Original subtitles

PreviousIy on Dexter.

You need to kill it.

No, I-I can't.

(Harry) What's the real reason you're stalling on killing Trinity?

(Dexter) I still have things to learn from him.

Judging from the spray, we're looking at somebody tall,

over six feet.

(Dexter) He moved the arm...

for a reason.

(Masuka) That smudge you found at the crime scene?

Cremated human remains.

We got the killer's goddamn DNA?

The killer is related to the human remains.

Same family. The same DNA.

He keeps his family with him all the time.

Vera Mitchell.

Sister of Arthur Mitchell.

Found dead in a...

Bathtub.

This is Arthur Mitchell at his core.

Is there something in his DNA that Iets him keep a famiIy,

some magic gene I'm missing?

I just got the official go-ahead from LaGuerta

to open a Trinity Killer investigation.

What's that mean?

I realized if I pitched the entire Trinity theory

and I added that he also shot me and Lundy,

look like a fucking lunatic,

so I boiled it down to the bludgeonings.

I am no longer seeing Lieutenant LaGuerta.

We broke up, officially.

If I find out this is bullshit, there will be consequences -

severe, career-ending consequences.

Who are you?

I'm the person who's going to keep you

from killing any more women.

I didn't fucking kill them!

Because of my pictures, those women will live on forever!

- Nothing lasts forever. - (Screams)

- Isn't that... - Farrow's assistant.

I just arrested him for the murder of Estrella Carazo.

But, no, I thought...

Yeah, at first it looked like Farrow, but this is airtight.

We got DNA evidence. We got everything.

I killed an innocent man.

So l made a mistake. It couId've happened to anyone -

weII, any murderer -

not that murderers typicaIIy care

whether their victims are innocent or not.

But why is it eating at me?

Jonathan Farrow - S&M photographer,

abuser of women,

asshole, but not a killer -

not up to Harry's code.

Yet l killed him.

Now l'm...

uncomfortable.

lt should've been Arthur MitcheII on my tabIe.

(Sighs)

Trinity, shooter of my sister.

l should've...

No, no "should'ves." l don't do "should'ves." That's not me.

(Whispers) This isn't me.

Aah, shit.

I just need to stop thinking about it.

Jonathon Farrow...

originally a suspect, now possibly a victim.

lt was a mistake, for fuck's sake.

Farrow disappeared right before his assistant,

Timothy Brand, confessed to murdering those models.

Missing persons has been investigating,

and now they're passing it on to us.

You think Brand killed Farrow?

Maybe he found out what Brand was up to, it's hard to say.

Soderquist, Yale, stay with Farrow.

Brand probably turned him into gator bait.

l wish l could take comfort

that my crime has been pinned on Brand.

But l can't.

What is wrong with you?

(Sighing) I don't know.

OK, moving on. Morgan... what do we have on your bludgeonings?

Maybe this'll cheer you up.

Not if you're making headway on Trinity.

We've got a serial bludgeoner.

The victims are all men in their 40s.

I've got cases dating back 30 years,

which most likely puts our bludgeoner in his 50s or 60s.

The break in the case came with the discovery

of the human ash he left behind,

along with his own saliva -

read DNA.

You're welcome. Just doing myjob.

The killer leaves the ash as his sick-ass signature,

making his vics point at it postmortem.

I can't be sure all of these are ash marks,

but the finger-pointing indicates a strong possibility that...

Ahh, how'd that get in there?

No, whoa. Could you go back?

Go back.

This isn't a bludgeoning.

No.

Yet the victim's finger seems to be pointing towards a smudge.

Ash?

Don't do it, Deb.

Uh...

Yeah, probably.

When you presented this case to me, you said it was limited to a bludgeoner.

So how about we hear all of it, Detective Morgan?

It's gonna sound insane...

I hope.

All right. I found possible smudges

in several old bathtub killings.

Also several jumper suicides.

And that's the pattern -

bathtub, jumper, bludgeon -

all in close succession.

One cycle of three vics every year or so,

possibly for 30 years.

Different cities, different states.

It's a...a trinity of victims...

which is why Frank Lundy called him the Trinity Killer.

- This is an FBI case? - The FBI never bought it.

Yet we're supposed to.

Lundy came to Miami to hunt this guy.

I think he got too close, and I think it got him killed and me shot.

So this Trinity Killer did that to you?

Come on, LaGuerta, say it's far-fetched.

Go on.

Great, Iike I need you peopIe getting in my way.

WeII, Trinity is past his due date. This just confirms it.

Dex. Can you believe it?

- Yeah, you really did it. - I kept Lundy's legacy alive.

I even got the bosses on board.

Detective Morgan, my office.

Is that a commendation I smell?

Go get 'em, tiger.

Ess.

Tigress.

Dex. Hey, buddy.

Keep waIking. Not in the mood.

Halftime?

It's called lunch, buddy.

Off campus, as usual.

(Elevator bell dings)

I reaIIy do need to stab something.

The Trinity KiIIer.

This is good.

There's no question of his guiIt,

and I couId use some certainty.

Hey, Jonah, how those wheels holding up?

Like a dream, Mr. Butler.

Like a real nice dream.

Kyle!

Hey. What brings you here this fine day?

Ah, just checking in.

You know, after the...

..deer. Wanted to make sure you're OK.

Oh, that's kind of you, but I've put it out of my mind,

no need to dwell.

You can just do that?

No, no, no. Smooth, circular motion, son,

- and the paint job will last for years. - I got it, Dad.

If you've got it, I wouldn't have to remind you.

There are two ways to do things. Why not choose the right way?

SmaII cracks in the perfect famiIy,

which makes them perfectIy normaI.

(Door opens)

- Kyle, hello. - Hey.

Honey, your clothes are clean, folded, and ready to be packed.

Going out of town?

- Yeah, Tampa. - Oh.

A Four Walls build.

An out-of-town buiId - is his cycIe starting over again aIready?

- Rebecca. - Mm-hm?

The ground needs to be really soaked.

A good soaking, or all these flowers are just gonna die.

OK, sorry.

So, Tampa - the whole family going?

No, not on out-of-towners.

It's too expensive to put 'em all up.

Oh, admit it, Arthur.

You enjoy those vacations from us.

He always comes home so relaxed.

I'm sure.

- You leaving today? - No, tomorrow, right from work.

There's the where and the when.

An out-of-town kill - Trinity's own MO.

How poetic.

Well, happy travels.

Take care, Kyle.

Now I need to come up with my own where and when

to convince my boss and my wife to Iet me Ieave.

All l need is some convention that smeIIs a IittIe Iike bIood spatter,

something science-y.

Brake and muffler exhibit - no.

Knitting and needIepoint convention -

no blood there unless someone impaIes themseIves.

A trade show convention.

Wow, a convention on conventions.

Remember me?

Debra Morgan, sister.

Debra Morgan, former detective on the Trinity case.

Former?

Fucking LaGuerta took me off the case,

'cause officially I'm a victim of this cocksucker's crimes.

That's too bad.

Too bad?

(Chuckles) It fucking sucks.

Well, the bright side is this frees you up

to help the department in so many ways.

In the course of one day,

I go from bringing in the biggest case Miami Metro has ever seen

to being "freed up in so many ways"?

(Sighs)

I love you, bro, but sometimes you're a fucking 'tard.

Yeah, I know.

(Computer beeps)

Tampa. What the hell's in Tampa?

Something science-y.

A crime scene is basically a micro-climate

subject to so many variables.

In the world of blood spatter, those variables can mean the difference

between good science and the guilty going free.

Everything from the anomalous effects of barometric pressure

on particulate liquids in a high-humidity environment

- to the ionization of... - Point, please.

Oh.

Meteorological conference, Tampa.

If I let you go, will you stop talking?

You see, learning even more about hemoglobin dispersion

and the magnetic effects of lightning in the case of severe thunderstorms

could prove invaluable,

because it can all be considered causal

in the determination of bloodstain analysis.

Oh...

Is that it?

That's all I could come up with.

Well, it sounds like you're very excited about this conference.

Not to mention how it will look when my salary review comes up.

We could start paying for your college.

I love your dedication...

to work, to this family.

It's one of the reasons why I married you.

- One of the many, right? - Right.

- (Harrison coos) - You know, and, actually,

Elliot's taking the kids fishing,

so they'll be busy at least one of those days.

He's a good neighbor, that Elliot.

But I do need some space too,

so I'll trade you.

I'll cover the kids this weekend,

and you cover them Tuesday nights when I go to yoga?

Yoga?

It's the new me.

Well, I like the new you.

Though scheduIing my activities

around her downward-facing dog couId prove chaIIenging.

l'll dwell on that later.

What does one pack for an out-of-town kill?

Got to traveI Iight. Can't raise suspicion.

I just need a reIiabIe tooI,

something I can count on.

Hey!

Oh, you startled me.

Sorry.

- I was hoping to catch a ride to Tampa. - Kyle...

I need to get away, even just for the weekend.

Um, I'm sorry.

There'll be other opportunities, but not this one.

I can't wait. Arthur, I need to do this.

Give something back to the world. Make things right.

I can't do that without your help.

I have to get out of here.

Out of here.

Away from this...

feeling, whatever it is.

And with you, I feel focused,

like I have a sense of purpose and certainty.

I need you.

I...

I have nothing to give you.

Generosity of spirit, Arthur?

I know those are more than just words to you. Tell me they're not just...

words.

You need my help?

More than you know.

There's nobody else?

You're the one, Arthur.

The only one.

- Well, come on. - I knew I could count on you.

According to Dexter's spatter work, our suspect is at least six feet tall.

(Quietly) closer to 6'4".

More like 6'4".

The DNA profile says we're looking

for a Caucasian male of Northern European descent,

blue eyes...

50 to 70 years old.

So we're looking for a potentially retired, old, white guy.

In Miami?

Great.

And this is the snowbird season.

Which quadruples our old-white-guy quotient.

There's got to be something else we can do, some other angle...

Uh, DNA sweep.

We could do a targeted DNA sweep

of white males, 60-ish, in the Miami Metro area.

You know how much work that is?

I've got a big weekend planned. As in twins.

- You got twins lined up? - Not yet, but that's the plan.

Besides, the ACLU will shut this down the minute word gets out.

(Batista) And they always do.

You can't do a roadblock without drawing some attention.

Uh, it's the weekend.

Um...

Next week's Thanksgiving,

so, uh, the courts will be closed.

Sweeps have worked in Miami before.

Right, the South Beach rapist,

the robbery-homicide case in '06.

- '07. - '07.

Wait, wait, who's gonna... who's gonna pay for all this?

The department's so strapped, we can't even afford coffee filters.

I used toilet paper to make the coffee this morning.

If DNA is our only lead, then DNA is what we'll look for.

Let me worry about the budget.

Masuka, write up a protocol for random field swabbing that Patrol can follow.

Everything goes through you.

There go my plans.

Happy?

How are we gonna pay for this?

I have no idea.

But I'm about to spend a lot of hours looking for loose change in the budget.

That's a lot of work.

Want some help?

- Absolutely. Come on in. - OK.

You know...

the briefing room might be better.

Out in the open?

- Mm-hm. - Yeah?

Better?

I aIready feeI the cIoud of Farrow Iifting

in anticipation of tonight.

So what time do we get started in the morning?

Six o'clock.

It'll be mostly local guys?

Yeah, women too.

The first kiII in his cycIe of three is aIways a woman,

but he won't get the chance.

- Do we all stay at the same hotel? - I don't know.

Is it close to the build?

It's walking distance.

- Does everybody hang out together or... - Good Lord, you have a lot of questions.

Sorry.

You told me you were troubled. About what?

I did something. (Sighs)

Well, let's hear it.

I made a mistake.

- We all make mistakes. - It was a big one.

You're being purposely vague, Kyle,

like one of my tenth-graders

who's trying to explain why he didn't do his homework.

I have a feeIing I'm gonna make some tenth-graders very happy.

Pit stop.

- You're a brave man, Kyle. - How so?

Eating from a vending machine.

Years of training - iron stomach.

Maybe you could show some of that same bravery

by sharing what's bothering you.

How am I supposed to help you when I don't know what the problem is?

- It's not that important. - It's important to me.

Why?

Because helping someone is a good deed, and God rewards good deeds,

but in order to help, I need to know the problem. That's how these things work.

I really don't want to talk about it.

You asked me, remember? That's why I brought you.

- Why don't we just... - Tell me, Kyle!

I'm gonna get into my van and just leave you here to fend for yourself.

I killed a man.

You killed someone?

You, of all people, act appalled.

- By mistake. - How? What happened?

I thought he was the right...

I thought he was an animal.

You... You were hunting?

Yes, it was a hunting accident.

I was so sure. I'm always so careful.

Then it truly was an accident.

Still, it's left me with this...

feeling.

There are few things harder to bear than remorse.

Remorse?

Guilt. Remorse.

It's what separates us from the animals.

Your conscience is eating away at you.

But you're gonna feel better.

Confession is good for the soul.

All the more proof l have no soul.

Doing good deeds, scoring points with God.

You and I are way beyond the point system, Arthur.

The best deed l can do is rid the world of you.

A fitting kiII room.

Small, but l'll be cutting him down to size.

I just need to pick up a few suppIies.

(Cell phone rings)

- Hey, Deb. - How's the weather?

Funny.

You talking climate with a bunch of dorks and nerds,

you really lead the life.

Is there a reason for this call? It's getting late.

That jumper out at the warehouse, you took a bunch of crime-scene photos.

Did you put them all in the file?

I take a lot of photos. I don't use 'em all.

- But you save them? - I do.

I want to look through 'em, see if I can find any ash smudges.

Well, they're all on the lab computer.

Masuka can access 'em for you.

- I can't ask Masuka. - Why?

Because I'm not working this case.

- Could've fooled me. - I know, right?

At least I got Quinn to start DNA sweeps tomorrow.

That's something anyway, right?

DNA sweeps?

Yeah, we're gonna do random cheek swabs

on tall white men over 50, preferably with blue eyes.

Good luck with that.

Thanks.

Hey, you run into that weather guy, Sonny Skyes,

you tell him he's got a stupid name.

Will do.

But first a IittIe shopping.

Oh. (Chuckles)

Are you headed out?

- Yeah, for ice. - Change of plan for tomorrow.

We're not going to the build. I got a surprise for you instead.

Uh... I don't like surprises.

You'll like this one. It'll make you feel better.

How will it make me feel better?

Could he have some kind of formula for remorse or something?

If anyone does, it'd be him.

It's not Iike I can't kiII him tomorrow night.

Good. So far we've saved...

$24,000.

- Not bad. - Mm, it's not enough.

We need at least 12 more.

What?

Your hair.

- My heart skips a beat. - Stop it.

And thank you.

What time is it? Dios mio.

It's late.

We're the last ones here.

- (Door opens) - Yo!

You're still here.

Me and a bunch of guys were at the bar. I came back with some good news.

They want to donate a vacation day to help pay

for this DNA-sweep thing.

That's amazing, bro.

Fucker shot one of our own.

Look at this. All those days.

It's enough. It fills the gap.

(Sighs)

(Elevator bell dings)

(Lock clicks)

Fuck it.

- Papi... - (Batista groans)

(LaGuerta) Si.

(Knock at door)

Who the fuck is it?

(Christine) It's me.

I called, but you didn't pick up.

(Sighs) I know it's late, but I've had the worst day.

I'm sorry, babe, but I...

I could lose myjob.

Not like I'm the only one. Being a journalist these days

is a straight ticket to the unemployment line.

- You're not gonna lose yourjob. - My editor laid it out.

He said either I get "a lead that bleeds,"

or basically I'm done.

So you're here.

What?

Look, Christy, I'm half-asleep and half in the bag.

I can't give you anything.

How about a little support?

You know, like a hug?

Or an "everything's gonna be all right"?

Everything's gonna be all right.

- That's bullshit. - Hey, come here.

It is gonna be all right,

'cause you're a kick-ass reporter,

and I'm gonna help you dig something up,

just not in Homicide.

Maybe you should stay.

Not if you're on the fence.

I'll see you tomorrow.

Quick cab to the meteoroIogicaI conference.

Check in, establish an alibi.

- l'll be back in time to... - Kyle!

Hey.

You're an early bird too, huh?

Yeah, how else would I catch the worm?

Yeah, I'm so excited about today's surprise, I practically sprang out of bed.

(Laughs)

- You ready for this? - So ready.

(Laughs) That's the spirit. Mmm!

Come on.

(Door shuts)

Yesterday he's jumping down my throat,

today he's the happy dancing man.

Is that mask of his crumbIing?

Oh, Frank.

So I was thinking, it might not be a bad idea to ask Masuka...

Oh, fuck me. Don't you have other cases you should be working on?

I'm trying to help you.

Maybe you should ask Masuka if you could get Dexter's old discard photos

from the Tarla Grant crime scene.

You know, Tarla Grant, the supposed jumper?

Yeah, I know who Tarla Grant is.

Why do I care about your brother's snaps?

Well, because if she's one of Trinity's victims, you might find an ash smudge.

So basically I'm your tool. That it?

Yeah. That's it.

I'm using you to make you look good, but I wouldn't want you to feel like a tool.

Make sure each kit gets a chain-of-custody sticker.

These swab things gonna take a long time to turn around?

Well, in the real world, yes, but since I'm organizing it,

we've got mad mojo, top-of-the-pile action going on.

Come on, people, the faster we get 'em out in the field,

the faster we get 'em back here digesting.

You got access to Dexter's discard crime-scene photos?

We share everything.

- Not in a gay way. - Yeah, that jumper, Tarla Grant,

maybe he accidentally snapped a smudge or something.

Good idea, especially from you.

And one more thing I have to handle while he's at his conference.

You guys and your fucking geek fests.

I'll have you know,

I've almost banged so much tail at those "geek fests".

Sure. You.

But Poindexter?

Dexter is pure jungle cat.

You should've seen the hot English muffin

he was "bow-chicka-wowing" a couple years ago...while he was dating Rita.

- Huh. - Lila was insane.

Literally.

I could tell you stories.

Really?

Mom! Look, I caught one!

Wow! That's a monster.

Yeah, and Astor caught the biggest fish of the day.

Come on, show your mom.

Impressive.

- No biggie, just lucky. - Can we eat him?

Absolutely, but we have to wait till Dexter comes home.

He's the fish gutter around here.

I clean a pretty decent fish.

Oh, no, it's all right. You don't have to.

No, please, my pleasure.

How about I clean 'em, you cook 'em, and we all eat 'em together?

- Yeah! - Yeah?

All right. I do make a mean mango salsa.

All right. Kids, fishies, to the sink.

What are we doing here?

Trying to help you.

(Doorbell ringing)

Hello, my name is Arthur Mitchell. This is my friend Kyle Butler.

- No, thank you. - I'm not trying to sell anything.

You see, I grew up in this house many years ago.

I was hoping to take a look.

We'll just take a minute. We'll be out before you know it.

(Both speaking Korean)

(Arthur) Upstairs!

You have a lovely home.

(Both speak Korean)

(Door creaks)

A bathroom?

This is where it all started.

What started here?

I was standing here...

watching my sister take a shower.

You were watching your sister?

I was ten. It was innocent.

But Vera saw me...

in the mirror.

I startled her, and she slipped...

shattered the shower doors.

The glass...

sliced her leg.

She was dead by the time the ambulance came.

So much blood.

Born in blood, both of us.

My parents blamed me.

My mother became a shell, a ghost.

She eventually killed herself.

Jumped to her death.

Left me all alone...

with him.

He was always a drinker...

but without Mother, it became worse.

So did the beatings.

"Little fucking pervert,

"fucking cunt, you killed them."

What happened to him?

He died.

No, you kiIIed your father.

I'm betting hammer.

I never told anyone...

any of this.

Why did you tell me?

So you'd know you're not alone. You're just like me.

We're both responsible for the death of an innocent.

We share that.

You feel better?

You have to go now! Leave!

- I call the police! - Don't be absurd.

Uh... Why don't we grab some lunch?

I heard about a great place back in Tampa.

Yeah. Lunch does sound good.

Sorry.

Little coffee with that sugar?

Can't beat the combo - caffeine and sugar rush.

Quinn's out on a warrant check.

Actually, I'm here to see you.

I don't know nothing about nothing.

Not even about the DNA roadblocks popping up all over the city?

Quinn's been fucking with you.

And not in that heavy-breathing kind of way.

Yeah, if I got it from him, would I be asking you?

Are the sweeps connected to the shootings of Agent Lundy and...

We're just dragging for drunk drivers.

We toss up roadblocks all the time around the holidays.

Yeah, Patrol.

Not Homicide.

Why the DNA testing?

Uh, Lieutenant's idea. Got a lot of open cases.

She's trying to up her solve rate.

Really no story here.

Yeah, well, it's all I got.

My editor's breathing down my neck, so...

Well, you'll embarrass yourself.

(Chuckles)

Look, I know it's really tough for reporters right now.

And as girls we've got to double-prove ourselves.

So maybe instead of this one,

I can give you that interview you've been wanting from me.

Are you serious?

As long as you make me look good.

Call me. We'll set up a time.

Yeah.

Uh, two.

This is the great place you heard about,

a hotel coffee shop?

Well, it says their tuna melts are "taste-tastic".

I'm gonna go to the men's room. Would you order me a...

- A tuna melt? - Yeah.

Uh, Dexter Morgan. Sorry I'm late.

Thank you.

(Man) Hey, Sonny Skyes. Love you, man.

Hey, Sonny Skyes?

That would be me. Hi.

Do you mind? My wife is a huge fan.

Sure.

- Oops. Here we go. - (Chuckles)

- Fantastic. Thanks. - Great. Thank you.

(Phone beeping)

Alibi - check.

Arthur next.

- No, no, no! - Come on, he wants a smooch.

Come here! Come kiss Mr. Fish head now. Kiss Mr. Fish lips.

That's disgusting!

- Don't leave Mr. Fish... - (Screams)

Kyle! Over here!

- Hey, where you been? - Sorry, there was a line.

No, no, gave me a chance to say hello to the neighbors.

Kyle Butler, this is, uh, Bob and Sally Moore of Sarasota,

Their beautiful daughter Hanna, and their son, uh...

Spencer!

- Hi. - Sit, sit.

- There's plenty of room, right, Bob? - I guess.

I've been telling them about our...our morning.

What about our morning?

You know, how we visited my childhood home.

I showed you the bathroom where my sister died.

Kids don't need to hear any more about that.

Bob, they should learn to speak the truth.

I think they know how to speak the truth.

We all need to confess our mistakes,

so we can go into the light unburdened.

That's what Kyle taught me yesterday.

- (Sighs) - Not on purpose.

It was such a revelation to me

when he told me what he did.

Huh?

- We're leaving. - What about your tuna melt?

These folks want to enjoy their family time alone.

Let's go.

That was rather rude.

Yeah, sorry. I'm just not as open as you are.

It's the remorse. You need to shed it.

Believe me, I'm trying, but there's only one thing that'll do it.

- What's that? - Giving.

Is it OK if we stop by a hardware store?

I want to pick up some things to donate to the Four Walls build tomorrow.

That's an excellent idea.

- (Door opens) - (Humming)

Morgan.

Lieutenant.

What are you doing?

Nothing.

Why were you singing?

I wasn't singing. I was humming. People have been known to hum.

Not without reason.

You happy about something?

Are you hiding something?

Are you?

(Humming)

Oh...

Dissolving stitches my ass.

Fuck me.

Mother shit fuck.

How tall was my shooter?

These wounds have a trajectory that's totally fucking straight.

Jesus, Masuka, they're just tits.

But they're yours - perky, perfect.

Grow the fuck up and tell me how tall my shooter is.

Uh, if it was the Trinity Killer,

then he's about 6'4".

Up.

That puts you at about his height.

So if you're Trinity, how exactly do you shoot me and get wounds like this?

Casings and GSR from your shirt put you about...

about five feet away.

So I'm 6'4",

and the vast majority of shooters hold their guns like this.

Unless he's trying not to attract attention.

Then like this.

Either way, to hit you on the side from up here,

I got to shoot you with a downward trajectory.

There's nothing downward about this. It's completely level.

Unless I'm kneeling.

But then again, I'm, like, 60, and I got to be mobile.

Plus Lundy would've reacted to some old guy kneeling behind me.

I remember his face exactly.

- So I'm not kneeling. - Then how tall is he?

My height, approximately.

Oh, fucking fuck.

Then it wasn't Trinity.

Nope.

Then who the fuck shot me?

Nothing like the spirit of charity to make the heart right.

About time I gave back.

It's a good call with the plastic sheeting, by the way.

This is Florida. You never know when it's gonna rain.

(Yawns)

Ah, compadre, I don't know about you, but I'm bushed.

We're kindred spirits, you and I.

Keep doing good work.

Oh, I will.

Just go to sIeep.

No more surprises.

(Door closes)

(Muffled TV noise)

Good enough.

(Rita) You know what's great?

- Your mango salsa? - (Laughs)

Wine.

Nine months without it sucked.

(Both laugh)

- You want to polish this off? - No, I'm...

I'm already pretty buzzed.

Oh, lightweight.

Yeah. If you'd said that 15 years ago, nobody would've believed you.

Oh, so you weren't always a soccer mom?

Mm, are you kidding?

I was a dress-over-the-head party girl.

Oh, God, did I just say that?

(Laughs)

You must think I'm...

Totally charming.

I, um... I better start cleaning up.

- Yeah, let me...let me help you. - No, no. It's getting late.

I'm sure you want to get home.

Right. I'll, uh, get the kids.

Where the fuck did you go?

He's on foot.

With his tools.

The Four Walls build.

A IittIe early, but waIking distance.

Empty, no security.

Just me, Arthur, and a little M-99.

No more confessions, no more good deeds,

and no more fucking remorse.

(Breathing heavily)

What are you doing?

No, you're mine.

(Grunting)

This isn't how you die.

Let go!

Why keep him aIive just to kiII him?

But as Iong as it's by my hand...

Gotcha! Gotcha!

Hold on.

Give me your hand.

(Grunting)

This is his solution to remorse - suicide.

That's why he couId unburden himseIf.

He knew this was next.

WiII it be my onIy soIution someday?

I thought God sent you so that I could save you.

But God had another plan.

So did l.

He sent you to save me.

- Not exactIy. - (Man) You're a hero.

Thank you.

(People chattering)

So much for anonymity.

Arthur Mitchell, you just got a reprieve.

So the Trinity Killer didn't shoot you and Lundy.

Nope.

Someone Masuka's size shot you.

Yep.

- That's all we got to go on Lundy's case? - That's it.

Well, the upside is there's no longer a conflict of interest for you in the Trinity case.

You mean I can work it again?

Thank Christ, no more backseat driving.

Nobody knows this case better than you. You're taking lead.

Motherfucker, really?

- Well, what about Lundy's case? - That's my case now.

Don't worry, I'm gonna find the shithead that shot you.

Oh, oh, whoa...

- Oh, are you OK? - I'm f... I'm fine.

You OK?

(Laughs)

- Well, we're done here. - We're done.

Morgan, update the squad at three o'clock, please.

Glad that didn't happen last night.

Any regrets?

That we didn't have breakfast together.

At least I'll get Trinity.

Promise.

l've killed an innocent man, and I've saved a guiIty one.

I won't make that mistake again.

ls that the purpose of remorse,

to keep you from repeating mistakes?

You're watching me.

I'm just concerned.

No need. I was confused before.

But you're not anymore.

No. Embarrassed, perhaps.

In fact, I'd appreciate it

if you'd think of this weekend's events as a...

a little accident.

You stepped off a roof.

It was a mistake.

We all make them.

(Arthur) Don't worry.

Your accident will never be spoken of by me.

To err is human.

Little early for a drunk-driving checkpoint.

Looks like one of Debra's DNA sweeps.

(Woman) Stand over here, sir, please.

(Man) You, sir, pull over here.

(Man) Step on out of the car, sir, please.

Yeah, I heard about this on the radio.

The police are looking for some huge serial killer.

They have his DNA. They're looking for a match.

Sounds scary.

ExactIy how much do you want to Iive, Arthur?

I think this gentleman in the red car has the right idea. This line is endless.

What say we take the scenic route?

Yeah, sure, Arthur.

A changed man at peace with himseIf.

Maybe onIy monsters feeI no regret.

If erring is human, then remorse must be too.

Wait, does that make me human?

Huh.