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CHAPTER I
CHIEF

- Issa, a call for you.
- Coming.

Yes?

I'm listening.

Yes.

And?

Hey everyone!

I'm no good at toasts,

so let's simply drink
to a well-deserved promotion.

It's a rare thing, but it does happen.

A lieutenant colonel.
Incredible!

But what does it mean?

OK, it's two stars
on his shoulders, but what matters

is that he's a deserving man.

Wouldn't you say?
Let's drink to that!

There.

Here we go!

Where's Issa?
I'm not drinking without him.

They were jailed.
You got a promotion.

What are we celebrating?

She's a survivor.
A witness.

Till now we've only found bodies.

Guys, come on already.
Your drinks are poured.

- We're coming.
- Coming. One sec.

So you made a mistake?

Wasted ten years?

Things are just returning to normal.
Leave it.

Issa, we're waiting,
come hear the toast!

- Coming.
- Yes.

- Hurry up, then.
- Just a sec.

Are you going to her?

There is no "her".

Give it a break.

Believe me, for our sake.

I have no choice, I'm going.

Then I have no choice either.

I'll file for divorce.

Quiet.

I have to sort it out.

I'll come back.

We'll go to the mountains.

It's beautiful there.
The air is clear.

You can see the sun

so close at sunrise.

There's a waterfall down below.

We'll all be together.

But now, let me go.

Let me go.

She decided to hitch a ride,
a man in a white car stopped.

She can't remember the model.

The guy looked harmless.
Spoke politely.

She fell asleep in the car.

Woke up at a "house in the forest,
not a soul around".

That's when she suspected something.

Chief, does this mean we...

convicted the wrong man?

Worked the wrong case?

We don't convict.

The court does that.

We investigate.

We did everything right.

You've imprisoned the wrong man!

Silence!

He hit me...

and...

dragged me out of the car.

By the hair.

He got on top of me...

started shoving dirt in my mouth.

I...

tried to defend myself.

Got him in the face
with the back of my head.

I tried to stand, he...

stabbed me in the foot.

I felt...

something cold.

A stone.

I hit him with that stone.

Did he follow you?

I don't know.

I didn't look back.

I wanted to live so badly.

Your face looks familiar.

You were at my sister's funeral.

Please describe him.

He's tall

and...

slender.

His eyes...

are like glass...

- So, we enter from this side.
- Right.

Surround it from the outside.

- Dogs on standby.
- Yes.

Again,
this is a very dangerous criminal.

There's no
official record of firearms,

but he may have bladed weapons.

After arrest the area must be
searched by forensics.

We haven't found a body in 3 years,
we may find some here.

- That's it from me.
- OK.

Well, then.

- Everyone heard him?
- Yes.

- Godspeed.
- Let's go.

Ivan Savelyevich.

- All aboard?
- Not yet.

Comrades,

new orders:
leave all automatic weapons here.

Am I fucking talking him into coming?

Shut your traps!

Chief, may I have a word?

Look, I'll take that asshole on.

But we haven't got fangs.

Nice to have something persuasive
at hand in case he stabs you.

Present your tool of persuasion,
Captain.

More confident with your thingy?

My orders are final.
I need him alive.

I don't want anyone's
finger on the trigger.

On the ground, scum!

Take that, scum!
Fucker!

Lay down, scum!

Name, surname.

Andrey Valita.

Read the order carefully.

I can't, can't see nothing.

Then wipe
your fucking mug and read it!

Please don't.

Don't shit yourself,
it won't bite unless we say.

Stop whimpering, you bitch.

Please, no!

Shut your mouth!

Well, this is scandalous.

You get a new flat, a promotion,
but we sentenced innocents to life?

You demanded suspects.

I gave you them.

The court passed the sentence.

The public's pushing the prosecutors,
baying for blood... yours and mine.

I'll interrogate here.

Away from unwanted ears.

They're readying the pitchforks as is.

We've gotta resolve it quietly, here.

At my own risk.

Of course it's yours.

I want every corpse accounted for.

So no one dare
point the finger at us again.

What should I call you?
"Boss"?

You're not a boss yet.

"Commander"?
You won't be commanding me.

Let's be honest about this.

Call me "Investigator".

- So, he liked me.
- Savelich, Mikhail wants to see you.

Yes, coming.

The pictures with mother are all ruined.

Thank you.

- Vitaliy, sir, hello.
- Galina.

Our guest from the capital.

Sent to help move the case forward.

We would've managed ourselves,
but the higher ups like to rush.

But Mr Davidov has great experience.

- Caught the "chess player".
- Yes, I know.

And he has far-reaching powers.
Carte blanche.

I did read the orders.

Shall we get to it?

Indeed, let's.

The evidence is a mess.

Some important items
have been pissed away.

Theories bordering on fiction:

impotent Satanists
eating uteruses to heal themselves,

underground transplant surgeons.

Look at the bodies.

You think sane people could do this?

Person.
Singular.

Sane enough to not get caught.

My people
worked on this case round the clock.

And we've laid some groundwork,
not just fiction.

So, Chief, you can kindly fuck off.

That's what you can do.

You know why?

Three years of murders
happening under your nose.

And you don't have the guts
to unite the cases.

The worst part about detective's job

is the routine work.

Now it's your turn to dig, Chief.

Blackmail material?

No.

More like rare footage.

OK, chronicler.

Come on in.

So the film reels are yours?

Undeveloped - why?

- From the crime scene, right?
- No funds to develop them.

They said we've got enough photos.

We'll get funds.

What's with the clean-up?

Clearing space for the case.

We'll put the icons back once solved.

This'll take 3 days.

Have them by tomorrow.

Yes, sir.

From this moment on we attend every
victim's funeral to remind ourselves

that this is a person,
not a case file.

I've looked through the files,
not much use.

Here's two of them.
1979 and 1980.

They're not in the series yet.
Need re-evaluation.

Shevchuk...
She was suffocated, not stabbed.

But her mouth was stuffed with dirt,
lower abdomen torn apart.

It's our murderer.

He just wasn't ready,
acted spontaneously.

Young Tarkovsky's here.

Oh, so there was a reason for
him trampling all over the evidence!

Fainted once when he saw a body.

Didn't piss himself at least.

The guilty party here
has already been shot.

I was an intern back then,
saw how they did things:

just get the case over with.

Anyway,
they found her in early November 1978.

Daria Zhurova.

Party girl.

How is she one of ours?

Stuffed mouth.
Silt, we thought, since it's a swamp.

Then an expert said it didn't
look like silt, more like dirt.

Biggest thing is her back.

When our chum kills,
he goes mad, hacks away at everything.

And her back was full of holes.

We found a blade in the wound.

Personal impression of the crime scene

is more valuable
than a forensic report.

Firing blanks!

Service weapon for the day.

Chin up.

Here's what we'll do.
Firstly.

Register all incoming patients
with sexual addiction.

- Ivan, call the sex clinics.
- Yes, sir.

Lower.

Witnesses mentioned
a white Moskvich car.

Station police along highways.

And dress female officers
as prostitutes.

Patrol all bus stops.

This is operation codename "Shroud".

Nine penetrating
stab wounds to the abdomen

with damage to
the small and large intestines.

You learned that by heart?

Left hand.

- Left.
- Left hand stabbing, right hand tying.

Two of these injuries
are a result of repeated penetration

of the blade with rotation...

at different angles.

It's a ritual.

Arousal and release.

These wounds come up repeatedly.

He likes doing this.

A masturbator?

Imitation of intercourse.

He might be impotent.

Keep that in mind
when you call the clinics.

Ivan!

Let's go.

Power fantasies.

The "chess player" also left shoes
on the dead children's bodies.

We all wondered why.

A boy hanging in the forest...

no clothes on him...

but with shoes on.

Turns out it was childhood memories.

He saw a car run over a pioneer.

His clothes got torn off
when pulled under the car.

But the shoes stayed on.

The image aroused him.

That's the price of success.

Everything has a price.

How did you find him?

I bluffed.

Wrote in a local newspaper

that we caught him
and he's a mental case.

That upset him.

Wrote an angry letter to Headquarters.

Lab tests showed
the presence of a particular chemical.

It's used...

at chemical plants...

in acid production.

And the rest, just...

Issa.

I'm going to ward 4.

- Put this red car here.
- Come here, come here.

Come on, one spoonful.
Issa, please.

I can't, I told you already.

Mouth says one thing,
eyes say another.

Come here.

Husband is in a
hospital and she's happy.

Silly goose!

It's nap time.
Come back later.

- He needs rest.
- Shush, Nadya.

- Quite the nurse you are!
- What are you...?

You should stay in bed.

Or you'll feel worse.

Let's go, have a chat.

Don't be an ass!
Those dead bodies aren't going anywhere!

The body was found
in the forest belt near the station.

Dismembered.
But experts say it's one of ours.

It's about a month old.

Decently preserved in this weather.

The office chipped in.

Happy b-day.

Looking forward to you coming back.

You shouldn't have.
But thank you.

Yeah...

Operation "Shroud" is closing.

Not enough results, they say.

Barely managed to keep two officers
and guards on the bus stops.

We can't shut it down now.
At least half a year.

There are results.

No fresh bodies,
which means he noticed us.

Dammit.

Relative of the victim.

- Ma'am, you...
- How did it happen?

Step away!

- Investigation is underway.
- OK, I just stand here.

You've heard? Is it clear?

- She's here to identify...
- Not now.

Sir, I demand
permission to identify the body.

That's not possible now.
An investigation is underway.

Relative?

You could say that.

- I'm her mother.
- Then wait.

Bastard!

My girl lies here dead,
and he says "wait"!

Let go of me!

Wait for what?

You think she'll come back?

You crawling around!

Snapping away!

Instead of catching him.

You should catch him!

Please don't step on the evidence.

She's lost it.

Why do you work here?

Always loved detective stories.

Then decided to join the cops
together with a friend.

And here I stayed.

Didn't even know why, at first.

Now I do.

And you?

My mom sang at the Philharmonic.

One day we had a fight,
she caught me with a cigarette.

Screamed about me not being
a real man, being weak-willed.

I got mad and burned a hole
in her concert dress with a cigarette.

It was a beautiful...

red dress.

Then I stole a neighbor's bike.

I wanted to crash and die,
so she'd know grief.

As I was racing along...

I noticed something red in the water.

I knew right away
it was something terrible.

I stopped.

Went and stood by the bank.

It was her.

In the red dress.

Her concert dress.

I don't remember
them recovering her body.

For many years it felt like I was
still standing on that river bank.

Now we owe it to her...

to all families, so that no one
has to stand like that again.

Was the murderer found?

No.

But if I found him,
the law wouldn't apply.

Ever heard of the Etruscan execution?

No.

A murderer is tied to their victim's
body and they're left to rot alive.

They're only untied
once they've both gone black.

Now they are one.

That way the criminal
is punished by his own victim.

Sounds like justice to me.

I'd like to keep the shoes.

Death must be beautiful.

That's the point.

I thought you'd come in useful.

I've got this one case.

Multiple instances.

The murderer's creative, too.

More so than you.

I need to figure him out.

Don't flatter yourself.

You can't figure out anyone.

Not even yourself.

- I won't help you.
- You will.

I know what you want.

There's a doctor,
the best facial surgeon in the USSR.

He can operate on you.

What for?

- Facing the firing squad soon.
- Not so soon.

Maybe a year,

maybe three.

You do love yourself.

This way you'll at least look human.

I read in the papers.

The butcher.

That's who you're after?

But you're mistaken.

You seek a monster, but he's ordinary.

What do you mean?

He doesn't hide, conceal his trail,

doesn't even occur to him
that he should.

He's simply lucky.

And you're not.

CHAPTER II
DENIAL

You're all dismissed.

Before I turn it on,

I wanted to inform you.

In psychology, there are
five stages of accepting the inevitable.

They will shape the interrogation.

The inevitable...

What's that?

A confession.

Issa Davidov recording.

Senior Investigator,
USSR Prosecutor's Office.

Conducting an interrogation of
Andrey Valita, suspected of carrying out

between the years 1978 and 1991

36 premeditated murders
of women and girls,

connected with rapes,

as well as perverted and sadistic acts
performed on their bodies.

Mr Valita,
please confirm your presence.

I have no connection to this case.

I've previously been
arrested and released.

I am a model citizen.
What's happening here is madness

unbefitting of our noble police force.

Mr Valita...

as you have been
on our radar already...

we have laid some groundwork.

I would like to confirm...

some details with you.

About your childhood.

It was a rough childhood.

Abnormal, really.

Your mother was a difficult person?

She was a vet.

My dad drank.

She slaved away.

She yelled...
at him, and at me.

She was unstable...

mentally.

Did she hit you?

Sometimes, yeah.

I once got a bike from some relatives.

It was old, rusted, broken down,

the spokes all bent.

A true luxury at the time.

I fixed it all up.

Decided to take it for a spin,
show off.

And I showed off...

to the local hooligans.

They wanted to take my bike.

I was feeble.

But...

didn't take it lying down.

No.

They kicked my ass...

and pushed me in a pit.

There was a well there.

Unfinished.

Mother told me off for the bike.

Made me kneel on peas in the corner.

So I knelt.

Naked.

I always...

feel this

dirt...

in my mouth.

Grating.
Can't get it out...

Your mother was
paralyzed a few years later.

A stroke.

Why did you conceal her state?
Were you taking revenge?

Taking revenge?

- Of course.
- The murders share the same pattern.

Dirt stuffed in the victims' mouths.

Clearly a personal detail.

Ask around,
everyone had a tough childhood.

That's Russia.

But does that mean
everyone's a murderer?

The victims also share a certain type.

Short, stout women.

Young women with short hair.

Most of them are like this,
with some variation.

Sound familiar?

So, to answer your question.

I gave her Chinese burns.

- Who?
- My mother.

For two weeks.

Time of my life.

Chinese burns.

Don't you know those?

You're afraid, Issa.

You read all those smart books,
but it's all psychological fiction.

I couldn't even
cut a chicken's head off.

Feel squeamish.

And you put me down as a murderer.

We're not on a first-name basis,
Mr Valita.

I ask the questions.

Pull yourself together.

Enough.

Don't do that, please.

The sound

is unpleasant.

An interesting career you have.

Linguist.

Only started teaching at 30.

- Why?
- I thought...

I'd get along with children.

Adults weren't my thing.

The vocational college kids
called you "meat-beater".

I know they did.

- Kids.
- We have a report here.

- Masturbating in the bushes.
- Nonsense.

Had no luck with women
cause you were into kids?

Says who?
Plenty of luck.

Your ex-wife.

- Said you couldn't get it up.
- For her, maybe.

Couldn't get it up, huh.

Limp, was it?

- Couldn't get it in there.
- This is not relevant.

Of course it is.

I have to clarify
the nature of the witness's complaint.

So you got it up for kids,

but not for women.

Your dick knows your true nature.

It can't pretend
to be a decent human being.

You are what your dick is.

What did they call you?

Weakling?
Feeble?

Fiddler?
Meat-beater!

- Couldn't get it up?
- I could, I could!

I could do everything.
Women are sadists, animals, bitches.

It's all because of them.

Such righteous...
anger.

CHAPTER III
ANGER

Take a look.

Your colleague caused a ruckus.

Found Khamraev.

Lighter.

Please.

Thank you.

- Shh.
- But Mom!

Shush.
End of story.

What about Grandpa Zaur?

Grandpa Zaur will pick him up later.
That's it.

- Sleep.
- Mom.

Tell me.

There's a special place

where children go
if they don't have parents.

When your dad's mom died,

that's where dad ended up.

Me, too.
I had no parents either.

- And then what?
- Shh.

- But Mom!
- Shh!

And then?

Then Dad and I became friends.
Very good friends.

We were the only ones in the world.

Then his grandpa came for him,
and we made an oath

to always be together, no matter what.

Dad said
you cut your palms with a knife.

Go to sleep.

Mom.

Has Dad kept his oath?

What do you think?

What's your profession, Vera?

Art historian.

Studied in Moscow,

now I work here in the museum.

Didn't know we had a museum.

Portraits of leaders,
pioneers, Stakhanovites.

Right.

How selfless, moving here from Moscow.

Convicted for parasitism.

Somehow I doubt
you've completely kicked old habits.

You can't afford to eat here
on a museum salary.

I was invited.

For a civilized evening.

Is a knife fight your idea of civil?

I was perfectly civil.

Then what happened?

I like to speak the truth.

Not all men can behave themselves
when they hear the truth.

Your colleague defended me.

Will you arrest me?

Maybe that's not such a bad idea.

There's all sorts of women in jail.

You think you're...

- so different from them?
- Meaning?

We all...

sell ourselves to survive.

You just haven't been
faced with that choice yet.

You're sitting here?

Go get changed.

I'll warm up dinner.

What the...?

What the...?

What's with you?
What are you...?

Issa, what the...?

Stop it.

What are you...?

What the...?

It's not the first time I see you here.

I wanted to look at you.

This won't end well.

It never does.

You'll feel ashamed, I'll feel empty.

There are five stages
of accepting the inevitable.

Denial.

Anger.

Bargaining.
Depression.

Acceptance.

We can walk around in circles
or go straight to acceptance.

- Remember her?
- Hold him.

You're always in charge,

but not with me.

- Did you kill him?
- Yes.

He angered me and I hit him.

And he fell on a rock.

So I thought why not
make it look like the serial killer.

You idiot, he only targets women.

To fake a serial killer body
you have to be a serial killer.

Who's the girl in the photo with you?

Your sister?

Yeah...

She's the clever one,

got into med school.

Future surgeon.

She'll save people
and live a good life.

Not like me.

We'll live a good life too.

I'll catch him and...

ditch everything.

We'll leave.

Grandpa has a mountain cabin.

It's good there.

The sun's up close.

There's a...

waterfall down below.

Will you come?

Doubt it.

You won't be able to leave.

It's a ladder.

You either go up the ladder...

or down.

I said I'll leave, so I will.

So, will you come?

That's it, guys. Good luck!

Alright, let's go.

- Bye.
- See ya.

You go.
Young and yet so dumb.

We've done our bit.

We're done.

Don't rush.

Climb in.

What's the exhibition for?

Preliminary examination results.

Blades matched to bodies,

the knives are yours.

Knives, so what?

Ordinary knives,
made to quality standards.

The killer hits the women on the head.

Keeps them alive so they'll suffer.

The victim falls on her stomach.

The killer stabs her in the back.

Turns the body over...

finishes her off.

Wriggling the knife around.

All the women in these photos
were killed this way.

Except one.

One single woman...

that he dismembered.

Nina Gribanova.

Remember her?

You worked at the same factory.

I don't know.

Maybe.

I don't remember.

Her friend reports
that Gribanova had a lover.

I showed her your photograph.

You dated Nina

for a couple of months in summer '81.

We treated the floor
in her flat with luminol

which showed a luminescence
typical of blood.

She was killed and dismembered there.

This is us bargaining.

Which means I get something out of it.

But you're just messing me about.

Got those knives out.

Brought up my past lover.

What else have you got?

A shoe print.

Size 43.

Straight-edged heel.

We found one like that here.

Well, that looks like 43

as well.

Nina was

kind-hearted.

We broke up...

amicably.

Then why hide the relationship?

No reason, I guess.

And no reason for me to bargain.

I'd rather sing.

We'll go into battle bravely

Savelich,

- it's your turn.
- One sec.

BITCH

What's at stake?

Ten rubles.

May I ask?

- So, our chum...
- What about "our chum"?

Is it really him?
He's such a shabby loser.

Doesn't look violent.

Give me the knife.

Put the cards away.

They're talking crap,
they're so bored.

- Should we bring the victim here?
- Not yet.

It's her word against his.

She'll say he's a murderous villain,
and he'll say,

"Picked up a chick at a bus stop,
all was good then she started fighting."

What can one say?
We don't have any strong arguments.

What do we do?

Get a pile of newspapers,

go to him and make paper planes.

Scrape your nails along all the folds.

- The more folds the better.
- Why?

Do it.

Please.

I beg of you, please.

Please stop.
No one wants to listen to me.

I want to tell my life story.

So everyone knows my humiliations.

The doctors said,

"You're more woman than man.

You have a woman's waist
and milk in your chest".

No one saw me as a man in the army.

Grabbed me by the boobs.

Such humiliation.
And I have noble blood.

Hit me if you want!

Your show's pointless.

You're sane

and cruel.

I have a nose for guys like you.

Hey! Where are you going?

Bitch!

Maneater!

Give him to me!

Move aside!

You're useless.
I'll do it myself.

It won't bring her back
or ease the pain.

You're funny.

Right, Maneater?

Grinning.

I'm with you, ma'am.

Completely.

But my guilt has not been proven.
Therefore I am a suspect.

Look, witness this inhuman treatment.

I look at you, cops...

What makes you different from him?!

One and the same.

Let me go!
Give him to me.

Give him to me!
Give him to me!

- Bitch.
- Give him.

Easy there.

BITCH

CHAPTER IV
BARGAINING

- Good day, ma'am.
- Good day.

Could you open the door?
Here for Grigorieva.

I've been expecting you, my dears.

Let's sum up briefly.

Snip.

Soviet people are backwards
and insecure in bed.

Any sexual perversion
is seen as taboo.

But so many types of aggression could be
fixed by solving sexual issues.

Sexual pathologists could cure
aggression in our country, right?

Pipe down, dear.

Pipe down.
Pipe down, dear.

Pipe down.

Pipe down!
Pipe down!

Pipe down.
Pipe down, dear.

Pipe down.
Pipe down.

It's just logic:

criminals reflect
the new realities we live in.

New realities means new crimes.

What's so new about our realities?

Devaluing human life,
systemic cruelty, serial killers.

"Serial" - is that a special term?

Could be.

They're difficult to link to their
victims, they lack motives...

except for the desire to kill.

- They're almost untraceable.
- Almost.

There is one experimental method.
My personal one.

We can create a
prospective portrait of the killer

based on their murders and use it
like a blueprint to filter out suspects.

Let's try it.
Show her the documents.

Here they are.

Doctor, I'm not quite clear
on the new realities.

How does it relate to
the violent patient in the corridor?

Miron.

Come, come.

We don't know his real name,
but he's a fascinating case.

Come on through.

He doesn't possess an identity.

Please.

And he is always searching,
so to speak.

He finds a victim,
gets to know them better.

If the victim interests him,
he attunes to them...

and becomes them.

GRIGORIEVA
"MIRON" RESEARCH, DAY 1

We got him from the hospital,
where he worked as a paramedic.

Despite not being a doctor,
he resuscitated people.

He killed his roommate
and took on his identity.

To bolster this identity
he surrounded himself with his things.

He read some medical textbooks.

He was found out
by the victim's sister.

She started hitting him
and broke Miron's arm.

He slipped
out of character from the pain.

It's incredible!

He worked in an ambulance for 6 months,

none of his colleagues
noticed the change.

And those are your new realities.

There were so many blunders
before it got to us, Vadim, sir.

It's an atypical case,
though we have our ways.

I know these ways of yours.
Heard reports.

The USSR has no experience
searching for serials.

A separate department
wouldn't go amiss here.

And I suppose
you'll need specialists, too?

And vehicles?
All the gear, eh?

That's what I mean.

You've lost your mind!

Freak.

Made up a word, too...

"Serials".

- I was not aware of such initiatives...
- Shut up, idiot.

Who did you bring to me?

Your case has reached
a nationwide audience.

And you're doing shit all--

If you'd not closed
the special operation

and denied requests for
a new one, we'd have results.

It's a new type of criminal.

A murderer is a murderer,
nothing new there.

I looked through the case briefly.

I think you've strayed your course.
So simplify.

Have another look through.

Not a brief one this time.

You're coasting along on
old successes, you know.

I give you
three months for a good lead.

Find me someone to blame.

Chances are low.

Know how it happens?

Say...
one guy worked too much and got lost.

He was a good, sensible worker

and suddenly found himself in a
psychiatric ward, a braindead vegetable.

His wife cries something awful,
brings him treats.

Meanwhile no one
gives a crap about him,

with his serials and profiles.

Piss off!

Ivan, come in.

Let's drink.

We have a new body.

Near the forest plantation.

I'm gathering the investigative group.

Let's go.

In this country,

justice is a technicality

which is subject to an agenda.

And what's on the agenda?

Homosexuals, the mentally ill...

You know what, go ahead.

You've got your group, so...

go get to work.

What about the
personal impression of the crime scene?

I've seen enough of this case.

No one in my department
understood why I followed you.

I don't know how to explain.

Just saw that...

there's another way...

to work.
An interesting way.

A goal appeared.

Keep grinding
to stay true to our principles.

But the system doesn't care.

The system doesn't need a murderer.

They want a guilty party.

And what you said
about owing it to those families?

Did you forget?

Go and grind,

grindstone.

So you don't need a murderer.

You want...

a guilty party.

Whatcha staring at?

I'm toast in three days.

You'll miss me.

I'll celebrate.

Right...

You summon me to be rude?
Not a good look, investigator.

I need you to

talk to this one guy.

I don't do friendly favors.

Especially since
you're anything but my friend.

And what do you want?

Bastard!
I'll kill you!

I won't keep records.

And the conversation will be private.

Everyone out.

Guards, out!

I want to play white.

Familiar with the game?

I've heard of it.

So you are white...

and pure?

And who are you,

may I ask?

An interrogation specialist.

I hanged children.

But judging me for it

is akin to punishing a tiger

for eating meat.

You know,
you don't actually have a weak heart.

When you deserve it,

I poison you.

Spike your coffee thermos.

I'm a pharmacist.

Did you forget?

I know how to do it

so it doesn't kill you.

I should've killed you this time.

You're drowning
and dragging us down with you.

Coward.

Coward.

There you go.

Have a think,

is that a good move?

Chess is not a game of luck.

It's a game of strategy.

He is exactly as I imagined.
Looks like a murderer.

Did he confess?

You want to hear "yes", but he didn't.

Something's wrong with him.

He beat me at chess.

And that's impossible.

It was like playing with my own shadow.

- He has killed, many times.
- I need evidence, not guesses.

I know that he has killed.

You've changed.

You couldn't have caught me like this.

You're desperate.

You're not a hunter now.

But a beast.

- Cornered.
- And you're a dead man full of shit.

- Come here!
- Freeze!

- Hang on!
- Let me go!

Let's fly!
Hang up there!

Come here.

If you want to get to him,

offer him an insanity plea.

Promise he won't get capital.

- He's a coward.
- How would you know?

We're all like that.

We'd give up anything to survive.

Tell me the truth.

Have you ever loved anyone?

Yes.

Me?

- Don't go, don't leave.
- What's with you? Get up.

- I won't let go.
- Get up!

- You're mine.
- Nonsense.

- I won't let you go.
- Nadya, get up, now.

- No, don't go.
- I'm embarrassed.

Calm down.

Calm down.

What do you want?

The handcuffs are too tight.

You'll manage it.

Arthur, what is it?
What happened?

Goddammit!

Freeze!

Freeze, you bastard.
I said freeze!

Get out of the car.

Get out of the car.

Get out of the car.

Get out!

Arthur!

Arthur.

Get him out.

You bastard!

The shot came from forest.

That's a long-distance shot.

I saw a flash too.

We have to find out who did this.

It wasn't our guys.
Everybody was unarmed.

Find out who did it.

Stay vigilant and tell the others.

OK.

CHAPTER V
DEPRESSION

Issa, it's not him.
You can see that.

He is an actual idiot.

He has no diagnosis.

He's sane.

How could he know
where the wounds were

if he didn't kill them?

I don't understand.

- Trying to look good for your boss?
- I'm working the case.

Finding leads.

Well?

A new body's turned up.

The suspect's here,
yet new bodies appear.

- How can it be?
- There's two of them!

He has a twin brother!

He told me himself.

Left and right handed.

That's it.

Don't be afraid.

You're hurt.

Alright.

Predator.

It's OK.

We'll fix up your claw.

Sit here.

Stupid, this is awkward.

Come on, it's fine.

Mmm, maybe I should push it?

I am so sorry.

Maybe we should walk?

I know the way.

- Need a hand?
- Yes, if you could.

I'm in a bit of a bind,

promised the lady a lift.

I see, lady.

We need to unload the car, right.

Get out for a minute.

What the hell?!

You were meant
to get me before I got in.

Why, did something happen?

Nah.

Look at him.

Typical nerd.

Hit the gas.

No...

It's really stuck.

Anything in the trunk?

Allow me, I'll open it.

Go on.

Let me have a look.

He's running away.

Freeze!

Well?

I told you to let him go.

I can't.

It's him.

I can feel it.

Go, you don't work with me anymore.

- Get out.
- Wait!

He fits Grigorieva's profile.

He has knives
and matching ropes in the trunk.

His foot is the right size.

I found something in his past.
Look at the case.

The blood's wrong!

We have a suspect who confessed
to part of the murders.

- And his blood type matches.
- Matches what?

What the higher ups think?

You know why that idiot is testifying?

Because he was there,
gawking in the crowd.

My suspect worked with his brother.

His brother was in a psych ward.
You know why?

Ripped a woman's
gut open with his nails.

On the run officially for six years.

And you used a whore as bait,

violent interrogation,
no blood type match.

Should I go on?

That guy...

he hanged himself.

Come, come.

I need him alive, alive!

Catch his brother
and the case is closed.

He's our only option.

Fuck!

If he dies, I'll lock you up instead.

Pay up.

I was the bait!
Are you trying to stiff me?

Guess I'm unreliable.

Guess that's why you're fired.

My choice to leave.

With a bang.

Stop drinking, honey.

It doesn't suit you.

You're young,
there are other jobs out there.

There once was an artist

Who had a house and canvases

But he loved an actress

That loved flowers

He then sold his house

Sold his paintings
and the roof over his head

And used all the money to buy

A whole sea of flowers

A million, million,
million crimson roses

From your window you can see

A man in love, a man in love
in a real way

Will turn his life into flowers for you

A million, million,
million crimson roses

From your window,
from your window you see

A man in love, a man in love
in a real way

Will turn his life into flowers for you

- Sevastyanov, you here?
- Who's there?

Got something to drink?

Get up.

Gotta take a walk.

I'm sorry, Sveta.

Don't worry about it, Chief.

I know who killed her.

I'll settle it.

Your guy has an alibi, business trip.

How's your alibi?

Ask your twins.

Or her.

She'll tell you.

Dismissed.

You asked what else I have.

My colleague's corpse.

And your attempted escape.

Looks like jail time either way.

Looks like it.

Why run?

Since you're innocent.

It was my mental state.

Hounded.

Amongst the indirect evidence

are the dates of your business trips,

that coincide with
the approximate murder dates.

A surviving victim
that will identify you,

and this.

"170-181 centimetres tall,

aged between 50 and 60.

Physically well-developed.
Higher education.

Possible jobs:
teacher, boarding house carer,

vocational college, school
or supply organization worker.

Outward behaviour appearing normal.
Heterosexual.

Cowardly.
Victims become symbolic objects

used for projection of slights
suffered in childhood and adulthood.

Sexual dysfunction present.

Repeated stabbing motions
done to penetrate the victim.

The knife blade
serves the role of the penis:

Filling the victims' mouths with dirt
has a ritualistic nature.

Can stop killing
for a time if he feels danger.

But will not stop until he is caught...

or dies.

The criminal is aware of his actions.

However,
he must be declared partially insane.

This makes mandatory
treatment possible."

Mr Valita,

it's simple.

If you plead guilty

I will aid in
declaring you partially insane

and appoint treatment.

If you do not...

I will bring out our witness.

She will identify you.

She had traces of
the perpetrator's blood on her.

It's your blood type.

Plus my deceased colleague.

I'll get you capital punishment.

Firing squad.

No.
No.

Look me in the eyes.

- Now: did you kill them?
- No.

- You hate women?
- The bitches!

Its yes or no.

- They anger you?
- Yes!

- Want to punish them?
- Yes!

- You regret it?
- Yes!

But it's not your fault.
You can't control it, like a disease?

- Yes!
- You punished those women?

Did you?

- Yes.
- How?

- How?
- I killed them!

Write.

I...

Andrey Valita,

born in 1936,

residing at...

Write your address.

- I don't remember.
- Skip it.

Continue.

Plead fully guilty

to committing

the crimes detailed in the statement.

Then in your own words say
you're sorry and want to fully cooperate

with law enforcement.
Sign.

Date.

What's next?

- Identifying the bodies.
- And then?

Questioning,

re-enactments,

trial.

And treatment?

Yes.

Yes.

And treatment.

Don't just stand there.
Get dressed!

Standing there.

You are the only one
who saw his actions and lived.

You have to be certain.

You and your body

are proof of his guilt.

Don't rush.

Remember her, you bastard?

- Calm down, now.
- Remember torturing her?

- Scum!
- Calm down.

Scum!

Calm down.
Calm down!

The thing is...

This one isn't mine.

I didn't kill her.

Take her away.

- What do you mean?
- Someone else killed her.

I remember my ones, this one...

not my type.

- Gribanova was not your type either.
- I'm telling you, I didn't kill her.

Forest belt

near the railway yard,

September 1988.

Strike to the head from behind.

Two strikes.

Mouth stuffed with dirt.

Picked at her with a knife.

A body is a document
and this one has your signature.

Documents can be forged.

Liar!

Someone special to you?

Yes?

You'll take it all.

Answer for all of them.

And for her too.

That's the point.

It's all for her.

For her.

For her.

Pipe down.

Pipe down, dear.

Pipe down.
Pipe down, dear.

Pipe down.

Pipe down.
Pipe down.

Pipe down, dear!

Shut up.
Shut up.

Where is the real Valita?

Did you kill him?

I don't remember.

CHAPTER VI
ACCEPTANCE

The investigation will be
conducted in full.

I'll question you on every corpse.

Why?

For posterity.

I have nothing to say

to posterity.

Statements obtained under torture.

What?

You won't kill me.

Haven't got the guts.

It was a rough childhood.

My mother was a vet.

Dad drank.

She slaved away.

Yelled at him...

and at me.

She...

was unstable

mentally.

The urge to come was too great.

I was shaking.

I had to, at any cost,
it was like I was hollow inside.

Dirt is...

TATYANA SURIKOVA, 29.05.1981

I shove it down these women's throats.

It's my revenge.

LAST TANGO IN PARIS

I kept the knives
under the sink after a killing.

I had three suits:
black, gray, brown.

Each one also had a knife,

to not keep moving it.

What a day it was,
everyone at work humiliated me.

And I feel like they surround my bed,
these snakes,

and call me every name imaginable.
And I lost it.

I started

to undress her,
but couldn't get it up.

And she suddenly

burst out laughing.
She laughed.

Doctors told me:

"You are more woman than man".

You have a high waist
and milk in your chest.

I was shaking all over, I hit her,

threw her to the ground.

Then I started stabbing.

I wanted
to rip her apart with my teeth.

I think I even bit her.

I... how should I put this?

I counted

downed enemy planes.

I remember each one, yes.

They got it for my humiliation.

What happens now?

I told you everything.

What do you think?

Well...

You must hand me over to the state.

I need treatment, not death.

It's not my fault.
It's a disease.

You're not sick.

You enjoy killing.

Gathering your trophies.

I caught you.

So I will...

- Come on.
- Careful.

- First aid kit.
- What?

Bring the first aid kit!

Easy, easy.

Tried to fight.

He confessed.

We finally

have him.

- Give the jacket back to Issa.
- Make space there.

Catch it, Kolya.

Move Khamraev over there.

May I?

More to the left.

Chief, let's go.

It's all over.
No one left to catch.

You go ahead, Savelich,
I need to stay here a little while.

Gather my thoughts.

We're meant to seal the place.

Well, go ahead then.

Quiet.

Come to me.

Picked at her with a knife.

A body is a document
and this one has your signature.

Someone special to you?

You'll take it all.

Answer for everyone.

It's all for her.

For her.

Pipe down.
Pipe down.

Pipe down, dear.

Pipe down.
Pipe down.

Pipe down.
Pipe down, dear.

Shut up.
Shut up!

Where is the real Valita?

Did you kill him?

I don't remember.

Where is the real Valita?

Did you kill him?

CHAPTER VII
EXECUTION

Hello.

I'm Khamraev,
working on your sister's case.

Vera.

You heard of the butchers?
Brothers. Murderers.

We got one, now looking for the other.

Dragonfly.

Your sister...

was found yesterday
in the forest belt.

My condolences.

We came to the victim's address
and found you there.

I saw her body in the kitchen.

All covered in blood.

There's a gang in your area, robberies.

- You got caught up in that.
- I know what I saw.

Did you see this?

At one arrest...

I was knocked
on the head with a pistol butt.

Thought I saw my dead mother.
It happens.

I wanted to ask you.

When did you last see your sister?

About half a year ago she came to me.

I study in a different town.

Was your sister a loose woman?

How can you say that?

Pregnant, unmarried.

You didn't know.

I'm sorry.

She had a man for the last few years.

What's his name?

I don't know.

I never saw him.

She didn't say much about him.

Right.

A mistress, then.

Can you remember anything else?

I told you everything.

Leave.

Very well.

My sincere condolences.

I'm Captain Tarasov, hello.

Sent to ask some questions.

There are inconsistencies in
your sister's case. May I come in?

My condolences.

I saw her.

Once.

Beautiful woman.

Thus "Dragonfly".

It's just, your sister...

she...

how can I put this?

Doesn't fit.

It's usually street women, loose women.

She wasn't loose, that's just gossip.
You know nothing about her!

And she had one man
for several years now.

Serious one.
She just hid it.

Serious, you say.

How serious?

This much.

I know what I saw.

Dragonfly was killed here.

I saw her body, I saw the killer.

He hit me on the head.

I recognized him at the funeral,
those burned hands.

Your guys don't believe me.
I'll deal with it myself then.

I'll go to the prosecutors in Moscow.
I'll get revenge on you all, got it?!

Why would they believe you?

No one here does.

I know this system inside out.

The Etruscan execution.

They had this poetic execution.

The perpetrator
was punished by his own crime.

I called the police,
there's no one there called Tarasov.

Who are you?

Sevastianov.

Ivan.

I was an investigator
on this case for 8 years.

Then I had to leave.

I killed him.

The real serial killer is dead.

Vera was killed by someone else.

And I want him punished.

But we need evidence.

It's easier for them
to claim it's the twins.

The higher ups prefer that.

I'm not an autopsist.

I'm a surgeon.

Haven't even graduated yet.

I'll help.
I know the murderer's methods.

We have to examine her body.

Find some clue.

- We have to finish this.
- I can't.

- Get it together!
- I can't!

You have to.

There were two blows.

One caved in the skull.

One with something sharp.

Valita did it differently.

He'd hit once to disorient.

He needed the victim
to stay alive and suffer.

He was aroused

by her agony.

Here the second strike

was to kill.

What do I do now?

If it was Vera in my place,

she'd take revenge.

Only you can't do that
via official channels.

Issa will turn your
testimony against you.

If he chewed me up and spat me out,

he'd crush you underfoot completely.

The system doesn't care.

One body more, one body less.

The twins will go to jail.

All the bodies will be on them,
case closed.

Issa played it all well.

There, on the bench.

This is a serious institution.
It's hard, thankless work.

- You're not qualified.
- Please, give me a chance.

I'll take any work.

I'm on sabbatical,
want to switch to psychiatry.

VALITA.
CHILDHOOD.

Childhood...

Yes...

It was a rough childhood.

Rough, abnormal.

My mother was a vet.

Dad drank.

Cassette 1 / Childhood / Watched

Yes...

It was a rough childhood.

Rough, abnormal.

My mother was a vet.

Dad drank.

CHILDHOOD. VIEWS
...from some relatives.

Old, rusted, the spokes all bent,

a true luxury at the time.

A true luxury at the time.

VICTIM No. 7
VICTIM No. 8

...the knives under the sink...

I had three suits:
black, gray, brown.

Each one also had a knife,

to not keep moving it.

And several in the car boot.

I remember each one, yes.

They got it for my humiliation.

Tell me about your childhood.

It was a rough childhood.

Time to act.

You are the main witness.

We'll think of a story.

About how you escaped.

How you got here.

We have to do it.

PRIORITY MAIL

USSR GENERAL PROSECUTOR,
MOSCOW

If we don't, the rest of our efforts
will be in vain. Can you hear me?

Your story with the twins
worked great, right?

And how convenient that Vera's body
can be blamed on the second brother.

Vera's body.

I thought it through.

And when we were ready,

Kira brought you to Miron.

Kira had one last task,

to show him her sister's photo,

to make her
stand out amongst the dead.

But Vera wasn't on
the real serial killer's list.

I didn't tell him anything about her.

That's why Miron didn't recognise her.

So what now?

You killed Vera.

We need your confession.

The truth is,

I didn't kill her.

You have to choose.

Don't be silly.

Divorce is...

I'll make it work, you'll see...

And we'll leave.

I promised, didn't I?

A tragic accident.

You have someone?

Found someone else?

You're mine.

- I searched for you and found you.
- How vulgar!

This is shameful.
Here's the deal.

She wanted...

to tell my wife about us.

I couldn't leave the kids.

There we have it!

Some truth at last.

Are you trying to anger me?

What is this?

A game of some sort?

- I just...
- Let go of me, I said!

Why do I have to pay for this?

I locked up so many murderers myself.

I'm not a murderer.

I have a family.

Children.

She was pregnant.

In the forest...

she said something about that.

In the forest?

Was she still alive?

There was no pulse,

blood all over the floor.

She woke up when...

I...

put a knife...

in her back.

Stop!

Rifle on the floor.

On the floor!

BREATHLESS BY JEAN-LUC GODARD, 1960

Get up.

Get up.

Take the canister.

Pour it.

You killed her and your child.

You understand that?

Come on, my dear.
Get up.

Leave me.

Leave me.

You hear?

Go.

You're coming with me.

There'll be a car nearby.

Go.

No.

What about the video tapes?

We need to send them
to the prosecutors.

We wanted to.

I was the one who let Miron out.

I wanted to check
if he was ready or not.

And I stood...

and watched

him kill you.

Go!