Original subtitles

The war is over.

After four long years, our boys are finally coming home.

From California to Maine,

the celebrations have only just begun for our brave young heroes.

Americans are pouring into the streets

showering our courageous soldiers with gratitude and admiration.

Back in Germany, the Allies have

the Russian, French, British and American.

Each of the victors now controls a part of the city

leading the country towards new growth and prosperity.

But the real victors are the people of Germany.

With their dictator finally overthrown

life in Deutschland is booming like never before.

Order has been restored. The economy is thriving.

Children are playing in the streets, and romance is in the air.

The war is over, and the Germans have never been happier.

This Diary Belongs to Anne Christine Friedrich

This is the diary of the girl who was found murdered last week.

Anne Christine Friedrich.

Maybe you don't remember.

She was just another ruin mouse

who ended up in one of the Ku'damm brothels.

We all have our dead,

why care about Anne Christine Friedrich?

Why give a shit about her?

Obviously, we're the police, it's our job to care.

But I fear...

that if we don't, we'll fall further down into this.

And I don't want that.

I want to go up. I want...

I want to rise above. I want to fly!

Gosh... Damn it.

Now I'm sounding like a bloody preacher here.

Yes. You are.

Maybe it's just me, but I want...

the diaries of young girls to be about love and school and...

stupid things. Not death, fear and rape.

What I'm asking you to do will be hard,

and it will be dangerous and I can't promise you more pay.

I can only offer a chance to help me turn our city into a better place.

Everyone around the world hates us.

They think all Germans are Nazis.

All we can do is help ourselves.

Someone powerful in this city...

killed Anne Christine Friedrich, and I want to go after him

and make him pay.

He is generous to the neediest among us.

Giving shelter, food, money, abortions...

but his kindness is a ruse to entrap innocent people.

Now...

has anyone ever heard of the Angel Maker?

He's the one we want.

Don't be nervous, Karin.

No need to be nervous with me.

What do you do? Where do you work?

I...

I was working as a waitress in a beer house in Neukölln.

- I still do. - Any formal education?

How many were there?

Two.

When was this?

Six weeks ago.

- So you are certain? - Yes.

And they also infected me.

I went to St. Hedwig and Moabit, but they're both out of penicillin.

How do you know it is because of this incident?

Because one of them said he was fucking himself clean.

- Do you speak Russian? - No.

Then how could you understand what he said?

They were American soldiers.

And when they were done, one of them...

threw this at me and said:

"Even German whores should be paid."

What do you want from me, dear?

I want you to...

to remove this filth from inside of me.

Is that all you want?

Everybody says you help women.

They call you the Angel Maker.

Helping women and removing problems...

are two quite different things.

For me they're not.

If I decide to help you...

it's because you are hurt and you need to heal.

Do you understand, Karin?

Yes.

- Are you okay, Max? - Yeah.

Remember when Mom used to sing...

that rhyme she wrote for us?

"You are me, and I am you."

We are one...

not two.

I am who I am because of you

"and all I do, you do too."

- Elevator kaput? - Yes, still mending it.

BERLIN AMERICAN SECTOR

Excuse me.

Can you... er...

Ritterstrasse 246?

Head towards that church tower.

- Where? - That map won't help.

No streets left over there.

- Thank you. - Good luck, Mr. America.

Hey...

- Please, mister. - What is it? What happened?

Shit! The fucker!

Come on! Quick!

Hey! Hey! Police!

Hey! Hey, stop!

Stop! Police!

Fuck.

Fuck!

Hey, stop! Police!

Oh, shit!

Bomb! Should I?

What the fuck? You'll detonate it, kid.

- Should I? A bomb! - Stop!

Stop!

Stop.

Thank you.

Stop! Police! Stop! Police!

Excuse me. Ritterstrasse 246?

- The police station? - Would you like to report a crime?

No, my name's Max McLaughlin.

- I'm a police officer from the US. - Of course! I'm so sorry.

Elsie Garten. I'm the superintendent of this precinct.

- You're the superintendent? - Yes.

So, um, where's your station?

- Right here. - That's your station? It's a bank.

Well, not anymore.

We used to be over at Eisenacherstrasse,

but there was a fire last week, so we had to move.

So I'm guessing that's the reception, but...

Yeah.

- You got no phones? - No.

But there's one in the fire station in the next block that we can use.

- Where do you hold interrogations? - In the vault.

The vault, of course.

What's this?

The Stuhlbeine and table legs. We don't carry guns.

In New York, they say Berlin is the crime capital of the world right now.

But cops don't carry guns?

- Germans are not allowed to. - Makes sense.

- Where is everyone? - Downstairs. Much cooler down there.

Welcome to the squad.

How long have these people been cops?

Not long.

Listen up, guys.

This is the police officer from the states I've told you about.

Do you want to say a few words?

- Hello. - Hello.

Hello.

- How old are you? - 16.

16.

My name's Max McLaughlin.

I work as a detective in part of New York City they call Brooklyn.

I'm here to help set up this police station after NYPD standards.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

Are there any questions...

- They're killing everyone! - Who's killing everyone?

The Russians! They're killing everyone!

- Where? Why? - I don't know! By the Montagstrasse!

What the hell is going on?

Trude, Gad, you three come with me.

- Russians. - Russians? Soldiers?

- Yes. - Go, go, go!

Right here.

Don't move!

They're shooting women and kids?

I said don't move!

What are they doing in the US Sector?

It's a shortcut coming in from the south.

Don't move! Back off!

Get out of here!

Stay!

She's hit. Fuck.

Police!

Put down your weapon.

Stay! Stay!

- They only speak Russian. - You're in the US Sector.

The war is over. Put down your weapon.

You are in the American Sector, the war is over.

- Please put down your weapons. - Stop! Don't move!

I'm gonna put my gun away. Okay?

Then I'm gonna grab my ID and we're going to talk, okay?

He will throw you his ID then he wants to talk to you.

Stay calm. Stay calm. Identification.

Stay, bastard!

I will fucking put a bullet right through your fucking skull.

That's a fucking kid!

These people are civilians. These killings are murder.

Fuck.

Let's see, huh! Let's see!

- Hey, kid! Come here! - Gad!

You're going to be okay, hey?

Put pressure on this. He's going to be okay, but put pressure on this.

This is a US Sector. Petrov, quick.

You'll be all right.

Who's that?

Alexander Izosimov, head of the Russian Sector.

He speaks English.

I'm placing these soldiers under arrest.

Incorrect. This is an army matter.

Those are dead civilians. Your soldiers need to face a trial.

These soldiers will face Russian justice.

Repeat your name.

Why?

I want to put your name into my report.

Max McLaughlin, NYPD, badge number 18394,

on assignment here in Berlin on orders by the US State Department.

Want me to repeat that?

Well, you are a long way from your precinct, Mr. McLaughlin.

Unfortunately, the war is not over. It just entered another phase.

Yeah, well, your fucking soldiers are shooting kids.

That's bullshit.

The penicillin should start working tomorrow.

You should be symptom free in three or four days.

But take your pills until the prescription time is over. Okay?

Yes.

Maybe you are not as good as new...

but you are doing much better.

Thank you.

Thank you very much.

And the other thing?

That's being taken care of as we speak.

Excuse me, but I need help.

What seems to be the problem, ma'am?

My cat is, how do you say, stuck.

- Your cat, ma'am? - Yes, my cat.

Can you help me, please?

Okay, where?

Just around the corner there. It will be very quick.

Okay, Scarecrows. Let's fly back.

- Where are you going? - I assume it's a military matter now.

Don't assume things.

You haven't seen any paperwork,

so until then I'd consider this a police matter,

which means you'll initiate a preliminary investigation,

starting with this crime scene.

Guys, come here.

If you don't understand what I'm about to tell you

Elsie will translate.

A crime scene is like a stove with the heat switched off.

It gets colder by the minute, which means we need to act now, fast.

There's 50-plus witnesses here. All of them saw something.

What exactly did they see?

Talk to the victims. Get their names, their age.

Shots were fired. How many? Who shot first?

Figure this out. Ask questions.

- Here you go. - Thanks.

Karl Heinlein. Pleased to meet you.

- Max McLaughlin. - Don't let the uniform concern you.

I'm in charge of the Berlin Police Forces.

Appreciate it.

Everyone in this town...

carries a secret.

Everyone cheats and spies because that is what it takes to survive.

I suggested the US State Department send us an officer

to help organize our police department.

You want to tell me something useful or are we just gonna shoot the shit?

One piece of advice.

In a place with no laws, you need a sharp sense from right or wrong...

and quick reflexes.

I'll keep that in mind.

Hey, a quick question.

If you're a US soldier and gone AWOL, where do you think you'd go?

San Francisco.

San Francisco. Of course.

Back there you called them "scarecrows".

Everybody calls us this.

It's a mix of uniforms and ordinary clothes.

It makes us look like scarecrows.

Most of the precincts in the British and Russian Sectors have uniforms,

but not we.

- What did Heinlein want with you? - I'm not sure. You know him, too?

Yes, he gave me this job. He's a good one.

- Max McLaughlin? - Yeah. You are?

Here to take you to the Vice Consul, Tom Franklin.

All right. Make sure everyone gets everything down, facts and clarity.

- I'm guessing no typewriters? - New pencils.

Of course. Elsie?

Thanks for backing me up back there.

Hello.

Hello.

- The cocoa has extra sugar in it. - Thank you.

After giving birth to my son...

they gave me some black bread with a fat slice of appenzeller!

It was the best food I ever had.

No, no, you drink.

I lost him during one of the first bomb raids.

I'd just gone out to buy milk and when I returned the house was gone.

There's a word for a woman who loses her husband...

but none for a mother who loses her child.

You're not a nurse are you?

No I'm not a nurse, no.

I'm Marianne.

We can use first names.

I'm here about the other part of your problem.

So...

Do you still want to... address it?

Okay, my darling.

Someone told me it'd take 16 years before all this shit is cleared.

I say that'll make them think about not starting another war.

Black markets everywhere, hookers on every corner.

You can get anything. A can of beans will get you a Polish virgin.

What's that?

The DP office, "Displaced Persons" office.

Jews, POWs, nutcases, you name it.

There's like a couple hundred thousand DPs just here in Berlin.

- Stop the car. - All right.

Excuse me. Excuse me.

Police. Polizei, sorry. Excuse me. Excuse me.

Excuse me. I know.

Name, country, occupation?

It's not regarding me. It's for someone else.

- Name, country, occupation. - Of course.

McLaughlin, Moritz. Soldier of the US Army's 45th Infantry Division.

Fill out this form. Come back next week.

- Wait, I need the... - Next!

- I really need to find him. - Next!

Sorry, but I need your help, sir. Hey, fucker!

McLaughlin, Moritz. Soldier of the US Army's 45th Infantry Division.

He's my brother and he's missing! I need you to find him!

Fuck you.

U.S. VICE CONSUL RESIDENCY AMERICAN SECTOR

Tom will be with you in a wink.

I'm Claire, Tom's beloved wife. How do you do?

Max McLaughlin.

I find this heat absolutely dreadful. Don't you?

- I think it's fine, ma'am. - You do?

I hear the only thing worse than summer in Berlin is winter in Berlin.

Then fall should be nice.

What happened to your neck?

Oh...

It's a long story.

Max! Sorry to keep you waiting. Come on in, for Christ sakes.

- Tom Franklin. - Max McLaughlin.

This way.

One big rotten cake, four slices.

Russians in the east, no surprises there, French on top.

The Brits smack in the middle,

and us here in the southwest, holding it all afloat.

Have a seat.

Four sectors, 20 districts,

and all the bullshit you could ever imagine in between.

I've noticed.

What's your impression so far?

I wasn't provided the full picture.

How so?

This precinct I'm assigned to.

It's not exactly the biggest in the American Sector, now is it?

It's actually the smallest.

So I'm sent here to educate the most inexperienced crew in town because...

if this experiment goes south...

no harm done. Correct?

- May I be blunt? - Of course.

There's nothing for me to organize here as there's nothing here.

Just an old bank with some dear old ladies. They're very sweet.

- The whole situation is really... - A fucking mess.

Complex.

Sir, it's a fucking mess.

One day in Berlin and you're already catching on.

Daily reports to me, Max McLaughlin.

Anything you hear or see, big or small, anything at all.

So, just me being curious, why take this assignment?

My brother went missing here at the end of the war, sir.

I'm sorry to hear that.

What did the State Department tell you?

He flipped out and went AWOL.

Well, if there's anything I can do...

I appreciate that.

- Good luck. - Thank you, sir.

Close the door.

Up these stairs...

justice awaits. Do you want it?

But it will come at a price.

Take it or... walk away.

The choice is yours.

I'm not leaving.

All right, then. Follow me.

RUSSIAN MILITARY ADMINISTRATION

Apparently, the head of the Berlin Police Forces

has become very popular among his countrymen.

And now it appears he's become friendly with the Americans.

Arrange for me to meet him.

Sometime this evening.

A popular German cannot be in the pocket of the Americans.

Murder.

Rape.

Murder.

Seems like there's only two types of crime that get reported.

Only crimes worth reporting.

Okay.

Okay. Two piles. One for rape, one for murder.

You have any time to finish that report on what happened today?

- Who sketched these? - Him.

These are some pretty fucking great sketches, kid.

- So you want to be a cop, huh? - I am a cop.

Gad's father was a policeman.

Him and the rest of his family were deported to Auschwitz.

They were living underground, but someone informed.

- Now he lives here. - What do you mean? In the station?

Sleeps in the vault, so the station is manned at all times.

- That's beautiful. - That's Berlin.

- Oh, you gotta be kidding me. - No, they're open.

No, I mean the name, "Max and Moritz."

Oh! That's a German cartoon, actually,

about two brothers who played mischievous tricks on the people...

Yeah, that's what I'm saying.

My mother was German. She was raised on a farm just outside of Berlin.

- Really? - Yeah.

She named me after one of these guys.

I suppose you have a brother.

Moritz.

Max and Moritz.

There's not a child in Germany who doesn't know

about the seven evil tricks of Max and Moritz.

Yeah, our Mother used to read them us when we were little.

They freaked the hell out of me. Gave me nightmares.

But, Moritz, man, he loved them.

So how come you're so good at languages?

I taught semiotics at the university in Neukölln.

What's that?

It's the study of signs, symbols and communication.

And a university is where young people go to learn about the world.

- You're funny. - I know.

You got family?

- I'm married. - Two beers.

- You? - No, I'm not married.

Thanks.

Thank you.

- Prost. - Cheers.

- Thirsty? - Oh, yeah.

So, the Occupation, you hate it?

Of course, but it's not the real problem.

There's just no jobs, and people are running out of things to steal.

You know, I don't even consider it as criminal anymore. It's survival.

What's criminal are the people taking advantage of the weak,

because it hurts and leaves scars.

- Yeah. - Here you go. Two soups.

Thank you.

- All right. - Nen Guten.

- What? - N'juten.

- Gnuden? Gnuden. - N Juten.

- A meal well earned. - Yeah.

Even though the wine tastes awful.

Karl Heinlein.

Don't worry.

HOHENSCHÖNHAUSEN PRISON RUSSIAN SECTOR

Alexander Izosimov.

Why did you bring me here? The Americans won't allow this.

Do you believe Moscow cares what the Americans think?

You know dogs, they smell each other to figure each other out.

You? You don't stink, Karl Heinlein.

No one can trust you.

That is an excuse.

That is not the reason.

What is the reason?

You can't afford to have a good German around.

Give my boots to my wife.

Burn him.

Thank you.

- Well, hello there, Mr. Max. - Mrs. Franklin.

Don't think you can slip by us wretched without having a drink.

I can't. Early morning tomorrow.

Who said anything about going to bed?

Electricity ration.

Happens when you least expect it.

- How long does it last for? - It varies.

Could be hours.

So... no drinks?

Sorry. I'm beat.

Maybe next time.

Life's short.

It is done.

Karin did well today.

You were right.

She's a great asset to our family.

Yes.

"Dear Jimmy, I hope you're doing good."

I don't know where to begin looking for your Dad

but I promise you I'm going to find him.

"And I'm going to bring him home."

LITTLE BROTHER

LITTLE BROTHER

I hear you're looking for me, little brother.

Come across the street and see what I've been working on.

Oh, my God.

Max and Moritz A Boys' Story in Seven Strokes

Put your hand on it.

Put your hand on the book.

Put your hand on it, Max.

I swear never to tell anyone about our secret.

I swear never to tell anyone about our secret.

I swear we'll always have each other's back.

I swear we'll always have each other's back.

I swear on Mom's grave.

- I... swear... - Say it.

I...

- Moritz, I can't fucking say that. - I need to hear you say it.

I...

I... I swear on Mom's...

on Mom's grave.

Good.

That's good.

Remember our promise. You know what to do. Moritz.