soon enough.

Sorry, Harry.

If George is gonna survive this,

I'll have to spend some time with Sleepy after all.

What's all this?

Wine cellar must be

under construction.

Back upstairs.

Does Charley know about this?

The less she knows, the better.

How'd you get him here?

U-Haul van.

Drove down from New Hampshire.

You can't exactly check that kind of luggage.

Where'd you leave it?

New York parking signs are crazy.

You could get towed.

I can help you find a safe spot.

I've had enough personal contact for one day.

I'm gonna unpack.

Fuck.

I need a minute.

That was quick.

- We've got a problem. - No.

You have a problem. I held up my end of the deal.

I don't get involved with killing people.

What about saving them?

Mr. Prater's plans have changed.

He's only in town for one night.

He'll be here imminently

and expects your show-and-tells upon arrival.

Well, that's too soon.

Hey, don't be nervous. You got a great share.

I know I have a great share.

That's why I can't be rushed.

If you don't want to participate,

you're welcome to leave.

No!

I'll make it work.

I have to pick something up.

Tell Prater not to leave until I get back.

Let me know if you need an extra hand.

I work alone!

You ready?

I figured we'd take my car since I'm a UrCar driver.

And I'm Special Forces.

We can take two cars.

In case one of us loses him.

Hey, Siri, call Love Bug.

He's stopped at the intersection.

Did UrCar teach you how to do a "Front and Follow"?

No, but I picked up a few things

from the guys at Miami Metro.

Good. Go right here.

I'll tell you when to cut over.

Copy that, Sergeant Brown.

It's Sergeant Major.

Shit.

What is it?

Dexter?

That minor issue I mentioned?

His name is Joey Quinn.

How minor is this Joey Quinn?

Less minor than I had hoped.

I worked with him at Miami Metro.

He's here looking for answers about.

Batista's death.

He somehow managed to find the fucking slush fund.

He saw the payment to the rental property company,

and now he's on his way to our town house.

And you didn't mention this sooner because?

I just found out.

Plus, it's a little early to introduce you to my friends.

The last thing we need is another

homicide detective digging around.

No, he's retired. He's a P.I. now.

Oh, that's worse.

They don't have to follow the rules.

I'll handle it.

You better.

Ray is turning right. Headed your way.

He's staying on Hudson.

Get behind him. I'll go around and get ahead.

The few times I've worked with someone else,

I was teaching them.

This is... nice.

He's turning right.

Okay. I'm coming to a light.

Can you stay on him?

Got it.

You know, you and I are kind of in the same business.

How so?

We've both spent our lives hunting down bad guys.

Well, with very different results.

Your goal was to kill them.

My job was to send them home with money in their pockets.

Hey, don't be too hard on yourself.

Your perspective changes as you get older...

wiser.

I made a choice, and now I have to live with it.

I did what I had to do to keep my mother alive.

But when I told her what I'd done...

she said she'd rather have died.

I get that.

My father...

Wouldn't want me sharing this.

My father trained me to do what I do,

but when he actually saw what I'd become...

he rejected me, too.

The people you want to please the most...

are the most impossible to please.

Hang on. He's pulling over.

He stopped at a parking garage.

You ready?

You bet, babe.

- Hey, George. - Hey, asshole.

Did you not hear what I said?

I work alone.

I used to say the same thing.

Meet you back home?

Oh, as long as your minor issue won't interfere.

I have a way to keep him occupied.

Hang in there, George. Help is on the way.

Yeah?

Hey, where are you?

63 Beekman.

Man, I just saw some sketchy-looking guy

loading a weird box into a U-Haul van

right in front of one of your town houses.

It's pretty fucking fishy-looking.

Fuck. Where?

I followed him to a parking garage

at 10th and Washington,

but I have to pick up a rideshare passenger.

You're good. I'll take it from here.

Hey, hey. What are you doing?

I am going to speak with the captain

about the New York Ripper case. You are in my way.

- You have to let this go. - No.

I do not.

Goddamn it, Claudette!

How long have we worked together?

Nine years, three months, two days.

Long enough to know that this isn't like you.

You don't let personal shit get in the way of the case.

Why are you letting Framt destroy your career?

Destroy you?

My first week as a uniformed officer,

I responded to a 311...

noise code violation.

Someone reported their neighbor playing music too loudly.

I did not know it at the time,

but my first crime scene was my first encounter

with the New York Ripper's savagery.

This is Officer Wallace.

I need to report a homicide at 1153 Orchard.

Copy, Officer Wallace.

Please stay with the body until forensics arrives.

I stood in that room, alone, for 48 minutes,

staring at the murdered girl, Vicky Lawson,

who was only a few years younger than I was.

It took everything in my power not to stop the music.

But I could not tamper with the crime scene.

Jesus.

That's why you listen to that song?

So I will never forget.

There's nothing you could have done.

But there was.

I saw him.

I walked right past him.

That's why you said Framt was in the stairwell.

And now I know he saw me, too.

That detail about the Bee Gees' record

was never released to the public.

The fucker was taunting you.

He walked past a police officer

moments after slaughtering Vicky Lawson.

And I did nothing.

You were responding to a noise complaint.

Nine times out of ten, it's just teenagers partying.

No, if I had stopped Framt,

if I had simply taken note of his appearance...

19 women would still be alive.

I promise, we're gonna get Framt.

But there's nothing we can do about him right now.

So I need you... the city of New York needs you...

to take that hypervigilance and turn it on FBK.

Or more of his victims are gonna be on our hands, too.

Your feedback has been noted.

What a fucking day.

You never forget your first dead body.

What's with the pictures?

He needs to know why he has to die.

Is your thing more about

the urge,

or vengeance?

I don't know what the ratio is between the two.

But my need for... justice is real.

After all this time, I'm still coming to terms with it.

I've met a lot of serial killers.

Never one who cares about saving innocent victims.

Why?

My mother was ripped apart by a chainsaw.

Drug cartels.

I saw it all.

I was three years old.

Jesus.

Is that why you chop up the bodies?

No, I do it to make disposal easier.

Fuck.

I never put that together before.

Yeah.

Maybe that's part of why I do it, too.

You think?

So, I've got some work to do.

Unless you want to stick around.

Nah.

I'm good.

Same time tomorrow?

Hopefully, with less complications.

What... what the fuck?

You stole my idea!

You're gonna kill me in front of Prater.

That'd be impossible.

Because Prater's body is at the bottom of the New York Harbor.

What?

These are the only people I'm going to kill you in front of.

But first, I got a few questions.

I know why I do this to people like you,

but what do you get out of killing people in their sleep?

Where's the gratification in that?

Of course.

You wouldn't be able to see beyond the kill.

Tell me.

- I'm curious. - What would you rather I do?

Wake them up for a heart-to-heart?

Why not?

I couldn't care less what they think!

They're nothing.

I watch over them for days.

They don't even know I'm there.

I get to hold their fates in my hands.

Like a god!

Until the day when I decide it's right,

I take it all away.

But how can you be their god

when they don't even know what's happening or who's doing it?

They may not know.

But their families know.

Their friends.

They feel the pain.

They never recover.

Everyone thinks

that these relationships make their lives better.

But it actually makes them weak.

Vulnerable.

I free them from that lie.

It's the gift I give all my victims.

I knew you'd understand.

You call that a gift?

Ray...

you're a ruthless and unscrupulous murderer.

You're not doing anyone any favors

by killing them in their sleep.

You'd rather I do it when they're awake?

Make them scream?

Feel it?

No.

What I do is mercy.

Mercy killing?

It's not my style.

I believe in justice.

Holy fuck.

Mission accomplished.

Make that two missions.

Ray killed, George saved.

This is a Bronx-bound number 4 train.

Stand clear of the closing doors, please.

It used to be that the only place

I could be honest was in my kill room...

with a victim.

Someone who'd take my secrets to their grave.

Letting anyone else in was too dangerous.

No attachments felt simpler, cleaner.

But my life has changed.

Today would've been impossible

without Charley, without Quinn.

Maybe I need to resolve to not worry

so much about that.

Hey, buddy. What's up?

So, how'd it go with the Sleepy-Eyed Stranger?

Do you really want to know?

Yeah.

Well, I took care of him.

And saved one of his intended victims.

You make it sound so easy.

It wasn't.

Yeah, well, you still had a better day than me.

Ask him why.

- What happened? - Jack shit.

We were all over the FBK case, got absolutely nowhere, and...

You were the best lead we had all day,

and I can't even tell 'em.

So now FBK's just still running around.

And the, the fucking Ripper. I-I mean,

it's like... it's like what's the fucking point?

I get that.

Is this what it was like at Miami Metro?

We had our share of frustrating cases.

That's...

That's actually why Harry did what he did.

With me.

- Really? - Yup.

For the ones who slip through the cracks.

Justice needs a little help sometimes.

Right.

Now get some sleep.

The NYPD is gonna need their best rookie cop

at his best tomorrow.

Yeah.

Yeah. Thanks, Dad.

One down, one to go.

Jaw Splitter, welcome to New York.

Charley and I have a special reception ready just for you.