Original subtitles

My name is Dr. Kreizler.

Can you tell me what you saw?

Giorgio Santorelli.

He's a boy-whore, worked out of Paresis Hall.

Sara. Get me the file on the Zweig case.

We need your help.

The boy was a patient of mine.

An unsolved case.

Both my children are dead.

Because of you.

Look at anything that may connect Benjamin Zweig

to the Santorelli boy.

I must follow this wherever it goes.

Even if it leads me to the darkest pit of Hell.

Are many children brought here?

We only get the poor ones.

It's the poorest children I'm interested in.

Specifically homicides.

Plenty of those, too.

There may also have been removal

of the organs and body parts.

Grave robbers are still more common

than we would like. No, not grave robbers.

These mutilations would have served no medical purpose...

like the removal of the tongue.

Leviticus...

Deuteronomy...

Proverbs.

Proverbs.

I beg your pardon?

You wear no sign of your faith, Doctor,

yet you men of science insist you're not in opposition to God.

You insist you are God.

I insist no such thing.

I'll ask you again:

Do you have experience of corpses

in which the tongue was removed?

No.

But if it's the boy-whore from the bridge,

I'd say he had it coming.

Shut her up, Doyle!

Wait.

Don't be showin' your face no more around 300 Mulberry,

you dumb guinea bastard.

Anyone comes to see the Santorelli family,

you tell 'em you ain't seen nothin'.

This here's a warning, Mr. Santorelli.

You keep your dirty dago nose out of police business, eh?

Captain.

'Tis surely more pleasant on the eyes

to have a woman on the premises, isn't it, Sergeant Doyle?

Ah, 'tis.

Miss Howard.

Would the commissioner be about?

He's attending disciplinary hearings this afternoon.

Right, well, I just wanted to let him know...

The Santorellis, they didn't have much to add

by the way of facts to the killin' of their poor boy.

So don't hardly seem necessary

to make any further inquiry...

along those lines.

Is there anything else?

Beggin' your pardon.

Eyelash.

Huh.

Go on, blow.

Bring you luck.

Hm.

Make sure you tell the commissioner what I told you.

I don't think you've quite captured

the line of her jaw, Mr. Moore.

Hm.

There.

The resemblance now seems more correct.

Mm.

Oh. Hello.

Connor's been to see the Santorellis.

Does Roosevelt know?

He's not in.

But I want to go talk to them.

But you're employed as a typewriter.

I prefer the term "secretary,"

but I have good reason for wanting to involve myself.

You'll not be welcome in that part

of the neighborhood, you know.

I may only be a secretary,

but I do work for the police department.

Oh, the riffraff won't care about that.

Which is why I'll need you to accompany me.

They won't care about that either.

Are you saying you're afraid?

Whoa, whoa.

Whoa.

Does Roosevelt know you're doing this?

When it comes to the commissioner,

I find it sometimes better to ask forgiveness

rather than permission.

Oh, my God. A baby.

Sara, I wouldn't touch it.

These children are often diseased.

Poor thing.

Where's your mother?

Where's your mother?

Mrs. Santorelli.

Prego, prego.

Il dotorre.

She thinks you're a doctor.

She called for one hours ago.

What should I do?

I don't know. Pretend.

Can you tell us about the men who did this to your father?

Aspetta, mamma. Aspetta.

Two was cops.

The other was some Holy Joe.

What did they say?

They say Giorgio died in sin,

that it was better for the family

if we keep our mouths shut.

Calma, calma!

Calma, mamma.

Calma.

I can't make out what she's saying.

She talks about my brother.

Giorgio wasn't like the other boys.

Papa, he beat Giorgio. He call him a girl.

That's why he ran away.

She say police say Giorgio is the same

as the other boys who were killed.

Nobody care.

Other boys?

Let me try that one.

That looks good.

Look. The same knife marks.

We'll take this one.

Thinking about becoming a socialist now, are you?

You know the difference between capitalism

and socialism?

No.

In capitalism, man exploits man.

In socialism, it's the other way around.

Hyah! Go on!

Giddyup there.

Every night, Dr. Kreizler, every night, she touches.

The priest say she needs ice bath and leeches.

Leeches?

The priest say the devil is in her mind.

That's why I bring her to you.

Mrs. Rajk, there is nothing wrong

with your daughter's mind.

You're becoming a young woman.

And there's not a thing your mother nor any priest

can do about it.

1, 2, 3, 4.

Hmm?

1, 2, 3, 4.

The body's the temple of the Holy Spirit. 1, 2, 3, 4.

It is a blessed gift not to be defiled by lust. 1, 2, 3, 4.

1, 2, 3, 4.

Yes, I, too, learned Scripture when I was young.

But instead of answers, I found only questions.

Why does God allow us to feel both pleasure and pain?

Why has he given a young girl like Berthe

impulses and desires

she cannot begin to fathom or control?

4... Is this the God of who we speak?

This is a sanctuary for the young.

I will not tolerate its trespass,

neither by man, nor by God.

Now, please, remove yourselves from the premises.

Excuse me, Detective.

The commissioner is looking for some files

of unresolved cases.

Homicides.

Where might I find them?

The old dogs. I beg your pardon?

Unsolved cases.

They keep barkin' at you from the files

like old dogs.

Woof. Woof.

I see.

In there.

I know.

There were other murdered boys.

As I suspected at the morgue.

Who were they?

The Negro boy's identity was unknown.

The other boy was named Aaron Morton.

I found a brief mention of him in the Herald

about a month ago.

He worked at a brothel called Shang Draper's.

He was killed like the Santorelli boy

and his body hidden on the Brooklyn Bridge.

It's imperative that we examine them

to see if there's a connection.

Impossible.

The Negro morgue on Bleecker

burns the remains of anyone left unclaimed.

And I could find no family, which means Aaron Morton

was probably buried in Potter's Field.

But that's not all of it.

The files of both boys were kept hidden.

I found them only by chance.

There could well be others.

This information is invaluable, Miss Howard.

Thank you.

Is Roosevelt aware of what you've done?

No.

Have you plans tonight?

Yes.

If I have a carriage sent 'round at 9:00,

can your plans be altered?

Is that a request or a command, Doctor?

As you like it, Miss Howard.

Let me help you.

Thank you, Mary.

What else did you learn about Santorelli?

His brother said that he was "different."

Different?

I had the distinct impression that other boys

found Giorgio in some manner effete or,

well, inclined toward contrary sexual instinct.

Being effete and being inclined

toward a contrary sexual instinct

are two different things.

Now, was the boy one or the other?

Or was he both the former and the latter?

I'm sure I don't know.

All his brother said was that Giorgio

was different from the other boys and that he'd run away.

Was he beaten?

What boy isn't in that godforsaken part of the city?

Two more boys murdered.

He needs to feed his hunger like an addict.

He can't go very long without killing again.

Come closer, child.

What's wrong with your mouth?

Hey! Hey!

Tell me about Miss Howard.

I'll tell you about Miss Howard

if you tell me where we're going.

I've noticed she wears a man's signet ring.

Why do you take such pleasure

in keeping everyone in the dark about your plans?

Hmm?

The ring was her father's.

A rather sad situation.

A hunting accident, or at least that was the official story.

The rumors were that he died by his own hand.

How old was she? 12.

At the time, she was sent to a sanitarium.

She'd lost her mother when she was still quite young.

Perhaps you should measure her skull

to see how it affected her.

Have you interest in her?

Good God, Laszlo. I've known her since she was a child.

She's no longer a child.

I've not thought of her in that way.

Certainly you have.

No, Tessie.

I'll not wear an evening dress

as I have no need to flatter myself.

Will there be gentlemen present?

I should say, rather, there will be colleagues present.

Colleagues are gentlemen, too.

All the more reason to make an impression.

Who's that sitting with Roosevelt?

You mean to tell me you don't recognize

the mayor of New York City?

That's Mayor Strong?

Mm-hmm.

My God, he's aged.

Hm.

His family grows by the day.

What are you talking about?

J.P. Morgan.

Every beautiful young lady he's seen with

claims to be his niece.

Poor Roosevelt.

He dislikes the opera as much as you do.

Hm. Doubtful.

Don't wait up for us tonight, Mama.

We have police business.

She means you stink like a 10-cent whore.

How would you know?

Mommy?

Hmm?

That's not tonight, Mama.

Is it over?

Intermezzo.

Thank you.

Very well. I shall be forced to drink for two.

Mayor Strong.

It's wonderful to see you again.

You're looking well, sir.

Thank you.

I'm Dr. Kreizler.

The alienist?

Good evening, Commissioner.

- Good evening, Mr. Roosevelt. - Robert.

- Theodore. - Tom.

Good evening, Commissioner.

I need something from you.

Examination of the Zweig boy revealed serrations

on the malar bone and supraorbital ridge of both eyes.

Someone cut his eyes out with a knife.

This is neither the time nor the place

to discuss the postmortem of a child.

I shouldn't even be seen talking to you.

It was no scavenger that left those marks,

and if I were a betting man,

- I'd wager rather a large sum... - Good evening, Commissioner.

On the probability that the same marks

will be present on the eye sockets of Giorgio Santorelli.

That will be determined by the coroner.

That may well take months, if ever.

And it's two more boys of the lower classes

have recently be murdered,

although your police seem to be more concerned

with covering up the crimes than finding the perpetrator.

How did you come by this knowledge?

That I cannot tell you.

Even if I wanted to,

I cannot allow you access to the body,

as it's still in police custody.

Your Isaacson brothers have proven themselves

more than capable.

T.R.

J.P. Mm.

Damn it, Kreizler.

In addition, I shall require a liaison

who will provide information

from within the police department

without revealing their connection to me.

Are you suggesting you should be allowed

to conduct a parallel investigation?

Yes.

Your secretary, Miss Howard, is perfectly placed.

Please, enjoy the rest of your evening.

Thank you.

Good to see you again.

Thank you.

Thank you.

All right.

Let go!

Thank you.

How are you?

Are you perchance waiting for Dr. Kreizler?

Yes, I am.

I'm Detective Sergeant Marcus Isaacson.

This is my brother.

Detective Sergeant Lucius Isaacson.

I'm Sara Howard.

I work for Commissioner Roosevelt.

You're here to take notes?

Frankly, I don't know why I'm here.

My apologies for the lateness of our arrival.

Charlie, you may let Monsieur Ranhofer

know we are ready.

A toast.

To the beginning of a fruitful partnership.

I don't think the wine is kosher.

I thought we'd start with a terrapin soup au clair.

One of the specialties of the house.

I hope no one minds serious conversation while we eat,

but I believe it's best to get a running start.

Well, perhaps you could tell us

what exactly we're getting a running start at.

Oh, my.

I've gotten ahead of myself, haven't I?

Of course.

I should explain.

Perhaps if we begin,

your intentions will become self-explanatory.

Please.

We've already made Dr. Kreizler aware

of the results of our examination of the Zweig boy.

The torso was grossly violated

while the eyes were carefully plucked from their sockets.

Gentlemen.

There is a lady present.

Oh, enough, John.

I am perfectly capable of hearing

whatever it is that needs to be said.

Hm. Continue, please.

Thus, we asked ourselves, "What instrument

might be found capable of both cutting muscles and tendons

and prying eyeballs from their sockets?"

Behold, the Arkansas Toothpick.

The blade is strong enough to cause

the wounds the boy suffered to his torso.

But finely weighted to delicately remove his eyes.

Come on.

Huh! Hyah!

Let's eat.

You been grooming them horses, mucking out those stables,

and touching your own private self.

Clean your hands before you eat.

I don't know why I have to keep telling you that.

Gentlemen, you've done fine work.

But there may well be thousands of Arkansas Toothpicks about,

even in New York City.

Which is why we have something

that may prove infinitely more useful.

Dactyloscopy.

The science of a finger, palm,

or foot leaving a chance impression.

The one on the left is mine.

And the one on the right is mine.

And yet we're twins.

Fraternal.

Hmm.

There are those, including the majority of our colleagues

in the police department, who do not accept finger-marks

as evidence, but the science behind it has...

It has been proved reliable.

I've read about this.

Isn't it surmised that a person's finger-marks

do not change throughout their lifetime

and that each is unique?

Precisely. However, certain conditions

must be met in order to preserve them.

And bodies immersed in water like the Zweigs

would not meet those conditions.

Indeed not, but we found this.

A bloody finger-mark left on the back of this timepiece.

We discovered the trinket

within the Zweig boy's burial suit.

Their file referenced it.

It was found on the roof near the water tank, wasn't it?

And thus spared degradation.

A person leaving a finger-mark such as this

might as well drop a monogrammed handkerchief.

And so he did.

Who?

You talk about him as if you know him.

We don't yet know him, John.

But we will.

We may not know his name or where he lives,

but he exists in plain sight.

Though evidence does not immediately reveal him,

there are hints and indications to his identity

that he's unwittingly left behind.

Now, our task is to gather those hints and indications

to construct an image of the man...

his age, his background, his habits,

but most importantly, his appetites.

Look at who his victims are,

where he commits his crimes, and what exactly he does to them

until a pattern begins to emerge.

Each and every one of the choices he makes

will reveal a hidden aspect of his alienated mind.

And there's one more thing.

We know the killer's conscious thoughts are fixed on violence.

If we get too close,

that violence might well spill over onto us.

You're not asking Sara

to join this mad escapade of yours, are you?

It will put her in a most compromised position.

Look at the beasts that surround her on a daily basis.

I believe she's up to the task.

She's not as strong as she'd like you to believe.

John, please.

Do not let your affection for Miss Howard

get in the way of logic.

My affection?!

My God.

Do you never tire of the sound of your own voice?

Miss Howard is resourceful. She's loyal to Roosevelt.

And because she's a woman, she's unlikely to arouse suspicion.

That is quite sufficient for my purposes.

And what is my role to be in all of this?

Perhaps you've already played it.

It's something new.

Forensic science married with human psychology.

One might easily imagine the ramifications

if we are successful.

I rather like it.

Miss Howard.

- Miss Howard. - Gentlemen.

May I offer you a ride? No, thank you, Doctor.

Please go on without us. Very well.

Good evening, men. Good evening.

John. Are you coming with us?

I'd prefer to walk.

At this hour?

I'm not a child.

He's had too much to drink.

He was offered a ride.

Perhaps you might have insisted.

A little resentment and introspection will do him good.

He's not as strong as he'd like you to think.

You find that amusing?

Our weaknesses sometimes serve us

better than our strengths.

I'm surprised to hear you admit you've a weakness.

I was speaking metaphorically.

- Stevie! - Yes, sir?

Run along and keep an eye on Mr. Moore.

You bet.

Let's go, boys. Let's go.

The working man, woman,

and, all too often, the working child

are, in effect, the slaves of America.

We call on all honest citizens to unite beneath the banner

of the Socialist Labor Party of America...

That we may make use of our political liberty

and bring an end to the current barbarous struggle

of the oppressed.

Evening.

- This emancipation... - Yes.

Is not only possible... It is inevitable,

since all we need do to move forward in equality

is to stand together now in unity.

Pardon my candidness, but I feel I must ask.

Did you have this evening entirely planned?

What exactly do you mean by "entirely"?

That we... I...

would agree to assist you.

Aside from the job of scrubbing floors,

you're the first woman employed

by the New York Police Department.

That shows initiative

and a desire to advance your place in society.

Am I mistaken?

No.

I've asked the commissioner

for you to be the liaison between us.

Your task will be to keep me informed

of developments within the department

and keep Roosevelt abreast of our actions outside.

And he agreed?

Perhaps not in so many words.

Come on, boy.

Whoa.

Steady.

May I assume you have an interest?

It wouldn't be fair to assume anything about me, Doctor.

You look lovely this evening, Miss Howard.

Cyrus.

Please see Miss Howard to the door.

Yes, sir.

I can see myself in, thank you.

What did you say your name was?

Esther. And you?

Marcus.

Nice to meet you.

Likewise.

Heads up!

Yeah, sir, this will literally cure psoriasis.

Tie! Fine ties!

Good ties!

Ladies and gentlemen...

take repose on this beautiful settee.

Step right up.

Come here, son.

- Bravo! - Yay!

Bravo!

That was pretty!

That's what I said!

Good evening... sir.

If you don't ask questions, I don't give answers.

Manners.

- I like you. - I like you.

You aren't the same as the other guys.

No, I'm not.

So, what's your price?

What's your price?

Now, we've all kind of entertainment here, friend.

A little pleasure?

Would you like to dance?

What do you fancy?

I need a drink.

I'm seeking information.

I want to know about Giorgio Santorelli.

Hm.

And why should I tell you anything

- I ain't already told the cops? - He's so picky.

Because it could happen again.

Another one of your girls could disappear,

and her dismembered body

unceremoniously dumped in some lonely venue.

There's only so many times

the police can look the other way.

All right.

What do you want to know?

Who saw the boy?

What type of clients were they?

What were their predilections?

The boy had a filthy mouth on him.

His regulars liked to hear how worthless they were,

how they didn't measure up.

You Fifth Avenue swells don't suffer enough.

Gotta come here and pay me for it.

But you should stick around.

You look like you might enjoy yourself.

Come on.

Don't be shy.

My name is Sally,

and I can make all your dreams come true.

Hey. Over here.

How about I pay you $3

and you tell me what you know about Giorgio Santorelli?

$5.

No, no, no.

Tell me about Giorgio.

Gloria.

She had lots of regulars.

Some very nice ones.

Some very rich ones.

She only talked about the one with the silver smile, though.

Silver smile?

What was his name?

Do you know?

You're not very fun.

In fact, you're no fun at all.

Did she leave with him that night?

The one with the silver smile?

Gloria never left her room.

We heard her in there, but she never came out.

We got tired of waiting.

When we broke the lock, there was no sign of her.

There was no sign of anybody.

It was a three-story drop.

And Gloria didn't have wings.

You're lying.

You're lying.

Even without wings, Gloria flew away.

And someday I will, too.

Is that...

Ain't that sweet?

You know who he is?

Hm. I seen him before.

He's a friend of Roosevelt

and that alienist son of a bitch.

This is an unfortunate situation, gentlemen.

I'm afraid it's gonna force us to take actions of our own.

What do you wanna do with him?

Come on in, girls.