Original subtitles

They were screaming at each other for 2 hours. Nothing new.

Then they heard the gun go off. Both barrels.

A crime of passion.

Yeah.

Just look at all the passion on that wall.

This is a done deal. All but the paperwork.

Did the kid see it?

What?

The kid.

What kind of question's that?

We'll be glad to get rid of you, Somerset.

Always these questions.

"Did the kid see it?" Who gives a fuck?

He's dead.

His wife killed him. The rest is nothing to do with us.

Detective Somerset?

I'm Detective Mills.

I get in town 20 minutes ago, they dump me here.

Look...

Mills?

Let's find a bar, sit and talk...

I'd like to get to the precinct.

Not much time for this transition thing.

I had a question, when we spoke on the phone.

Yeah?

- Why here? - I don't follow.

All this effort to get transferred.

It's the first question that popped into my head.

Same reasons as you,

or the reasons you had before you decided to quit.

You just met me.

Maybe I don't understand the question.

It's very simple.

You actually fought to get reassigned here.

- I never saw it done that way. - Thought I'd do some good.

Be great if we didn't start out kicking each other in the balls.

- You're calling the shots. - Yes.

I want you to look and listen, okay?

I wasn't guarding a Taco Bell. I worked homicide 5 years.

- Not here. - I understand.

Over the next 7 days, do me a favor and remember that.

Yeah. Okay.

Say it again?

I thought we moved here to get away from tractor pulls.

Serpico's got to go.

You might want to get rid of...

this crusty. This eye, Serpico.

- Did you get it? - Got it.

Good.

Coffee? No?

Nothing's been touched. It's all like I found it.

What time was death established?

Like I said,

I didn't touch anything,

but he's had his face in spaghetti for 45 minutes.

No one bothers with vital signs?

Did I stutter?

He ain't breathing unless he's breathing spaghetti sauce.

- That's how it's done around here? - I beg your pardon, Detective,

but the guy's sitting in a pile of his own piss and shit.

If he wasn't dead, he would have stood up by now.

- Alright. - Thank you, officer.

Thank you.

I wonder...

what was the point of that conversation?

I don't know.

How many times Barney Five found dead bodies that weren't dead?

Drop it.

Phone Guinness. I think we got a record here.

Better Homes and Gardens.

Who said this was murder?

No one.

Guy's heart must be

the size of a canned ham.

If this isn't a coronary,

well,

I don't know.

Whoops.

How about that?

We had this case once,

guy dead on the ground,

knife in his back.

Murder, right?

Fuck.

Big insurance policy involved.

Guy took the tip of the blade,

stuck it in his own shoulder blades.

He must have screwed up because there were...

...multiples back there. - Please be quiet.

Wait a minute.

What?

We got a bucket here.

What's in it?

My God!

Fucking vomit!

Any blood in it?

I didn't see any. Help yourself.

Are you thinking it's poison?

Oh, wonderful. Very moody.

Think it's poison, Somerset?

You girls have got forensics waiting outside.

We might not fit.

There's room. Light's the problem.

How are you?

Detective Mills, go help the officers

question the neighbors.

What?

And send in forensics.

He's dead.

Thank you, doctor.

You saw my files, the things I've done?

Nope.

I did door-to-doors, walked the beat, all that shit...

a long time.

- And? - My badge says...

"detective", same as yours.

Look, I made a decision.

I had to consider the integrity of the crime scene,

not whether you were getting enough time in the field.

Hey, man...

Just don't jerk me off. That's all I ask.

He's been dead...

a long time, and not from poison.

Oh, man.

How can you let yourself go like this?

It took four orderlies just to get him on the table.

How'd the fat fuck fit out his door?

It's obvious he was a shut-in.

See how big this stomach is?

Strange thing is, it stretches.

Look, the size of the cardiac orifice, where the food...

I see that, but it means nothing to me.

He's got lines of distention

across the duodenum.

The interior wall's ripped open.

This man ate till he burst?

No, he didn't burst all the way.

He was hemorrhaging internally.

There was a hematoma in the rectus and...

...the abdominal muscles. - He did die by eating?

Yes and no.

What about these bruises here?

I haven't figured that out yet.

Gun pressed against his head?

Pressed hard enough.

Fuck, yeah.

On the front, flush with the muzzle.

Ladies and gentlemen, we have a homicide.

Killer put a bucket under him. Took his time, too.

Coroner said it could've lasted 12 hours.

Victim's throat was swollen, probably from the effort,

and there was a point when he passed out.

That's when the killer kicked him,

...and he burst. - Sadistic fucker.

When you want somebody dead, you drive by and shoot.

You don't risk the time it takes for this,

unless the act itself has meaning.

Somebody had a problem with a fat boy and tortured him. Simple.

In the grocer bags,

we found two receipts. So the killer went back...

to the supermarket.

So?

It's his thing. I've been out in the rain.

- This is a beginning. - We've got...

one dead guy, not three.

No motive.

Don't start that big brain of yours...

cooking on this, alright?

I'd like to be reassigned.

Whoa!

What are you talking about?

This can't be my last duty.

It'll go on and on.

You're retiring in 6 days.

You've left unfinished business before.

The cases were taken as close as possible to conclusion.

- May I speak freely? - We're friends here.

It shouldn't be his first case.

I knew it. It's not my first assignment, you dick.

It's too soon for him.

You can say that shit to my face. Captain?

It's too soon for you.

Captain,

can we talk in private?

This is a personal thing...

Just shut up, Mills.

I don't have anyone else

to put on this. This is Metro.

- You don't just get to swap. - Give it to me.

What?

He wants out, fuck him. See you, have a nice time.

Give it to me.

I'll put you on something else.

Go on, Mills, just go on.

I'm sorry, old buddy, but it looks like you're stuck

cleaning up the fat man.

Quiet down.

Alright, calm down, calm down.

Quiet down.

Here's how it'll work:

I'll answer questions for 10 minutes only.

Ask those questions in a calm, orderly fashion, or I will leave.

Detective?

- Can I have a moment? - No.

I won't discuss the details of this investigation,

so don't bother asking.

- What you got for me? - Nothing yet, boss.

Why don't you guys go get a coffee?

We have this breaking story. Let's go downtown, where attorney,

Eli Gould, was found murdered today.

DA Martin Talbot is taking questions from reporters.

That's ridiculous and offensive.

There is no conflict,

and any claim there could be is irresponsible.

Now hold on.

I just met with law enforcement officials,

and they have their very best men on this.

This will be the definition

of swift justice.

Pardon me, George.

- Somerset... - Come in.

You heard the news?

Nope, haven't heard.

Eli Gould was found murdered this morning.

Someone broke into his law firm and bled him to death.

Wrote the word "greed" on the floor.

- Greed? - Yeah, in blood.

Mills is heading the investigation.

Excuse me.

Don't do that, please?

Good for him.

What will you do...

with yourself out there, Somerset?

I'll work maybe on a farm. Fix my house.

Don't you feel it?

Don't you feel that feeling?

You won't be a cop anymore.

That's the whole idea.

I don't think you'll leave.

You can't leave all this.

Guy's out walking his dog.

Gets attacked.

His watch is taken, his wallet.

And while he's lying on the sidewalk,

helpless,

his attacker stabs him in both eyes.

This happened last night, four blocks from here.

I read about it.

I don't understand anymore.

It's the way it's always been.

- Maybe you're right. - You were made for this work.

You can't deny that.

Maybe I'm wrong.

Coroner sent this for you.

Found them in the fat boy's stomach,

mixed in with the food. Looks like little pieces...

...of plastic. - Set them on that desk.

They were...

fed to him.

Lord.

This was found behind the fridge in the obesity murder scene.

"Long is the way,

and hard, that out of Hell leads up to the light."

It's from Milton.

"Paradise Lost"

Alright,

I'm confused.

It means that this is a beginning.

This was behind the fridge,

written in grease.

There are 7 deadly sins, Captain.

Gluttony,

greed,

sloth, wrath,

pride, lust,

and envy.

Seven.

Hold on.

This is not even my desk.

You can expect 5 more of these.

Wait a minute.

I can't get involved in this.

Somerset.

He wanted it.

Damn!

I'm all over it.

Where to?

Far away from here.

- A few things to look up. - Okay.

Sit where you like.

How's everybody?

Hiya, Smiley.

George, cards are getting cold.

Duty calls.

Gentlemen.

I'll never understand.

All these books,

a world of knowledge,

and what do you do? Play poker all night.

We got culture.

We got culture coming out our asses.

How's this for culture?

You know, Smiley...

you'll really miss us.

I just might.

Fucking Dante.

Goddamn poetry-writing faggot piece of shit.

Fucker.

Good work, officer.

Thank you, Lord.

Oh, sorry.

I'll move in a second.

- You want your chair? - No, you go ahead.

Yeah?

Phone.

Package deal. Comes with the office.

Mills.

Honey. You okay? Something wrong?

Dingleberry. I told you not to call when I'm at work.

Yeah. Why?

Why?

Why?

Okay.

It's my wife.

Sorry?

She'd like to speak to you.

This is Detective Somerset.

Yes, it's nice to talk to you too.

I appreciate the offer, but...

In that case, I'd be delighted.

Yes, thank you very much.

Bye.

Honey, what...?

Well?

- Sorry? - What?

I'm invited to late supper at your apartment. I accepted.

At my... how's that?

Tonight.

Hello, men.

- Hi, loser. - Hi, idiot.

That's Tracy.

Hello.

Happy to meet you. I've heard a lot about you.

Except your first name.

It's William.

Well, it's a good name.

William.

I'd like you to meet David.

- David, this is William. - Alright, I'll be right back.

- How are the kids? - Good, they're in the room.

Good dogs.

Good dogs. How are you, pretty?

- Smells good. - What?

Yeah. I mean, thanks.

Please have a seat, if you like.

- Would you like a drink? - No, thanks. I'll wait.

Throw that anywhere. Excuse all this mess.

We're still unpacking.

I hear you were high school sweethearts.

Pretty hokey, huh?

You know something?

From the first date, I knew he was...

...the guy I'd marry. - Really?

He was the funniest guy I'd ever met.

Really.

It's kind of rare nowadays.

I mean, that level...

of commitment.

Don't worry.

I won't wear it to the table.

You know,

no matter how often I see guns,

I can't get used to them.

Same here.

- Why aren't you married, William? - Tracy...

What the hell...?

I was close once.

It just didn't happen.

It surprises me.

It really does.

Well...

anyone who spends much time with me finds me disagreeable.

Just ask your husband.

Very true.

Very, very true.

How long have you lived here?

Too long.

How do you like it?

You know,

takes time. Settle in,

it'll be good.

You get numb after a while.

There are things to any city.

Subway.

It'll go away in a minute.

Real estate guy.

Fucking piece of... sorry honey.

Shows us the place a few times, I think he's good.

He's efficient. Trace really likes it.

Then we wonder why he only brings us here for 5 minutes.

We found out the first night.

The soothing, relaxing...

vibrating home.

I'm sorry.

Yeah, alright, laugh it up.

I don't know why you're laughing.

Alright, already.

He had to get into the building

before the office closed.

- Gould would've been working late. - I'm certain.

The biggest defense lawyer in town. Infamous, really.

The body was found on Tuesday morning.

The office was closed Monday. He could've gotten in Friday,

laid low till the cleaners left, then had his way

with Gould Saturday, Sunday, maybe Monday.

Look.

Gould was bound, right arm free.

He was handed a butcher's knife.

- Check out the scale. - A pound of flesh.

"One pound of flesh,

no more, no less. No cartilage,

no bone,

only flesh." "Merchant of Venice"

Didn't see it.

"This task done, and he would go free."

That chair was...

...soaked with sweat. - Of course.

The killer wanted Gould to take his time,

deciding which cut

to make first.

Imagine it.

There's a gun in your face.

Which part of your body is expendable?

The love handle.

Cut along the side of his own stomach.

Let's take a fresh look. The corpse is there, but...

Iook through it. Edit out your initial shock.

The trick is to find one item, one detail...

and focus on it...

till it's an exhausted possibility.

I'll get another beer. Beer?

Wine, please.

He's preaching.

Punishing.

The sins were used in medieval sermons.

7 cardinal virtues, 7 deadly sins,

...used as teaching tools. - Yeah, like in...

- "The Parson's Tale" and Dante. - You read them?

Yeah.

Parts. Remember in "Purgatory"

Dante and his buddy climb up...

the hill and check out the sinners?

The 7 Terraces of Purgation.

Yeah, right.

But there, pride comes first, not gluttony.

Let's consider the books

as the killer's inspiration.

The sermons were about atonement for sin.

These murders are like forced attrition.

Forced what?

Attrition's when you regret your sins...

...but not for love of God. - Because of a gun in your face.

No fingerprints.

No.

Totally unrelated victims.

And no witnesses.

Which I don't get...

because the fucker had to get back out.

In a major city, minding your business is a science.

In rape prevention, they tell you never to cry for help.

Always yell "fire!"

Nobody answers "help".

Holler "fire", they'll come.

That's fucked up.

He must have left another puzzle piece.

Thanks for talking this out, but I got to sleep.

I got to walk the dogs.

This is just to satisfy my curiosity.

- I'm leaving the end of the week. - Shit. No, wait.

Gould's wife was out of town.

- So this means she saw something. - What if it's a threat?

I put her in a safehouse. She wasn't happy about it.

What if it isn't what she's seen,

but what she's supposed to and hasn't yet?

Yeah, okay. What?

I don't know.

But that's the one thing.

I'll sign us in.

Gotta see Mrs. Gould.

Mrs. Gould?

Mrs. Gould, I'm sorry. I truly am.

I don't understand.

I need you to look at each photo

very carefully.

See if anything's strange,

out of place, anything at all.

I don't see anything.

You're sure?

Please, I can't do this right now.

Okay.

It's got to be now.

Maybe we missed something.

Wait.

What?

Here.

This painting, it's upside down.

- Your men didn't move this? - No.

Those shots were taken before forensics.

Nothing.

There's got to be something.

He moved the screws to re-hang it.

What the fuck is that?

Switchblade.

Goddamn it.

There must be something.

He didn't paint the fucking thing.

No, he's fucking with us.

See this, this is us.

Just wait a minute.

- Somerset's climbing furniture. - Wait a minute.

You're kidding me.

Call the print lab.

Oh, man.

Honestly...

have you ever seen anything like this?

No.

The swell pattern tells me they're not...

the victim's prints.

I say he's whacked enough.

It doesn't fit.

He doesn't want to stop.

Who knows.

Freaks doing their evil deeds they don't want to.

"Voices made me do it." "My dog made me do it."

"Jodie Foster told me to do it."

It can take...

3 days to make a match, so maybe you guys want to...

cross your fingers somewhere else.

You meant what you said to Mrs. Gould, didn't you?

- About catching this guy. - Yeah.

Wish I still thought the way you do.

What the hell do you think we're doing?

Picking up the pieces.

Collecting evidence, taking pictures and samples,

writing everything down,

noting the times things happened.

That's all?

That's all.

Putting everything into neat piles...

and filing it, on the off chance it'll be needed in a courtroom.

Picking up diamonds on a desert island,

saving them in case we get rescued.

Bullshit.

Even the most promising clues only lead to others.

So many corpses roll away, unrevenged.

Don't tell me you didn't get that rush tonight.

I saw you.

We're getting somewhere.

Wake up, Glimmer Twins.

We got a winner.

He uses the name Victor. Real name: Theodore Allen.

Homicide found his prints at the scene.

He's got a long history of serious mental illness.

He got a very strict, Southern Baptist upbringing.

Somewhere along the line, they fell short.

Victor dabbled in drugs, armed robbery and assault.

Spent time in prison for attempted rape of a minor.

His lawyer made sure that didn't last long.

By the way, the lawyer was Eli Gould, the "greed" victim.

We're finishing this today, ladies and germs.

Victor's been out of circulation, but we have a residence for him.

- You're not buying this. - Doesn't seem like...

...our guy, does it? - You tell me.

Our killer seems to have more purpose.

You ever take a bullet?

Never in my 34 years. Knock wood.

I've only taken my gun out

three times, intending to use it.

Never pulled the trigger.

Not once.

You?

No, I never took a bullet, but...

I pulled my gun once. Shot it once.

- Really? - It was my first one of these.

We were a secondary unit.

I was shaky going in. I was a rookie.

We bust open a door, looking for this junkie,

and he opened fire on us.

One cop got hit in the arm.

What was his name?

It spun him like a top. Well, more like slow motion.

I remember

riding in that ambulance...

and well...

he died right there.

Right there.

What was his fucking name?

SWAT goes before dicks.

They love this.

Police!

Clear!

Good morning, sweetheart.

Get up now motherfucker, now!

Get up, you sack of shit!

Fuck me!

Dicks!

You'll want to look at this.

Dicks!

Jesus.

Victor?

- What the hell? - It's just Victor.

- Call an ambulance. - Hearse, I'd say.

Call for forensics.

Get your people out. No on touches anything.

It's like a wax sculpture.

Sloth.

Aw, man.

Goddamn.

The pictures were dated 3 days ago.

This must be the first.

Look.

It's dated one year ago today.

I got a hair sample.

I got a stool sample, piss,

fingernails.

He's laughing at us.

You got what you deserved.

He's alive! Cocksucker's alive!

Guns down! Emergency on that ambulance!

- He's playing games. - No shit.

We have to divorce our emotions.

We must focus on details.

I feed off my emotions, how's that?

- Are you listening to me? - Yes, I can hear you.

- Excuse me. - What are you doing?

- Closed crime scene. Out! - I got a right to be here.

I'm a UPI photographer.

I got a right to be here.

- Get out! Jesus! - Fucking jerk!

I got your picture, man.

I got your picture.

Detective Mills, M-i-l-l-s. Fuck off.

- You can spell. - Fuck you.

How do they get here so quick?

The pay police for information. They pay well.

Hey, man, I'm sorry.

They piss me off.

Okay.

It's impressive to see a man feeding off his emotions.

One year of immobility, judging by...

muscle and spine deterioration.

Blood tests show a smorgasbord of drugs in his system.

Even an antibiotic, probably to prevent

the bedsores from infecting.

Has he tried to speak, or communicate in any way?

Even if his brain were not mush, which it is,

he chewed off his tongue long ago.

Doc...

is there no chance he might survive?

He'd die of shock now if you shined a flashlight

in his eyes.

He's had as much pain and suffering as anyone,

and he still has Hell to look forward to.

Good night.

Hello, William. It's Tracy.

Tracy?

Everything okay?

Yeah. Yes, everything's fine.

Where's David?

In the other room, in the shower.

Sorry to call you like this.

It's all right.

What can I do for you?

I need someone to talk to.

Do you think you could meet me somewhere,

maybe tomorrow morning?

I don't understand.

I feel stupid calling,

but you're the only person I know here.

There's no on else.

If you can,

give me a call, okay?

I have to go now.

- Good night. - Good night.

I mean...

you know this city so well.

You've been here...

so long.

It can be a hard place.

I don't know why I asked you to come.

Why don't you talk to him?

Tell him how you feel.

I can't be a burden.

Especially now.

I'll get used to things,

you know?

I wanted to talk to someone

who's lived here a long time.

Upstate, it's a completely different environment.

Did David tell you I teach 5th grade? I did.

He mentioned it.

I've been going around, looking at schools,

but here the conditions here

are horrible.

What about private schools?

I don't know.

Tell me what's really bothering you.

David and I are going to have a baby.

Tracy, I...

I don't think I'm...

the one to talk to...

...about this. - I hate this city.

I had a relationship once.

It was like a marriage.

We got pregnant.

This was a long time ago.

I remember getting up and going to work.

A day like any other, but the first day after I knew

about the pregnancy.

And I felt this fear,

for the first time ever.

I remember thinking:

How can I bring a child into a world like this?

How can a person grow up with all this around them?

I told her I didn't want it.

Over the next few weeks,

I wore her down.

I want to have children.

I can tell you now that...

I know, I mean,

I'm positive that

I made the right decision.

But not a day passes that I don't wish

that I'd made a different choice.

If you don't...

keep the baby...

if that's your decision,

don't ever tell him you were pregnant.

But if you choose to have this baby,

then spoil that kid,

every chance you get.

That's about...

all the advice

I can give you, Tracy.

I got to go.

William,

thank you.

Victor's landlord said

there was cash in the mailbox,

first of every month.

Quote:

"I never heard a single complaint from the tenant...

in apartment 306, and nobody complained about him.

Best tenant I've ever had."

A landlord's dream.

A paralyzed tenant with no tongue.

Who pays the rent on time.

I'm sick of this waiting.

This is the job.

Why aren't we out there?

Why sit here rotting, waiting till the lunatic

does it again?

"Lunatic" is dismissive. Don't make that mistake.

Come on. He's insane. Look.

Right now he's dancing in his grandma's panties.

Rubbing himself in peanut butter.

- How's that? - I don't think so.

His luck will run out.

He's not depending on luck.

We walk in exactly one year after Victor's tied to the bed.

One year to the day.

- He wanted us to. - Don't know that for sure.

Oh, yes we do.

The note he left, his first words to us:

"Long is the way and hard that out of Hell

leads up to light."

Fuck him. So what?

He's right so far.

Imagine the will to keep a man bound for a year.

To sever his hand and to use it...

to plant fingerprints.

To insert tubes into his genitals.

The guy's methodical, exacting

and worst of all, patient.

He's a nutbag.

Because he's got a library card doesn't make him Yoda.

You got money?

I got 50 bucks.

I propose a field trip. Come on.

We'll make a list. At the top we put "Purgatory",

"Canterbury Tales" anything on the 7 deadly sins.

- Ask yourself. - Wait.

What would he study to do things he's done?

What are his interests now?

Jack the Ripper, for instance.

- Where are we going? - Library.

Coupons! Free coupons!

Discount coupons!

They must have had about 50 health violations

during the last inspection.

Sit across from me. I don't want people thinking

we're dating.

Give me your money.

I'll give you this, but I must know what we're doing.

Somerset. How you doing?

Didn't expect a ménage á trois.

It's not a problem. Sit down.

Only for you do I do this. It's a big risk.

- We're just fair and square. - It's a deal.

About an hour.

Yeah. Help yourself.

That was money well spent.

Yeah.

Alright.

Telling you this, I'm trusting you more than I trust most people.

Good, I'm about ready to punch you.

It's probably nothing, but it's no skin off our teeth.

The pizza parlor guy is a friend from the FBI.

Who, stinky man?

For years, the FBI's been hooked into the library system.

- Keeping records. - Assessing fines?

No, monitoring reading habits.

Certain books are flagged.

Books on, say, nuclear weapons,

"Mein Kampf".

Anyone checks out a flagged book, his library records go to the FBI.

Wait. How is this legal?

Legal, illegal. These terms don't apply.

You can't use the information directly. It's a guide.

Sounds silly, but you can't get a library card

without an ID card and current phone bill.

- So they run a list. - Precisely.

If you want to know who's reading

"Purgatory", "Paradise Lost" and "Helter Skelter",

the FBI's computers will tell us. It could give us a name.

Of a college kid writing a term paper

on 20th century crime.

At least you're out of the office.

Get a haircut.

- How do you know this? - I don't.

- Neither do you. - Exactly.

"Divine Comedy",

"History of Catholicism", one called "Murderers and Madmen".

"Modern Homicide Investigation", "In Cold Blood".

"Of Human Bondage".

- Bondage? - It's not what you think.

Marquis de Sha-day.

- Marquis de Sade. - Whatever.

Writings of Saint Thomas Aqua-something.

Saint Thomas Aquinas. There.

He wrote about the 7 deadly sins.

- Is that it? - Yep.

- Let's try it. - Jonathan Doe?

Whatever.

We're sure about that name?

You were, you saw it. John Doe.

You want to go back, I'll go back.

Let's take a look at him, talk to him.

This is crazy.

We'll just talk to him.

"Excuse me, sir. Are you a serial killer?"

Okay.

You do the talking.

Put that silver tongue of yours to work.

You been talking to my wife?

Retarded.

Charlie's fucking Angels.

A name off a computer.

Mills.

- You hit? - No.

He's going down.

Fifth floor.

Police. Is there a back way out?

Lock your door.

Get out of the fucking hall.

Get down.

Get the fuck down!

Goddamn it!

Out of the fucking way! Clear!

Mills!

Go.

Where are you going?

- I'm going in. - No, wait.

- Wait. - What? He shot at us!

You can't go in.

- We need a warrant. - We got probable cause. Come on.

Think how we got here.

- I can't tell about the FBI. - Get out of the way.

We have no reason to be here. Listen to me.

- Get the fuck off me. - Alright. I'm sorry.

Just pay attention a minute.

With a hole like this, we won't be able to prosecute.

The guy will walk. That's what you want?

By the time we clear a warrant... Fuck that!

We need a reason to knock on this door.

Think about it.

Okay?

Okay.

You're right. I'm all fucked up.

When you're right, you're right.

Well...

no point in arguing anymore.

Unless you can fix that.

You stupid son of a...

How much money we got left?

So, I noticed this guy going out a lot,

when the murders was happening, so I...

- So you called Detective Somerset? - Right.

- She called Somerset. - 'Cause this guy...

was creepy and shit and one of the murders

...happened over there. - I told you the rest.

- Got everything? - I got your story.

Have her sign. You gotta sign.

Good.

You did good.

- I did what you said. - Here.

You get something to eat.

Everybody stay outside.

Victor.

Fuck.

Somerset.

- What? - We had him.

What are you saying?

Fucking photographer...

on the stairs.

We had him and we let him go.

You sure this is him?

Yep. Good. Get it out.

We've got nothing to go on.

No pay stubs, appointment books. Just this receipt.

- Keep looking. - Wait, look at this.

This was under the bed. His only source of funds?

We got his money. I like it.

You won't believe this.

We haven't found a fingerprint. Not one.

Right. I don't believe you. Keep looking.

We could us some more men.

I'm doing my best.

- What are you getting? - There are 2,000 notebooks here.

Each one has about 250 pages.

What about the killings?

"We're sick, ridiculous puppets. What gross stage we dance on.

What fun, dancing and fucking.

Not a care in the world. Not knowing that we're nothing.

We are not what was intended."

Wait, there's a lot more.

"On the subway today, a man started a conversation.

Small talk, a lonely man talking about the weather and things.

I tried to be pleasant,

but my head began to hurt from his banality.

I almost didn't notice,

but I suddenly threw up all over him.

He was not pleased,

and I couldn't stop laughing."

No dates.

Placed on the shelves in no discernable order.

His mind poured out on paper.

Looks like a life's work.

With 50 men, reading 24 hour shifts,

...it'd take 2 months. - I know.

Phone? Phone?

People, quiet!

I admire you.

I don't know how you found me. Imagine my surprise.

I respect you officers more every day.

I appreciate that, John.

- I tell you... - No, listen.

I'm readjusting my schedule in light of today's setback.

I just had to call to express my admiration.

Sorry I had to hurt...

one of you, but I had no choice, did I?

Accept my apology?

I'd like to say more, but that'd ruin the surprise.

Got it.

Everybody back to work.

You were right.

He's preaching.

These murders are his sermons to us.

Look, we know him. We know him.

Who's the blonde?

Looks like a 'pro'.

Maybe.

She caught John Doe's eye.

- He collected it last night. - Last night?

- Yeah. - This man?

Yeah, John Doe. Easy name to remember. Had a limp.

- And the job you did for him? - I've got a picture.

One sweet piece, actually.

I thought he was a performance artist.

The sort of guy that

pisses in a cup on stage

and then drinks it.

Performance art.

Right.

I think I undercharged him.

- You made this for him? - Yeah, I've made...

weirder shit than that.

They found the blonde.

The picture!

The picture!

Fucking pigs!

- I need you to move. - I'll come out, but you guys...

Get out of the booth!

I've been in this cage the whole time.

Come on, this way.

- Can you stop this music? - We're looking for the guy.

You from Homicide? You better...

see this.

Get this thing off me!

God, get it off me!

Get him out of here, now!

I want to hear it again.

Tell me again.

You heard nothing strange, saw nothing strange.

- No. - No?

He ask me if I was married.

- I saw a gun in his hand. - Where was the girl?

The what?

The prostitute. Where was she?

Someone comes to your establishment...

they want to go downstairs, get some ooh-la-la. Whatever.

They got to come to you.

Yeah.

You didn't see anyone?

With a package? A knapsack? Something under their arm?

Everybody comes in with a package under their arm.

Some guys carry suitcases full of stuff.

She was just sitting on the bed.

Who tied her down? You or him?

Do you like what you do?

These things you see?

No.

No, I don't.

But that's life,

isn't it?

He had a gun.

And he made it happen.

He made me do it.

He put me that thing on me.

He made me wear it.

Then he...

told me to fuck her.

And I did. I fucked her.

Oh, God! Oh, God!

He had a gun in my mouth.

The fucking gun was in my throat.

Fuck.

Oh, God. God.

God, help me. Please, help me.

This won't have a happy ending.

- It's not possible. - We catch him, I'll be happy.

If we catch John Doe and he's the Devil,

if he's Satan himself,

that might meet our expectations.

But he's not the Devil.

He's just a man.

You know?

You bitch and you complain and you tell me these things.

If you think you're preparing me for hard times,

thanks but...

But you got to be a hero.

You want to be a champion.

People don't want a champion. They want cheeseburgers...

- play lotto and watch TV. - How did you get like this?

I want to know.

It wasn't one thing, I'll tell you that.

Go on.

I don't think I can continue to live in a place...

that embraces, nurtures apathy as if it was a virtue.

You aren't different or better.

I didn't say I was. I'm not.

Hell, I sympathize. I sympathize completely.

Apathy is a solution.

It's easier to lose yourself in drugs...

than it is to cope with life.

It's easier to steal what you want than earn it. It's easier...

to beat a child than to raise it. Love costs. It takes work.

We're talking about mentally ill people.

We're talking about crazies.

- No, we're not. - Yes. Today.

No, we're talking about everyday life here.

You can't afford to be this naive.

Fuck off.

You should listen to yourself.

Yeah. You say that...

the problem is people don't care.

So, I don't care about people.

Nonsense. You know why?

You care?

Want to know? Damn right.

You'll make a difference.

Whatever. The point is that...

you're not quitting because you believe...

these things you say.

You want to believe them...

because you're quitting.

And you want me to agree with you and say,

"You're right, it's a fucking mess.

We should all go live in a fucking log cabin."

But I won't.

I won't say that.

I don't agree with you. I do not.

I can't.

I'm going home.

Thank you, though.

I love you.

So much.

I know.

911, What's your emergency?

Could you repeat that?

I've done it again.

What have we got?

Sleeping pills.

Glued to one hand.

Telephoned glued to the other.

You see what he did?

He sliced her up.

Then he bandaged her.

"Call for help and you'll live.

But you'll be disfigured.

Or put yourself out of your own misery."

Come on.

He cut off her nose.

To spite her face.

He did it very recently.

Listen,

I've decided to stay on till this is done.

One of two things will happen. We'll get John Doe,

or he'll kill 7 and this case will never end.

Don't do me any favors. Thanks, but I got it.

I'm asking to be your partner a few days more.

You'd be doing me a favor.

You knew I'd say yes. We're here!

Your wife called. Get an answer machine.

Detective?

After this, I'm gone.

- No big surprise. - Detective!

You're looking for me.

Don't fucking move.

On the floor!

- Stay back! - On the fucking floor!

I know you.

Now, get down!

Get down on your stomach.

You piece of shit. Now!

All the way! All the way, fucker!

Down!

Faster.

Faster, fucker. Now.

Nose on the ground.

Jesus Christ. What the fuck is this?

I'd like to speak to my lawyer, please.

Godamnit!

He cuts the skin off his fingertips. That's why...

we found no prints in his apartment.

He's been doing it for a while.

The bank accounts? The guns?

So far it's a dead end.

No credit history, no employment records.

A 5 year old bank account opened with cash.

We tried tracing his furniture.

All we know about him...

is he's independently wealthy,

well-educated,

and totally insane.

Because he's John Doe by choice.

- When can we question him? - You don't. He goes to court now.

No way he'd turn himself in. It makes no sense.

There he sits.

It's not supposed to make any sense.

He's not finished.

He's pissing in our faces and we're taking it.

You know what I'm saying.

For the first time, you and I are in agreement.

He wouldn't just stop.

So what the fuck, man?

He's two murders away from completing his masterpiece.

We'll wait for his plea.

My client says there are two more bodies hidden away.

He will only take Detectives Mills and Somerset

to these bodies,

only at 6 o'clock today.

Why us?

He says he admires you.

Part of the game.

If they don't accept the offer, the bodies won't be found.

Frankly, I'd let them rot.

We've got him.

Downstairs, locked up. He'll get...

free room and board, cable TV.

My wife doesn't even have cable!

Something stinks. And this one, you, in your $3.000 suit,

smug smile on your face, dealing for that piece of shit.

Mills!

The law requires me to serve...

my clients' interest as best I can.

We don't make deals here, Mr. Swarr.

My client informs you

that if you don't accept, he'll plead insanity.

Let him try it.

I'd like to see it.

With the extreme nature of these crimes, I'd get him off

with such a plea.

I won't let this conviction slide.

If you accept his conditions, he'll sign a confession,

plead guilty right now.

It's your case. Make a decision.

Full confession. I'm in.

Has to be both of you.

If he claims insanity,

this conversation is inadmissible.

Blackmailing with his plea.

My client wants to remind you, two more are dead.

The press'd love to find out the police weren't concerned

about finding and burying them.

If there are two more dead.

The lab report came.

They did a quickie on Doe's clothes and fingernails.

They found blood from Doe's fingers,

blood from the woman whose face he cut off,

and a third party,

as yet unidentified.

You'd be escorting an unarmed man.

Let's finish it.

If John Doe's head splits open and a UFO flies out,

I want you to expect it.

I will.

If I accidentally shave off a nipple,

would it be covered by worker's comp?

I suppose so.

If you were man enough to file a claim,

I'd buy you one myself.

I keep coming home late, my wife'll think something's up.

You know...?

Yeah.

What?

Will this wind hurt us?

Who are you, John?

Who are you really?

What do you mean?

At this stage, there's no harm telling us about yourself?

Doesn't matter who I am. It means absolutely nothing.

Stay on your left up here.

Where are we heading?

You'll see.

We're not just picking up two more bodies, are we?

That wouldn't be shocking enough.

You've got the papers to think about, yeah?

Wanting people to listen,

you can't just...

tap them on the shoulder anymore.

You have to use a sledgehammer.

Then you'll get their strict attention.

But the question is:

Why are you so special that people should listen?

I'm not special.

I've never been exceptional.

This is, though. What I'm doing.

My work.

Your work, John?

Yes.

I don't see anything special about it, John.

That's not true.

No, it is. Funny thing is, after all this work,

in 2 months no one'll care, give a shit, or remember.

You can't see the complete act yet.

But when this is done,

when it's finished,

it's going to be...

People will barely be able to comprehend.

But they won't be able to deny.

Could the freak be more vague?

As far as master plans go...

I can't wait for you to see.

It's going to be something.

Know what? I'll be standing next to you.

So when this thing happens, be sure and let me know.

I don't want to miss it.

Don't worry. You won't.

You won't miss a thing.

What's so exciting?

It's not too far now.

I tried to figure out something. Maybe you can help me?

When a person is insane, as you clearly are,

do you know you're insane?

Maybe you're reading,

masturbating in your own feces,

do you just stop and go:

"Wow, it's amazing how fucking crazy I really am"?

Yeah? You guys do that?

It's more comfortable for you to label me insane.

It's very comfortable.

It's not something I'd expect you to accept.

But I did not choose. I was chosen.

Whatever.

I don't doubt that you believe that.

But it seems that you're...

overlooking a contradiction.

Meaning what?

Glad you asked.

If you were chosen,

by a higher power,

if your hand was forced,

it seems strange

you'd get such enjoyment.

You enjoyed torturing those people.

That doesn't seem to fit with martyrdom, does it?

John?

I doubt I enjoyed it any more than Mills would enjoy time with me

in a room without windows.

Isn't that true?

How'd you like to...

- hurt me with impunity? - That hurts my feelings.

I would never.

Only because there's consequences.

It's in your eyes, though.

Nothing wrong with a man talking pleasure in his work.

I won't deny my own personal desire...

to turn each sin against the sinner.

Wait, I thought all you did was kill innocent people.

Innocent? Is that supposed to be funny?

An obese man.

A disgusting man who could barely stand,

who you'd point out so your friends would join you mocking him.

If you saw him while you ate, you couldn't finish your meal.

Then the lawyer. You had to secretly thank me for that.

A man dedicated to making money

by lying with every breath he could muster to keep

murderers and rapists...

...on the streets. - Murderers?

Murderers, like yourself.

A woman so ugly inside, she couldn't go on living

if she wasn't beautiful outside?

A drug dealer. A pederast, actually.

Let's not forget the disease-spreading whore.

Only in a world this shitty...

could you say they were innocent and keep a straight face.

But that's the point.

We see a deadly sin on every street corner,

in every home,

and we tolerate it.

We tolerate it because it's common.

It's trivial.

We tolerate it morning, noon and night.

Well, not anymore.

I'm setting the example.

And what I've done

will be puzzled over

and studied

and followed...

forever.

Yeah.

Delusions of grandeur.

You should be thanking me.

Why's that, John?

Because you'll be remembered after this.

Realize, the only reason that I'm here now...

is that I wanted to be.

No, we would have got you.

Really?

Were you biding your time? Toying with me?

Allowing 5 "innocent" people to die...

until you sprang your trap?

What was the evidence...

you were going to use on me...

right before I walked up and put my hands in the air?

John. Calm down.

I remember us knocking on your door.

That's right.

And I remember breaking your face.

You're alive because I didn't kill you.

Okay, sit back.

I spared you.

Sit back.

Remember that when you look in the mirror...

for the rest of your life.

Or I should say the rest of the life...

I allow you to have.

Sit back, you fucking freak!

Shut your fucking mouth.

You're no messiah. You're a T-shirt,

at best.

Don't ask me to pity those people.

I mourn them as much as the thousands at Sodom and Gomorrah.

You're saying you were doing God's good work?

The Lord works in mysterious ways.

See those high-tension towers?

That's where we're headed.

I see it. 9 o'clock, and follow that road.

There sure as shit ain't no ambush out here.

No fucking nothing out here.

They'll come behind us in about two minutes.

I want you to go way up.

In 30 seconds, bank east on my mark.

I'll get him out.

Get out.

Slowly.

Stop.

Stay.

What do you got?

A dead dog.

I didn't do that.

What time is it?

Why?

I'd like to know.

7:01.

It's close.

Let's go take a look.

It's this way.

Down. Down. Down.

Watch him.

There he goes.

It's good we have some time to talk.

The guy in red. Keep the crosshairs on him.

A van's coming down the road.

From the north.

Be ready for anything. Wait for my signal.

Get out!

Out!

Jesus Christ, man. Don't shoot.

Step away.

Turn around. Hands on your head.

What's going on?

Why are you here?

I'm delivering a package to this guy, David.

Detective...

David Mills.

Get it. Slowly.

A guy paid me $500 to bring it.

He wanted it here at exactly 7 o'clock.

Put it down.

We got a box.

We got a box. Call the bomb squad.

Bomb squad, we got a box.

Face the van.

Hands up.

Turn around.

Okay, go.

Off you go. Go.

I sent the driver out on foot.

He's headed north.

Have him picked up.

I don't know.

I'm going to open it.

When I said I admired you, I meant what I said.

It's blood.

You've made yourself quite a life.

- You should be very proud. - Shut up, you piece of shit.

California, stay away.

Stay away. Don't come in here.

Whatever you hear, stay away.

John Doe has the upper hand.

Mills!

Here he comes.

- Throw your gun down. - What?

- I wish I could've lived like you. - Shut up.

What are you saying?

Do you hear me, Detective?

I'm trying to tell you...

how I admire you and your pretty wife.

What?

Tracy.

- What did you fucking say? - It's disturbing...

how easily a member of the press can get...

information from your precinct.

What the fuck?

Throw your gun down!

I visited your home this morning,

after you left.

I tried to play husband.

I tried to taste the life of a simple man.

Throw it away!

It didn't work out.

So...

I took a souvenir.

Her pretty head.

- What's he talking about? - Give me your gun.

What's going on?

Put the gun down.

What was in the box?

I envy your normal life.

Drop the gun.

It seems envy is my sin.

- What's in the box? - Give me the gun.

What's in the fucking box?

He just told you.

You lie! You're a fucking liar! Shut up!

That's what he wants. He wants you to shoot him.

Say it's not true.

- That's not true. - Become vengeance.

She's all right.

Become...

wrath.

She's okay.

If you murder a suspect,

you throw it all away. He knows that.

- She begged for her life. - Shut up.

She begged for her life,

and for the baby inside her.

He didn't know.

Give me the gun, David.

If you kill him,

he will win.

Oh, God!

Oh, God!

We'll take care of him.

Whatever he needs.

Where are you going to be?

Around.

I'll be around.

Ernest Hemingway once wrote:

"The world is a fine place, and worth fighting for".

I agree about the second part.